spiritually incorrect

Republican "Presidential" Debates, really?

2012-01-20T12:31:00.000-08:00

“I’m … standing with Minney Mouse on one side and Goofy on the other.” --Newt

Listening to the "Republican Presidential Debates," I am reminded that Michele Bachmann, Herman Cain, Newt Gingrich, Rick Perry, Mitt Romney come from a rich Republican tradition--even nouveau riche compared to the lack-luster, lying rhetoric of Tricky Dick.

Please consider some of these gems as you ponder what would be best for the health of our democracy: Sarah Palin said during her campaign, "My concern has been the atrocities there in Darfur and the relevance to me with that issue as we spoke about Africa and some of the countries there that were kind of the people succumbing to the dictators and the corruption of some collapsed governments on the continent, the relevance was Alaska’s investment in Darfur with some of our permanent fund dollars."

Yes folks, that is what she really said! It makes no more sense now than it did then, but look at those photoshoped boobies!

Watch your pauses between Lybia and Momar, Mr. Cain.

And I don't think a fact-finding trip to Lybia is going to help: Christine O’Donnell said after a fact finding trip to a troubled part of the world: “I’ll tell you, I just came back from the Middle East, and it was refreshing. With all that is going on, it was refreshing not to be constantly bombarded with smut all the time.”

At least there's some syntax in Christine's English. The top photo is Sarah Palin--and some photoshopper. Sorry Herman you're just not up to snuff, not even in a fedora.

MLK Day -- Be a Buddha!

2012-01-16T00:00:00.000-08:00

At the moment there are barely 25 minutes left before the day on which we honor Martin Luther King, Jr.

But can't we carry his inspiration with us for the rest of the 525 948.766 minutes left in our year?

[Image from http://theworsthorse.com]

Lest we forget

2011-12-21T13:36:00.000-08:00

Please keep this in mind as the T'Party Republicans line up, and pony up, to defeat the President.

The Path of Liberation

2011-11-28T17:52:00.000-08:00

May ALL sentient beings have happiness!
May ALL sentient beings be free from suffering!
May ALL sentient beings never be separated from the joy that is free from suffering!
May ALL sentient beings abide in equanimity, free from attachment and aversion!
(The Four Immeasurables)

I anoint the Earth with fragrant water
And adorn it with Mount Meru, the four continents, the sun and the moon...
Imagining it a Buddha field,
I offer it that ALL beings may enjoy this pure realm!
(From Tibetan Buddhist Ngondro Mandala offering)

Birdbrain harpoons whales and chews blubber in the tropics
Birdbrain clubs baby harp seals and wears their coats to Paris
Birdbrain runs the Pentagon his brother runs the CIA, Fatass Bucks!
Birdbrain writes and edits Time Newsweek Wall Street Journal Pravda Izvestia
(Allan Ginsberg, Birdbrain)

I am looking forward to the upcoming Buddhisn 101 series presented by the Gay Buddhist Sangha.
http://www.gaybuddhistsangha.org/calendar/
Please join us if you can.

Quote for today, but it was 2 years ago

2011-11-24T01:03:00.000-08:00

Joe Biden said this a bit more than 2 years ago,

"Very few, the very few, wealthy and powerful have a seat at the table and the rest of us are on the menu."

Apperently it is now accepted as just another law about the way things are.

Michael is gone.

2011-07-01T09:00:00.000-07:00

24 June 2011, two years later

This morning I am finding it hard not to hear about Michael Jackson’s death. I don’t have a TV, but even my bank has CNN on, with captions, behind the tellers’ windows. I couldn’t escape. I considered myself immune to much feeling for a man who came across as so freakish – a pill-popper, a good client for plastic surgeons whose work was mixed, and perhaps a gay man with a sexual appetite that bordered on the illegal. We won’t make you a poster boy for same sex marriage anytime soon, Michael. And you yourself turned out not to be a puer aeternus, at least in this life. Having more money than God can’t buy everything, as my mother might have said, but you understood that truism all too well, didn’t you?

Just when I could sense my cynicism start to gain the upper hand, I happened to click in a uTube link that lead me to a video tribute to Michael by some 1500 men in a Philippine prison, mostly poor young men doing time for drug offenses. John Tarrant’s talk at a recent Zen retreat popped into my head. John had said that we all create our own prisons, and then spend time and money, plus all the mental energy we have available, to decorate the walls. Of course, these inmates, some little more than kids, understood Michael in a way I cannot, and they mourned him. I began to cry. Yes Michael, no one better than a freak to decorate our prison walls and provide the sound track, a song of hope. Life is a gift. Your life was a gift.

Here’s a link to the story on the Huffington Post. It’s almost 10 minutes long so if you don’t want to watch the whole thing, or don't have the time, it really gets going about 5-6 minutes in. And yes, that is Latin you hear at the very beginning, the final line of a prayer for Michael: “through our one Lord, Jesus Christ, your only born Son, who lives with you (Father) and the Holy Spirit, now and forever, world without end.” There always seems to be formal prayer, often in Latin, before any ceremony in the Islands, even dancing in prison. And the world without end refers to the divine realms, not Michael’s or ours.

And here is a Spanish translation of this post: http://truthspinners.blogspot.com/2009/07/michael-se-ha-ido.html
Posted 28th June by tellall

Michael se ha ido.

2011-06-30T09:04:00.000-07:00

Michael se ha ido.

Esta mañana, es difícil no oír hablar de la muerte de Michael Jackson. No tengo un televisor, pero incluso en mi banco veo las noticias de Michael en la CNN, con los subtítulos, por detrás de las ventanillas de los cajeros. No podía escapar. Yo mismo he considerado mucho más inmune a la sensación de un hombre que se encontró en una forma rara - una píldora-popper, un buen cliente para los cirujanos plásticos, y tal vez un hombre gay con un apetito sexual que se acercó al ilegal. No vamos a hacerte un Cartel chico para parejas del mismo sexo en cualquier momento, Michael. Y tú mismo no llegaste ser un Puer aeternus, al menos en esta vida. Después de haber más dinero que Dios no puede comprar todo, como mi madre podría haber dicho, pero tú entiendes esta perogrullada muy bien, ¿no?

Justo cuando mi cinismo empezó a ganarme la parte superior, me ocurrió hacer “click” en un vínculo utube que me llevó a un video homenaje a Michael por unos 1500 hombres en una cárcel de las Filipinas, en su mayoría jóvenes pobres haciendo tiempo para ofensas de drogas. Me acordé una plática de John Tarrant en un reciente retiro Zen. John dijo que todos estamos creando nuestras propias cárceles y, a continuación, pasamos el tiempo y dinero, además toda la energía mental que tenemos disponible, para decorar las paredes. Por supuesto, estos reclusos, algunos poco más que niños, entendieron a Michael. Ellos estaban llorando por Michael. Empecé a llorar. Sí, Michael, nadie mejor que un monstruo para decorar nuestras paredes de la prisión y facilitar la pista de sonido, una canción de esperanza. La vida es un regalo. Tu vida fue un regalo.

Aquí está el enlace a la historia en el Huffington Post.

Es casi 10 minutos de duración por lo que si no desea ver toda la cosa, realmente se va más interesante después de 5-6 minutos. Y sí, es latín que se oye en el comienzo, la invocación de una oración para Michael: "a través de nuestro único Señor, Jesucristo, su único Hijo nacido, que vive con usted (Padre) y el Espíritu Santo, los siglos de los siglos." Existe siempre parece ser la oración oficial, a menudo en latín, antes de cualquier ceremonia en las Islas, incluso el baile en la cárcel. Y el mundo sin fin se refiere a los reinos divinos, no del nuestro o lo de Michael. Añado mi oración de que su cielo sea como el cielo lleno de maravilla como el talento que compartió Michael con nosotros.

GLBT Weddings 6 years ago

2011-06-28T13:07:00.000-07:00

On March 11, 2004, as a Buddhist minister, I officiated at one of the last ceremonies performed in San Francisco during the brief time when Mayor Gavin Newsome took the brave step of allowing and sanctioning same-gender marriage. Now seven years later, after the New York State Senate recognized GLBT marriages, I am posting the dedication that I used at the end of the ceremony to pray that all the obstacles to our expression of love as gay, lesbian, bi-sexual and transgender people be removed.

Dedication:

When love appears and we witness it as we have done this afternoon, anything that stands in love's way is a cause of suffering. We pray that your life together may be free from suffering.

To the protectors of each moment
and to the benefactors who give us life,
we offer this ceremony in gratitude.

Broken things are now joined.
Where there was trouble, we can now find shelter.
Happiness is truly present.
We pass it on—

May the blessings of this ceremony brighten your lives,
Keith and Masahiro,
and those of all the other gay and lesbian couples
who have been married
here in San Francisco over these last weeks.

We send these blessings into
all worlds of darkness and light.
Let wisdom go to every corner of this city, our communities, and our nation.
Let people have joy in each other’s joy.

I want to second Bishop Spong. Please join me.

2011-05-26T16:00:00.000-07:00

A Manifesto! The Time Has Come!

I invite others to join me in this public declaration. I believe that such a public outpouring will help cleanse both the church and this nation of its own distorting past. It will restore integrity and honor to both church and state.

I have made a decision. I will no longer debate the issue of homosexuality in the church with anyone. I will no longer engage the biblical ignorance that emanates from so many right-wing Christians about how the Bible condemns homosexuality, as if that point of view still has any credibility.

I will no longer discuss with them or listen to them tell me how homosexuality is "an abomination to God," about how homosexuality is a "chosen lifestyle," or about how through prayer and "spiritual counseling" homosexual persons can be "cured." Those arguments are no longer worthy of my time or energy.

I will no longer dignify by listening to the thoughts of those who advocate "reparative therapy," as if homosexual persons are somehow broken and need to be repaired.

I will no longer talk to those who believe that the unity of the church can or should be achieved by rejecting the presence of, or at least at the expense of, gay and lesbian people.

I will no longer take the time to refute the unlearned and undocumentable claims of certain world religious leaders who call homosexuality "deviant."

I will no longer listen to that pious sentimentality that certain Christian leaders continue to employ, which suggests some version of that strange and overtly dishonest phrase that "we love the sinner but hate the sin." That statement is, I have concluded, nothing more than a self-serving lie designed to cover the fact that these people hate homosexual persons and fear homosexuality itself, but somehow know that hatred is incompatible with the Christ they claim to profess, so they adopt this face-saving and absolutely false statement.

I will no longer temper my understanding of truth in order to pretend that I have even a tiny smidgen of respect for the appalling negativity that continues to emanate from religious circles where the church has for centuries conveniently perfumed its ongoing prejudices against blacks, Jews, women and homosexual persons with what it assumes is "high-sounding, pious rhetoric." The day for that mentality has quite simply come to an end for me. I will personally neither tolerate it nor listen to it any longer.

The world has moved on, leaving these elements of the Christian Church that cannot adjust to new knowledge or a new consciousness lost in a sea of their own irrelevance. They no longer talk to anyone but themselves.

I will no longer seek to slow down the witness to inclusiveness by pretending that there is some middle ground between prejudice and oppression. There isn't. Justice postponed is justice denied. That can be a resting place no longer for anyone. An old civil rights song proclaimed that the only choice awaiting those who cannot adjust to a new understanding was to "Roll on over or we'll roll on over you!" Time waits for no one.

I will particularly ignore those members of my own Episcopal Church who seek to break away from this body to form a "new church," claiming that this new and bigoted instrument alone now represents the Anglican Communion. Such a new ecclesiastical body is designed to allow these pathetic human beings, who are so deeply locked into a world that no longer exists, to form a community in which they can continue to hate gay people, distort gay people with their hopeless rhetoric and to be part of a religious fellowship in which they can continue to feel justified in their homophobic prejudices for the rest of their tortured lives. Church unity can never be a virtue that is preserved by allowing injustice, oppression and psychological tyranny to go unchallenged.

In my personal life, I will no longer listen to televised debates conducted by "fair-minded" channels that seek to give "both sides" of this issue "equal time." I am aware that these stations no longer give equal time to the advocates of treating women as if they are the property of men or to the advocates of reinstating either segregation or slavery, despite the fact that when these evil institutions were coming to an end the Bible was still being quoted frequently on each of these subjects. It is time for the media to announce that there are no longer two sides to the issue of full humanity for gay and lesbian people. There is no way that justice for homosexual people can be compromised any longer.

I will no longer act as if the Papal office is to be respected if the present occupant of that office is either not willing or not able to inform and educate himself on public issues on which he dares to speak with embarrassing ineptitude.

I will no longer be respectful of the leadership of the Archbishop of Canterbury, who seems to believe that rude behavior, intolerance and even killing prejudice is somehow acceptable, so long as it comes from third-world religious leaders, who more than anything else reveal in themselves the price that colonial oppression has required of the minds and hearts of so many of our world's population. I see no way that ignorance and truth can be placed side by side, nor do I believe that evil is somehow less evil if the Bible is quoted to justify it.

I will dismiss as unworthy of any more of my attention the wild, false and uninformed opinions of such would-be religious leaders as Pat Robertson, James Dobson, Jerry Falwell, Jimmy Swaggart, Albert Mohler, and Robert Duncan. My country and my church have both already spent too much time, energy and money trying to accommodate these backward points of view when they are no longer even tolerable.

I make these statements because it is time to move on. The battle is over. The victory has been won. There is no reasonable doubt as to what the final outcome of this struggle will be. Homosexual people will be accepted as equal, full human beings, who have a legitimate claim on every right that both church and society have to offer any of us. Homosexual marriages will become legal, recognized by the state and pronounced holy by the church. "Don't ask, don't tell" will be dismantled as the policy of our armed forces. We will and we must learn that equality of citizenship is not something that should ever be submitted to a referendum. Equality under and before the law is a solemn promise conveyed to all our citizens in the Constitution itself. Can any of us imagine having a public referendum on whether slavery should continue, whether segregation should be dismantled, whether voting privileges should be offered to women? The time has come for politicians to stop hiding behind unjust laws that they themselves helped to enact, and to abandon that convenient shield of demanding a vote on the rights of full citizenship because they do not understand the difference between a constitutional democracy, which this nation has, and a "mobocracy," which this nation rejected when it adopted its constitution. We do not put the civil rights of a minority to the vote of a plebiscite.

I also no longer act as if I need a majority vote of some ecclesiastical body in order to bless, ordain, recognize and celebrate the lives and gifts of gay and lesbian people in the life of the church. No one should ever again be forced to submit the privilege of citizenship in this nation or membership in the Christian Church to the will of a majority vote.

The battle in both our culture and our church to rid our souls of this dying prejudice is finished. A new consciousness has arisen. A decision has quite clearly been made. Inequality for gay and lesbian people is no longer a debatable issue in either church or state. Therefore, I will from this moment on refuse to di gnify the continued public expression of ignorant prejudice by engaging it. I do not tolerate racism or sexism any longer. From this moment on, I will no longer tolerate our culture's various forms of homophobia. I do not care who it is who articulates these attitudes or who tries to make them sound holy with religious jargon.

I have been part of this debate for years, but things do get settled and this issue is now settled for me. I do not debate any longer with members of the "Flat Earth Society" either. I do not debate with people who think we should treat epilepsy by casting demons out of the epileptic person; I do not waste time engaging those medical opinions that suggest that bleeding the patient might release the infection. I do not converse with people who think that Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans as punishment for the sin of being the birthplace of Ellen DeGeneres or that the terrorists hit the United Sates on 9/11 because we tolerated homosexual people, abortions, feminism or the American Civil Liberties Union. I am tired of being embarrassed by so much of my church's participation in causes that are quite unworthy of the Christ I serve or the God whose mystery and wonder I appreciate more each day. Indeed I feel the Christian Church should not only apologize, but do public penance for the way we have treated people of color, women, adherents of other religions and those we designated heretics, as well as gay and lesbian people.

Life moves on. As the poet James Russell Lowell once put it more than a century ago: "New occasions teach new duties, Time makes ancient good uncouth." I am ready now to claim the victory. I will from now on assume it and live into it. I am unwilling to argue about it or to discuss it as if there are two equally valid, competing positions any longer. The day for that mentality has simply gone forever.

This is my manifesto and my creed. I proclaim it today. I invite others to join me in this public declaration. I believe that such a public outpouring will help cleanse both the church and this nation of its own distorting past. It will restore integrity and honor to both church and state. It will signal that a new day has dawned and we are ready not just to embrace it, but also to rejoice in it and to celebrate it.

2010-10-08T01:00:00.000-07:00

"Wherever two or more are gathered..there is politics (and sometimes sex)"

To honor all who work to prevent the spread of HIV, and poke fun at those who oppose sane sex education--if the consequences weren't so deadly serious.

Imagine if manufacturers and retailers made condoms kept their slogans and jingles on the packet: Tesco (UK) condoms “Every little bit helps,” Nike “Just do it,” Peugeot “The Ride of Your Life,” KFC “Finger Lickin Good,” Duracell “Just keeps on going and going,” Pringles “Once You Pop, You Just Can’t stop,” Burger King “Home of the Whopper,” Andrex (UK) “soft, strong and very long,” MacDonalds “I’m lovin’ it,” and a favorite, Polo “The One with the Hole!"

Life does imitate reality. The sponsor of the US curling team in the Winter Olympics was “Harder Faster” condoms. Really. That's their logo.

Thanks Greg Nickson

And Do All the Employees of Walmart Support the Teabaggers?

2010-09-24T13:32:00.000-07:00

Go figure!

Zen Bland

2010-05-31T23:28:00.000-07:00

My friend Laurence Platt just sent me a piece he wrote called “Zen Bland.” [Please see Laurence’s website: Conversations For Transformation: Essays By Laurence Platt Inspired By The Ideas Of Werner Erhard, And More]. In it he makes a strong case that simple and unembellished language is the only authentic way to describe deeply moving, transformative experiences. His essay was not a bland piece at all but very juicy. What a really radical notion—living life here and now, speaking about it simply, not altering our experience trying to make it into something else! I think that it applies to meditation practice, and living, as well as writing.

As you may know, I have been a committed meditation practitioner for more than 35 years, the last twenty + in a rather disciplined Zen practice. For eleven years before that I was a member of a catholic religious order, the Jesuits, which has, at least in the first years of training, a disciplined, formal spiritual practice.

At the beginning of January this year, I was on retreat in Santa Rosa where our group, the Pacific Zen Institute, rented a former catholic convent for the week. The Angela Center had been the California motherhouse for a congregation of religious women, the Ursalines. The few remaining nuns have turned their property into a retreat center. The buildings themselves have that rather bland institutional architecture, working with very basic, simple materials, characteristic of most buildings put up to accommodate the large numbers of men and women who were entering religious life after World War II. As I unpacked my bag, I thought to myself that my “cell” was just a slightly less Spartan, more feminine version of the one where I was isolated from the outside world for two years as a Jesuit novice, August 15, 1966 to September 8, 1968. That period was for me an extremely difficult initiation into religious life, exactly the way that St. Ignatius, or his successors, designed it.

My Zen retreat at the Angela Center might have been a re-stimulus for both the ecstatic and painful memories of my noviceship. And like clock work, floods of memories and other mental stuff occurred in silence and meditation from 4:30 AM to after 9:30 PM–a schedule slightly more demanding than in a Jesuit house of formation where we got up an hour later and went to bed a half hour earlier.

After breakfast on the morning of the 4th day, as I was walking back to the room that we had set up as the meditation hall, I noticed that my perception of the building had suddenly shifted. It was not dramatic, there were no flashing lights of insight, no angels descended from heaven with all the answers that I had been so hungry for, or had told myself that I really sought. I was just walking on a linoleum floor that was just a floor, and the walls of lightly plastered-over cinder block were just walls. Nothing more. Nothing added, no sounds but the sound of my feet and no visions but what I saw through my eyes – just walls, just a door, just a room, just a grey carpeted floor with black cushions. Rather bland for a mystical experience.

But then I began to notice something very powerful open up inside me—every burden that I had been carrying since my Jesuit training was gone. It was extinguished, not conceptually but actually. My past life as a Jesuit was gone, completely gone. Not that it didn’t happen, not that it had no effect on me, but I understood in a non-intellectual way that anything I carry into the present moment was for me to carry. It isn’t there; it isn’t real; it doesn’t drag itself along.

And suddenly I realized that in that moment of bland Zen that I was totally and irrevocably free—no one, no thing, no outside authority, no god, no doctrine, no experience could ever enslave me.

Three cheers for bland Zen!

No Sackcloth and Ashes for these Guys!

2010-05-24T05:29:00.000-07:00

"I would just say this. The most important thing is to clean up the truth. And the truth is I have never said anything."

What kind of double-speak is this?

They are the words of then Archbishop of New York, Edward Cardinal Eagan, regarding a statement made by the rector at St. Patrick's Cathedral, one Monsignor Eugene Clark, in 2002. Standing in for the embattled Cardinal Egan, Clark blamed the sex abuse scandal on gays, railed against homosexuality as a "disorder" and said it was a "grave mistake" to allow gays into the priesthood. Clark would later be forced to resign after his affair with his secretary, a woman 30 years his junior, came to light in 2005. You can bet the king of outing high level hypocrites, Michelangelo Signorile, had blast with this: A Monsignor's Closet, 2005-08-24.

I have also said at least a few things about the hypocrisy of the Catholic Church, though with a more sympathetic voice, I hope, having some experience of the cloak of secrecy that gay priests are forced to wear. I didn’t fit me well, but that is another story. Here is what I wrote when I revisited a conversation that I had with my friend Avery Dulles (who by the way did not much like wearing his cardinal duds). I did not mention him by name when he was alive out of respect for his position and our friendship; though I think that he might have endorsed what I said, I didn’t want to expose my version of his words to the lurkers on the Internet who love bits of gossip that they can distort.

I don’t want to make some high sounding statement and then stand back. It’s time to keep up the pressure. So let’s try a little humor. I don’t think that it will surprise anyone that among gay clergy there’s a lot of dark humor and jokes that float from one “pink” rectory to another. When I heard this one, the main characters were John 23, Francis “Fanny” Cardinal Spellman, and John Joseph Cardinal Wright of Pittsburg and the Vatican. Even though Wright wasn’t yet a cardinal during Vatican II, it still works. John 23 and Wright, even if gay as suspected, were straight arrows, but “Fanny” was notorious for his liaisons with any number of New York chorus boys and hustlers, so much so that it seems he had part of his staff dedicated to quelling rumors and preventing them from reaching the pages of the NY Times. In New York gay bars in the 60’s there was always someone who swore that they heard from his lips: “If you threaten to go public, who’ll believe you? You’re a nobody and I’m the Cardinal Archbishop of New York.” That was another age, though his brother cardinals are now reaping the fruit of his indiscretions—among others.

So after all that preamble, here’s the joke.

When John 23 sent out the official announcement to the opening of the Second Vatican Council, he included a private note to all the cardinals, archbishops, and bishops asking them to tone down their dress. It was to be a solemn occasion, yes, but given that he as Pope was striving for reform, remaking the image of Church in the modern world, simple clerical garb would be enough. In other words, leave the cappae magnae home.

The day of the opening of the Counsel rolled around and the US prelates were gathered together in St. Peters, dressed down as requested. After the appropriate drum roll and trumpets, the doors swung open and there was John 23, sporting a Triregnum, carried on his sedia gestatoria by 12 hunky guys in red, surrounded by fans of white feathers (a boa that might have seemed out of place).

Spellman turns to Wright and mutters, “Bitch.”

The current occupant of the chair of Peter has called for penance for the sins of the Church, one presumes for not reprimanding pedophile priests and allowing them access to children even after their crimes had been reported. But I hope that it’s not lost on anyone that Benedict’s penance doesn’t call for sackcloth and ashes. Oh no, quite the contrary. He’s taken the Pope’s little red slippers out of the closet—you have to have shoes to match.

He’s taken the papal throne out of the Vatican Museum where it has been since Paul VI's reign.

Even lowly bishops have taken to the 60 foot cappa magna once again. (It is reported to me from a reliable former Jesuit source that it was cut to 12’ by Pius XII more than 50 years ago).

The photograph is of Bishop Edward Slattery of Tulsa at the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception on April 26th of this year.

And there are humors that Benedict will dust off the sedia gestatoria “for security reasons.” This certainly doesn't look like penance, or maybe that is how old queens do penance. I could check that out if I could find any among my friends who really did molest teenagers, or even have that proclivity. But they’re not in the Castro. They’re all in jail or under Vatican protection. (The picture is of Pius VIII riding high in 1828).

Penance my ass.

Haruki Murakami 村上春樹

2010-04-28T22:54:00.000-07:00

April 25, 2010

Reading and wonderment: Haruki Murakami
村上春樹

One of my first teachers, an admitted fraud who preyed on gullible Berkeley seekers by claiming to stand in the line of Mr Gurdjeiff’s authorized teachers, once gave me some useful advice: if you have five bucks burning a hole in your pocket and you’re fascinated by a title in the remainder pile, don’t hold back. Splurge!

I would recommend the practice to anyone with no reservations.

When Cody’s was selling every last book, Linda Anderson and I wandered into their store on 4^th St in Berkeley where I saw Haruki Murakami’s “Kafka on the Shore” slashed to $6.99. That was 1.99 over the limit for the fascination practice and I had no idea who he was—I hadn’t read “The Wind-up Bird Chronicle,” but I had to find out where, how a Japanese writer found Kafka anywhere, much less the shore.

It sat on a shelf for at least two years before I opened it. After 4 pages I could barely put it down. It is Japanese magical realism, but for some reason I really started to understand something about the origins of koans, or imagined that I did.

Then two days ago I found one of the republished “Paris Review Interviews” in a remainder pile in San Francisco. OK, So maybe it was 6 or 7 dollars, again over the limit, but the fake Gurdjeiff advice was almost 40 years old—there has to some adjustment for inflation—let’s get real. In it, an interview with Haruki Murakami. Yes, some of his narrative structures (he calls them) do come from the Buddhist tales of his childhood. His grandfather was a Buddhist priest. He hallowed them out and then let his imagination repopulate them. His words. He also loves jazz; he was not trained as a writer at all but had run a jazz club—you can hear the notes of his riffs even in translation. He began writing at night after work on the kitchen table. Sounds like a friend who would be right at home in our PZI/Zen crowd.

I don’t know if he ever passed a koan. I don’t know if he would even be interested. But his stories are marvelous.

The sunshine is so wonderful on this bight Saturday afternoon that I had to pass this along.

All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

2010-04-28T13:29:00.000-07:00

“Very early I learned to value and respect words, and I also uncovered a passion for reaching my own conclusions.”

When I started to consider the origin of my values, a memory of my kindergarten teacher began to emerge. I struggle for real memories of early age, but this much is clear--she was a wiry woman with a tight bun who seemed a hundred years old, and, at least from the taste of decades-old feelings, someone who did not like children.

She ran her kindergarten in an upper room at the Methodist church that the stood at the base of the triangular New England town green in Nichols. Her fixed ideas were shaped by the way Yankee families held that children should behave from time immemorial, or at least as back as the 400 odd years since our religious fanatic forbearers fled Europe, and childrearing was fundamentally religion. My guess is that she had no love for Dr. Montessori who was, after all, a Catholic.

She was one of the elder “Misses” in town, who, along with the two spinsters who ran the library, always stood for us children as a clear demarcation between our families and single women who obviously preferred the company of their own sex. We were told that because spinsters were just not lucky enough to find husbands, they were forced into a world of loneliness and the company of other women. This we learned by listening to the distain in the pauses between sentences of our parents’ conversations.

My own experience has lightened any ill will that I might have carried through the years, and perhaps even added a touch of magic to the story that I am going to tell.

I did not want to nap when were told in a voice that did not beckon negotiation: “Put your heads down on the desk.” I would defiantly look up and examine her, and another woman, her enforcer, who were clearly happy to be relieved from having to entertain, occupy or educate their charges. Several times my mother chastised me for not following instructions—she had been warned that I was very “willful”. My response to my mother was probably a complaint, setting the tone for a long battle in our relationship. I would bet the farm that her response was “That is the way things are. Some things are unchangeable and, besides, you are in no position to think for yourself.” So of course, I began to think for myself even if it was entirely reactive.

But there is one memory that comes back to me. It has even appeared in my dreams. I call it the “blue redbird.” We had coloring books that had rudimentary, inelegant, drawings of things-to-be named in the world, mothers and fathers, doctors, siblings and pets, houses and gardens, flowers and birds. The white spaces inside the outlines were labeled with names and colors. On command, in unison, we all opened to a prescribed page, scrambled for the crayons heaped in a pile on a low table in the center of the room, and began filling in the spaces neatly and correctly. Sometimes I would read the labels and oftentimes, not. My coloring was meticulous and colorful. I never had colors bleed from a shirt or cat. I was also very aware of the colors, even at the expense of labels. One day I was carefully coloring a bluebird red. I think it was the woman enforcer who looked over my shoulder and motioned for Frau Dominatrix to come and examine a bird that had been designated blue—clearly.

“Ken that is not a redbird. Can’t you read?”

“Of course I can read, but there are almost no redbirds in Nichols.’

“That was to be a blue-bird. You never going to go anywhere or make something of yourself unless you read and then carefully follow instructions.”

“But I want a redbird!”

“Hush. You have made a very serious mistake. I am going to have a word with your mother.”

I began to cry. And now everyone had turned to look at the boy who wasn’t man enough to hold back his tears.

When my mother arrived in the white station wagon to pick us up, very likely unhappy at the prospect of her two hours in the car with three preschoolers, she was not pleased to hear that I could not read nor follow instructions. She certainly didn’t comfort me. The martinet reflected her own theories of child rearing almost exactly. The kindergarten “Miss” had humiliated me and that meant one less thing that she would have to correct—with any luck.

Why do I consider this an event to be appreciated? I learned that words themselves have consequences and that definitions cannot be assigned arbitrarily. Language was not a child’s game. Language was powerful. It could also become a tool for enforcement.

Rigid language stifled creativity. The blue bird that I had created was far more handsome than the red would have been. The person who had made the drawings of the alleged red bird was inept. The outline of its shape matched the blue birds that gathered on the big nut trees in our side yard. The sting forced me to notice their shapes and coloring with more attention and care.

But I am still left with a crying five-year-old boy with the unwanted attention of fifteen other five-year olds staring at him with fear in their eyes. The cruelty of adults is not entirely a learned behavior, but five-year old kids are perhaps more malleable than adults. Perhaps.

And finally, as a testimony to Creativity, a few words from a poem

THE PROBLEM OF DESCRIBING COLOR

by Robert Hass

If I said—remembering in summer,

The cardinal’s sudden smudge of red

In the bare gray winter woods—

[Our Nichols Methodist Church is not pictured, but looked very much the one that I found in Google images although the main door was set at an angle facing Longhill Road.]

Tom Marshall, S.J. (October 9, 1922 - March 11, 2010)

2010-04-22T17:49:00.000-07:00

Monday, March 22, 2010

This morning, after his funeral mass at the Jesuit Sacred Heart Center in Los Gatos, I chanted the Heart Sutra as well as the Kanon Gyo at the graveside of Tom Marshall, S.J., a lay brother of the Society of Jesus, an ordained Zen priest in both the Soto and Rinzai lineages, a wonderful teacher and friend. Here is the dedication I wrote for the occasion:

God that hews mountain and continent,
Earth, all, out; who, with trickling increment,
Veins violets and tall trees makes more and more,
Listen: We humbly place our feet on the Path of liberation.

May your path continue, dear Tom.
We, the many people whose lives you touched,
Send you on your way with our gratitude.

We remember your many gifts to us,
The books you gave us to train our minds,
Your ready compassion and your sweet smile.

Denis Genpo, Les Keye and your meditation companions salute you.
Your Jesuit brothers honor and bless you.

May your teachers, Shakyamuni, Maha-Kasyapa, Hakuin Ekaku, and Taizan
Maezumi,
Welcome you.

May the Jesuit blessed and saints, Alphonsus, Peter Faber, Xavier, and Father
Ignatius,
Open their wide embrace.

We dedicate any merit from your meditation and chanting
To relieve suffering in all of life and to clear your way, dear Tom.

You are among the bodhisattvas and other great beings,
Wide-eyed in the Cosmos, totally alive, right now.
Earth hears no hurdle,

The door to deep meditation opens yet again.
The teaching goes on without end.

Yes. Just look at It All!

All Buddhas throughout space and time, all bodhisattvas, saints and great beings,
the Mahaprajnaparamita.

[Many thanks to GM Hopkins, S.J. for allowing me, by his silence, to use portions of his poem, “In Honour of Saint Alphonsus Rodriguez.” The italicized lines are from Tom's private correspondence.]

We will miss you. We love you.

Gratias á Lulu, Esta Noche y Monica Naranjo

2010-03-20T16:59:00.000-07:00

I began new Fracebook friendships with Andres and Bill. We exchanged some email about Latin music and gay Madrid. I hope to learn a lot about Latin music and my new correspondents will be great resources. But there is one Latina star I already admire enormously.

When I take visiting friends out for a night on the town in San Francisco, I tend to end the festivities at Esta Noche on 16th St.

This Latin gay club has been in that once-seedy neighborhood for more than 20 years. Now it’s becoming hip, and the crowd is definitely more mixed than even a few years ago, but I still find Esta Noche welcoming and lively. It's seen more than a few very memorable moments: it was there that Ken MacDonald was kissed in the bathroom by the most handsome man within miles–a high compliment—this is San Francisco after all. It was there—at the bar, not the bathroom—that Miguel Pou taught me to distinguish between the popular music of Spain, and Mexico, Central America plus Colombia and Argentina and a few other countries in the Southern Hemisphere. I usually can pick up that distinctive Brazilian samba-like beat, and of course the lyrics are in different language though that is not easy to distinguish when you know only a few words in Spanish and Portuguese, fiesta, siesta, libertad, y “Et tu mama tambien”—just because I saw the movie and loved it.

But it was “Lulu” who introduced me to Monica Naranjo. How can I say this delicately? Lulu is not a pretty drag queen, and she can have a pretty foul mouth, but she's one hell of performer and knows her divas. During her show, I heard this voice that felt like a combination of Madonna, Bette Midler and Janis Joplin, with a touch of Maria Callas. “Who’s that?” I asked the bartender. “Monica,” he said, “She is THE star of gay Madrid.” I have since learned that she is much more than that, and she moved to Miami so now I don’t have to visit Madrid to hear her live though I still plan a Madrid expedition as soon as I sock away enough dinero.

OK, OK, sometimes her staging and orchestration is a bit cheesy but listen to the quality and strength of that voice! Music unleashes the animal!

http://www.youtube.com/embed/YdVUt1CYqGY</a>" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen>

Dear Independent Voter

2010-01-21T11:35:00.000-08:00

by Spandan Chakrabart

"’Democrats on the Hill and in the White House don't seem to get that independent voters are upset with them,’ said the source, who spoke candidly about the president and his team on the condition of anonymity.” – Michael D. Shear, Washington Post Staff Writer

Spandan Chakrabart, deaniac83, postede this open letter in his Blog, The People’s View. It hit home. I have reprinted it in full with his kind permission. Please read it and pass it on. He doesn’t coddle the independent voter as you will see. I hope that his message, in some form, will convince enough independents to take on the role of mature citizens and seriously tackle real reform.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Dear 'Independent' Voter,

As you keep swinging with the wind, and 'revolting' against Washington, you are costing our country a great deal. You flocked away from the Republican party in a rage against George Bush's policies of torture, tax breaks for the wealthy and Wall Street deregulation and corruption and elected Barack Obama president in a landslide in 2008. Then, you figured, hey, why isn't he waving his magic wand and changing everything in one fell swoop? Damnit! So you turned right back to W's party in 2009 and 2010.

You know what, dearest Independent Voter? You are acting like a five-year-old throwing tantrums. A five year old who voted for a piece of candy, and now is turning around and voting for a piece of turd because the candyman didn't give him the candy fast enough. A five-year-old with the fate of our nation in your hands. You are having your buttons effectively pushed by the right wing thugs who want to destroy this country and what it stands for. You are being had by the nutjobs that have no interest in being serious about solving whatever it is your particular problem happens to be. You are walking right into the trap laid out by those who would represent anyone but you in Washington. And why? 'Cause the guy's got a truck. And the other gal didn't get on her proverbial political knees and beg for my vote. You have "Look-at-me-I'm-important" syndrome. And the dude talked about how b-a-d Washington is. And did you hear? The gal went to Washington for a fundraiser! Oh, and who can forget, the lady called the bastion of public service and democracy, Curt Schilling a - gasp - Yankee fan! Oh noes!

You just elected, in Massachusetts, the guy who supports waterboarding and torture, scares the bit-jesus out of you about terrorists being tried in American courts - despite having elected a Constitutional scholar who explained to you barely a year ago that our courts and prisons are perfectly capable and effective in handling terrorists, and boasts about going to Washington to kill health care reform. The same health insurance reform that might have put your costs under control. The same reform that would insure anywhere between 31 and 36 million Americans who have no insurance now. You voted to send a guy to Washington who would just as soon let 45,000 people die a year for the lack of health insurance. Well, Congratulations. Now when you have to file bankruptcy because your insurance company dropped you when you got sick, please, call your Senator and see if he gives a shit. You just voted in a guy that - if he has anything to say about it - will stop us from recovering our money from the bank bailouts. And a guy that will put the interest of polluters over the right of your children to breathe clean air and drink clean water. A man that wants you to pay all the taxes so the ultra rich can get a break. But hey, don't you let any of that take away from the feel-good of punishing "Washington" or anything. That's the important thing.

Dear Independent Voter, grow up. You live in a Constitutional democracy, and your votes have consequences. If you are willing to vote for change, then please stick with it. If you are willing to trust a president into office, hold his feet to the fire, but stop whining that he isn't parting the seas. And for goodness' sakes, stop voting to undermine what you voted for just a year ago. Change isn't easy. Your wild swings from side to side won't make it any easier, either. It will make it harder. Stop being so easily punked. Grow up and see what's going on around you. See that your vote isn't a candy bar. Grow up and realize that the system cannot be changed in a day, and your wild swings aren't helping things change. They are helping us return to gridlock.

Grow up. Just goddamn grow up.

Sincerely,

A Proud Democratic Voter.

Re-examiination time -- again

2010-01-17T11:56:00.001-08:00

I don't find very much sympathy today for any of the programs that helped the United States, particularly after the end of the Second World War, become the world's economic super power. These include FDR's New Deal which was in place but became a stable part of American life when there was enough money to fund its programs; Medicare and Medical, obviously examples of government health care that doesn’t work and without which I would be dead; student tuition programs like the GI bill that gave us the largest well educated work force in history; and more particularly the huge infusion of money into infrastructure, e.g. the huge interstate highways system that Ike sold as essential for national defense.

Republican attacks on the bailout rely on an underclass handout image for these programs. Wall Street tycoons are the new welfare mothers in Cadillac’s. I liked this article because it helped me see that the way I personally view both the programs themselves and the way that we view them as skewed.

Read it. I think Mr. Wolff has a point, or even several!

clipped from www.laprogressive.com

Does Welfare Work?

If social welfare programs work, then countries with more extensive programs should report a smaller percent of their population living in poverty. And that is exactly what we find. According to UNICEF, the percentage of children living in poverty in 2005 was: Denmark, 2.4%; France, 7.5%, Norway, 13.4%; Canada, 14.9%; United Kingdom, 15.4%; United States, 21.9%. (Thank goodness for Mexico — 27.7%.)

The Human Development Index (HDI) measures general well-being, with special emphasis on child welfare. Ratings released in 2009, covering the period up to 2007, reveal the following: the U.S. ranks 13th, in a virtual tie with Austria, Spain, and Denmark, surpassed by some countries noted for extensive welfare programs: Norway, Canada, the Netherlands, Sweden, France, and Finland.

And among the disturbing reports that have convinced Benedict that gays are destroying Creation...

2010-01-13T15:45:00.001-08:00

But in the interests of fairness and balanced coverage, a piece of private investigation: On my recent trip to San Diego, I met a young man, a former Mormon missionary who said just before midnight, "Well, hate to be Cinderella, but I 'm outta here. Got to get up early for church, St John's Episcopal. They got a gay bishop. I'm gay so I guess I'm there."

clipped from www.theonion.com

Gay Teen Worried He Might Be Christian

LOUISVILLE, KY—At first glance, high school senior Lucas Faber, 18, seems like any ordinary gay teen. He's a member of his school's swing choir, enjoys shopping at the mall, and has sex with other males his age. But lately, a growing worry has begun to plague this young gay man. A gnawing feeling that, deep down, he may be a fundamentalist, right-wing Christian.

"I don't know what's happening to me," Faber admitted to reporters Monday. "It's like I get these weird urges sometimes, and suddenly I'm tempted to go behind my friends' backs and attend a megachurch service, or censor books in the school library in some way. Even just the thought of organizing a CD-burning turns me on."

Added Faber, "I feel so confused."

Occam's razor and the debate about condoms in Africa

2009-12-13T21:08:00.000-08:00

“Keep your eye on the ball.” A case for the ethical use of condoms to combat the spread of HIV/AIDS

Fire at Samuel Wesley's House

HIV/AIDS is a medical problem.

Occam’s Razor: entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem, "entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity." It is also expressed this way: Numquam ponenda est pluralitas sine necessitate, "Plurality ought never be posited without necessity".

Promoting the use of condoms is an ethical and necessary step towards preventing the spread of HIV, and that the conversation about the use of condoms to stem the spread of HIV in Africa has to be kept simple and direct.

Only unencumbered language will allow us to arrive at an effective strategy to stop AIDS. That has to be the goal – reduce the rate of HIV infection among poorer African populations. Considerations from other disciplines, practices, myths, cultures, religions, or magic cloud the thread of the argument.

Here is an analogy that I hope brings home some of the contending impulses that get in the way of thought and action.

Imagine that you are walking along, minding your own business, and suddenly you notice a crowd standing around a huge building that is being engulfed by flames. I think all of us would agree that the most human, immediate response would be to alert the people inside that there’s a fire, to call the fire department, organize a bucket brigade, and help get those in harm’s way to safety as quickly as possible with the least risk to yourself and anyone else close to the flames.

But when you begin to take any action – grab a bucket, ring the fire alarm, shout to people in the building so that they might be able to find a way out – various subgroups among the bystanders try to stop you.

One group says that one floor of the building has been taken over by crack heads and that it’s better to let them burn than possibly influence their kids and turn them towards the path to addiction.

Another group says that there are whores living in a part of the building and they spread venereal disease and, besides, the injunction in their holy books says that prostitution is punishable by death. The fire itself is their god’s wrathful punishment.

Another man says that his wife is on one of the upper floors, but that she has been unfaithful, and is a burden. It makes no difference to him whether she lives or dies. He is cheered on by a larger group of men who do not believe that men should put themselves in danger by trying to rescue any women.

Another group of women say that they will blockade any intervention because their husbands are in the building, each and everyone is HIV infected, and the fire is the hand of god saving them from certain infection.

A group of priests stand by and say that the only possible solution is to avoid fires. They also claim that it is immoral to intervene in a situation where the laws of nature have been violated – they have certain knowledge that the fire was set by an arsonist who is doing the devil’s work. And finally they claim that dousing the flames with water will not work in cases like this anyway.

A group of social workers stands to one side shaking their heads and says that this situation could have been avoided entirely if the basic needs of the folks in the burning building had been meet, if they had been educated, fed, given classes in self esteem.

Meanwhile the fires engulfs floor after floor. More and more people die. The professional firefighters cannot do what they know how to do. They know for certain that fires are extinguished by suppressing the flames with water or chemicals, and they also have also been trained to handle emergency catastrophic fires and reduce the loss of human life. But they cannot do their job.

Each group has very sound reasons for blocking the intervention of the firefighters. The group opposed to drug addicts point to tons of studies that prove that proximity to drug addicts increases the risk of addiction. The group that is content to let prostitutes die shouts age-old taboos about sex and virginity to justify themselves. The man whose unfaithful wife is going to be burned feels justified because his honor will be satisfied. The women whose husbands are HIV infected feel that finally nature has set about to reset the balance of power between the sexes. The priests use myth about being possessed by the devil to justify their claim that water will not put out these flames. The social workers feel that their profession might finally be recognized for the possible benefit for all mankind when finally the fire has taken its toll and they can sift through the ashes.

Here is a modern gloss of Occam’s razor: any good baseball coach teaches young players to keep their eye on the ball. It is that simple – there is only the ball flying through space, only you with a bat, or your glove, can stop its trajectory. When you hear people screaming at you from the stands, “if you catch it, you’ll be no better than the devil, you’ll go to hell, there’s a spell on that ball, it carries drug addiction and disease,” what do you do? Eliminate the noise as best you can.

Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem.

HIV/AIDS is a medical problem. Nothing else.

Hey Harry, your sentences are a total mess!

2009-09-11T18:24:00.000-07:00

Senator Harry Reid of Nevada said in ”remarks prepared for delivery” to note the passing Senator Edward Kennedy:

"The impact he etched into our history will long endure. The liberal lion's mighty roar may now fall on deaf ears, but his dream shall never die."

Hey Harry, these sentences are a total mess! I think I am beginning to see why health care reform is getting so jumbled in the Senate debate. You guys can’t think straight.

I hate to be a nitpicker—no that’s a lie—I enjoy it more than you can imagine. I have a pet theory, hatched in the Geo W Bush years: totally mashed up semantics, weird modifiers and misdirected metaphors that paint a dreadful picture reflect mashed up, weird, misdirected and dreadful thinking. QED.

Here we go. Not to leave poor Geo way ahead in the war of malapropisms, the Democrats, with Harry at bat, have scored some whopping points!

"The impact he etched into our history will long endure.” Harry gets off to a slow start. Though “etching an impact” is a bit hard for me to get visually, “to etch in memory” is a common way to say “unforgettable.” Etching is a process in the visual arts that requires the application of acid, mordant or abrasive of some sort to the unprotected areas on a metal to create the negative of an image for reproduction. Doesn’t he just mean that it will be hard to forget Teddy and that his legacy will be equally hard to erase. The use of the word “history” might be trying to sound the sad note that Teddy is no longer with us, but his body is barely cold. But I will give “etched impact” 4 points, but take 2 away for the introduction of Teddy’s death with an weak nuance for “history”–if that is even his meaning.

“The liberal lion's mighty roar may now fall on deaf ears, but his dream shall never die." But here’s where the real fun begins, and Harry racks up real points. These are two great images, the roaring lion and the “I have a dream” rhetoric of any visionary. But in the same sentence? Both images are diminished plus it makes no sense. Minus 10 points for each infraction. The middle phrase, “deaf ears,” must mean that the Republicans in the Senate, those in power, those in the opposition, are so stupid that they cannot hear or understand his strong cogent, articulate arguments. But did this just happen now that Teddy is dead—now that he is no longer around to twist arms in the Senate cloakroom? Hardly. They were deaf long before. So I am going to deduct 40 points for nonsense. I have also heard that one can dream with all the organs, but the ears are not usually regarded as the instrument of dreams in ordinary speech, but then again, people who dream do hear voices, usually ominous warnings of danger. But if this is the meaning, it is very obtuse. I will deduct another 30 points. That leaves Harry with a score of 8 out of a possible 100. George scored 0 on multiple occasions. Keep it up Harry, you can still give him a run for his money.

Political Cartoon by Michael Ramirez

"Give up. The War is lost!"

Healthcare reform may actually be very simple

2009-09-09T20:05:00.000-07:00

Another view from abroad

I have been talking with Australians, asking questions and listening to their reactions to the continuing debate over the overhaul of our healthcare system in the US.

As they become aware of what we pay for the services we receive, they, for the most part, are shocked. As they try to understand the debate, public options, death panels, the rationing scare, they are appalled at our greed. Companies charge exorbitant prices for services delivered by a shoddy system. Overstuffed, pampered Americans want the "Right" to a full body scan in a shopping mall so that they can feel good while there are lines of working people in emergency rooms who cannot afford basic coverage.

Australians have had their fair share of corruption with regards to government contracts and kickbacks—they are not naive. But the conversation has allowed me to look at the American situation with fresh eyes. There is far too much money floating around in the system, far too many loopholes. Fat pigs are making a mess of any rational reform so they can keep the money flowing.

It might be that simple, folks. Cut the pigs and their cronies out of the conversation. The simplest solution is usually one that cures.

Our not so slow drift towards fascism?

2009-09-03T17:54:00.001-07:00

A view from abroad

Amazing what a new perspective can do for you. I was sitting behind the Queen Victoria Building last night after a concert, waiting for a bus with a friend. She asked me, in a matter of fact way, “Aren’t people concerned about the rise of fascism in the States? That’s what we see, the tea parties, the disruptions during the town hall meetings, the virulent attacks from the Right, the blocking of any meaningful reform, the blind eye turned towards the most hideous forms of torture. Obama seems like a very principled and talented man, but the continued attacks will only increase until the fascists seize power again. They can’t believe they lost it.”

And perhaps we cannot see what we are in danger of losing.

I felt a chill run down my spine. We’re Americans. We beat Hitler. We are also the most poorly educated and misinformed democracy on the face of the globe, and we never experienced anything like the rise of Nazis.

She said that the evidence suggests that it takes at least two generations to recover from fascism. By that time the streets Manhattan and Miami may be rivers and the temperature too hot for human survival. I don’t like sounding alarmist, but I think that we may be plugging along in a very deluded state, hoping that things will turn out. I heard the Dalai Lama in the Greek Theater at UC Berkeley say, “Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst.” He has some experience with calamity.

The worst may get worse. Sometimes you just can no longer avoid the evidence. Even if you chose to close your eyes, it will eventually smack you in the face.

clipped from andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com

Here's a document from Norway's 1948 war-crimes trial detailing the prosecution of Nazis convicted of "enhanced interrogation techniques" (the phrase in its original German is "verschaerfte Vernehmung)" in the Second World War. Here's a document detailing Nazi bureaucratic description of these techniques. You will note the striking similarities between its content, its legalisms, its bureaucratic tone, and the recent CIA documents pried out of the US government's hands by the ACLU:

And they were executed for war crimes.

The question Americans have to ask themselves is why they hold the former president and vice-president to lower moral and ethical standards than the United States once held the Gestapo. That's all. And that's everything, isn't it?

Mr. President,

2009-07-30T23:11:00.001-07:00

Thank you very much.

clipped from www.commondreams.org

Published on Thursday, July 30, 2009 by GayPolitics.com

Harvey Milk to Receive Presidential Medal of Freedom

The Victory Fund has learned President Barack Obama plans to award America's highest civilian honor, the Presidential Medal of Freedom, to Harvey Milk, one of the country's first openly gay elected officials. The award will be accepted at a White House ceremony August 12 by Stuart Milk, the nephew of the late San Francisco Supervisor and civil rights activist.

Stuart Milk echoed Wolfe's praise, saying, "The President's action today touches the core of our very human hearts and my uncle would be so proud of this high honor. His election was, for him, a beginning-a chance to make real change. That change is happening, but we still have so far to go. I hope this recognition inspires LGBT Americans everywhere to heed Harvey's call to run for office, to serve openly, to live proudly with authenticity and to demand the equality that we all deserve."

More on why I am coming to think that atheism is a good option.

2009-07-24T11:21:00.001-07:00

People ask me if I am an atheist, and I usually answer, "I don't know." But I do know that if they are really asking if I subscribe to their notion of some wacked out meddlesome Bastard (I always capitalize names for G_d respecting common usage), the answer is, Yes I am definitely atheist. Mr. Morford does a pretty good job of explaining why. Take it away Mark!

clipped from www.sfgate.com

God is not your bitch

This just in: It is hugely unlikely God cares much about your sex life

South Carolina Gov. Mark Sanford, still clinging to office after admitting to an extramarital affair, wrote in an opinion piece released Sunday that God will change him so he can emerge from the scandal a more humble and effective leader

OK wait. What God really loves is meddling and poking and maybe forgiving, and also psychoanalyzing and scrutinizing and prying, gossiping and complaining and moderating, sighing and punishing and condemning, all while He shakes His big, shaggy head in your general direction at your various petty sins and misbehaviors every single day regarding pretty much every single thought you have.

Did you know this about God? Of course you did.

Matthew Shepherd remembered

2009-07-23T09:01:00.000-07:00

July 22, 2011

“The right wing is willing to keep LGBT people in harm's way to make a political point.” (HRC website)

The Matthew Shepard Hate Crimes Act passed. There will come a time when a needed protection and corrective measure does not have to be named for a victim of vicious homophobia. Take a look at the Yes and No votes and call your senator to thank them or chastise them. John McCain voted against the measure. Apparently the torture that Matthew suffered didn’t measure up to his personal standards.

I had no idea that the Senate was about to vote on the Matthew Sheperd Act during the Judiciary Committee hearings. The media apparently thinks that all posing, right wing sound bites, and left wing political correctness and ‘Justice’ Sotomayor’s responses were the only news that might interest anyone.

I think it’s high time to say enough is enough!

Today I noticed some well-dressed folks assembling on the sidewalk -- maybe a bit formal for street wear in my neighborhood, but not threatening or scary. They were listening to what sounded like a pep talk. Then I noticed that they were stuffing copies of “Awake” or “Watch Tower” in black leather carry bags. Ah, the Witnesses.

I stand by free speech. When the Witnesses ring my bell, I am always extremely courteous. I do not mention what I really think about the school of theologian/writers know as “J” in Hebrew Bible text studies -- they use “Jehovah” to point to the most powerful god. They were, as far as I can judge, self-serving nasty warmongers. But that was a few years ago. I don’t like what I saw of their influence in Michael Jackson’s life, but again these nice folks had nothing to do with that. So I say, “Thank you, not interested,” and close the door. There is no lying or deception.

Now let’s switch to Ms. Ex-governor Palin. In her rant, she said that others who resigned from high office were not held to the same standard that the liberal press, Democratic sleuths, whoever, holds her. She’s honorable and being harassed. Well, she is misinformed, or lying, or stretching the truth, or a patchwork of all of the above. She is the first to set aside the responsibilities of elected office for personal gain, and we’re letting her get away with it.

Politics and religion may be last refuge of scoundrels. Is it too much to ask that a public figure be informed, does not play to prejudice, and certainly acts in the interest of every citizen and not his or her own pocketbook? I have said politely, and with my vote, “Thank you, but definitely not interested.” But now this under-educated, nitwit is writing op ed pieces aimed at destroying or blocking a rational energy policy that is not just in my personal interest but, listening to near unanimity in the scientific world, in the interests of the health of our planet. It’s time to say, “Shut up. Had more than enough,” and her main man, Billy Kristol on Fox, tell him, “You are one stupid, self-serving low-life. Listening to you I have second thoughts about the First Amendment.”

It’s high time to take off the gloves.

Dan is a real American hero!

2009-07-14T14:23:00.001-07:00

The only thing about this article that is a little off putting for me is the slight tone of a eulogy, and Dan is, as far as I know, still very much alive. He helped me really get what "faith" and "courage" mean, in action, not just nice sounding words.

clipped from www.americamagazine.org

Berrigan and the Peace Movement

View a selection of photographs from the life of Daniel Berrigan, S.J., and his long involvement in the Catholic peace movement. Father Berrigan talks with George Anderson, S.J., in the July 6 issue.

View Slideshow

The Republican push back to health care reform is just fear mongering.

2009-07-11T10:06:00.001-07:00

The conversations are no more than a few months old, and already the conservatives are leading us to believe that only illness, death and poverty are going to result from Obama's plan to "fix" the health care delivery system. Isn't that odd -- they destroyed the housing market for the next decade, but never a word about that. Get real!

clipped from www.anonymousliberal.com

What do the world's "laboratories of democracy" tell us about health care?

Republicans, at least rhetorically, claim to value federalism and to believe that the states can function as "laboratories of democracy"-- places where policy experimentation can take place.

The number of people in other industrialized democracies who go bankrupt as a result of medical bills = 0

The number of people in other industrialized democracies who lack access to routine medical care = 0

The number of people in other industrialized democracies who feel trapped at their jobs for fear of losing their (or their family's) health insurance = 0.

That last number is particularly galling given conservative reverence for entrepreneurism. Though it's difficult to quantify, I would bet that our dysfunctional health care system, more than any other factor, discourages entrepreneurial risk-taking in this country. Which makes all this talk about free markets all the more absurd.

Robert McNamara, 1916—2009

2009-07-07T10:02:00.000-07:00

He didn’t die a dove, but pretty damn close.

I chose not to remember McNamara as the architect and stubborn supporter of the American war in Viet Nam. I wish the war had never been; I wish the McNamara’s apology and open discussion of what went so terribly wrong had been sooner after the fact. But that does not tarnish or diminish what we can learn from the man.

Of course, I am going to recommend a book, one not mentioned in any of the obligatory obituaries: Wilson's Ghost: Reducing the Risk of Conflict, Killing, and Catastrophe in the 21st Century. I stumbled across it a few years ago in a remainder pile in one of the major bookstores, bought it and read it with fascination. Scholarly, insightful and collaborative. I put it high on my list of “must read’s" for any student activist, particularly a refugee from the 60’s. Following McNamara’s wishes, there will be no service, no memorial to mark his death. Reading his book would be a far better tribute.

Make Harvey Milk Day real

2009-05-21T22:24:00.000-07:00

Today, May 22, 2009, Harvey Milk would have been 79. Just last November 27, 2008, we marked the 30th anniversary of the murders of Harvey Milk and George Moscone in San Francisco's City Hall. Harvey was only 48 when he was assassinated.

Though he didn't live to see much real effect of the gay revolution which he had no small part in fomenting, energizing, directing, I am sure that if he were still alive, he would be thrilled to see the massive demonstrations across the country protesting the passage of Proposition 8 here in California. And he wouldn’t have settled in some comfortable role as a respected elder in the gay community. He’d still be organizing, raising hell, tempering passions, and crafting solutions in a skillful, resolute way to take on the religious faction that opposes the rights of gay, lesbian, bi-sexual and transgender people to our full participation in the political process and civic life.

Though I met Harvey face to face many times, I don't know if I registered in his world. And that doesn't really matter much anyway. I liked him, and supported him in every election though I didn't get as deeply involved in politics then as I did after his assassination. But in the early 70's I wasn't totally out. This middle class kid was not entirely comfortable in the Castro, but I knew that it was as close to gay heaven as I would ever get and I was having a great time far from Connecticut and the Jesuits.

Harvey's desk in the camera shop was in such perpetual disarray that you might have wondered how he could track his customers' film, but he never lost any of mine. After we did business, I was always invited to sit on the famous red couch (it was a little more beat up than the one in the movie) and stay for as long as I wanted.

I felt welcomed and, when I spoke, listened to, but most times I sat and listened while Harvey spoke. And he talked a lot. In the course of an hour, as customers, political friends, kids from the street, other Castro merchants came and went, he might talk about the flood of gay kids looking for work, experimenting sexually, VD, pumping up rents, leaving litter (and doggie poop!), the unwelcoming attitudes of the old-line merchants. I remember one long conversation about the buffed guys who cruised half-naked on the corner of 18th and Castro in front of the old Hibernia Bank, which was known as "Hibernia Beach." They scared some of the Irish widows who still lived in the neighborhood. This was not a theoretical conversation Harvey had it with several representatives of these soft-spoken, and really pissed off, women. He was a master, listening carefully and answering every question honestly, but he didn't give an inch. I remember that the women left with some understanding of their new gay neighbors though not completely mollified.

He could laugh at any topic or take it with complete, serious concern depending on his audience. I had a sense that he was probing for the deeply felt needs of the neighbors who ultimately became his constituents. It was clear that he had thought long and hard about the issues, and he always linked your concern to the general good.

And no matter how far ranging his conversations, he never lost sight of his primary focus: that gay men and women were entitled to equal rights without having to masquerade or make deals that would push us back in the closet. Though there are many talented gay men and women who have followed him in San Francisco politics, I don’t think it was martyrdom that set the bar so high. He was a born politician and became a true master in a very short time.

On the marquee of the Castro Theater where the movie Milk opened last year, there was the image of a political button: "Never Blend In." I don't remember if I ever heard Harvey say those exact words, but I know that he embodied the openness about your gay lives that they express. It was the one of the reasons why during his lifetime some gay men didn't much like him: they truly believed that "blending in" was the only strategy that would allow them to lead the kind of lives they wanted for themselves. [For a very thorough treatment of "blending in" and how it affects our lives and rights as gay men, lesbians, bi and transgender men and women, I recommend, Covering: The Hidden Assault on Our Civil Rights by Kenji Yoshino]

OK? Never Blend In! Don't go back in the closet! Just Do It!

And hey Arnold! Sign the legislation that would make May 22 “Harvey Milk Day.” As I wrote to you today when I signed the petition to make you act—don’t coddle to the narrow-minded citizens of your base. After your defeat at the polls two days ago, you could learn a lot from Harvey Milk. Think “pooper scooper.”

Join me and make you voice heard. Tell the Gov to honor Harvey on his birthday!

The Gift of Tears

2009-05-10T12:24:00.000-07:00

It is May 10th, 2009, Mother's Day, and I am re-posting this piece that I wrote two years ago about my mother, Leona Carroll Ireland. I dedicate it to you, Mother, and to all our mothers.

I woke up this morning missing my mother who has been dead now for several years. Given the contentious quality of our relationship for most of our 60 years together, I am surprised that oftentimes I find tears in my eyes when I think of her. I still remember phone calls where she slammed down the receiver, our long periods of not speaking, her steely resolve that I was going to get straight somehow, by the force of her will, and marry (being her son, that locked us in absolute stalemate for almost 20 years), her cold punishment for my seemingly uncooperative nature.

In the few short years before she died, I got really lucky, or was blessed, when I was able to touch the pain these behaviors were covering. That alone took away their power to hurt, and allowed me to experience a kind of love that I could not have imagined. This is what I write about this Mother’s Day morning.

There is a famous story in zen about a monk, Hsiang-yen, who, by most standards applied to monks, was a failure. He worked away in the monastery of his teacher expecting nothing - and he got nothing; he sat long hours in meditation - nothing; he did rounds of begging – right, again only scraps; he got thrown out of the hojo every time he presented himself before his teacher to check out how he was doing because he didn’t seem to be absorbing much. A hopeless case. So after many years of getting nowhere when his teacher died, convinced that realization was beyond his capabilities, he retired to a remote temple where he tended the teacher’s grave. One day, the story continues, as he was raking the stones in the orderly zen garden, (I like to imagine the ones you see in the fancy books with perfectly ordered lines in the rocks,) a small stone bounced off the garden wall with a Ping! Just that sound, and in a tumble his mind gulped in all his training in a single instant and he understood. He got his life.

Even someone who has never practiced long days of meditation can understand the appeal of this monk's story. Everyone I know has some dilemma like this in his or her lives. For me my relationship with my mother was a huge conundrum.

I have flown to Tucson to be with my mother after her first serious heart episode. It is decided that she get a pacemaker, and that the doctor electrically jolt her heart and, hopefully, restore a normal rhythm. Then the elements of a really bad melodrama start to unfold, my father’s disappearance for several days when he can’t take anymore, my mother brawling with her sister and a pretty buffed nursing attendant as she tries to put on her clothes to leave: she is going to go out into the street and hail a cab to take her home given that no one in her family seems willing to yield to her command and return her to a normal life. Eventually a really well trained and compassionate case manager is the voice of calm, and mother agrees to the procedure. The drama to follow can be a quick note in the margin: further refusal on the operating table; family crisis; harsh words exchanged in anger; the heart specialist looks like the 14 year prodigy, Doogie Howser M.D., on the TV (I’m not kidding. He really did look like a teenager). I started to laugh,…”this kid is going to thread electrodes through the arteries to my mother’s heart? What is she going to think?” She thinks he’s cute and refuses his treatment. Back to square one. That evening we will try again.

Before her surgery, she can have no food; even water is restricted. She can only have small ice shavings. I hold a plastic cup and gently spoon the ice shavings on her tongue. She chews, and sucks, and swallows with smiles. I hear the ice click against the side of the plastic cup as I scoop it up. I use every bit of all my long zen training just to be with my mother for what might be her last moments of life: just her, just this spoonful, just this ice, just my breath and hers, just her pleasure in ice and water. It is very sweet and I feel like the good son. If nothing else about zen, it does train you to be present in the moment. And that moment will have to be enough for this particular gay son after many long years of psychotherapy, feeling outcast and abused. Yes, I decide it will be enough.

The medical procedure goes as well as any scripted denouement on the Doogie Howser TV show. You couldn’t hope for more: the patient gets well; the family crisis is temporarily resolved when the stubborn mother agrees to go to the nursing home; the father returns, shaken, humbled but unharmed, forgiven and loved; the gentle sister has taken over managing the mother’s care. And I board Frontier Air for the return trip to San Francisco.

After the exchange of pleasantries, I discover that my seatmates are going to San Francisco to be reunited with their birth mother whom they have never met (how could I make this up?), and I tell them that I have been at my mother’s sick bed. We are in flight. Staring out the window as we flew over the Rockies, across the dessert and into the sky over Death Valley, I lapse into a brown study, and sit mesmerized by the wonder of the world. The flight attendant offers me a second Diet Coke with ice. My orphaned seatmates pass the offering across the seats. I take a big gulp and when I swirl the ice around the cup, it clinks against the edge. In an instant my mind tumbles and I am no longer "me" in a plane over Death Valley, but I am in my mother’s life (I mean really, not some theoretical proposition), all of it, her hopes her pain her struggles her fear her birth her death, and I burst into tears and sob. My orphan seat mate understands something about finding mothers: she just reaches out and gently touches my arm, holding me connected to the breathing world as my mind flies away (did I thank her enough?). Any trace of resentment, regret, bitterness, or recrimination about the way my mother treated me at any time in our lives together evaporates. She is just my mother, and I am finally able to enter into the mystery and wonder of being a son.

The plane lands in San Francisco. I mumble good-bye to my seatmates whose mother that gave them birth is waiting at the gate. I wish them well and I walk back into my life, praying that everybody be lucky enough to find out who their mothers really are, to be able to step into their lives, and to cry when they are gone.

Follow up to my post regarding Benedict and Williamson

2009-03-18T13:32:00.001-07:00

Given Benedict's recent trip to Africa and continued refusal to endorse condoms to stem the spread of HIV, I think that we have to take off the gloves. Take on his privileged pulpit, bully, criminal, or just plain stupid--your choice.

clipped from www.laprogressive.com

Pope: “Jesus Didn’t Die on the Cross”

by Jonathan David Farley posted on Tuesday, 17 March 2009

THE VATICAN (Reuters) —The Catholic world is in upheaval and confusion after an announcement today by Bishop Richard Williamson and Pope Benedict that Jesus, contrary to centuries of church doctrine, did not in fact die on the cross as was previously taught.

Said Jesuit Father Federico Lombardi, papal spokesman: “The length and width of the cross was such that an average human being could not have supported himself for three hours in that position. Moreover, given our metallurgical analysis of nails used in Roman times, and the anatomical structure of the human hand, the tissue would have torn immediately upon raising the cross.”

Down in the Dumps about your 401 K? Read this.

2009-02-16T13:21:00.001-08:00

Myth or something other?

I am not an apostle of Ayn Rand or Milton Friedman or the forever chair of the Fed, Alan Greenspan, but this is worth reading and thinking about.

"The choice--the dedication to one's highest potential--is made by accepting the fact that the noblest act you have ever performed is the act of your mind in the process of grasping that two and two make four." AR. How did this effect Mr. Greenspan's rhetoric? Here she is pretty close to showing what an idiot she was, or am I being too harsh?

clipped from www.yourhrguy.com

Welcome To The Excuse Economy

I don’t know if you’ve heard but this economy is really messing up some things. They say these are unprecedented economic times. We are in a recession! Jobless claims are higher than they have been in decades. We needed a government funded stimulus package yesterday. Businesses are slashing prices so that you can survive in this tough economy. In dire financial straits? In this economy, that’s tough! Underwater with stock options or your mortgage? Well in this economy, things are going to get worse before they get better.
Read on. Click on the clipmarks icon and go to the post.

Benedict's retrograde problem with a neo-Nazi bishop

2009-02-11T11:16:00.000-08:00

Father Tom Reese is a well-spoken man and well trained in theology, but an objective critic he is not. His first loyalty to the Roman Catholic Church has blinded him to the atrocious behavior that is being condoned by lifting the excommunication of neo-Nazi Bishop Richard Williamson of the Society of Pius X. He states the problem with Benedict’s papacy is that his organization does not have a modern PR office that would break the news of rehabilitating four Pius X bishops, including Williamson, to the world, the liberals in his own church and the worldwide Jewish community. No PR Vatican Secretariat, no matter how up to date and informed, could ever make a case for this blunder.

Any self-respecting PR person would say, Benedict, you are the Pope, damn-it, and you have chosen the wrong issue and the wrong message. Emphasize the core mission of your organization and make that the centerpiece of your actions. The backward looking vision of the Society of Pius X has a man like Williamson in charge of their priestly formation. It is a distorted faith that does real harm to people who struggle to alleviate the suffering in the world. Jesus did not say, go to the Pharisee and try to make peace before he goes off and starts a rival sect. He began condemnations of their theology with the words: “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees!”

I understand the awkward position in which Benedict finds himself, perhaps not to the extent that Reese understands it, but I can follow an argument. The Roman Catholic has argued that it is the form of the consecration that insures that its bishops inherit their authority from the original 12 Apostles of Jesus. And by “form” Roman Catholics mean that the correct words, prayers, and ritual actions for consecrating a new bishop are uttered and performed by a bishop who has been initiated, or ordained, in the same manner. So the Pius X bishops are really bishops according to the doctrine, as are, I might add all of the bishops of the old Catholic Church who are still quite numerous in Germany and have at least four bishops in the US. I met one. The problem, according Reese, is what is Benedict to do with these bishops so that they do not become loose cannons (my words).

I would bet pennies to dollars that not one in a thousand Catholics knows or cares about the doctrine of the apostolic succession as understood by the hierarchy, and by extension only one in thousand would pay any attention to the Pius X bishops when they opened their mouths. These intricacies only interest an extremely small group of scholars, liturgists, linguists and cannon lawyers, and are absolute trivia to most faithful Christians who look to their bishops, and especially the bishop of Rome, to be faithful servants of the Word of God and the Teaching of Jesus. For example, according the rite that was composed under Pius XII, the consecrating bishop has to use these words, “Complete in Your priest the fullness of Your ministry, and adorned in the raiment of all glory, sanctify him with the dew of heavenly anointing.” I am not going to dispute the beauty of the language, but the fact that this prayer was uttered when the excommunicated bishops were consecrated somehow necessitated a bow to the position that the Nazis did not murder more than 6 million Jews, dissidents, gypsies, homosexuals and disabled is a horrendous distortion of the values that people should expect from any religious authority.

Is there a way that Benedict could have rid himself and the Church of these troublesome bishops? Of course. He could have simply let their movement die off or become a small fringe group of fanatics—a sensible option. Or if he felt that he had to take some action, following Fr. Reese’s argument, he could have declared them heretics and schismatics. But I fear that he has far too much sympathy for their position. And that is the danger. The conditions on our small planet are far too fragile to allow any hate mongers the publicity they crave.

And so I am still left with the question: where did Benedict get this dumb idea in the first place? I say it is because the leadership of the Church has lost sight of its mission. It has become so remote and isolated that its main concern has become defending and legitimizing its authority, and not spreading the message that Jesus taught. Sadly this is the result of Benedict’s looking back to Pius IX and the 1st Vatican Council, and burdening the message of the Gospel with distracting arguments about liturgical propriety, the validity of holy orders, and ordination of bishops. That view will just focus our attention on the human weaknesses and failings of the followers of Jesus rather than the simple and direct way that He spoke to us.

"life begins at conception and ends at birth." -- Rep. Barney Frank

2009-01-31T10:34:00.001-08:00

[For the Pope it seems], "life begins at conception and ends at birth." -- Rep. Barney Frank

More on the disgusting move of blessing and welcoming back into the fold a bishop who denies the murder of 6 million Jews, gypsies, homosexuals and other outcasts while, in the same breath, denouncing Obama and his efforts to bring some decency to family planning efforts worldwide.

clipped from www.dailykos.com

The Audacity of Pope
by Avenging Angel
Sat Jan 31, 2009 at 10:26:06 AM PST
The Vatican may have chosen the wrong week to protest President Obama's reversal of the Mexico City policy banning federal funds from international family planning groups. Even as a Vatican spokesman blasted Obama's decision as "the arrogance of a person who, having the power, thinks they can decide on life and death," Pope Benedict XVI restored a Holocaust-denying Bishop to his station within the church. Meanwhile in California, federal authorities revealed an investigation into allegations the Diocese of Los Angeles covered up the sexual abuse of minors by priests.

Avenging Angel's diary :: :
I love the line: "the arrogance of a person who, having the power, thinks they can decide on life and death." Isn't that a pretty exact description of the hierarchy's position?

Are Books Next?

2009-01-26T21:44:00.001-08:00

Liberal education as we know it might also be a thing of the past. I wonder if anyone really cares or realizes the cost?

Here is a comment from a reader, Andrew Davis, of The New Republic:

In other news, American Airlines announces they will no longer fly airplanes.

For more of my collages go to Application of the Senses

"After careful analysis, we discovered that we make most of our profit selling tickets, not flying planes, so we are canceling all flights henceforth. Tickets, however, are still available on-line, over the phone, or from an agent. Our customers will also be glad to know that we are also reducing our fuel surcharge fifty percent."

clipped from blogs.tnr.com

Why Book Reviews Matter

Rumors surfaced last Friday that Book World, the Washington Post's highly-respected weekly stand-alone on all things literary, might be closing. Politico's Michael Calderone quickly confirmed that, while no decision has been made, it's under high-level discussion as a cost-cutting measure. This would leave the New York Times' Book Review as the last stand-alone book section in American dailies.

In recent years, in-house book reviewing has been eliminated, abridged, or downgraded by the Atlanta Journal- Constitution, the Los Angeles Times, the San Francisco Chronicle, Cleveland's Plain Dealer, The San Diego Union-Tribune--the list goes on.

What HBO didn't want you to hear

2009-01-19T01:32:00.001-08:00

Today, Sunday, the 18th of January, at the Lincoln Memorial, openly gay Bishop Gene Robinson called on God to "bless us with anger – at discrimination, at home and abroad, against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people." However, his prayer was cut from the HBO broadcast!

Here is the full text of his prayer:

The Most Rev. Gene Robinson
Episcopal Bishop of New Hampshire
Invocation, Inaugural Concert
Lincoln Memorial
Washington, D.C.
Jan. 18, 2009 2:20 p.m. EST

Oh, God of our many understandings, we pray that you will bless us with tears, tears for a world in which over a billion people exist on less than a dollar a day, where young women in many lands are beaten and raped for wanting an education, and thousands die daily from malnutrition, malaria and AIDS.

Bless this nation with anger – anger at discrimination at home and abroad against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people.
Bless us with discomfort at the easy, simplistic answers we’ve preferred to hear from our politicians instead of the truth about ourselves and our world, which we need to face if we are going to rise to the challenges of the future.

Bless us with patience and the knowledge that none of what ails us will be fixed anytime soon, and the understanding that our new president is a human being, not a Messiah.

Bless us with humility, open to understanding that our own needs as a nation must always be balanced with those of the world.

Bless us with freedom from mere tolerance, replacing it with a genuine respect and warm embrace of our differences.

And bless us with compassion and generosity, remembering that every religion’s God judges us by the way we care for the most vulnerable.

And God, we give you thanks for your child, Barack, as he assumes the office of President of the United States. Give him wisdom beyond his years. Inspire him with President Lincoln’s reconciling leadership style; President Kennedy’s ability to enlist our best efforts, and Dr. King’s dream of a nation for all people.

Give him a quiet heart, for our ship of state needs a steady, calm captain.

Give him stirring words. We will need to be inspired and motivated to make the personal and common sacrifices necessary to facing the challenges ahead.

Make him color blind, reminding him of his own words that under his leadership there will be "neither red nor blue states, but the United States."

Help him remember his own oppression as a minority, drawing on that experience of discrimination that he might seek to change the lives of those who are still its victims.

Give him strength to find family time and privacy and help him remember that even though he is president, a father only gets one shot at his daughters’ childhoods.

And, please God, keep him safe. We know we ask too much of our Presidents and we are asking far too much of this one. We implore You, O good and great God, to keep him safe; hold him in the palm of Your hand, that he might do the work we have called him to do, that he might find joy in this impossible calling, and that in the end, he might lead us as a nation to a place of integrity, prosperity and peace. Amen.

15 Days and Counting

2009-01-05T11:02:00.000-08:00

Notes on paintings chosen for display at the Inaugural Luncheon in the Capitol.

View of the Yosemite Valley by Thomas Hill, Oil on canvas, 1865.
New-York Historical Society, Gift of Charles T. Harbeck

A few thoughts about the office of POTUS, looking back on the first three years of Barack Obama's administration. I wrote this 15 days before he was sworn in. I will continue to stand up for him, and work to get him re-elected.

The sense of the oldest version of the word “inauguration,” the Latin inaugurātus, is more than a just formal ceremony in which the person chosen for an office accepts its responsibilities and promises to fulfill its requirements. It was a blessing, augur. We humans try to coax the pantheon of the gods help move all the forces of the universe into alignment to create the most favorable circumstances possible for the office-holder to fulfill of his or her responsibilities.

Although I prefer a more secular interpretation of the word, there is something to that older, more sacred meaning. We humans, in our role as citizens, make a pact with the powers of the universe, that they will guide and protect Barack Obama to fight for the freedom of all people, to nurture all life, and to take care for humans in need—“to provide for the common good.” It is not one-sided. The humans have their role to play as well as the unseen powers. That is certainly what lead me to support Barack’s bid for the presidency, and I will be there, either in person or in spirit, to pledge my support as he sets out to make good on his promises.

The portrait, dated 1821, is of course Thomas Jefferson, by the 19th century portrait artist Thomas Sully. Bill Clinton displayed it at the Inaugural Luncheon in the Capitol for his 1st Inauguration.

I had imagined that Barack Obama would choose one of Lincoln. Instead he chose one that was painted the year that Lincoln was assassinated, View of the Yosemite Valley by Thomas Hill. The breath of Hill vision has room for many, many possibilities. I say that those possibilities still exist if we honor our part in the bargain.

Where are the protests and boycotts by the international community?

2008-11-21T04:52:00.001-08:00

Ashin Mettacara is a Buddhist monk who escaped Burma after the brutal end of the Saffron Revolution. Currently, from an undisclosed location, he is blogging whatever news he gets from this isolated country.

The military thugs who control the country are not being held accountable by the rest of the world, but they could not survive without China stonewalling for them. And we in the West, yes even us cool, level headed focused, bright and committed Buddhists seem to have put the issue aside after the unbelievable pictures of thousands of saffron robed monks marching in the streets, followed by the horrific scenes of death and destruction that were caused by the cyclone, disappeared from out TV's.

Just yesterday I was reminded again of what we can still do, even in small ways. I was with a college buddy, showing him around San Francisco. We went into a very upscale shop on Maiden Lane, actually a building that Frank Lloyd Wright designed. On the desk was a jar and an appeal to continue to help the victims in Myanmar.

Wake up. It's still going on. Please do not let up the pressure. Speak up!

clipped from www.ashinmettacara.org

Burma, Myanmar: Popular Burmese Hip-Hop Singer Gets 6 Years; Leader Monk Gets Another 15 years

More than 20 activists were sentenced in Burma on Thursday. A popular Burmese Hip-Hop singer Zay Yar Thaw was also included in the list of the detainenes sentenced.

Zay Yar Thaw is a 27-year-old singer from the popular music band known as ACID. ACID a hip-hop band from Yangon, Burma.

Zaw Yar Thaw organised and led the Generation Wave group with the young activists during the Saffron Revolution led by the Buddhist monks in 2007. He was arrested in March with his four other members of Generation Wave. He was sentenced today to 6 years imprisonment for possessing foreign currency and organising illegal group. His four other members of Generation Wave were sentenced to 5 years imprisoment each.

The leader and spokesmonk for the Saffron Revolution Ashin Gambira gets another 15 years. Last Tuesday he has already been sentenced to 12 years imprisonment. But his case is not closed yet.

By Ashin Mettacara

Follow the Money -- Deep Throat

2008-10-27T13:32:00.001-07:00

Read through the article. I particularly the bit about the "grand poobah" of the LDS pocketing $1.5 million of donations from Utah followers to limit the authority of the California Supreme Court.

"The promoters don’t pay for all that work by state employees. They make huge personal profits from the measure while forcing the taxpayers to pay the costs. It sheds a whole new light on the “redistributing wealth” complaints we hear from the McCain campaign."

The LA Progressive has become one of my real finds during this grueling election cycle.

clipped from www.laprogressive.com

The Profits They Make from Attacking Freedom

October 27, 2008

by Tom Hall –

In earlier essays, I talked about how a group of for-profit businessmen was promoting Proposition 8 (Proposition Hate), the anti-gay marriage measure to write bigotry into the California Constitution. I pointed out some of their hypocricies and dishonesties. But I didn’t talk much about their finances.

It’s important to understand how these people make their money. And make money they do. Each of the main promoters of this bigotry campaign may personally pocket as much as $10 million or more from the campaign. At the same time, they force the taxpayers to spend millions on the mechanics of reviewing all the signatures on petitions, putting the measure on the ballot, and writing accurate ballot statements to replace the intentionally false statements offered by the promoters.

A Zen Master looks at Same-Gender Marriage

2008-10-17T12:57:00.000-07:00

Bob Aitken by Kaori Ukaji

by Robert Aitken with Ken Ireland

Robert Aitken Roshi was one of the most widely respected American Zen teachers. In 1959 he and his wife, Anne Hopkins Aitken, founded a Zen Meditation community in Hawaii, the Honolulu Diamond Sangha. Today there are Diamond Sangha affiliated centers in North and South America, Australia and New Zealand. He is also co-founder of the Buddhist Peace Fellowship. He died in Honolulu on August 5th, 2010.

The word Zen means "exacting meditation," which describes the central practice of the Zen Buddhist and from which emerge certain quite profound realizations that can be applied in daily life. Most practitioners come to a deep understanding that all life is connected and that we are each a boundless container that includes all other beings. The application of this kind of intimacy can be framed in the classic Buddhist teaching of the Four Noble Abodes: loving kindness, compassion, joy in the attainment of others, and equanimity.

Applying these Four Noble Abodes to the issue of same-sex marriage, I find it clear that encouragement is my recommendation. Over my long career of teaching, I have had students who were gay, lesbian, trans-sexual and bisexual, as well as heterosexual. These orientations have seemed to me to be quite specific, much akin to the innate proclivities which lead people to varied careers or take paths in life that are uniquely their own. We are all human, and within my own container, I find compassion—not just for—but with the gay or lesbian couple who wish to confirm their love in a legal marriage.

Although historically Zen has been a monastic tradition, there have always been prominent lay adherents. Those who enter the state of marriage vow to live their lives according to the same sixteen precepts that ground the Buddhist monk’s and nun’s life in the world. This way of living opens our path into life. Like life itself, marriage is absolutely non-discriminatory and open to all.

Buddhist teaching regarding sexuality is expressed in the precept of "taking up the way of not misusing sex." I understand this precept to mean that any self-centered sexual conduct is exploitative, non-consensual—sex that harms others. In the context of young men or young women confined within monastery walls for periods of years, one might expect rules and teachings relating to homosexuality, but they don't appear. Homosexuality seems to be overlooked in Zen teachings, and indeed in classical Buddhist texts. However, my own monastic experience leads me to believe that homosexuality was not taken as an aberration, and so did not receive comment.

All societies have from earliest times across the world formalized sexual love in marriage ceremonies that give the new couple standing and rights in the community. Currently both rights and standing are denied to gays and lesbians who wish to marry in all but three of the United Sates. If every State acknowledged the basic married rights of gay and lesbian couples, young men and women just beginning their lives together, as well as those who have shared their lives for decades, a long-standing injustice would be corrected, and these fellow citizens would feel accepted in the way they deserve to be. This would stabilize a significant segment of our society, and we would all of us be better able to acknowledge our diversity. I urge the voters of California to keep gay and lesbian marriages legal. This is the most humane course of action and in keeping with perennial principles of decency and mutual encouragement.

Un Zen Master Enseña sobre el mismo Género Matrimonio

2008-10-16T14:06:00.000-07:00

by Robert Aitken y Ken Ireland

Robert Aitken Roshi es uno de los más ampliamente respetado Estadounidense Zen maestros. En 1959 el y su esposa, Anne Hopkins Aitken, fundó una meditación Zen comunidad en Hawai, la Honolulu Diamante Sangha. Hoy hay Diamante Sangha centros afiliados en Norte y Sudamérica, Australia y Nueva Zelandia. También es co-fundador de la Paz Budista becas. Él murió el 5 de agosto de 2010 en Honolulu. Tenía 93 años de edad.

La palabra Zen significa "exigente meditación," que describe la práctica del Zen Budista y de que surgen ciertas bastante profundo realizaciones que puede aplicarse en la vida diaria. Mayoría de los que practican Zen llegan a un entendimiento profundo que toda la vida está conectado y que estamos cada una infinita contenedor que incluye todos los otros seres. La aplicación de esta intimidad puede ser entendido por la enseñanza clásico Budista de los Cuatro Nobles Moradas: el amor universal benevolente; compassion; la dicha altruista; ecuanimidad.

Aplicar estos cuatro Nobles Moradas a la cuestión de matrimonios del mismo sexo, me parece claro que el aliento es mi recomendación. Durante mi larga carrera de enseñanza, he tenido estudiantes que eran gays, lesbianas, trans-sexual y bisexuales, así como heterosexual. Estas orientaciones me parecieron ser muy específico, muy similar a la innata proclividades que llevan a las personas a diversas carreras o tomar caminos en la vida que son singularmente sus propios. Todos somos humanos, y adentro de mi proprio envase, encuentro compassion—no solo para—pero con la pareja gay o lesbiana que quiere confirmar su amor en una boda legal.

Aunque históricamente Zen ha sido una tradición monástica, siempre ha habido prominente adeptos que no eran monjes or monjas. Los que entran en el estado de matrimonio eligen a vivir segun los mismos 16 preceptos del monje Budista o monja Budista. Esta forma de vida abre el camino hacia la vida. Como la vida, el matrimonio es absolutamente no discriminatorio y abierto a todos.

Enseñanza Budista sobre la sexualidad es expresada en el precepto de "tomando el camino de no abusar sexo." Tengo entendido que este precepto significa que cualquier egoísta, donde la conducta sexual es explotación, no consensual--sexo que daña a otros. En el contexto de jóvenes, hombres o mujeres jóvenes confinado a monasterio muros para períodos de años, uno podría esperar normas y enseñanzas relativas a la homosexualidad, pero no aparecen. Homosexualidad parece ser ignoradas en el Zen enseñanzas, y de hecho en clásico textos Budistas. Sin embargo, mi propia experiencia monástica me lleva a creer que la homosexualidad no fue tomado como una aberración, y así no recibir observaciones.

Todas las sociedades tienen, desde los tiempos más remotos, en todo el mundo formalizado amor sexual en ceremonias de matrimonio que otorgan a la nueva pareja prestigio y derechos en la comunidad. Actualmente ambos los derechos y el reconocimiento estan negados a gays y lesbianas que deseen casarse, con la excepción de tres estados de los Estados Unidos.. Si cada Estado reconoció la base casado derechos de gays y lesbianas parejas, jóvenes, hombres y mujeres que apenas inician su vida juntos, así como aquellos que han compartido sus vidas durante décadas, una larga injusticia sería corregido, y estos conciudadanos se sentirían aceptado en la manera en que merecen ser. Esto permitiría estabilizar un importante segmento de nuestra sociedad, y que todos nosotros estar en mejores condiciones para reconocer nuestra diversidad. Insto a los votantes de California a mantener gay y lesbiana matrimonios legales. Este es el más humana curso de acción y de conformidad con principios perennes de la decencia y la mutua aliento.

John McCain didn’t cut down the Cherry Tree either.

2008-10-09T18:28:00.000-07:00

With no apologies to John McCain or M.L. Weems: how we will have to rewrite the narrative of our national mythology. And we're just over 235!

When John was about six years old, he was made the wealthy master of a hatchet of which, like most little boys, he was extremely fond. He went about chopping everything that came his way.

One day, as he wandered about the garden amusing himself by hacking his mother's pea sticks, he found a beautiful, young English cherry tree, of which his father was most proud. He tried the edge of his hatchet on the trunk of the tree and barked it so that it died.

Some time after this, his father, the Admiral, discovered what had happened to his favorite tree. He came into the house in great anger, and demanded to know who the mischievous person was who had cut away the bark. Nobody could tell him anything about it in front of the others, so the Admiral began some secret investigations.

Fast forward to a few days later when Johnny, with his little hatchet, came into his father’s room.

"John,'' said his father, "do you know who has killed my beautiful little cherry tree yonder in the garden? I would not have sold it for a million dollars!''

This was a hard question to answer, and for a moment little Johnny was staggered by it, but quickly recovering himself he cried:

"I cannot tell a lie, father, you know I cannot tell a lie and always talk straight! I didn’t cut it with my little hatchet.”

The Admiral’s voice became more stern as he pursed his line of questioning: “Yes, John, I have a video tape of your little friend Sarah cutting away that bark, but having interviewed her, she claims that you told her to do it. Is that true?”

Johnny had to do some fast thinking on his feet and very quickly he decided to spread the blame. “Little Karl told us to do it. He said we had to.”

The anger died out of his father's face, and taking the boy tenderly in his arms, he said:

"My son, you should never be afraid to hide the truth and spread the blame as widely as you can. That lesson is worth more than a thousand trees! And those trees will be blossomed with silver and have leaves of the purest gold!''

Shirley Chisholm, 1924-2005

2008-08-16T20:17:00.000-07:00

Shirley Chisholm, 1924-2005

Thanks to Christopher Neill of SanFranciscoforObama for reminding us that Hillary Clinton is not the first woman to make a run for the Oval Office.

“Shirley Chisholm, the first black woman to serve in Congress and the first woman to seek the Democratic presidential nomination, died on Saturday night at her home in Ormond Beach, Fla. She was 80. She had suffered several strokes recently, according to a former staff member, William Howard.

Mrs. Chisholm was an outspoken, steely educator-turned-politician who shattered racial and gender barriers as she became a national symbol of liberal politics in the 1960’s and 1970’s. Over the years, she also had a way of making statements that angered the establishment, as in 1974, when she asserted that ‘there is an undercurrent of resistance’ to integration ‘among many blacks in areas of concentrated poverty and discrimination’ — including in her own district in Brooklyn….taken from “La Shawn Barber’s Corner”

Indian Independence Day

2008-08-14T22:21:00.001-07:00

clipped from jesuskoan.blogspot.com

Thursday, August 14, 2008

In honor of Mahatma Gandhi — 8.15.08
I wrote this essay for Meanderings as part of an exploration of Hindu meditation in conversations between Dilip Trasi, Nitin Trasi and Morgan Zo-Callahan. I focus primarily on the unique contribution to Mohandas Gandhi, or Mahatma Gandhi. Tomorrow, August 15^th is Indian Independence Day, and I publish this essay here in “Buddha S.J." as a tribute to a man who contributed so much to the spiritual practice of all humans everywhere on our planet.

Website of the Buddhist Master C.M.Chen

2008-08-07T18:25:00.001-07:00

Master CM Chen was my first real Buddhist Teacher. With my deepest gratitude, I present the link to the site devoted to his work, maintained by his disciple, Dr. Yutang Lin.

clipped from www.yogichen.org

Yogi C. M. Chen
Photo of Dr. Yutang Lin

www.yogichen.org

This independent website is dedicated to the teachings of Yogi C. M. Chen (1906-1987), and his disciple Dr. Yutang Lin in Hinayana, Mahayana and Vajrayana Buddhism.

I also include a link to the online version of Lighthouse in the Ocean of Chan, Chen's original work with a great many koans. I used this book in its first translation when I took up koan practice, and spent nearly 5 years working on making the translations more readable. Making the koans my own was a real tipping point in my practice.

Does Hell freeze over? Or? A scientific hypothesis

2008-07-21T15:08:00.000-07:00

Dante Conversing with Farinata degli Uberti by William Blake

The following is supposedly an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term. It was so "profound" that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well. My thanks to my friend Andrea Tosi for forwarding this to me. It made my day!

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following:

"First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.

"As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell.

"With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

"This gives two possibilities:

"1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

"2. If Hell is expanding at a faster rate than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

"So which is it?

"If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, "it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you", and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over.

"The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct...leaving only Heaven thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why last night, Teresa kept shouting 'Oh my God.'"

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY "A"

To Mr. & Mr. Joel Katz & Tim Montgomery

2008-07-07T21:47:00.000-07:00

Ken McDonald, my dear friend and zen brother, was best man at the wedding of our mutual friends Joel Katz and Tim Montgomery in Toronto. When he told me that he had even given a toast as traditional for such occasions, I asked him what he said. He said that he didn’t write it down or record it, but that it would be easy to recreate as it came from the heart. I can think of no better way to express my happiness for Joel and Tim than to publish Ken’s words and send Joel and Tim our warm regards and best wishes.

“The time has come to state the obvious. This is a great day.

“We have members of the Katz family, in from Washington, New York, and Ottawa. And we have members of the Montgomery family here, from Vancouver, Frankfurt, and Tunisia ... no, wait, that's just where their luggage went. They've come from Vancouver.

“It's a pleasure for me to stand here and tell you about Joel. I've known him for a long time, so I've been going through my library of possible things I could say about him. It's so difficult to choose. So I'll go by his favourite quote, which is "Granny's Rules". If you know them, let's all say together: "Is it TRUE? Is it KIND? Is it NECESSARY?" Well, I suppose two out of three wouldn't be bad.

“First, about truth. I think everyone here has had a significant conversation with Joel. He has a great ability to look for the truth, whether it's personal truth, musical truth, or any kind of truth.

“And about kindness: as you look around here in this beautiful garden, you see Joel and Tim's ability to create a place of beauty. This is a great effort of kindness in which they both are participating: creating their lives together.

“And is it necessary? Well, I never imagined, growing up, that such a ceremony as marriage would be available for people like us, that I'd be standing here today as best man. And now here we are. There are so many places in the world where such a thing is not possible, where gay people are still persecuted.

“But this is not a political event. Today is about family. It's about friends. It's about love. It's really simple. So let us imagine, for now, that what's happening here is just the way the world is, with our hope that it be so. So, here's to family, here's to friends, here's to love, here's to Tim and Joel.”

Robert McQueen and His Amazing Letters!

2008-07-06T18:21:00.000-07:00

This morning I met a man who is a gay man, an actor and a Mormon. By the time I got home, I had to tell him the story of my being entrusted with an extensive collection of letters from Robert McQueen and principally two of his correspondents, Nathan Fein and Tom Youngblood. Just over two years ago, Affirm, an organization of gay, lesbian and bisexual Mormons, accepted the letters as part of their gay and lesbian collection which is housed at the University of Utah. Here is my letter.

Hey guy, Here is an article about Robert from the time when he began his career as editor of The Advocate, highlighting his Mormon roots. I read it this morning and found it very moving. His letters which I donated to Affirm start just about where the article leaves off, and cover the next 10 years or so, the last ones about six months before he died in 1989.

There about 250+ letters in all. They are divided into two parts. The most extensive is the correspondence between Robert and a writer named Nathan Fein who was The Advocate’s point person, editor, and columnist reporting and writing about the AIDS epidemic from the very start, before HIV/AIDS had a name. They show two men really grappling with how to present this information in a responsible way. And they are a real mirror of those times.

The second section of the letters were written to Tom Youngblood, the man who gave me the collection (in a big gray box from the men’s sweater store that used to be in St Francis—yeah really) with instructions to find a home for them and perhaps to make them into a book or, A PLAY. Tom loved the idea of a play. Tom was a gay activist and the most often quoted gay man in Herb Caen’s column. He died from either from AIDS complications or his own hand about 10 days after he handed me the box on the front steps of the Zen Temple where I was living on Hartford Street.

And finally, there are copies poems that Robert wrote when he was on Mission, plus one or two letters to the man who was his companion, his coming out to the man, his confession of love (I don’t have the copy in my hands, so they may not be that dramatic). These are the hardest to read—they are old-fashioned Xeroxes of the originals. They also are probably some of the most interesting when looking for the spiritual roots, and conflict, of this talented man.

I had all of McQueen’s letters to these two correspondents. I tired for several years to find Nathan’s literary executor. I have a suspicion (or can hope) that some one of his friends or family recognized the value of his work, and saved as much of it as they could. Or they may be stored in a sweater box in some closet waiting to be found. Or they may be lost. I have actually met Youngbloods’ literary executor, Dean Alan Jones of Grace Cathedral. I tired to find out who has possession of Tom’s side of correspondence. After a few phone calls and letters back and forth, I felt that perhaps there was something about my request that did not sit well with the Dean and took no further action, or maybe I just dropped the ball. Perhaps a play—or knowledge that Robert’s letters are now part of the gay and lesbian collection at the University of Utah—might peak his interest. We can pray.

I have the entire collection stored in digital copy on my old Power Mac. I scanned them all and then ran an optical character recognition program to create a Word version. It was one hell of a job, but for some reason I knew that I wanted to keep a copy for myself. Affirm accepted the collection with the understanding and their permission that I might use them someday in a play or a book.

Over the course of working with the letters, I discovered something about the reverence that Mormons have for the correspondence of Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, as well as other early LDS leaders. I read about very large sums that were paid for any original. I think that there was even a scandal not so many years ago about forgeries that were either bought by the Church or some of its leaders. I have always felt that Robert’s letters were somehow part of that same tradition, the spiritual lives of Mormons that is, and not forgeries. I can attest that those are really the letters of Robert McQueen. And they are pretty amazing in their frankness about every subject they touch on.

I would love to send you off to Utah with something to read, but that might not be in the cards. But you have access to them anytime you want. I may need help in getting the Power Mac powered up, but they are yours.

Hugs,

Ken

A very, very Happy Merry to All

2007-12-23T11:50:00.000-08:00

Two songs and three poems to bring you joy.

I’ve been sorting through my thoughts about Christmas. They turn out to be many and varied. There are times when I would like to take Santa Claus out and lynch him, but that it is pretty hard to do when you’re dealing with a mythical figure.

However when I found myself in the company of the likes of Oliver Cromwell, I changed my mind. A solid Puritan called Philip Stubbs, in The Anatomie of Abuses (late 1500’s), lists the nefarious activities he associates with Christmas: “More mischief is that time committed than in all the year besides ... What dicing and carding, what eating and drinking, what banqueting and feasting is then used ... to the great dishonour of God and the impoverishing of the realm.” Toss in dancing, singing plus few innocent pleasures, and that would include most of the things that I really enjoy about the season.

Perhaps I just celebrate Winter Solstice like a good pagan.

Perhaps too the roots my ambivalence about Christmas go deeper. When I was in high school, I gave a speech that flopped. My text was “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.” I did not know then, and still now struggle with adequate words to express, the magic of generosity that Mr. Claus represents. I am afraid that I have to agree with those who “… have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see.” There is an underlying sentimentality that I distrust.

But mostly for the kids’ sake, I declare that it is far too early to lay the fat guy to rest. Generosity is a difficult virtue to get your arms around. Besides I have heard rumors that the Dalai Lama has made him a Yiddam, that is the protector deity of Buddhism in America. Santa Claus is now some kind of Buddhist god. Banish any thoughts of lynching.

Proof of Santa's divinity? Most religious figures, prophets, and gods, in our times are the subject of controversy. Here is photo of a real protest over conflicting claims to Santa’s legal address, or country of origin.

Youth protest outside the Finnish Embassy over that country's claim Santa Claus lives there. (Everyone knows SC lives in Canada).

Two Songs

A friend Bill Krumbein started to turn the tide in favor of Mr. Claus and all he stands for when he, Krumbein being a true Santa, sent this really wonderful song from the 50’s by the Drifters. Click on the album cover and you will smile too (or I hope so).

For an inexplicable reason, my mind then drifted off the warmest Christmas I ever spent, 1994 in Honolulu. The locals play this wonderful song, Mele Kalikimaka, that Bing Crosby put on the flip side of White Christmas. The man who wrote it, Robert Alexander Anderson, was still alive when I lived on O’ahu. There were reports in the newspaper when he was seen playing golf, around Christmas time, while in his 90’s. Reminds me of my own father. Go Dad!

And three poems

I went surfing, typing into Google search several of my favorite poets’ names, comma, “Christmas.” I re-read A Child’s Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas.

“One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.”

I was really struck when I read Thomas’ interlocutor’s question: "Were there Uncles like in our house?" Go to my blog by clicking the image, and read this section.

Richard Wilbur writes a very workman-like and orthodox, A Christmas Hymn, that reminds me a bit of Elliot, though rather stiff for my taste. My taste is not Everyman’s, so I include it. There is a Mystery associated with Christmas that cannot be ignored!

And finally, if you’ve read thus far, you will probably enjoy W.H. Auden’s Christmas Oratorio. He hits the nail in the head.

I can never read too much Auden. And there is an enormous amount to read. And even though Christmas is not the time for academic lectures, but for anyone who thinks that I have perhaps gone overboard about Auden, I refer you to Adam Gopnik’s article in the New Yorker: The Double Man, Why Auden is an indispensable poet of our time.

Each day I appreciate more and more that Life itself is a gift. I wish you all, a very, very happy merry.

Merry Christmas to All

2007-12-22T10:11:00.000-08:00

Christmas, 2007
resent December 6, 2011

Dear Jean and Marie-Christine and Friends,

It was a wonderful visit. Thank you. Please come back soon!

To all the Garapon’s and friends out there: yes, we did some really touristy things too. We did drive down the crooked street, Lombard. Marie Christine jumped out of the car and took a picture of Jean behind the wheel, driving the recommended speed – very slowly.

We didn’t go up to Coit Tower, Twin Peaks or see Beach Blanket Babylon, but we did visit the Mission of San Francisco d’Asis, our patron saint, and the mission cemetery with the roses just finishing their last bloom. That was lovely. I think that Marie-Christine took some pictures also.

We didn’t get to Chinatown, or eat dim sum, but we visited my favorite coffee shop, the Nervous Dog, down the hill from where I used to live on Winfield Street. This is a photograph of the street you drove each day to take me home. You only saw it once in daylight.

It is starting to get colder now, especially at night. The rains have not started which is of great concern for Californians. People are hanging Christmas lights, finishing their holiday shopping, going to office parties, and some even stagger home a little loaded. San Franciscans are known to enjoy the good life, and I hope that you got a feel of that. We did have several California wines and they are indeed quite respectable, even by French standards.

I am amazed that we did so much in 36 hours. It was not entirely at a leisurely pace, but, as I said in the first post, we were as much as possible flaneurs, allowing the experience to come to us. That is kind of zen. Oops, there I go, starting to talk Californian.

These posts are so much my reflections of our time together that I wonder if you will recognize your visit. I know that we each have a very unique experience, especially when encountering a new place. That is what makes traveling so wondrous. To share the experience with friends adds anther dimension. Thank you for allowing me to be your guide and see my adopted home, newly, through your eyes.

My Christmas will be a bit traditional, some parties with friends and extended family, some zen, and contemplation of the mystery of It All, and some liturgy to welcome Jesus born in our hearts. In my neighborhood He is called el Niño. I am ever so grateful to Him.

I wish all the Garapon’s, as well as all the friends who read my blog, a wonderful Christmas and an equally bright New Year. I found this wonderful card online, Merry Christmas from California. This is a rather idealized graphic of Mission Dolores in San Francisco with a reminder that California is home to orchards and gardens, even some that bloom throughout the year.

Be well. Blessings galore, my friends! You have planted seeds in me, a dream of doing "Le Tour de France" moi-même. Who wants to join me?

Music, Genius & Surprise

2007-12-21T01:10:00.000-08:00

I wanted to show the Garapons that we have some culture in San Francisco with a trip to Davies Hall and a concert by the San Francisco Symphony under Michael Tilson Thomas. MTT never disappoints. When we bought the tickets, I found out that MTT was not on the podium. Disappointment.

Let’s go anyway. Wednesday was the only night Jean and Marie-Christine had for un spectacle musical!

As we sat down, I began to read the program; by the time the musicians had taken their places, I knew that we had really lucked out.

There are some moments in life that astonish, that knock your socks off. This was one. With music, somehow, it seems that your body can respond if properly tuned, even if words fail. You just sit, stirrings arise from deep inside, and then sometimes are followed by a completely different set of feelings. It is like a journey. Then the last cords sound, and there is applause. The culture tells the body to respond. The emotions choose the decibel level.

I have often wondered what it must have been like to hear young Mozart play. Despite the fact that he was promoted by his father as a kind of musical sideshow to make lots of money, not much different from the parents of any child actors today in Hollywood, or some very famous personalities from the more recent past, such Judy Garland whose experience was not entirely happy, I still have impression that Mozart loved music. A person could not compose Don Giovanni or the Magic Flute under duress or carrying mental scares.

No question that he was a genius born into the world with such extraordinary gifts that you might think that they come from the angels. And still he had to have some kind of training.

Listening to the remarkable Lise de la Salle play Rachmaninoff’s 2^nd Piano Concerto, questions like these flooded my mind, that is after the last astonishing bars had faded. She was born in 1988, began playing at 4, was at the Paris Conservatory by age eleven, and to my ear, at age 19 has the grace and command of an Arthur Rubinstein at the end of his career. Clearly she is a musical genius of the highest order, and it is also clear that she loves the piano. Here is a link to the program notes about Lise.

And what a performance it was. To give a hint of her command of the powerful Russian feeling, the emotions of those opening lines, I found a short video of Mme de la Salle playing the amazing Toccata in D minor Op.11 of Prokofiev.

A spectacular evening. Applause please!

Art and the Wonder of Discovery

2007-12-19T10:29:00.000-08:00

Jean, Marie-Christine, and I visited the Legion of Honor at dusk on the first night of their visit. While looking at some French paintings and furnishings from the 17^th century, Jean turned to me and said, “I know this sounds somewhat prejudiced, but I do think that we French do painting rather well. There is just something about it.”

I agree that French artists are in a class by themselves, and so would the wealthy San Franciscans like Alma de Bretteville Spreckels who traveled to France and bought as much art as was for sale with the money that had poured in after the Gold Rush. They were determined to put California on the map. And when it came for California to develop its own art and artists, there were wonderful works from Europe, and especially France, for them to study. The Legion is home to the portion of their collections that they bequeathed to the people of the City.

Again Jean’s comment, “Some of the marvels of travel are its total surprises: in a gallery you stumble into a painter that you have only seen in France or know from study of the 17^emesiécle.” In the Legion we wandered through paneled rooms exported whole from French chateaux and hotels. There was even a small ‘cabinet’ that Jean pointed out was where the mémoire was born. He also discovered some charming works from the Court of Luis XVI.

An exhibition of furniture and decoration from Le Petit Trianon was mounted after the Garapon’s departure. I will have another chance to visit France again in San Francisco. I will take you with me in my heart!

We visited the San Francisco MOMA on Thursday night when it stays open late into the evening. Immediately in the entrance to the first floor gallery is the lovely Femme au Chapeau by Matisse.

Here I was again face-to-face with San Francisco’s affinity with France.

Matisse is certainly among the greatest painters of the last century. The small room also holds two Picasso’s. San Francisco’s budding artists can study these paintings as they were meant to be seen and not in small digital reproductions which are only for blogs and Christmas cards.

Further into the galleries there is huge untitled piece by Mark Rothko which is stunning.

San Francisco is also willing to take real risks in art. The third floor galleries contained a display of illuminated photographs, not illuminated as in the decorations of medieval manuscripts, but huge transparencies by Jeff Wall.

A Sudden Gust of Wind (after Hokusai)

Unfortunately the small size really does a disservice to the startling impression of these huge images—the transparency is 2500 x 3970 mm. A more detailed view of some of his work can be found in the online catalogue.

Beijing-based artist Zhan Wang sculpted the San Francisco cityscape out of pots, pans, graters, and other kitchenware. The piece was part of a new exhibition of Wang's work at San Francisco's Asian Art Museum.

The first museum we visited was with Asian Art Museum the Civic Center, an imposing post ’06 beaux-arts building which used to house the public library. We feel the influence of Asia in more ways than just its art. San Francisco is home to what was the largest Chinese American community in the US for many years, the first immigrants supplying cheap labor for building the city, right from the beginning of the US occupation of California in 1846, and later the western half of the transcontinental railroad. The sad truth is that California as a territory and later as a state was designated “non-slave” in the Missouri Compromise, and the Chinese were coaxed to come to Gold Mountain as indentured servants which was little more than legal slavery. But that is a story that I am not really qualified to tell.

There are several collections that rival San Francisco’s, among them la Musée Guimet in Paris. I visited la Guimet just after it reopened in early 2001 and saw, among other things, a wonderful collection of calligraphy by Hakuin Ekaku (1685-1768), the religious genius who reinvigorated the Rinzai koan training in Japan in the 17^th century and the root teacher of the zen lineage I practice in. There were perhaps a dozen calligraphs by Hakuin at the Guimet; in SF we have only two which were not on display when we visited. Here is what we missed, taken by my friend Ken MacDonald.

On the scroll is a calligraphy which is not shown, a poem that tells the story of a monk who is very happy, and perhaps drunk (with sake or satori, that is the question) after a rich patron gave him some money to make a temple offering.

For my generation of Californians, the Asian collision has many happy results, fusion cuisine, a new richness and texture in design, expertise in forms of meditation that began to root in the hearts and minds of my generation that felt abandoned, even betrayed, by the religions of our ancestors. Now after the initial blush has faded and less idealistic mind seems to have the upper hand --the trade imbalance on everyone’s mind--the treasures of the Asian Art Museum provide a way to study, examine, and enhance other influences of our Asian friends.

On almost every visit to the Asian Art, I have seen multi-generational Asian families, grandparents with kids and grand kids in tow, pointing, talking, translating, handing a rich heritage onto a new generation of Americans.

It is always seems to shock Westerners to see fierce the protectors, angels and guardians from the East. Here is Fudo from Buddhist Japan, who protects and cuts the snare of delusion with his fierce sword. May he protect us all!

In the next post I will talk about music and la grève.

Toute la Mémoire du Monde

2007-12-13T21:32:00.001-08:00

Is the university sacred space and is cyberspace sacred space?

The heart covered with books was a temporary piece

in the San Francisco Main Public Library.

(And my answer to the question: where can you find the scholarly work of any of the distinguished Garapon family in America? Do you have to wiggle your way into a university library to do it?)

Jean, Marie-Christine and I visited the new San Francisco Public Library, the Library of the University of San Francisco (Jesuit), the Santa Clara University (Jesuit) bookstore, the site of the new library at SCU, and finally one of the libraries at Stanford. Between SFU and San Clara, we visited the Apple Headquarters (we never got out of the car). Between SCU and Stanford we had another quick tour around the Google Headquarters in Mountain View (once again we never got out of the car).

I brazenly stole the title of this post from the 1956 movie by Alan Resnais. Here is short clip describing the movie from benoitlelievre in Canada: “Within 20 minutes, Resnais is surgically, methodically analyzing the national library of France. With a hyperactive camera, he's sneaking, he's smelling, he's feeling this huge building. Very fast paced and organized movie…” I wish that were a description of my tour guide ability for Jean and Marie-Christine, we were certainly fast paced, but the smelling and feeling was not entirely within my control. So I will talk about some of my impressions of our visits to these libraries, churches and the modest office buildings that are as close as the internet comes to touching earth. These are some stills taken of the French Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, the subject of Toute la Mémoire du Monde.

At all three universities our visit included the university church. At the wonderful Memorial Church on the quad at Stanford, Jean turned to me and said: “This is for me like being in the presence of all the learning and study of the new world.” An ineffable feeling indeed, but something I also felt. My translation is perhaps rough and imprecise. Jean, if you have any correction or refinement, please send it!

And just for the record and a chance to post a great photo I found of Saint Ignatius, the university church of the University of San Francisco. After the earthquake and fire of ’06, the Jesuits were determined to have the tallest steeple in San Francisco.

On All Saints Day we attended mass in the old mission church at Santa Clara - the presiding priest was the president of the University, Fr. Paul Locatelli, S.J.. The choir reminded Marie-Christine of her children and their music. As I prayed for my mentor Robert Garapon, it was lovely to be in the presence of his son and daughter-in-law. It was also great to feel that prayer is still part of the leaning experience in some quarters.

The photograph is the sanctuary of Santa Clara Mission Church

Santa Clara holds the distinction of being the first institution of higher learning in California: in 1851, two years after California was admitted to the Union, the Jesuits took control of the mission from the Franciscans and founded the Santa Clara College.

The former archivist of the California Province of the Society of Jesus, my dear friend Bro. Tom Marshall, S.J., told me that in the archives at the Jesuit curia in Rome, he saw letters that ordered a band of Jesuits to Oregon to work with the native tribes. But in 1848, they, along with tens of thousands across the world, smelled gold, and headed south for Alta California. Tom contends that Fr. Giovanni Pietro Antonio Nobili S.J., (he became, and remains John after his arrival in the New World) the man in charge of this Jesuit expeditionary party, and credited as SCU’s founder and first president, disobeyed his superior’s orders.

From today’s Silicon Valley, Nobili could have secured permission to change direction within hours, but more than 150 years ago communication between Rome and California was not in nanoseconds but months, even years. I, for one, think that Fr. Jan Roothaan S.J., the General of the Society at the time, would have totally approved of following the gold, given the Jesuits proclivity to do their apostolic work among the rich and powerful. Neither Nobili nor Roothaan nor anyone would have foreseen that this lovely valley so naturally prefect for orchards would become the center of the digital revolution, perhaps the most significant development in learning since Guttenberg.

Being more or less thoroughly Jesuit trained, I am familiar with the assertion that the Jesuit “ratio studiorum’ was the basis of the modern university and proof of the order’s superiority.

I had to post this photo I found on the SCU library website! Believe it or not, I once dressed like this, probably the last of a long line of Jesuits (more than 400 years long when I left) to wear the distinctive religious grab of cassock and biretta. I gave mine to the Salvation Army thrift shop when I left. If I had saved it, I could have worn it for Halloween in the Castro to balance all the male nuns!

Certainly the Jesuits did put education in the service of a higher purpose, and, whether intentionally or not, left the door open for impartial inquiry and rigorous intellectual work. In their scheme of things, libraries were connected to universities and the students were sequestered in dormitories. This is quite different from the system in France. There the university seems closer to the University of Paris that Ignatius and the first companions attended in the first years of the 16^th century though I am certain that French universities today have far more strict and uniform standards for awarding degrees.

But Rensais may speak for the French ideal and against the university community cloistered in ivory towers as exampled by the national library and the Jesuit University. As one critique says:

clipped from dvdtoile.com

Le court métrage de Resnais est conçu comme un film d'aventure, amusant et sérieux à la fois, dans lequel les missions et lieux de la Bibliothèque nationale sont rappelés et montrés, le parcours d'un exemplaire analysé. Sorte d'énorme navire labyrinthe où chacun à sa place et son rôle, "jeu de société" à la règle définie, elle est une forteresse dans laquelle "les mots sont emprisonnés" et dont on ne s'échappe brièvement que par le passage en salles de lecture.

(And indeed that is what getting a degree is called is the English system: for example, you ‘read’ philosophy).

And in America, the librarie is a fixture on every student campus, not only as the only place to buy text books, but where students go to get reading for themselves. We browsed the campus bookstore at Santa Clara University just to see what students were reading; not much that interested me. I pointed to the newest book by my friend Jane Curry, a faculty member at SCU. Oh that woman publishes! Central and East European Politics: From Communism to Democracy by Sharon L. Wolchik and Jane L. Curry.

After a brief walk past the new SCU Library, we headed to Mountain View and another car tour of the Google campus. We saw barely a human outside – just one guy on a bike riding between buildings. The campus is nice, but for a billion dollar company, one might expect more extravagant buildings.

This is Google HQ, at its precise location seen from satellite on Google Earth, and not what we saw:

1600 Amphitheatre Parkway, Mountain View, CA

This is more like what we saw. I am sure we drove under that archway over the parking lot.

The real infrastructure of Google is not brink and mortar. Truth be told, there are more buildings and grounds and square foot of library space at Santa Clara University than at Google Headquarters.

SCU is building a new library building to house a diminishing collection of books. If I read the statistics correctly, SCU’s additions to its collection dropped from almost 200,000 volumes to under 90,000 in 5 years. I would guess that the decline is due to the availability of new online research tools. I could find nothing about the size of its current collection. Stanford’s Green Library- there are other specialized libraries on campus- houses a three million volume research collection in the social sciences and humanities, including area studies and interdisciplinary fields. Its collection includes approximately 7,700 current journal titles and current newspapers. A 21,000-volume reference collection supports the work of the Information Center (click here for reference).

Google is digitizing almost a million books a year and making them available online, at no charge. Slowly they are working their way through most of the significant works in the Western Cannon. Slowly they are dealing with the complex issue of copyright and compensation to the authors and researchers whose work is being published. Combined with the Google scholar program, they are creating the largest and most widely available library in human history.

If a library holds "les mots sont emprisonnés," Google is the force that stormed the Bastille! Jean and I joked about the number of prisoners actually in the Bastille on July 14 way back when. Very few! This revolution portends to be more significant. More later.

After my failed attempt to demonstrate that you could access the internet from anywhere in Mt View, even le parking at a Monoprix (here called Safeway), it was onto Stanford, its wonderful Memorial Church and Green Library. We drove down “the” Le Camino Réal; yes, in “American,” we repeat the article, and have no accent mark for the “e” in Real, although the common pronunciation is close to the Spanish. However I hope to have a small European readership for these posts, so I want to show us in the best possible light. We turned right onto University Drive. The entrance to the ‘farm’ is a long palm studded parkway of four divided lanes, impressive if just for the expansion that is possible in the future. What university money can buy! We found parking near the main quad and plugged in as many quarters as the meter would take.

Here are some images of what we saw. I will just post them. They speak for themselves.

Yes, Jean, I agree the American contribution to real learning is something of an enormous value. You can feel it in the Memorial Church. It is definitely American but it was built primarily on what we learned from Europe, combined of course with our experience of creating a new world on the continent. (Stamford did not escape damage in ‘06 either).

Then at Green Library, we went through a rather elaborate computer registration process that gave us access to the entire library system at Stanford for a full week. Remarkable! And I presume that with some credentials that would be extended as a scholarly courtesy.

There are rooms in Green that are open 24 hours a day. There are journals and newspapers from all over the world. We found a yearbook from the lycee in Oran where Robert taught and Francois was enrolled. We took an illegal picture in the stacks. (I will cut that out if ever anyone of us wants to get a pass to one a Stanford Library in the future).

Yes, what a university money can buy. I mentioned the average cost of these American haute écoles, and I think that Jean and Marie-Christine were very happy that their children went to school in France, even given that the euro currently buys a dollar and half. (I didn’t mention that most faculty members’ children get full tuition if they can get in. For less gifted kids, there are reciprocal programs with other universities. Yes, some perks exist in American academies).

And now finally to answer my question about the scholarly work of the Garapon’s, Father and sons.

My experiment was quite simple in its design: I entered the name Garapon into the search engine, the modern name for the library catalogue, of the University Library at SCU and Stanford and then compare my results with an identical search on Google Books. I chose to eliminate Google scholar and either University’s database of online scholarly journals because they might be tapping the same sources. I just wanted to determine which held more, the Libraries or the Internet.

SCU has one volume:

Garapon, Jean

La Princesse de Clèves, Madame de la Fayette : analyse critique / par Jean Garapon Publication Information Paris : Hatier, c1988

My search also turned up a book with some references to Robert’s work. It is by a friend of mine actually, Fred Tollini.

Scene Design at the Court of Louis XIV (Edwin Mellon Press, 2003). Fred Tollini, S.J.

The search of the Stanford collection was far richer:

Garapon, Jean

L'expression de l'inoubliable dans les mémoires d'Ancien Régime

L'idée de vérité dans les mémoires d'ancien régime

Garapon, Antoine

Juger en Amérique et en France : culture juridique française et common law

L'âne portant des reliques : essai sur le rituel judiciaire

Garapon, Robert

Les Caractères de La Bruyère : La Bruyère au travail

Le dernier Moliere : des Fourberies de Scapin au Malade imaginaire

La fantaisie verbale et le comique dans le théâtre français du Moyen Age à la fin du XVIIe siécle

L'Art du théâtre : mélanges en hommage à Robert Garapon

The yield on Google was meager, but I have to admit: I actually read some of these works in my study at home, without venturing out to a library. I have to admit to getting lazy now that I am past 60.

Can we draw any firm conclusions about the relative value of libraries with collections of books printed on paper and bound and the emerging library on the Internet? Some are optimistic. I hope it is true. The American and the Californian in me wants to believe it.

clipped from www.timesonline.co.uk

Libraries die when people forget what is in them: they thrive when we are reminded of their riches, and so far from eroding our physical contact with ancient books, the great online library currently amassing its collection will surely revive that relationship.

There is still no tactile pleasure to compare with opening an old book: the gust of vellum and parchment, the knowledge of countless eyes tracing the page before you, the marginalia, the chance to hold some knowledge in your hand.

The internet will never replicate that experience (just as no technology has been able to supplant the paper book, of which we are reading more than ever), but it can help, immeasurably, to lead us to it.

This was our final day together. We drove north in traffic past Oracle Headquarters (photo on left), past the SF airport and onto the SFMOMA, San Francisco Museum of Modern Art where we stayed till almost 9:30. (I will write something about that in the next post).

We finished the day with a late dinner at Tagine on Polk Street for some North African food. We began with a bastilla, a very festive and delicious custard cake kind of thing, appropriate on a day when we caught a glimpse of Oran in Stanford's Green Library.

We were all home, tucked in bed by11:00 PM. At least I know that I was.

Why do the French Love San Francisco?

2007-12-01T13:29:00.000-08:00

This was Jean and Marie-Christine’s first visit to the United Sates and California. Jean told me that they could not miss San Francisco--nearly every person he talked to said that San Francisco, for the French, could not be missed.

I love France, and there is no other city in the United States where I could live other than San Francisco. The reasons are multiple.

First, I suppose, San Francisco is a totally cosmopolitan city. But there are many such cities in the world which are at least as interesting as San Francisco, Paris, London, New York, even LA, to name just a few.

But there is also something that I find hard to express simply in a few words. You can see it in the built environment. Jean, Marie-Christine and I visited the Golden Gate Bridge, which to my eye has the same flagrant panache as the Eiffel Tower, thought that Bridge at least has some utility in its design. And you can no more say that I visited San Francisco but missed the Golden Gate Bridge than you can say, I was in Paris but never had time to see the Eiffel Tower!

The Eiffel Tower under construction in 1878.

The Golden Gate under construction in 1934-5

Both the Golden Gate and the Eiffel Tower are the stuff that dreams are made of!

Very close to the Golden Gate is the Palace of Fine Arts as it is called, the one structure that remains form the Panama Exposition of 1915, which was staged in San Francisco to celebrate its reconstruction in little less than a decade after the '06 quake.

The Palace is in the middle of an expensive neighborhood built on the land fill that did not exist in 1906. Ironically it proved to be the most vulnerable in the only relatively large quake during my time in San Francisco, the 1989 Loma Prieta quake though some major structures, the Bay Bridge and several of the elevated freeways suffered catastrophic damage. You can Google "Palace of Fine Arts, San Francisco," and track down lots of interesting history.

On my first visit to San Francisco in 1969 I was wandering on foot from the house I was staying in on California and Fillmore. I just let gravity take me down hill into the Marina. From a small street I caught a glimpse of the Palace and though to myself, my God what a city where something like this can just stand in the middle of an ordinary neighborhood. I tried recreate the same surprise with Jean and Marie-Christine as we drove haphazardly from the Marina Green and its wonderful views of the bay, trying to sneak up on the Palace. I don’t know how successful I was. Ask the Garapons!

Bernard Maybeck, the man who designed the Palace, was one of the Bay Area architects who had been trained at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts and had dreams of rebuilding San Francisco inspired by le baron Hausman’s recreation of Paris about a half century earlier. They did manage to get some control over the Civic Center, the new City Hall, the Library and the Opera House as wall as several other public buildings which follow in the tradition with varying degrees of success.

Just look at a very famous building in Paris next to San Francisco’s rebuilt City Hall which we visited as well as the original Public Library which is now home to the Asian Art Museum, built in the same beaux-arts tradition.

From the detail of its rich interior decorations:

To the sweep of City Hall and the Civic Center from Van Ness Avenue:

And, every French person would immediately "get" the inspiration for Grace Cathedral atop Nob Hill.

The Episcopal Church has taken a different path than the Roman one in many matters of church discipline, principally women priests and married clergy, but the source of the inspiration is unmistakable. In some ways, like wonderful French tapestry that Jean and Marie-Christine admired in the nave, as well as the wonderful reproductions of Lorenzo Ghiberti's doors to the Baptistery of the Duomo in Florence, it represents the way that Americans have attempted to import parts of its rich European ancestry and make them more democratic and accessible. (I myself really don’t care what the Roman church thinks about women priests. I just know that they can sing a high Mass better than most Jesuits).

More about California’s universities and libraries coming in the next post.