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Do I really have to say something?

I've been thinking about a Steve Hagan teaching, the one from Buddhism Plain and Simple. It's the one where we conjure up a closed fist and we think about the beliefs we have about what's in the fist. It's about how we only have beliefs when we can't see reality. And when that hand opens up, or rather when we can see the open hand, beliefs fall away.

Here are some closed fists in my life. Also some stuff I've been up to: teachering, rangering, husbanding, farmering, priestering,and...fathering?

So many intense beliefs about all that. Backwards and forwards, good and bad, always switching for me but never becoming two sides of the same coin. I see in 2d.

My wife and I are moving to Green Gulch next year. I was sitting zazen and thought that wasn't really me and then I thought of all these different costumes i've worn (the latest being my fave, National Park Ranger!) how the hell would that all work. And then I saw me this very serious monk looking version of me, the one I left at the New Orleans Zen Temple, and then a mardi grais version of me, the one in the princess Leia costume who ate mushrooms and made out with everyone (everyone). And the the teacher version. Then the husband version. And they all started taking seats. They all started shutting up. It was like the gig the was up-they all found about eachother, all my little selves and each one no more or less important than the first one.

Pretty good day dream. I think that's what I'll have them put on my little urn some day.


  1. Then there's the blogger - fist still closed. (Nice to know you're still alive, though - fathering?)

  2. Still here! Fathering is just an idea at this point! You know, I go back and forth about deleting this blog because it's so...well, you know. It feels all over the place and it feels like open wound buried deep under scar tissue. I took my picture off again! Don't where this thing belongs.

  3. I know. I've taken at least one absence from my blog. And I have three others, hidden. My (dead) cat, Sherlock's blog. A daily haiku. And one that would talk about books, movies as a Buddhist critic. Playing with selves. I'm getting some health at last, and now an idea for a('nother unpublished) novel is knocking at my forehead, characters insist on forming. In a way, I'd rather play with poetry's mystical visions, the visual arts, short projects. Note the word "play," not "work."


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