Early mornings are great in Seoul. The problem is that on the weekends, I don't really want to know what it's like at 5:00am. I'm not a late-sleeper--never have been--but waking up before the sun comes up isn't fun. Luckily, Koreans are sleepers. It's not that they sleep a lot though. It's more that when they have a chance to nod-off or sleep-in, they take it. This means that even my neighborhood (population 1.6 million) has a few moments to breathe.
My wife and I decided to head to a coffee shop at about 8:00am this morning. I can't really enjoy it all too much though. I don't drink coffee. Teaching and drinking coffee go hand in hand and since Koreans are big on coffee and gifting teachers, this month has been a struggle. I get coffee from students all the time and while I'm appreciative as possible, it gets a little old. Either way, my wife and I were drinking coffee and water (I refuse to pay five bucks for tea) and glaring out the large window onto the streets of Gangnam.
Across the street from us was a drunk man peacefully passed out on the sidewalk. A few years ago I would have guessed that he was homeless, but Gangnam does a good job of keeping skid row north of the river. He was just drunk. Unsurprisingly, the police were called and they chatted him up for a bit. The police in Korea spend roughly 70% dealing with drunks. Most of the time they give them the "be on your way" directive and that's about that. This case was no different. They sat him up, gave him a warning and were on their way.
The man, however, was not on his way. He sat right back down and proceeded to fade in and out of consciousness, pee on the wall and have a battle with his belt-less pants that refused to stay up. After an hour-long struggle to regain enough sense to stand, he was finally victorious and went on his way.
I watched this entire episode. It was entertaining. I've been in his position before and now, after a booze-less month, I'm starting to see how unfortunate it actually is. I used to do that in the name of fun?
***
By now, you've gotten figured out the format of this project. I live my life according to the rules of my chosen religion and observe the world through those eyes. I'm essentially just filtering my life through a religious screen and whatever is left on top, I examine and toss out. The bit that does filter through is presumably a jumbled mess of outdated rules and timeless advice. I try to sort that as well.
If you remember The Middle Way (which is essentially the Buddhist concept of moderation), Buddha made it very clear that extremes in either direction create suffering. I'm prone to go to extremes.
So, I will end today's short post with a question that I will answer tomorrow.
Am I actually making myself more addicted to extremities by quitting things cold turkey or starting things full-throttle?
I ask this because I have long adhered to line from a Dead song that stated "Too much of everything is just enough." Does Buddhism has an answer for me?
Continued tomorrow...
4/24/10
4/23/10
Day 23
Last night, I dreamed that I somehow ended up in a North Korean prison camp -an experience that I have read about in several books. (I'd recommend this one.) I don't remember all the details or reasons behind the sentencing, but I do remember standing in a big crowd just below the 37th parallel with my wife and mother being forced to say goodbye to them. I didn't know how long I was going to be in th North or if I would ever see them again. I didn't even know how long our goodbyes would last. And then all at once, I was led away; pulled from the arms of my wife and away from the tears of my mother. Yet, considering the gravity of such an event, the mood changed drastically after only a few moments. We were all surprisingly reposed.
I was marched across the demarcation line and soon realized the breadth of my situation. I was going to a Korean prison camp. My fears mounted as several armed soldiers approached me; their guns slung across their trim, unnourished bodies. We must have walked for no more than a couple minutes before my loved ones were well out of sight. The South disappeared behind the tombstones of Soviet-era buildings and with it went all that I had known.
In the camp, I remember there was mostly running going on. It felt like a middle school cross-country practice. I was not particularly excited about this either. I hated cross-country. Aside from the awful and seemingly endless running, the general atmosphere felt more like a bustling summer camp than a prison camp. I think it was at this point that it started to get a little dreamy (you know, with snakes, random cameos and misplaced cultural icons), but soon that faded away and a terrifying feeling of helplessness swept over me. The US government couldn't get me out; my wife and family had no way of contacting me; and I was alone and incommunicado for what I could only assume was going to be forever.
After lamenting the circumstances for several dream-time hours, I started to think more positively about my predicament. I started to see it as a chance to grow and take my life in a different direction. I was almost gleeful about the book I was sure to write after the whole experience was a thing of the past. Everyone would want to read about my story. I was going to be rich and it was all thanks to North Korea.
Then the alarm went off and I woke up.
(A variation of this dream actually happened to an English Teacher.)
***
I don't like wasting time analyzing the imagery of dreams. There's no consistency in it and I honestly don't think that losing teeth equates to powerlessness. I want to talk about something a little different here. I'm more curious as to why my feelings of beleaguerment and trepidation suddenly changed to prospective rosiness. As I said before, I dig hope, but this turnaround came without warning or warrant.
What I want to focus on is positivity. I want to figure out if the positivity that I'm experiencing now (in reality) is grounded in my Buddhist studies or our blindly positive culture. Remember, at the end of this project, I might be making a decision as to what religion best suits me and my life. Or maybe not. I'm just lucky enough to be able to explore the religions of the world, so I've got to analyze these things.
In short, I want to know if the promise of Buddhism is more realistic and lasting than the pop-culture cults following philosophies like the "law of attraction" and other theories pushed by best-sellers such as "The Secret".
How am I supposed to gauge the sincerity of my positivity?
Well, it's easier than one might think. Whereas "The Secret" pushed the ideas of "dream boards" and asking a god for things, Buddhism shows you a path. You might be thinking that those are the same. If we put a new boat on a dream board, then that is essentially pointing us in the direction we need to go. The difference is this: the law of attraction's promised positivity hinges on the manifestation of the objects or lifestyle desired. Meaning, if we don't obtain that new boat or dream job, our efforts were in vain and people are likely to let the positivity wane along with the other yearly fads.
Buddhism doesn't paint a picture of what a positive and happy person is supposed to look like. There is no end result and obtaining tangible rewards for being happy seems almost counterproductive. In fact, Buddha even goes so far as to caution those seeking Enlightenment.
I'm feeling good these days because I've gotten my thoughts in order. I've simplified my life and don't waste time on worrying about the things I can't control. I'm aware of how my behavior can change the conditions of others. It's been twenty-three days since starting this project and I feel genuinely happy. I don't want anything that I don't already have and that feels good.
I was marched across the demarcation line and soon realized the breadth of my situation. I was going to a Korean prison camp. My fears mounted as several armed soldiers approached me; their guns slung across their trim, unnourished bodies. We must have walked for no more than a couple minutes before my loved ones were well out of sight. The South disappeared behind the tombstones of Soviet-era buildings and with it went all that I had known.
In the camp, I remember there was mostly running going on. It felt like a middle school cross-country practice. I was not particularly excited about this either. I hated cross-country. Aside from the awful and seemingly endless running, the general atmosphere felt more like a bustling summer camp than a prison camp. I think it was at this point that it started to get a little dreamy (you know, with snakes, random cameos and misplaced cultural icons), but soon that faded away and a terrifying feeling of helplessness swept over me. The US government couldn't get me out; my wife and family had no way of contacting me; and I was alone and incommunicado for what I could only assume was going to be forever.
After lamenting the circumstances for several dream-time hours, I started to think more positively about my predicament. I started to see it as a chance to grow and take my life in a different direction. I was almost gleeful about the book I was sure to write after the whole experience was a thing of the past. Everyone would want to read about my story. I was going to be rich and it was all thanks to North Korea.
Then the alarm went off and I woke up.
(A variation of this dream actually happened to an English Teacher.)
***
I don't like wasting time analyzing the imagery of dreams. There's no consistency in it and I honestly don't think that losing teeth equates to powerlessness. I want to talk about something a little different here. I'm more curious as to why my feelings of beleaguerment and trepidation suddenly changed to prospective rosiness. As I said before, I dig hope, but this turnaround came without warning or warrant.
What I want to focus on is positivity. I want to figure out if the positivity that I'm experiencing now (in reality) is grounded in my Buddhist studies or our blindly positive culture. Remember, at the end of this project, I might be making a decision as to what religion best suits me and my life. Or maybe not. I'm just lucky enough to be able to explore the religions of the world, so I've got to analyze these things.
In short, I want to know if the promise of Buddhism is more realistic and lasting than the pop-culture cults following philosophies like the "law of attraction" and other theories pushed by best-sellers such as "The Secret".
How am I supposed to gauge the sincerity of my positivity?
Well, it's easier than one might think. Whereas "The Secret" pushed the ideas of "dream boards" and asking a god for things, Buddhism shows you a path. You might be thinking that those are the same. If we put a new boat on a dream board, then that is essentially pointing us in the direction we need to go. The difference is this: the law of attraction's promised positivity hinges on the manifestation of the objects or lifestyle desired. Meaning, if we don't obtain that new boat or dream job, our efforts were in vain and people are likely to let the positivity wane along with the other yearly fads.
Buddhism doesn't paint a picture of what a positive and happy person is supposed to look like. There is no end result and obtaining tangible rewards for being happy seems almost counterproductive. In fact, Buddha even goes so far as to caution those seeking Enlightenment.
As long as people desire Enlightenment and grasp at it, it means that delusion is still with them; therefore, those who are following the way to Enlightenment must not grasp at it, and if they reach Enlightenment they must not linger in it.Ultimately, true happiness and positivity should not look like something. Just like with donations and offerings, there should never be a reward for doing what you know is right. The people who buy books like "The Secret" and "Your Best Life Now" have simply forgotten that fact and gotten swept up by best-sellers and instant gratification. Weber sure would have loved to have been alive to witness this economization of happiness.
I'm feeling good these days because I've gotten my thoughts in order. I've simplified my life and don't waste time on worrying about the things I can't control. I'm aware of how my behavior can change the conditions of others. It's been twenty-three days since starting this project and I feel genuinely happy. I don't want anything that I don't already have and that feels good.
4/22/10
Day 22
I've been thinking about my blood a lot. Odd, no one really thinks about their blood, right? Well, yesterday I discovered that my blood type was O-negative --meaning that I'm the universal donor. I like that role, but in all honestly, I haven't ever donated blood. There's no fear of needles or hemaphobia to pair with my apathy for donation, I've just never done it.
I once tried to donate plasma in college. I went in there with a few friends who were probably considered regulars by the resident phlebotomists. Donating plasma wasn't a totally unheard of thing, either. I knew plenty of uber-lazy students who preferred this method (or mooching) to actual work. And why not? It was easy, clean and you could make forty-bucks in one sitting. That, plus you could justify your organic hocking as "donating". So, I went into this donation center fully prepared to squeeze out some plasma. I walked in and the heavy-set woman sitting behind the enclosed partition barked at me through a glass window.
She stood up and walked around the partition. Her eyes were locked on mine. I remember wondering if my eyes were still bloodshot from that afternoon's "extracurriculars". As she got closer, I was taken aback by her size. She not only towered above me, but her large frame dwarfed me by about fifty or sixty pounds. She snatched my arm, forced my sleeve above my elbow and took a peek.
I knew she wasn't going to be able to "get a needle" in either arm. She had already sized me up as a spoiled brat that was too lazy to get a job. And she was right, too. I was lazy. Still, she took a look at my other arm and proclaimed that I wasn't vascular enough for donation. That was baloney. My veins can be seen from the Blue Ridge Parkway. I'm about as vascular as a pacing steed, but I think she had simply grown tired of people donating plasma for the wrong reasons. I left that day and never returned.
While I'll never know exactly why I was turned away, I remember looking around that center in disgust. It was not a place that people were proud to be. The reclined chairs were all lined-up in a row --ten on each side. Everyone donating was forced to look at the person across the room and I'm willing to bet that everyone was questioning the motives of the other donors and silently ridiculing them. But the truth was, everyone was in there not because they cared enough to donate. They were in there for easy money and nothing more.
People donate a lot of things for the wrong reasons. Buddha says:
Aside from money, Buddha claims there are seven types of offering that we can practice: labor; compassion; glance; smile; words; seat; shelter. I have offered all of these at some point, but I can do more. I need to. I've always felt fairly altruistic throughout my life and that selfless concern is central to the teachings of Buddhism, but I don't think I'm doing enough. Do you?
Recently in Korea, there was a teenager who was suffering from lymphoma. His blood type was B-negative which is extremely rare in Korea. In fact, Asian's typically aren't Rh. negative. A blood drive campaign was started among expats based the country, but it wasn't enough. He died yesterday. There simply wasn't enough blood for him among Koreans or expats. That makes me feel horrible. I didn't know my blood type until yesterday, so I couldn't have helped anyways, but would I have?
I don't think so and that is something that I am going to improve on. Both my wife and I have made a pledge to donate once a month while we're still in Korea. She's A-positive which isn't unique at all, but my rare blood type could certainly help others in that position.
***
Just in case you're curious, Koreans are not big on blood/tissue/organ donations. In fact, their donation rate is among the lowest in the world. Predominately Christian nations are leading the pack on this front, but it's not just Christianity that promotes organ donation --nearly all religions believe it to be noble. So then, why is Korea, a nation swimming with proselytizing religiosi, not keeping up with the trend? One man: Confucius
This guy still has a stranglehold here in the land that "out-Confuciused the Confucisians."
I once tried to donate plasma in college. I went in there with a few friends who were probably considered regulars by the resident phlebotomists. Donating plasma wasn't a totally unheard of thing, either. I knew plenty of uber-lazy students who preferred this method (or mooching) to actual work. And why not? It was easy, clean and you could make forty-bucks in one sitting. That, plus you could justify your organic hocking as "donating". So, I went into this donation center fully prepared to squeeze out some plasma. I walked in and the heavy-set woman sitting behind the enclosed partition barked at me through a glass window.
"Sir, are you approved to donate at this site?"You see, even though I was among the degenerates who were selling their plasma for booze,drugs and whores, I was certainly not like them. No, no, no, I was a college student and students don't visit whores. Besides, I was new to this scene and it didn't matter why I was there. The lady didn't take to kindly to my projected snottiness. She'd seen guys like me hundreds of times and knew how to handle the type.
"I'm not sure, it's my first time. How do I get approved?" I replied in the most cheeky of tones.
She stood up and walked around the partition. Her eyes were locked on mine. I remember wondering if my eyes were still bloodshot from that afternoon's "extracurriculars". As she got closer, I was taken aback by her size. She not only towered above me, but her large frame dwarfed me by about fifty or sixty pounds. She snatched my arm, forced my sleeve above my elbow and took a peek.
I knew she wasn't going to be able to "get a needle" in either arm. She had already sized me up as a spoiled brat that was too lazy to get a job. And she was right, too. I was lazy. Still, she took a look at my other arm and proclaimed that I wasn't vascular enough for donation. That was baloney. My veins can be seen from the Blue Ridge Parkway. I'm about as vascular as a pacing steed, but I think she had simply grown tired of people donating plasma for the wrong reasons. I left that day and never returned.
"Nope. We ain't gonna be able to get a needle in here. Let me see your left."
While I'll never know exactly why I was turned away, I remember looking around that center in disgust. It was not a place that people were proud to be. The reclined chairs were all lined-up in a row --ten on each side. Everyone donating was forced to look at the person across the room and I'm willing to bet that everyone was questioning the motives of the other donors and silently ridiculing them. But the truth was, everyone was in there not because they cared enough to donate. They were in there for easy money and nothing more.
People donate a lot of things for the wrong reasons. Buddha says:
The practice of offering gets rid of selfishness. A true offering comes from a sympathetic heart. True offering springs spontaneously from one's pure compassionate heart with no thought of any return.So, sorry plasma-junkies. Buddha isn't impressed with your "donations". What do you think his take is on those seeking deductions on their donations come tax season? (You think Buddha would be marching on Washington to complain about the top 2% of Americans being taxed? Don't tread on my CEO!) Personally, I've always been a little irritated by the fact that many donations are deemed as deductible from your taxable income. I know it encourages giving or perhaps even softens the blow a bit, but for some reason deducting tithes just feels wrong. However, after reading the Buddhist rules of offerings and karma, it appears that deducting donations doesn't de-merit your offering and resulting karma. As long as your intent is pure, then you're alright.
Aside from money, Buddha claims there are seven types of offering that we can practice: labor; compassion; glance; smile; words; seat; shelter. I have offered all of these at some point, but I can do more. I need to. I've always felt fairly altruistic throughout my life and that selfless concern is central to the teachings of Buddhism, but I don't think I'm doing enough. Do you?
Recently in Korea, there was a teenager who was suffering from lymphoma. His blood type was B-negative which is extremely rare in Korea. In fact, Asian's typically aren't Rh. negative. A blood drive campaign was started among expats based the country, but it wasn't enough. He died yesterday. There simply wasn't enough blood for him among Koreans or expats. That makes me feel horrible. I didn't know my blood type until yesterday, so I couldn't have helped anyways, but would I have?
I don't think so and that is something that I am going to improve on. Both my wife and I have made a pledge to donate once a month while we're still in Korea. She's A-positive which isn't unique at all, but my rare blood type could certainly help others in that position.
***
Just in case you're curious, Koreans are not big on blood/tissue/organ donations. In fact, their donation rate is among the lowest in the world. Predominately Christian nations are leading the pack on this front, but it's not just Christianity that promotes organ donation --nearly all religions believe it to be noble. So then, why is Korea, a nation swimming with proselytizing religiosi, not keeping up with the trend? One man: Confucius
This guy still has a stranglehold here in the land that "out-Confuciused the Confucisians."
4/21/10
Day 21
Finally, I beat my cold and sinus issues. It took awhile and before you start jumping all over my lifestyle, let me go ahead a stop you right there. It was not my lack of food or whatever else you might assume. No, it was my incense. The stuff was about as dirty as it can get and since it's been cold outside, the windows have been closed during many of my meditation sessions. That's pretty much concentrated poison going directly into my lungs. No more incense.
So I'm feeling good. I got my blood work back and all is well. Even though I wasn't expecting much, you always get nervous. I got an HIV/AIDS/STD test (had to for school), TB test and about a dozen other things checked out in the stuff and I'm all clean. I also found out that I'm O-negative. There's always that part of you that scares for no reason. I had a comprehensive test done a couple years ago before getting married and was clean then too, but you never know and when the imagination runs wild, there's no taming it.
So, that whole thing is done. Now I have to battle the blood pressure issue. I have a pretty solid game plan though. In short, no smoking, more exercise and more overall care for myself. I guess we all get to a certain point when health becomes something to worry about. I just wish it didn't happen so early for me, but what can I do? I'm not going to spin this as one of those "this was actually a good thing" cases. High blood pressure is a bad thing. I don't need to delude myself into thinking it's a turning point or a blessing in-disguise.
I've officially decided to swear-off all expressions that equate to "When life gives you lemons, made lemonade." That stuff doesn't help. Instead, I've changed it to "When life gives you lemons, thrown them away and drink water instead." Why waste my time working with the negative, when I can drink the purest thing in the world: reality.
I'm feeling good these days though. I've given myself more than enough time to think and organize my thoughts. I've adjusted some priorities and, in general, I'm feeling pretty great when I wake up every morning. Is it Buddhism? Partly 'yes' and partly 'no'.
More to come on that front though...
***
I had a pretty serious meditation session last night. Depending on the time of day, I either meditate with my eyes open or closed. At night, I generally go for the eyes open method. I've fallen asleep enough times to know that closing my baby-blues doesn't go over to well past 9:00pm. So, rather than sitting in total darkness, I decided to put on a video of a sun setting over a nice pristine lake.
Just for fun, let's assume it was this one.
Pretty nice, right? So, I was staring at my very large and un-Buddhist flat screen teevee for nearly thirty minutes when I started thinking about the physical nature of Buddha and my own perception of worldly beauty.
Specifically, do I see Buddha when I look at this picture?
Specifically, do I see Buddha when I look at this picture?
Perhaps I'm wondering this because I was raised in a largely Judeo-Christian society and was bombarded with corny Jesus posters and album covers depicting God or Jesus as beams of light or accompanying footprints in the sand. Whatever it is, I've been somewhat conditioned to view cheesy sunset images in this manner.
As I mentioned last week, Buddha stresses his humanness throughout his teachings. I identified with that because I like the idea of my teacher being a mentor rather than a figurehead. I still like that. However, the Dharma also states that Buddha is everywhere; a message that modern scholars have expanded on.
Buddha also stresses that this world is full of suffering because humans typically fall victim to desire. I agree with that as well. I personally find myself desiring many things everyday and particularly things and lives that other people have. I know that's normal, but I'm finding myself less concerned about that and more appreciative of what I have in front of me. Overall, I really enjoy most of what Buddhism stands for and teaches. It's a wonderful religion that everyone could benefit from studying.
Yet as a Buddhist, when I look at that picture above, I don't know how I should feel. The naturalist in me sees immense beauty and a desire for a simpler life. And that's not really in contrast with the message of Buddhism. I'm supposed to strive for a simplified life where watching a sun set over a serene lake is a routine.
Some of my best memories in life have been spent outdoors in this "burning world". My parents were not the outdoor-types in the traditional sense, but we spent some serious time in the wilderness. No, month-long packing trips and shooting the rapids usually weren't on the Spring Break itinerary. They did, however, send me and my sister to places where we could go camping, shoot the rapids and scale rock faces. And as a result, both my sister and I love spending as much time in nature as possible.
I don't like the notion that I'm wasting my time out there because reality is actually in my mind. I also like the idea that there's something more powerful in nature than my mind alone. I'm not saying I want to do this.
Nor am I saying I prefer the Abrahamic approach to the pagan, but I do want to feel like the experience is real and worthwhile.
As I mentioned last week, Buddha stresses his humanness throughout his teachings. I identified with that because I like the idea of my teacher being a mentor rather than a figurehead. I still like that. However, the Dharma also states that Buddha is everywhere; a message that modern scholars have expanded on.
“Buddha can’t be avoided. Buddha is everywhere. Enlightenment possibilities are all over the place. Whether you’re going to get married tomorrow, whether you’re going to die tomorrow, whatever you may feel, that familiar awake quality is everywhere, all the time. From this point of view, everything is a footprint of Buddha, anything that goes on, whether we regard it as sublime or ridiculous. Everything we do — breathing, farting, getting mosquito bites, having fantastic ideas about reality, thinking clever thoughts, flushing the toilet — whatever occurs is a footprint.”So, he's omnipotent and human. That--to me--get's into the gray area that Christians call the the "Trinity". Regardless, I'll accept the premise. Okay, Buddha is human AND he's omnipotent.
Buddha also stresses that this world is full of suffering because humans typically fall victim to desire. I agree with that as well. I personally find myself desiring many things everyday and particularly things and lives that other people have. I know that's normal, but I'm finding myself less concerned about that and more appreciative of what I have in front of me. Overall, I really enjoy most of what Buddhism stands for and teaches. It's a wonderful religion that everyone could benefit from studying.
Yet as a Buddhist, when I look at that picture above, I don't know how I should feel. The naturalist in me sees immense beauty and a desire for a simpler life. And that's not really in contrast with the message of Buddhism. I'm supposed to strive for a simplified life where watching a sun set over a serene lake is a routine.
The world is a burning house.This quote is referring to the ignorance of people and how destructive that nature is to their own tranquility. I understand the message and it makes sense, but the message almost seems like overkill. By constantly focusing on the mirage-like appearance of the world (and how bad it is), the religion is distancing itself from it. That's a let down for me. I know that Buddhism--like most religions--pushes the idea that this world is only temporary and wasting energy on it is pointless, but I like this earth and want to waste a lot of energy on it and in it.
Some of my best memories in life have been spent outdoors in this "burning world". My parents were not the outdoor-types in the traditional sense, but we spent some serious time in the wilderness. No, month-long packing trips and shooting the rapids usually weren't on the Spring Break itinerary. They did, however, send me and my sister to places where we could go camping, shoot the rapids and scale rock faces. And as a result, both my sister and I love spending as much time in nature as possible.
I don't like the notion that I'm wasting my time out there because reality is actually in my mind. I also like the idea that there's something more powerful in nature than my mind alone. I'm not saying I want to do this.
Nor am I saying I prefer the Abrahamic approach to the pagan, but I do want to feel like the experience is real and worthwhile.
4/20/10
Day 20
I ate a veggie sub today. It was my first ever. I enjoyed it a lot. Oh, and happy "420 Day".
***
Perhaps the thing that I will most learn from this project (and my time in Korea as a minority) will be the awesome power of tolerance. I'll admit it, I have not been the most tolerant person in my short life. My parents certainly practiced open-tolerance as I grew up and both of them have blossomed into wonderfully tolerant people as they have settled into their middle-ages with wisdom safely nestled on their side. That's impressive considering the backslide that much of America is experiencing right now. As clearly witnessed by the current social and political climate right now, reaching full maturity as a tolerant and accepting person is bucking the trend.
People have become so intolerant of others opinions, positions, and lifestyles that the mantra "Hey, it's the nineties" seems decades away...again. It's sad, but then again, I guess that means I get to wear jams again in the future. There's always a bright-side.
It's clear to me that many Americans have lost their way and in my opinion it boils down to one thing. This one thing has dictated human behavior for millennia and is certainly causing a hefty portion of the strife we're witnessing in much of the world right now.
That, of course, is exclusivity and todays Americans are terrified to lose it.
These days, it's seems like every time I read American politics, there's some loon claiming that America is a "Christian nation". Sarah Palin is leading that charge now, but there have been many before her. Why is there such a push to for this meaningless appointment? Are American Christians so insecure and intolerant of other religions that they have to make sure that everyone knows that Christians are in charge?
That'd be like saying America is a "white nation" because Americans are still mostly white. Or that since the founding fathers were slave owners and men, that America is still a "white slave-owning nation". It's outrageous and honestly quite dangerous.
Trust me though, I'm not innocent of this. It's hard, if not impossible, to be. After all, humans are members of families, citizens of nations and practitioners of faiths. I'm not particularly thrilled about China's rising position in the world, but is my intolerance or even outward anger of their status going to create anything but hatred inside me and those that I love?
What's happened is that the exclusive community called America has unlocked the front gates and now is having trouble finding enough support to close them again. What was once called the "American Dream" is now the Korean Dream. It's the French Dream and Finnish Dream; the Brazilian Dream and the German Dream. America can no longer claim to be the only one offering a "dream". But wasn't that one of our other dreams, though? Weren't we supposed to be sharing our dreams with world?
I'd like to end with this quote.
***
Perhaps the thing that I will most learn from this project (and my time in Korea as a minority) will be the awesome power of tolerance. I'll admit it, I have not been the most tolerant person in my short life. My parents certainly practiced open-tolerance as I grew up and both of them have blossomed into wonderfully tolerant people as they have settled into their middle-ages with wisdom safely nestled on their side. That's impressive considering the backslide that much of America is experiencing right now. As clearly witnessed by the current social and political climate right now, reaching full maturity as a tolerant and accepting person is bucking the trend.
People have become so intolerant of others opinions, positions, and lifestyles that the mantra "Hey, it's the nineties" seems decades away...again. It's sad, but then again, I guess that means I get to wear jams again in the future. There's always a bright-side.
It's clear to me that many Americans have lost their way and in my opinion it boils down to one thing. This one thing has dictated human behavior for millennia and is certainly causing a hefty portion of the strife we're witnessing in much of the world right now.
That, of course, is exclusivity and todays Americans are terrified to lose it.
These days, it's seems like every time I read American politics, there's some loon claiming that America is a "Christian nation". Sarah Palin is leading that charge now, but there have been many before her. Why is there such a push to for this meaningless appointment? Are American Christians so insecure and intolerant of other religions that they have to make sure that everyone knows that Christians are in charge?
That'd be like saying America is a "white nation" because Americans are still mostly white. Or that since the founding fathers were slave owners and men, that America is still a "white slave-owning nation". It's outrageous and honestly quite dangerous.
Trust me though, I'm not innocent of this. It's hard, if not impossible, to be. After all, humans are members of families, citizens of nations and practitioners of faiths. I'm not particularly thrilled about China's rising position in the world, but is my intolerance or even outward anger of their status going to create anything but hatred inside me and those that I love?
What's happened is that the exclusive community called America has unlocked the front gates and now is having trouble finding enough support to close them again. What was once called the "American Dream" is now the Korean Dream. It's the French Dream and Finnish Dream; the Brazilian Dream and the German Dream. America can no longer claim to be the only one offering a "dream". But wasn't that one of our other dreams, though? Weren't we supposed to be sharing our dreams with world?
I'd like to end with this quote.
Religious tolerance is not achieved by reducing all religions to a common denominator, nor by explaining away formidable differences in thought and practice as accidents of historical development. From the Buddhist point of view, to make tolerance contingent upon whitewashing discrepancies would not be to exercise genuine tolerance at all; for such an approach can "tolerate" differences only by diluting them so completely that they no longer make a difference. True tolerance in religion involves the capacity to admit differences as real and fundamental, even as profound and unbridgeable, yet at the same time to respect the rights of those who follow a religion different from one's own (or no religion at all) to continue to do so without resentment, disadvantage or hindrance.Well put, sir.
4/19/10
Day 19
Mondays. Oh man, do I dislike this day. Actually, I'm not a big fan of Sundays either. I guess it's because they're tainted by the seriousness of Monday. I often wonder if they'll ever get better. Am I going to hit a stage in life where Mondays are actually good?
The Mamas & the Papas--I thought--had it right.
As I navigated my way through the treacherous waters of adolescence and early adulthood, I gravitated towards the decade. The politics, subculture and vibrancy of the 1960s appealed to me in many ways. It had long since passed by the time the nineties were in full-swing, but remained alive as it's pop-legacy would continue to prove the potency of its pop-culture impact. I loved the perceived mysticism of the times as it was unlike the late-nineties where very few easily identifiable movements were taking place that would appeal to teenagers. It was a get-in-where-you-fit-in type of thing and it just worked for me.
In 1966, a year after domestic victories like the passage of the Voting Rights Act and Social Security Act, LBJ substantially increased troop-levels in South Vietnam as 20,000 monks marched against the pro-America Diem regime. Mao restructured the Communist Regime, AFL-NFL merged, Reagan became Governor of California, Walt Disney died, Russia booted all Chinese students, the first Acid Test took place and The Mamas & the Papas released "Monday, Monday."
That's quite a year and almost all of those things have had some sort of effect on my life, but why Monday, Monday? It certainly wasn't the most momentous event of the year and the song probably had no real impact on the lives of anybody besides the members of that band. But in all truth, that song had an impact on me. For as long as I can remember, I believed that song to be about how great Mondays actually were. Even though my experience with the day has been anything but great, I still maintained that I could and should rethink the day. The song says that it's "good to me", so perhaps I was looking at Monday all wrong. Maybe I should embrace the day as the start of a fresh week; something new to get excited about.
However, the song is not about how great Mondays are. It's actually about an affair. All you have to do is substitute Monday with a woman's name and tweak a few of the other lyrics. My entire life, I had looked to this song as a shot of optimism on difficult Monday mornings.
People used to support Lombroso's theory of biological determinism and lock-up those who had physical traits that were deemed as "deviant". That was nuts of course, but people ate it up back then. Every nation has false ideas and makes bogus claims about immigrants (English teachers in Korea are rapists is a personal favorite), yet it's still a lie.
Am I angry at The Mamas and the Papas? -no, but I should be more aware of the ideals that I am certain to be true. This goes for religion, politics, history and just about every other facet of life. You never know how much a lie --no matter how small-- can affect your life.
And for the record, Mondays are not "good to me", Mama Cass! Oh, and just so you know, Mama Cass died on a Monday.
The Mamas & the Papas--I thought--had it right.
Monday Monday so good to meThe counter-culture of the sixties passed my parents by all too easily. My father was a repressed Irish Catholic nerd in college and my mom was still in the hoop skirt stage by the time the barracks at Pleiku were ambushed by the Viet Cong. Yeah, it's safe to say that my parents were more concerned with Grazing in the Grass than smoking the stuff. As a result, deciphering the meanings of classic sixties tunes, artwork and movements were not a typical activity in the young Hogan household. And while we loved to watch The Wonder Years as much as any other waspy family, not a word was breathed about the Vietnam War or era. Still, "oldies" were played on the radio and I got to enjoy them just like every child of the eighties did.
Monday mornin' it was all I hoped it would be
As I navigated my way through the treacherous waters of adolescence and early adulthood, I gravitated towards the decade. The politics, subculture and vibrancy of the 1960s appealed to me in many ways. It had long since passed by the time the nineties were in full-swing, but remained alive as it's pop-legacy would continue to prove the potency of its pop-culture impact. I loved the perceived mysticism of the times as it was unlike the late-nineties where very few easily identifiable movements were taking place that would appeal to teenagers. It was a get-in-where-you-fit-in type of thing and it just worked for me.
In 1966, a year after domestic victories like the passage of the Voting Rights Act and Social Security Act, LBJ substantially increased troop-levels in South Vietnam as 20,000 monks marched against the pro-America Diem regime. Mao restructured the Communist Regime, AFL-NFL merged, Reagan became Governor of California, Walt Disney died, Russia booted all Chinese students, the first Acid Test took place and The Mamas & the Papas released "Monday, Monday."
That's quite a year and almost all of those things have had some sort of effect on my life, but why Monday, Monday? It certainly wasn't the most momentous event of the year and the song probably had no real impact on the lives of anybody besides the members of that band. But in all truth, that song had an impact on me. For as long as I can remember, I believed that song to be about how great Mondays actually were. Even though my experience with the day has been anything but great, I still maintained that I could and should rethink the day. The song says that it's "good to me", so perhaps I was looking at Monday all wrong. Maybe I should embrace the day as the start of a fresh week; something new to get excited about.
However, the song is not about how great Mondays are. It's actually about an affair. All you have to do is substitute Monday with a woman's name and tweak a few of the other lyrics. My entire life, I had looked to this song as a shot of optimism on difficult Monday mornings.
People often become so attached to their own delusions that it makes the ego accept false realities.Everyone is guilty of this from time to time and, in many cases, it's unintentional. I just accepted the song at face value. There are thousands of song like that, but how many of them altered how you behaved? And furthermore, is it responsible of us to continue believing such falsehoods and delusions? The great George Costanza once said something that I'll always remember.
"It's not a lie if you believe it."That is, of course, totally untrue. A lie is a lie and reality is reality. Just look at the American Tea Party movement. Those people don't have a clue as to what reality is. They've just let delusions cling to their egos and now they're living under a "Kenyan-born Muslim Marxist who is bent on destroying America and forcing people into reeducation camps." Even if they continue to see it on television and repeat in the streets, it's still a lie.
People used to support Lombroso's theory of biological determinism and lock-up those who had physical traits that were deemed as "deviant". That was nuts of course, but people ate it up back then. Every nation has false ideas and makes bogus claims about immigrants (English teachers in Korea are rapists is a personal favorite), yet it's still a lie.
Am I angry at The Mamas and the Papas? -no, but I should be more aware of the ideals that I am certain to be true. This goes for religion, politics, history and just about every other facet of life. You never know how much a lie --no matter how small-- can affect your life.
And for the record, Mondays are not "good to me", Mama Cass! Oh, and just so you know, Mama Cass died on a Monday.
4/18/10
Day 18
As I mentioned yesterday, I'm having problems discussing the virtues and lessons of Buddhism without coming across as a prick. Everything about the religion creates an environment for smugness. I'm told to remain calm, speaking deliberately, control my emotions, fight the urge of combativeness and avoid hyperbolic and foolish talk. Sounds great and if I was only speaking to other Buddhists, it would be perfect, but that's not the case. Most of the people I'm speaking to are not religious, let alone Buddhist. They find my calm tone more condescending than reasonable. (American liberals often get charged in the same way. Being calm, collected and knowledgeable equates to elitism in the bizzaro world of America civics.)
I think another problem with this interaction comes more misunderstanding than anything.
No matter what happens, the pious are bound to step on toes and make others uncomfortable. I'm so uncomfortable with these non-denominational Christians that when I see them on TV raising their hands in prayer, my first thought is that they're either phonies or self-righteous. That's wrong. People should not dismiss and judge them because it's impossible for the secular to understand their nature. The same goes for interfaith conflicts. Brit Hume's comment on Tiger Woods comes to mind.
Save the meta-physical stuff for later.
I think another problem with this interaction comes more misunderstanding than anything.
There are three kinds of people in the world. The first are those who are proud, act rashly and are satisfied; their natures are easy to understand. Then there are those who are courteous and always act after consideration; their natures are hard to understand. Then there are those who have overcome desire completely; it is impossible to understand their nature.
My sister was first exposed to true religious zeal when she was in college. She had grown tired of the routine partying (something that I cherished greatly) and wanted something more. True, she was a bit depressed and lost, but clearly the passion for which some people had for Christ intrigued her. As with many people, first exposure to the pious often leads to irritation. It's very difficult for the non-religious to truly understand the devout. This gap is what turns people off.
So, when my sister came home and started preaching the "good news" to the family, we were turned off and almost felt a little betrayed. I wondered where my sister had gone. One comment she made clearly stands out even today.
Thanks, sis. But looking back on that, I can understand why she did and, at the same time, I can understand why this comment is so obnoxious to the non-follower. She had been exposed to evangelical Christianity and part of the belief is outreach. In fact, "spreading the word" is the main goal of Christians, but evangelicals tend to use zero tact when doing so. She had fallen so in love with Christianity that her concern was not actually self-righteous (as I took it), but rather it stemmed from her genuine fear that her little brother would be going to Christian Hell. (I've read about Christian Hell and it sounds pretty scary. Luckily, I don't believe in it, but I appreciate the effort.) The issue here isn't whether I was offended by the comment or if she was naive for making such a classless remark, what's at issue is that religious people walk a fine line when discussing their faith with others.So, when my sister came home and started preaching the "good news" to the family, we were turned off and almost felt a little betrayed. I wondered where my sister had gone. One comment she made clearly stands out even today.
"I'm worried that you're going to go to Hell."
No matter what happens, the pious are bound to step on toes and make others uncomfortable. I'm so uncomfortable with these non-denominational Christians that when I see them on TV raising their hands in prayer, my first thought is that they're either phonies or self-righteous. That's wrong. People should not dismiss and judge them because it's impossible for the secular to understand their nature. The same goes for interfaith conflicts. Brit Hume's comment on Tiger Woods comes to mind.
"He's said to be a Buddhist; I don't think that faith offers the kind of forgiveness and redemption that is offered by the Christian faith. So my message to Tiger would be, 'Tiger, turn to the Christian faith and you can make a total recovery and be a great example to the world."I've only been doing this for about three weeks and already I've gotten under the skin of my wife, colleagues and friends. Devout followers must use other methods of delivery when attempting to share their faith. Rather than starting lines with, "Jesus told us to..." and "Buddha showed us by..." go with "it helps to" or something else that's more subtle. For instance, I've discovered that meditation really helps sort of my thoughts and relaxes me internally or externally. Rather than saying, "I think you should start mediating because..." I should try a more subtle, "I usually feel really great after meditating." Don't mentioned your preferred deity or prescribed religion just yet. If the religious just spoke to people on a human level first, many would be less inclined to feel anger and resentment.
Save the meta-physical stuff for later.
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