Category: Quick Thought

Just a quick thought.

Being Good as a Practice

In his recent TEDx talk, Jay Smooth explains that in the context of talking about racism, we need to start thinking about being good as a practice:

We need to move away from the premise that being a good person is a fixed, immutable characteristic, and shift towards seeing being good as a practice. A practice that we carry out by engaging with our imperfections.

I think the above applies just as equally to our discussions about sexism, heterosexism, cissexism, speciesism, etc.

You can watch the whole talk below (it’s short and worth the time):

Also, if you haven’t seen Jay Smooth’s video about How to Tell People They Sound Racist, go check it out. It’s a good explanation of why you should focus on behavior and not what a person is.

No Way to Say Goodbye

Christie and Dad, circa 1983
My father and I, circa 1983. That's Mr. Bear in the background.

This Spring marks a decade since I last saw my father. We didn’t speak and he didn’t actually acknowledge my presence, but I know he saw me in the courtroom because his public defender requested that the judge have me removed as a potential witness. The judge denied this request, and I stayed to watch the rest of my father’s arraignment. If you’re curious why my father was in court, watch this video, or read this article.

I don’t actually recall when my father and I last spoke. To the best of my recollection, it was sometime in 2000. We had on-again off-again communication while I was in college, but at some point I decided that a continued relationship with him was just not a healthy thing for me and distanced myself quite a bit.

Last night one of my brothers called and told me he’d just found out that our father had a heart attack the week prior, had been in the hospital for a few days and was now released. My brother didn’t have any specific information about our father’s condition other than that he had collapse while running errands and had woken up in the hospital.

It’s very difficult for me to imagine my father collapsing and being in the hospital. Logically and factually, it’s not surprising that had had a heart attack. We’re talking about a man who has seen a doctor a handful of times in his life (that I know about), smoked for decades, ate a very unhealthful diet and did amphetamines. In many ways, I’m surprised he hasn’t had more significant health issues. However, my mental and emotional memory of him is dominated by a single image: lean, mean, angry and muscular, albeit with a slight lilt from a bad back. It’s just weird to think of him as being old and frail and in ill health. But that seems to be where we are headed.

Aging is a normal process, of course, but it’s unsettling when it’s happening to a parent and even more strange when it happens to a parent with whom you’re estranged. I find myself wondering if I’m going to get to say my final goodbyes, or if I will simply hear about his passing sometime after it happens. Should I attempt to make a kind of peace with him, or with myself about him, sooner rather than later? The answers to these questions seem unknowable.

 

On not reinventing the pencil every time you want to send a message…

I’m currently reading Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches (Crossing Press Feminist Series), by Audre Lorde. There are a number of good quotes in the collection, but this one struck me in particular last night:

As a Black woman, I find it necessary to withdraw into all-Black groups at times for exactly the same reasons — differences in stages of development and differences in levels of interaction. Frequently, when speaking with men and white women, I am reminded of how difficult and time-consuming it is to have to reinvent the pencil every time you want to send a message.

I run a group for women who work in technology. The group isn’t a women-only space, but we ask that men come as the guest of a woman attendee. This ensures that the gender balance is always in favor of the women. We get occasional flak for this rule and I find it difficult to explain while women’s spaces are important.

I think the idea of not wanting to reinvent the pencil everytime you want to send a message applies as equally to women’s spaces as it does to those of other opressed groups.

So, now I have a more useful metaphor when someone asks me why we but restrictions on the gender attendance of our group.

Fall Song (Mary Oliver)

Another by Mary Oliver to celebrate the first day of Fall and the autumnal equinox. Enjoy…

Fall Song
by Mary Oliver

Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,

the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back

from the particular island
of this summer, this Now, that now is nowhere

except underfoot, modlering
in that black subterranean castle

of unovservable mysteries — roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This

I try to remember when time’s measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn

flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay — how everything lives, shifting

from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.

Working with the Five Rememberances

Over the last several months, I’ve been dealing with persistent illness. What started as a bad cold in early March evolved into bronchitis and then a severe sinus infection. Finally, after two rounds of antibiotics along with a consistent regiment of medication to manage post-nasal drip, I’m starting to feel more like myself. I have my energy back and it feels great.

What I’m reflecting on now is how difficult it is to cope with illness. I can handle being sick a day or two here and there. I don’t like it, but I can usually recognize my need to rest and follow suit. However, anything longer than that and I start to go nuts. I feel guilty for being sick (I should have taken better care of myself). I feel anxious (I’m not going to be able to bill the number of hours I wanted to this month). I feel lousy (because my body is fighting an infection and/or virus). I feel scared (what if I never get better and it’s like this all the time?). In fact, I’m feeling a bit anxious just writing about this.

Lately I’ve found some relief from these anxieties by reflecting upon the Five Remembrances, which are written about in the Upajjhatthana Sutra. The Five Remembrances are:

I am of the nature to grow old; there is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health; there is no way to escape having ill health.

I am of the nature to die; there is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature of change; there is no way to escape being separated from them.

My deeds are my closest companions; I am the beneficiary of my deeds. My deeds are the ground on which I stand.

Buddha said that we should reflect upon these facts regularly. It may seem depressing to remind yourself that you are of the nature to “grow old,” “have ill health,” and “die,” let alone that you’ll inevitably be separated from all that you love. However, I find great freedom in these words. It’s true — I can’t escape growing old, becoming ill, dying and loosing all that I care about. Reminding myself that these things are inescapable is normalizing. It removes some of the guilt, attachment and anxiety I feel around them. Decay is just as much as part of the universe as is growth and it’s progress continues regardless of my involvement.

Moreover, the Five Remembrances reinforce the importance of living an ethical life by reminding me that “my deeds are the ground on which I stand.”

First Tattoo

I finally went and did it — I got a tattoo.

For a handful of years now I’ve been considering a tattoo. But I never quite worked up the gumption to go and have one done. When ever I thought about a needle puncturing my skin over and over again I’d cringe and put the idea off for another day.

However, earlier this week Scapegoat tattoo announced they were doing a fundraiser for the Let Live conference: $30 flash tattoos, all with vegan themes. Sherri re-tweeted the announcement and I didn’t give it much thought at first. While we were planning our day over breakfast on Saturday, Sherri reminded me of the fundraiser and it suddenly hit me that I was ready. It was for a good cause and, I thought, a good way to honor and celebrate Atari’s life as well as my commitment to veganism.

So off we headed to Scapegoat, with a quick errand before hand. It turns out we were lucky to only have a quick errand before stopping by Scapegoat. We were the last ones to be accepted on the list. And, as it was, we didn’t start getting our tattoos until at least 9:45pm. John, the tattoo artist was wonderful. He didn’t bat an eye when I nearly chickened out and talked me through the whole process. It actually hurt less than I’d imagined in my mind. My friend Amy said it was similar to someone poking you over and over again with the tip of a sharp mechanical pencil. I think that’s pretty accurate, though some spots definitely hurt more than others. And don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want to endure that feeling longer than necessary. But it was manageable. Towards the end, I started to feel a bit faint, but I think more due to nerves than anything else.

Here it is:

Vegan Heart

A few more photos, including of Sherri’s tattoos are on the flickr set here.

Returning to Practice

All last week I was in Sacramento to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with my family. I typically look forward to this time of year. It’s one of the only times where my brothers and I are all in one location. We’re able to catch up with one another and just enjoy each other’s company. We break out our old Magic the Gathering cards and much merriment is had.

This last visit, however, was a bit rough. I worked really hard the previous week in order to catch up on enough work so that I wouldn’t have to do any work, or very little, while in Sacramento. In doing so, I managed to become fatigued enough to catch a cold. So I arrived in Sacramento already feeling run down and having missed at least one of my regular yoga classes.

Despite packing my zafu and chant book, I neglected to sit the entire time I was in Sacramento. Not feeling well combined with the absence of the usual containers of routine and community all contributed to this. But ultimately I just did not feel like it and gave into this feeling.

Instead I watched movies, socialized, cooked, ate a few too many chocolate chip cookies, you know, the usual family holiday activities.

However, as the week went on, I felt myself become more stressed out and I continued to wait for an energy to magically return. It never did. I felt tired, fat and not very good about myself. I arrived back in Portland feeling just awful.

But starting on Monday, I was able to turn these feelings around. I made myself sit nearly everyday this week. I’ve returned (albeit gradually) to my exercise routine. I missed my mid-week yoga class to spend time with Sherri, but plan to go to yoga tomorrow. And, this evening as I settled in to my cushion and heard the bell ring for the start of the first meditation period, I could feel my mind settle and could feel my energy level rising. I felt present again. Whole. Energetic. Worthwhile.

I’m writing this as a reminder to myself: Always return to practice. It doesn’t matter what I did yesterday, or what I will do tomorrow. Only the present moment matters and it’s always available, should we choose to be in it.