Visiting The North Coast

Fled to the shore of Lake Ontario today to escape the heat.

It ended up being much cooler than yesterday. I sat on a concrete wall on the shore and let the waves wash up on my feet. Started out with my shoes on, but they quickly came off. The lake water is warm now. After a couple of dips, the water felt warmer than the air.

It was a throwback method of dealing with the high temperatures. I turned on my air conditioning for the first time this year, and was disappointed to find it useless. As it ran for over an hour, the thermometer number only slowly increased. I shut it down and resorted to my grandparents' favored strategy for cooling down. A stiff wind barreled in from the northeast and made the water choppy. I looked at the ruffled surface and the impervious rocks and thought about how, in six months' time, it will all be encased in ice.



























A raft of wood ducks fed in a stream that flowed from the lake. The water was dark and smelled brackish, but the ducks were really enjoying some kind of food in it, to the point where the feeding got competitive. For them it was a great day, with plenty to eat and no harsh weather to endure. Once again, I envied them their freedom.

The Inner Sage Speaks

"You realize that this is all an illusion, don't you?"

This is what I've been hearing in my head lately--a few times now. Mostly it comes during pleasant moments, like it did tonight as I was walking outside, the setting sun warming my back.

Maybe it's that inner sage we all have, but rarely listen to. He's trying to protect me from attachment, I think. It's easy to loathe samsara when things are going poorly, much more difficult when we find ourselves in wonderful circumstances, happy and contented. Where we are at these times is the true test of our practice. Whenever I hear the words, I find a feeling of expectation, as if I'm just beyond piercing the veil. I can almost taste it. The taste of one taste.

Many might find this pessimistic, but I am comforted by it. It means there may be hope for me yet. Time grows shorter with every year, and I know that I have to keep practicing as much as possible. Death is a time of great opportunity. It only comes once in a lifetime. One has to be ready.

May your voices help you along the way as well.

A Summer Reading List

The solstice has come and gone, and the bulk of my favorite season lies ahead. These are the books I plan on reading over the course of the summer. Since I read at least a few books at once, it may go into early fall.


Sacred Wilderness by Susan Power

Power is a Native writer who wrote The Grass Dancer, and received the PEN/Hemingway award for best new writer back in the early 90s. This novel concerns a group of women who gather together to help heal a friend. I found The Grass Dancer to be a deeply lyrical work on Native life, and expect no less from this new story, published in 2014.

Psychiatric Tales by Darryl Cunningham

This is a graphic novel that contains 11 tales of mental illness, as observed by the writer/artist during his time working in mental institutions in England. The final story concerns his own personal battle. The art is simply constructed in black and white tones, honing the edge of already harsh and vivid subject matter. I find it interesting to read how others deal with such challenging circumstances, and this promises to hold nothing back. Published in 2011.





Indian Country by Peter Matthiessen


The author was one of the cofounders of the Paris Review, and known for such famous works as The Snow Leopard and At Play In The Fields Of The Lord. The is nonfiction dealing with several instances in history where white culture encroached on Native lands, and the horror that resulted from it. Matthiessen is a transcendent writer when it comes to describing nature, and I'm sure it will make a sharp contrast with the events he will cover.

Sleepless Nights by Elizabeth Hardwick


First published back in the late 70s, this was recently dusted off and reprinted by the New York Review of Books fiction imprint. It's a short, partly autobiographical novel in the vein of Renata Adler's Speedboat, where there isn't really a solid narrative line. It consists of a succession of prose snapshots, evoking a time and place and scraps of conversation overheard or engaged in. I'm nearly finished with Speedboat and enjoyed the freeform swing of the story as a detailed picture is slowly constructed of the life of a New York journalist. From the samples I've read, Hardwick can boast of a similar talent.



As It Is, Vol. 2 by Tulku Urgyen Rinpoche

The companion volume to a series of talks that Rinpoche gave back in the 90s. He springs from the Great Perfection, or Dzogchen, tradition in Tibetan Buddhism, but the talks are very clearly presented and can be understood by anyone. Vol. 1, which I read a couple years ago, really got to the heart of practice, and I'm looking forward to continuing reading Rinpoche's teachings on how to integrate practice with daily life.

Five Buddhist Teachings I Recommend for the Curious

I've been a practicing Buddhist for close to the last 20 years now.

The journey began with a rough period in my life. In order to learn how to to deal with it, I sought help in books. I paid frequent visits to the nearest Borders bookstore, at first reading about relaxation and meditation techniques. My reading on meditation led to more reading on Buddhism, which puts great emphasis on meditation as part of the practice.

Over the years, I've read many valuable teachings on the practice. Here are five books I would recommend to anyone seeking to know more about Buddhism.


The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying

Sogyal Rinpoche's work is a modern classic. The title riffs on the more famous and older work, The Tibetan Book of the Dead, which is more of a study on what happens after death in the bardos. This book deals with an entire life (and death) as a practitioner. It is written in simple language, and is meant to be consumed by those who are new to the belief. I've read it twice, and it renews my resolve to practice each time. For a good, comprehensive introduction, I would offer this book.

The Words of My Perfect Teacher

This is an older Tibetan classic, dating back to the 1800s, by the revered teacher Patrul Rinpoche. Several years after I started practicing, I was facing another difficult time. A number of events had coincided and I was dealing with high stress levels and difficulty sleeping. This book manifested in my life like many great teachers do, and it turned out to be just what I needed at the time. It begins with the preliminaries, and contains multiple reminders about the difficulties of samsara (a sanskrit term for the ordinary life most of us live). The tone is gentle, but firm, and, in its way, encouraging. Reading it gave me a great deal of comfort during this period. After some time, the difficulties passed and I moved on. I came out of it though with my practice strengthened, and a better appreciation of the opportunity that our life presents to engage in it.

The Zen Teaching of Bodhidharma

An ancient classic by the founder of Zen Buddhism, this text by Bodhidharma, the Indian sage who brought Buddhism to China (also, according to the story, tea and kung-fu) is much like it's subject--austere and no-nonsense. It's said that Bodhidharma meditated in a cave for nine years, and in order to stay awake while meditating, he cut off his eyelids. Many images depict him with bulging eyes as a result of this. The austerity of Zen is not for everyone, and can be hard for western audiences to take in, but I think it is a potent antidote to our rampant materialism and ego gratification. Bodhidharma very clearly lays out the path here. The first Buddhist books I read were Zen books, and they jolted me out of a waking dream that I have made every effort not to fall back into since.

Heart Advice from a Mahamudra Master

This book relates to my own practice, that of Mahamudra, a Tibetan form that I found to be very much like Zen in one of its forms. It's very simple and direct, and involves working with the mind that we have in the moment. This can be tough for a beginner, so I wouldn't recommend diving into it right away, but it is very rewarding once a good basis has been established. Gendun Rinpoche, the author of this powerful, simple teaching, passed into parinirvana back in the 90s, but I wish I could've heard his teachings in person. We're fortunate he had the foresight to put his lifelong experience with practice into written form.




Zurchungpa's Testament

Zurchungpa's Eighty Chapters of Personal Advice, written a thousand years ago, as explained by Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, based on Shechen Gyaltsap Rinpoche's notes. Again, it courses through the entire path, from the preliminaries to the higher mind practices. After reading this teaching, I found my understanding took another great leap ahead, and it was as if another layer of dust had been wiped away from my mind. I don't pretend to be even close to enlightenment yet, but this text will surely give you an ample glimpse and help you on your journey. I've read a few of Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche's books and feel a great auspicious connection with him.

Walk Before You Run

Went all out today on my run...ran the full distance at the full pace. First time I've done that since January. I strained a hip flexor back in February, shoveling out from the monstrous snowstorm we had. I couldn't walk right for a week. It's been a long road back to normalcy.

I started running again, only to have to stop after a week because it didn't feel right. It was obvious my hip was not ready. It isn't easy for me to not run. I've been doing it since I was 14, and it's become a compulsive habit. I tried to be content with walking for another couple weeks. Then I began to jog, very slowly. It was as if I was learning all over again--and I was, really. I'd lost my wind, any fitness that I had, due to the inactivity. Some of the early jogs would be followed by mild soreness and tenderness. As plodding as they were, maybe I was still pushing it too hard. But I persisted. I took a hot bath and rested, getting ready for the next attempt.

I guess I've been lucky in that I've never had to deal with many injuries. There were the two strained calves, eight years apart, the first of which healed very quickly. Now that I'm older, I should be more careful. I have a lot of miles on these legs, and I want to keep running for as long as possible. Impatience won't serve me well. I can't imagine having to stop because I wasn't physically able to anymore. If that were to happen, I'd start looking frantically for an aerobic substitute.

No need to think about that yet. I read a post not long ago from a 57 year old runner who had to stop permanently due to a physical ailment. He sounded at sea, utterly lost now that his routine was no longer available to him. I could hear my own desperation in his. I'm not sure how I'd deal with it, but I hope he has found another way to recreate the endorphin rush that he used to take for granted.

The human body, while an instrument capable of real wonders, is, at last, a very delicate structure, hung on illusion.

2015 At The Movies

Here's my annual list of the notable films I saw this year.

Inherent Vice

Paul Thomas Anderson’s film of the Thomas Pynchon novel, which I’ve never read. Anderson, after going for more sweep in stories like There Will Be Blood and The Master, takes on an offbeat detective story set in 1970, with Joaquin Phoenix as the drug-loving gumshoe. The plot was secondary as we get a very convincing SoCal travelogue of the times. Complete with washed out colors and love beads, the generation gap plays out between Phoenix’s character, Doc Sportello, and the by-the-book detective played by Josh Brolin, who’s all square jaw and conformity, until he reveals a taste for some of the pharmaceuticals of the day himself. I found myself enjoying the trip while keeping up with the plot at a stoner’s pace.

‘71

The early ‘70s theme continues as we jet over to Northern Ireland, where a British soldier stationed there is caught behind enemy lines as a tense situation spirals out of control. The story follows him throughout the night as he tries to make his way back to his barracks. Everything is in the shadows as we get a glimpse into the IRA camp, and how the British secret service plays a key role in rescuing him. An interesting view into a situation that was very bloody and seemingly hopeless up until a very short time ago.

Avengers: Age of Ultron

The follow-up to the first film, this one also directed by Joss Whedon. Not quite as good as the first, but worthy for its introduction of the Vision, one of my favorite members of the team. It takes most of the film to get him up to speed, but when he finally is, Paul Bettany does a great job of capturing his inhuman mystery. He looks to play a bigger role in the next film. Can’t wait to see what the Russo brothers do with him.

Leviathan

A Russian film about a man and his family who live in a coastal town and the mayor who wants to take their land. The man decides to fight the power, and learns just how dangerous that can be. The beautifully bleak landscape is the backdrop to a bleak story about how the little people are the ones who most often lose out to the whims of the well-connected. The movie has a distinctive Russian flavor and goes down like sharp vodka.

Ex Machina

The premise about very human-like robots among us is popping up more often in entertainment. This one looked promising, as it depicts a young man who is selected to meet a prototype and determine if he can tell that she is not human (also known as the Turing test). The rich creator, played capably by Oscar Isaac, comes on at first as a bro, then a slimy manipulator. Ultimately, the story devolves into yet another tale of robots gone bad, planning their eventual takeover. I was hoping for more of a smarter depiction of how humans will react when they meet one of these convincing machines. How will we short circuit when that day arrives? It’s a far more interesting question.

Love & Mercy

My favorite film of the year. It’s the sympathetic tale of Brian Wilson, founder of the Beach Boys and inventor of a musical sound from the ‘60s. The movie alternates between the mid-80s, and the time when Brian and the Boys were recording the seminal rock album, Smile.

We see the mental issues he’s had to deal with over the years, and how the seeds for these were sown back in his most creative period. Smile has had a mythic reputation over the years, and the director Bill Pohlad takes us back to that era with double-take authenticity. Paul Dano is excellent as the young Brian Wilson. It’s a beautiful film about a music legend, and the high price that soaring so high creatively can exact.

Rhymes for Young Ghouls

It’s 1976 on the Red Crow Micmac reservation in Canada. Aila is a weed dealer, trying to make money so she can stay out of the hated residential school. Her imprisoned father comes home and her world is turned upside down. Trouble finds Aila and her friends and they have to fight to stay out of the school. They take on the cruel Indian agent, finding strength in their traditional ways and their ancestors. This movie was originally released in 2014.

When Animals Dream

A new take on the werewolf movie, with a young Danish girl inheriting a peculiar family trait from her mother, who has her own troubled history with it. As Marie goes through puberty, the changes become more pronounced, and the town mobilizes in an attempt to corner her before she does more damage. I loved the stormy, North Sea atmosphere, which just added to the sense of foreboding. It’s the old metaphor of children becoming adults and the loss of innocence. But it’s stylishly rendered here, and worth a watch.

Sicario

A tale from the headlines, as we follow a young FBI agent into the Mexican drug war, fueled by Americans’ insatiable appetite for the product. It isn’t long before she sees what she feels is improper conduct, and she begins to regret her decision to join the fight. We ride along as convoys dip across the border to conduct raids or pick up prisoners. The tension is very effectively conveyed and you’ll find your eyes darting around the screen, trying to pick up any threats. A very relevant and taut thriller.

The Big Short

This probably won’t be the last film about the 2008 recession, but it’s certainly one of the best. Based on a nonfiction book about the crisis, this movie seeks to educate viewers about what happened that year as the economy melted down before our eyes. It breaks the fourth wall frequently to do so, and even uses humor to leaven a heavy subject. Seven years removed from the tragedy, it’s just a bit easier to laugh about what happened. Seeing the whole house of cards explained though, and how money can be such an ephemeral thing in some instances, gives one pause. With little done to prevent a recurrence, when will it happen again? Steve Carell gives another fine dramatic performance here.

The Quarry

It was the time of living on the knife edge.

He sought peace everywhere but within, because there was no sign of it there. One washed out November day, under a stony sky, he went up into the woods. He might've been trying to escape the maras, but he knew better that once they had your scent, there was no escaping them. He climbed a steep path to the top of a ridge, pausing to rest for a few minutes after the ascent. Then he went on, trying to find the trail that he couldn't find in the midst of summer. Maybe it was better hidden by the foliage then. The bare branches aided visibility this time, and he could see the quarry pond through them. He followed a detour he couldn't recall from last time, and found the lost trail.

He stopped where the hiking group had stopped before, a few years before, and had gone no further because further on was private property. He read the Posted sign, and then passed by it. After a short distance, the path veered back down steeply, toward the quarry pond. It was damp and brown, slicked by the sliding boots of previous travelers. He started warily down with half steps...and then heard voices. Two men approached from his right. He lay back against the cold earth, behind the gray and brown stalks of dead goldenrod and leafless bushes. He was well above them, probably 30-40 feet, and they passed in conversation, oblivious to his presence. After they drifted beyond hearing, he crept down further to the edge of the trail. He heard their voices again as they returned. He hurried back up the path, struggling to find a solid foothold. He grabbed the hard stalks to assist him. He ducked down again as they passed a second time. He watched them return to their vehicles and drive once again down the path, which was just wide enough for a vehicle. They passed by slowly, and he could discern as they went that they followed the gravel drive all the way around the pond. He stayed hidden until they were out of sight. Assured that no one else was nearby, he finally set foot on where they'd driven and walked up to the large berm that surrounded the pond. A frog hopped gingerly away as he got close. The movement startled him. A few ducks paddled out on its softly rippled surface. The berm dropped away to the water's edge. The shore was not inviting. He decided against going any further.

More voices, approaching from his left. He scrambled again back up the path, his feet avoiding the soil in favor of the grass. Part of the path was so steep, it was like climbing the face of a mountain. He made the top again and paused, breathing heavily. His heart was stomping in his chest. His lips and mouth were dry, but then they often were these days, even when resting. There was peace here, but it wouldn't enter him. Or he couldn't enter it.

He wanted to come here because it had inspired a story he'd written once. He imagined the ground near the pond for the tale, having never observed it closely before. It wasn't exactly like his descriptions, nor was it far off. He'd has a sense of it, enough to make it reasonably familiar to him. He was angry at whoever dared to call it private land. The land outlasted all people. It couldn't be owned by anyone. After a life bitterly spent, it was people who returned to the land.

He sat for a while back in the park territory, looking out over the water toward the opposite hillside. Fall colors splashed across his vision. The unwelcome noise of a mower, or maybe a leaf blower. His lonely sojourn yielded him no rest. It might have been the chill wind, or the intrusion of strangers where he desired none. In any case, it awakened his hunger, and he decided to head back. It would be dark soon, though it was only 3:30. Peace would have to wait.