Category Archives: Humanities

Hail Mani

Dave Haxton at MacRaven mentioned that he’d written a prayer to Mani (the moon) awhile back. The other night his wife took a picture of the full moon, and he combined the poem with it.

I happen to be very fond of the moon and lunar lore. The prayer is lovely, and the photo is phenomenal. You can see them here.

Don’t Be In A Hurry

So don’t be in a hurry and try to push or rush your practice. Do your meditation gently and gradually step by step. In regard to peacefulness, if you become peaceful, then accept it; if you don’t become peaceful, then accept that also. That’s the nature of the mind. We must find our own practice and persistently keep at it.

–Ajahn Chah, “Bodhinyana”

Meditation Unto Death

I read about sallekhana in a magazine, and I was curious to learn more.

In this article the author considers the grounds for a voluntary death vis-a-vis an act of suicide as it is understood in the Jain religion. The author argues that there are conditions and expectations which must be in place if a voluntary death is an acceptable practice. There are also references to the positions of other religious traditions.

Read the article here.

Just One More…

From Cup of Chicha:

My moods, their ups and downs, become obvious when I look at my changing relationship to books. At my best, I’m reading them. At my worst, I’m avoiding them. Usually, depressed but optimistic, I’m buying them; I can easily mistake buying them for possessing them, assign their physical presence intellectual effects. It’s a parody of consumerism, or maybe consumerism perfected: I’ve turned the self-as-art of dandyism into a self-as-acquisitions. And, of course, this is the fake change that depressives love best.

Someone commented on Chicha’s post, “Omigod. You are terrifying. 12 years of therapy in two sentences. Where should I send the check?” I chuckled over that. Chicha has eerily summed up my own relationship to books. Over the years I’ve tried to manage my soft addiction to acquiring and reading books. They represent potential, knowledge, the illusion of finding the answer. I once kept a cartoon taped to my desk which depicted a man reading urgently in a library, sweating and looking stressed, while the books in the stacks whispered and mocked, “Haha! You’ll never read us all!” “There are too many of us. Hurry! Read faster!” I kept it to remind myself of the futility of trying to learn everything and to laugh at myself a bit.

When I moved to Austin from Syracuse, I owned six bookcases, each six feet tall, all double-shelved with books. (It probably didn’t help that I worked in a library for ten years.) It wasn’t feasible to ship them all, so I selected the ones most important to me (favored authors, childhood gifts, etc.) and sold the rest for a song to a bookseller (it was a crime, that). In the first three years here, I was judicious about purchases. Then Amazon.com arrived on the scene in 1997. It took just one puff purchase. Since I was in graduate school, though, I only bought what I could keep up with in addition to the required reading.

However, that tune changed after graduation, when I began purchasing books to “build my professional library” with rapidity. I own slightly over 700 books. Last year I read 50 books; at that rate, without acquiring another book, I’ve got enough reading for three years. In fact, it wasn’t until I downloaded a program to catalog my collection that I realized this. That, plus auditing my expenditures in the past year and noting how much I’d spent on books and magazines, told me I need to curtail this habit.

What struck me most was Chicha’s observation that self-as-acquisitions, for book owners, provides the false sense that one is changing, growing. I know it’s far easier for me to buy book after book on a topic of interest than it is to immerse myself in them. Time is wasted in the pursuit, and I end up learning nothing. I become a person who has books about religion, psychology, etc., rather than a person who has knowledge about them.

A Moment Of Boasting

I received an email from a relative on my mother’s side of the family announcing:

KATHRYN SACKINGER, the daughter of R. Bruce Sackinger and the granddaughter of William M. and Patricia Sackinger of Fairbanks, Alaska, has become the Champion Speller of the State of Oregon for 2004 and will compete in the National Spelling Bee in Washington, DC on June 1-3, 2004.

For further information about her, see the webpage at Scripps National Spelling Bee.

Having just watched Spellbound last weekend, I’m pleased with the synchronicity of this news. I recommend the movie. It provides a slice-of-life glimpse into the lives of eight spellers. It also provides a bit of history about this uniquely American competition.

Word Fog

Words, even if they come from
the soul, hide the soul, as fog

rising off the sea covers the sea,
the coast, the fish, the pearls.

It’s noble work to build coherent
philosophical discourses, but

they block out the sun of truth.
See God’s qualities as an ocean,

this world as foam on the purity
of that. Brush away and look

through the alphabet to essence,
as you do the hair covering your

beloved’s eyes. Here’s the mystery:
this intricate, astonishing world

is proof of God’s presence even as
it covers the beauty. One flake

from the wall of a gold mine does
not give much idea what it’s like

when the sun shines in and turns
the air and the workers golden.

— Ghazal (Ode) 921
Version by Coleman Barks, with Nevit Ergin
“The Glance”
Viking-Penguin, 1999

A Quality of Time

As a place becomes known, people start
to flock there. Some come in a sacred manner.
Others are boisterous and unconscious, as if they feared
the knowledge of themselves which the place invites.

When you come to a place honor its rhythm and its voice.
We think that our small talk has some importance, but
All our noise is like a twig breaking in a redwood forest.
A tree breathes once a year.
A great rock’s heart beats in mellenia.

The land has a quality of time which steadies us.

–Frederick Lerhman, The Sacred Landscape

Postpartum Depression

The post just preceding this was written by the husband of the woman who writes Dooce. Heather is knee-slappingly funny at times; she expresses herself with an artful blend of sarcasm and sweetness that makes her writing fresh and taut. She’s immensely enjoyable. Since I’ve been pondering the prospect of motherhood, I was referred to her blog and instructed to start reading in February 2004, when Heather became a mother. Because her writing is stellar, I was almost certain she had The Perfect Life. And then I read a post titled “Surrender”:

There are many things about parenthood that I understand intellectually. I know that this period of her life is only temporary and that things will eventually get better. I know that I am a good mother and that I am meeting her needs as a baby. But depression isn’t about understanding things intellectually. It’s about an overshadowing emotional spiral that makes coping with anything nearly impossible.

I can’t cope with the screaming. I can’t cope with her not eating. I can’t cope with the constant pacing and rocking back and forth to make sure she doesn’t start crying. I am sick with anxiety. I want to throw up all day long. There are moments during her screaming when I have to set her down and walk away and regain perspective on life, because in those very dark moments of screaming I feel like I have destroyed mine.

In this post, Heather examined her decision whether or not to take medicine while breastfeeding. As one who copes with major depression via prescription medication (in addition to therapy), I have grappled with the question: should I stop medications through pregnancy?

She wrote:

Most of the literature I have read about depression medication and the breastfeeding mother indicates that the benefits of breastfeeding far outweigh the possibility of the baby receiving small amounts of the medication through the breast milk. I also think that it’s more important that my daughter have a mother who can cope — a mother who isn’t sobbing uncontrollably during diaper changes — than it is for her to have a mother who is too proud to admit defeat.

I am throwing up my hands here. I cannot do this unmedicated.

This is not a decision I have made lightly. I’ve read everything I can get my hands on concerning postpartum depression in the mother and how it affects the development of the baby. I’ve talked with my doctor and friends who have experienced the same debilitating feelings. Going off depression medication a year and a half ago was so awful that I didn’t ever want to have to face that nightmare again. For the past several weeks I have been silently whispering to myself Fight this! Fight this! But I lost the fight about seven days ago.

I’m posting these excerpts to help disseminate information. Such decisions are difficult; in addition to reading medical research, a woman needs to know other women who grapple with this decision and that she is not a bad mother if she elects to take medicine. I admire and respect Heather’s willingness to reveal. My other reason for posting is that Dooce is just plain good reading. Go check it out.

Poof Positive

Here’s a brain snack from MacRaven, written by my buddy Dave Haxton. He often makes interesting points.

This is the ultimate statement of faith: ‘God said it, I beleive it, that settles it.’ The complete and utter refusal to believe the evidence of your own mind or eyes against the ramblings of an ancient (or, in some cases, modern) ‘revelation’. Every argument, debate or disagreement between anyone who holds to reason and someone who holds to faith will ultimately end up at the ‘Poof Point’.

Heathens don’t have much use for the Poof Factor: one of the defining characteristics of any polytheistic faith is the acceptance of other, alternate world views as equally valid and ‘true’ (small ‘T’). We recognize that our sacred texts are not ‘revelations’, but rather myths, designed to explain the natural world and our relationship to it in a context that can be easily understood. Lacking the ‘One True Way’, and without the absolute commandments of the Powers That Be, we tend to be a tolerant and discerning folk, given to questioning and testing our path.

Unfortunately, there are very few of “us” (tolerant heathens or atheists) and a whole lot of “them” (loony fundies of every stripe). The consequences of this demographic imbalance loom large in many areas.

The Big Questions

I’ve happened across a new-to-me blog called seeking clarity, and I’m drawn to the writer’s style. She is sincere, candid, and asks important questions.

I can’t even get to Ellensburg without a confidence crisis; how the hell am I supposed to choose at this fork? Left or right? East or west? And what if I think I’m turning one way and I suddenly realize that I’m going the wrong way? What if I’ve been going the wrong way all along?

In the entry, Diana explores the versions of her life. This is always fascinating — we are complex, and our lives can be viewed from numerous vantage points. Her post reminded me of the concept of metaphors of the self.

Such an important question: is there a right way through life, and if so, how am I supposed to know? I’m interested in your opinions.

At The Candy Counter

My beloved boyfriend occasionally teases me that I read too many boot-to-the-head books. It’s true that I read a great deal of non-fiction; my thirst for learning is constant. I do enjoy a good novel, but I tend to focus on “quality” novels rather than mass market or serials. I made a list of all the award-winning fiction since the contests were established (Pulitzer, Booker, etc.) and have slowly worked my way through. Some I like, others I don’t. I’ve discovered that I am not a connoisseur of the short story — not enough there. In any case, the boyfriend recently suggested for the umpteenth time that perhaps I ought to incorporate some light works into my reading diet. Then a client mentioned P. G. Wodehouse, of whom I’ve heard for years but never pursued. He was recommended as an “author for a rainy day,” except that he’s prolific enough that one needn’t save him for just that. So I gamboled off to the web and came across a list of works so big that I’m having trouble choosing. If you’ve ever read his work, I welcome suggestions as to what book to pick up first.

Step By Step In Austin & Beyond

Now here’s a thought to consider. Every twenty minutes on the Appalachian Trail, Katz and I walked farther than the average American walks in a week. For 93 percent of all trips outside the home, for whatever distance or whatever purpose, Americans now get in a car. On average the total walking of an American these days — that’s walking of all types: from car to office, from office to car, around the supermarket and shopping malls — adds up to 1.4 miles a week, barely 350 yards a day. That’s ridiculous.

–Bill Bryson, A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail

Less than a mile and half a week?! Wow, that is ridiculous. No wonder we’re a nation swaddled by obesity.

Before I moved to Austin, I lived in a smaller city — Syracuse, New York, my hometown. For many reasons, with finances being the primary one, I did not own a car until I was 28. I commuted to work by city bus and trekked on foot to the store, to see friends, and just for fun. Syracuse can be a bitter, snow-laden place in the winter, and it wasn’t until I moved to Texas that I realized how hardy I was from all those years of walking through such varied weather.

In 1991 I purchased my first car — an Eagle Summit manual transmission with no radio — brand new for a really good price. I dubbed her Blue Belle because she was, well, blue and small. I owned that car for 10 years and grieved when she quit. The reason I bought the car was that, in order to complete my B.A. at SUNY Oswego (50 miles from Syracuse), I had to commute to classes. And oh, how I loved the new flexibility and mobility it provided!

It was heaven.

Until I gained weight.

Thus I discovered one unwelcome consequence to driving. However, I worked at Syracuse University, which has the Carrier Dome, an enclosed stadium. Once around the promenade is one-third of a mile. Every day, I walked over on my lunch hour and power-walked three miles, rain, snow, or shine. In nice weather I walked outside. And being a smaller city, many of Syracuse’s streets are navigable; you can walk across town without putting your life on the line. I regained my fitness in short order.

Upon moving to Austin, I was struck at how auto-dependent the city is, and how unfriendly it is to pedestrians. The lack of a car makes it difficult to get to a job, given the rush hour crawl and the distances one often has to commute. (In my work at a non-profit mental health agency, I provided life skills training to clients, including teaching them how to navigate by bus. It was often an all-day affair to make a round trip from north to south Austin.)

Gradually the weight crept up again, farther than ever before. Most of the time I didn’t live in apartment communities that felt neighborly with easy access to suburban side streets. Also, with one exception I lived on the third floor, which provided an incentive to my lazy side not to venture out.

This year I’ve begun to reclaim my favorite activity. I was given a simple digital pedometer for Christmas and made a commitment to aim for between 4,000 and 6,000 steps per day. I would still prefer to live in a city where I don’t have to drive to a greenbelt for a nature hike, and where I don’t take my life in my hands crossing broad four-lane roads where people run red lights and speed over the 45 mph limit. I wish I could do more of my errands on foot, but this just isn’t how large cities are built. Still, I live in a pleasant suburb which provides ample safe walking, and my mental and physical health has improved for it.

I recently watched a Frontline episode focused on diet wars in which James Hill, director of the Center for Human Nutrition at the University of Colorado in Denver, mentioned the America on the Move program. The mission: generate a grassroots movement encouraging people to make healthy eating choices and engage in more physical activity, with walking being one that is accessible to most people. Every little bit helps, such as decreasing your food intake 100 calories a day and walking 2000 steps a day to start.

My interest was piqued by this program. Then I saw a McDonald’s ad; they’re hopping on the bandwagon with Go Active! happy meals which include a Stepometer (toy pedometer). I was chatting last night with Sheila at the bloggers Meetup about her Stepometer. It doesn’t sound, from her description, as though it’s very accurate. But as she said, it’s a way to see if she can make it a habit and if so, then she’ll spend money for a real pedometer. I told her I’d been thinking of writing a post about walking and promised links. So without further ado:

Well, there’s plenty of material here to inspire and guide you. I hope I’ve raised your awareness and curiosity about walking. It is one of the most natural forms of movement for us. If you incorporate a little bit more each day into your routine, you will be the better for it. Happy trails to you.