The Dark I Must Illuminate

I am what I am and no excuses. But some background. I was raised with the constant threat of violence. As a little boy, I prayed everyday for my dad to die before he could hit me again. There was no god, no relief no peace. While it colored my world, it also was the seeds of a good life, a life of service, challenges met and spiritual transformation.

If you were similarly situated, I hope you got the healing help. I hope you found strength not paralysis. I hope you forgave.

I have met my own demons along the way. And it occurred to me that my father had demons unseen by him. I realized one day that he only did what he knew to do. No amount of education can teach relief from those demons of darkness that visit and stimulate violence against others and ourselves.

I get visited by internet bullies every now and then. My first reaction is aggression. I allow them unfettered access to my social media in exchange for the opportunity to insult and laugh at them. When a truck pulls alongside me and yells threats at me because he does not like my bike skills, part of my brain lights up. I can feel it physically. My brain thinks, this person wants to threaten and intimidate me. YES! Bring it so I can respond with greater threats and intimidation. Let’s go somewhere you did not have on your itinerary. Some dark place where the greater threat carries the most cache. Let me show you why you should mind your own business and never ever bully someone. Let me make clear what a fucking mistake you just made.

But I no longer believe my brain, instincts or skills. I know that there are alternative reactions. Ignore, respond politely, apologize if I bothered you. To get there, I have to run through a mental checklist.

First, I am too old to fight. Next, you are just an ass and there is nothing personal about your assault. Third, killing you would be overly aggressive. Killing you would result in consequences I am not wanting to sustain. But, there is the creeping thought that if do not get ugly, you will think I am afraid, I am weak. I may be afraid but I will not show it. The ability to show fear was beaten out of my cerebral cortex long ago. I will do almost anything to avoid conflict except to show fear. Put a gun to my head? No fear. Threaten my financial, mental or emotional well-being? No fear.

I do not necessarily think that is healthy but it is who I am. It took years of work to break through the fog of war in my brain. Meditation, ego deflation, and abandoning the justifications which drove me. Most important was forgiveness for all the bullies starting with my father. I am not out of the woods yet. I will not be a poster boy for Good Mental Health magazine. In fact, hardly a day goes by where I am not reminded that I can not rest on my laurels. Coping fatigue can not be an excuse for bad behavior.

Today when I meet someone suffering. I invite them to share about their problems. But after that, I expect them to set out to do the work of moving forward into freedom from suffering. Otherwise, sharing becomes whining. I no longer wish to whine about my life so why would I want to listen to you you whine about yours.

Healing does not take place in a vacuum. Time does not heal all wounds. The only way out of pain is through it, not over, under, or around it. That’s my experience, my truth. Many times over the past several years I have acted with compassion, kindness and metta. I recognize that the teachings of the Buddha, Eckhart Tolle and the many great spiritual teachers I have encountered precipitated my healing path. I appreciate the psychiatrist, psychologists and mental health counselors also but ultimately, the best path was a spiritual one.

Being around Buddhist temples and monasteries, 12-step meetings, and nature really helped feed my soul over the years. But I would be remiss if I did not leave you with this. Fuck with me or my people and I will invoke Ezekiel 25:17. “And I will execute great vengeance upon them with furious rebukes; and they shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall lay my vengeance upon them”. Just saying

I am a Father of Smiles!

I am a creator, of smiles. I have birthed thousands of smiles which otherwise might have gone unborn. It makes me feel almost Godlike to be this source of creation.

Here is the context for this seemingly inflated statement. I am riding my bicycle about 3-4 hours most days of the year. While doing so, I usually smile at everybody that passes me going the other way. That would be anywhere from 100 people to hundreds of runners, bikers and walkers.

Almost none of these people has a smile on their face before I smile at them. Almost all seem surprised I smiled at them. But here is the good part. About 30% smile back despite the fact that they had no intention of smiling at that moment. And so I say without fear of rebuttal that I caused them to smile. But for my action of smiling at them, no smile would come into the world at that time. It is a delicious feeling to bring people to a smile.

Although the majority of folks do not smile in response, there is another category of folks I want to talk about. They are the nodders. They do not smile but they do nod in response to my smile. They may account for another 20% of the folks I smile at.

To be frank, I am quite pleased with my record. Many of you know that I refer to biking as miles and miles of smiles. Such a mix of people too. Dog walkers, bike racers and recreational riders, runners and many pedestrians just strolling the pathway. Special treat, the sometimes smile and laugh of children.

I also have a bell and/or air horn on my bikes. The bell is used to indicate I am going to pass people in front of me going in the same direction, that I intend to pass them on their left. It often brings smiles to those going in my direction. The horn, used sparingly often gets people to leap out of my way in fright, but just as often people smile at how loud the horn sounds. (There are many folks who are wearing earbuds or headsets and listening to something who cannot seem to hear me yelling a warning or the ring of the bell). I am very sparing of the horn when there are animals around, pets and wildlife. But children also get a break from the sudden use of my air horn which I try only to use at distance from the human obstacles. On the other hand, children at a distance (playing in the park or walking to school) get a quick toot of the horn as I find they inevitably smile at the sound.

There are many users of the trails who have a stern look on their faces as they approach, each lost in their own thoughts and struggles. Many are determined not to make eye contact, as if they believe that acknowledging another person would disrupt their focus. So sometimes I have to shout a hello to them to break their will not to acknowledge me, hoping to elicit a smile or at least a nod in response. My friend Chris says maybe they look like that because they are in pain and discomfort from their exercise, pushing through the fatigue of their workout. It’s interesting how a simple greeting can transform the atmosphere, turning a solitary endeavor into a small moment of connection.

Me, I am having fun most of the time when I bike or hike or walk. Even if I am not enjoying myself, I try to smile to others. Just seems like the right thing to do!

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Surviving Life’s Fragility: The Power of Community

I must always remind myself not to compare my insides with anyone’s outside. I often know what I am feeling so what are the odds of knowing what anyone else is thinking or feeling.

I know that my physical, mental and emotional health are not promised and circumstances can result in temporary or permanent disability. Knowing that helps me appreciate the moment but it is also always accompanied by a measure of anxiety about how fragile this all is.

Rebounding from setbacks means uncertainty. Will the outcome feel right. I learned to avoid labeling events and feelings as good or bad, but I can’t avoid feeling that some outcomes feel more pleasant than others or more readily embraced.

I entered into a long stretch of uncertainty years ago. Every plan I had failed. Every outcome felt unwelcome. But you all, my friends and students let me have satisfaction and joy through your victories. Many times giving me the satisfaction of being a party of creating that victory with you. So even if i can’t win for me I can stick around to help others or to have appreciative joy for your successes.

My life is worth more than my personal ambitions. But without friends and family it would feel vacuous. Friends and family add value to this thing called life. Recently added to that community is a relationship with a girlfriend and her dog (Kooper).

I can vividly recall at least 3 times in my life where I broke down so fully and completely that I wasn’t sure I could be pieced together again. I never loved me enough to save myself. It was always my love of others that brought me around. I had things to do not for me but for those who relied upon me. Clients, family or friends. Sometimes today I am secluded for hours with Kooper a black Labrador. He makes his reliance on me clear. I respond by catering to his needs/wants. (Dog is now officially spoiled.)

What the fuck do people do without the engagement of other humans or animals to love when they can not love themselves? I am not one of those. I have other sentient beings to harness myself to in difficult times. I live in a state of grace. But not the traditional grace people envision with God but mine is with people.

From Conflict to Connection: A Son’s Journey

I don’t often write about my relationship with my parents. When I discuss my dad, I often frame it as a rocky relationship. However, I rarely delve into the full spectrum of our connection. My conversations about my mom and me are even less frequent.

Growing up, I did not like my dad. He punished me frequently, often with a belt or his hand. I harbored hatred towards him at that time. In fact, I even attempted to poison him when I was 10. It was a painful relationship for most of my life, while my mom seemed paralyzed by her own fears.

Yet, life was not so one-dimensional. I should acknowledge that my mom and dad took good care of me in many respects. I always had nice clothes and plenty of food. I was exposed to books, travel, and classical music. They fully funded my law school education, covering tuition and housing, which allowed me to quit working and attend school full-time in my 30s.

My dad supported my legal career, hiring me as his company lawyer. He secured my membership to an elite private club (Standard Club) and introduced me to the political and social networks he cultivated. We began golfing together regularly, and he was openly proud of my status as a practicing lawyer. He was an intelligent man and a frustrated writer who traded a career in writing to run the family business. I have some information about abuse he suffered in his youth.

My mom was supportive of most of my undertakings. When I signed up for law school, she pledged to pay my tuition from her personal funds. I never heard her apologize to anyone for my criminal activities, eccentricities, or social work endeavors. She contributed annually to the social service agency I founded and helped finance the building that became the home of the DFW Gun Range, of which I was the sole owner.

My mom attended court with me when I faced felony charges. She listened as two Chicago cops informed her about my criminal contacts under their surveillance. She sat through testimonies from a psychologist and a psychiatrist discussing my mental health issues. Mom was also there when I entered the drug treatment center at 29. However, she often cried and begged me to return home when I was out running the streets late into the night as a teenager.

My dad passed away many years ago at the age of 80 due to cancer. By that time, we had become genuine friends. My mom died five years ago at the age of 102. She showcased remarkable stoicism in the face of life and death, remaining active even when struck by pneumonia and heart disease later in life. I was present at both of their passings, but more so for my mother—emotionally, spiritually, and physically.

It would be easy to find children who were kinder and better behaved than I was. I caused my parents anxiety and suffering, facing school suspensions and expulsions, along with multiple criminal charges as a 17-year-old. I dropped out of high school in a family that highly valued education and the law. They sought psychiatric care for me when I was on the brink of self-destruction as a teen.

It’s a wonder that despite years of therapy, 30 years of 12-step programs, and meditation, I am only now taking a positive inventory of my life with them. I deserved more from my dad, and they deserved more from their son. Yet, in the final analysis, they provided shelter from many storms. No matter how mad my dad got, he would always let me return to work in his building supply business. They even paid for my lawyer when I faced 6-15 years in prison for felony drug possession at 17.

For far too long, I failed to give them the credit they deserved, concentrating instead on what they did not do. I fell victim to the notion portrayed in movies where parents say loving things to their children, creating an image of love abounding in the home. While I was not the sole cause of a home without affection, it is time for me to accept responsibility for my reluctance to bring affection into those relationships later in life.

Lower-income kids who act like I did often end up in prison. They struggle to finance their advance education and may not experience vacations to sunnier locales during school breaks. Their shelves might be devoid of books, and they often lack a safety net when they are broke and in need.

Thanks largely to my parents, my siblings are well-educated and comfortably settled in the middle class. We never had to vie for enough food at the dinner table or compete for access to the wealth our parents left behind.

Thanks to much self-examination, an ongoing process, the bruises from the beatings have faded, and the emotional scars from a violent upbringing no longer define who I am. I no longer demand to be treated as a victim. Within the answer to what I was as a son lies the truth of my resilience and strength. I used my upbringing to become the best advocate possible in my social work and courtroom endeavors. I emerged as tempered metal, forged in the fires of emotional adversity. That’s something to take pride in.

Aging Gracefully??

So here I am.  Arrived at the age (70.5) where I wonder/worry if I will outlive my money. Will my daughters have unmet needs that I wish I could meet.  Will my body carry me to the finish line or am I to be bedridden or broken for much of the end. 

Will my mind accompany me to the end or will dementia rob me of my mental faculties.

Will I enjoy a rich internal/spiritual life or will I succumb to bitterness, fear and depression.

Will I die alone and my body be decomposed before they find me?

Is this angst common to my peers? I assume it is. Even to the older but rich and healthy.

The more I meditate the more I recognize that I will always struggle with insecurities and fears. I also see how meditation mitigates my anxieties. Had I started earlier I might have found freedom from suffering, happiness and even enlightenment. But I confess the progress I have experienced is still tremendous.

I first went to treatment and twelve step recovery in 1982. I left in 1994 for the richer pastures of drug and alcohol consumption. But I returned to recovery on my birthday in 2007 and here I have stayed. If I was not clean of substances in 1983, I would not have gone to college. I would not have gone to law school in 1985. I would not have graduated law school in 1987.

I wish that first trip in recovery I had learned more about the demons of darkness which resided within me. This second time, my Buddhist Vipassana meditation practice along with my daily attendance and participation in 12 steps has exposed the true nature of my mind. I now understand why I have felt and acted so fucked up for so many years. These same tools have also been the catalyst for change and transformation.

But while I have tamed and/or purged many of the  chains or bonds that have shackled me to a life filled with suffering, I have others ready to take their place. As I stated at the beginning of this blog, aging has brought new anxieties I did not know would await me. Am I failing in my practice to free myself from suffering. Not meditating enough? Not taking seriously all that the Buddha taught about achieving happiness? Not working the 12 steps diligently?

Talking to pals my age, I seem to be in good company with my worries. Would more money insulate me from the economic fears? Would a clean bill from my internist, cardiologist and leg surgeon allay my fear of physical infirmities? How about my daughters completing their education and settling into a career give me the peace a father longs for?

Some days I have no cares. I ride my bike for hours, chat with friends and watch a rom-com or two. Those days I do not worry about my weight, my brain, or my money. Other days I feel waves of melancholy wash over me and it is as if I am being held under the water unable to breathe. Years of experience have taught me to simply wait it out as the feelings will pass. Someone will facilitate the passing by telling me, unsolicited, that I have been helpful to their improved state of mind.

So I started this as a stream of consciousness about aging and I am to conclude still just recording thoughts that arose from somewhere I know not where and then retreated to somewhere else, I know not where. But I do so enjoy being unconstrained by logic and organization when I write/blog. Sorry if you got this far and feel you wasted your time.

Meditation changed my Perception

I wish I could articulate the benefit of meditating over several years.  If I could explain how I felt about who I was most of my life and who I now know me to be, I would.  But the truth is, the more I meditated the clearer it became that I never knew me very well. 

We are so much more than our thoughts. And my thoughts have little to do with who I am but have controlled so much of what I do and did. 

Don’t get me wrong, I did some fabulous stuff over the years.. My years working with kids and drug addicts and being a lawyer were fruitful, fulfilling and worthy. 

But I could have been so much more.  So much better.  But my mind was made up to live as an aggressor and to defy bullies.  Some bullies were other children when I was growing up.  My father was a bully. Bullies were often cops, judges, store keepers, teachers, coaches, etc.

I am no one’s victim and I never was. The biggest bully I ever met was my own mind. 

Meditation led to liberation from the perception that anyone was/could harm me emotionally other than me.

I try to be vigilant against spiritual arrogance but I have to say this. Talking to persons who reside in their own thoughts taxes me when we engage on matters of significant emotional substance. There is so often a disconnect between their reactions to events and their desire to react in a healthy way. I am often asked to guide persons through troubled waters, sometimes legally, sometimes spiritually. Guiding them to solutions often requires undermining the foundations of their belief systems, most especially when that system is the obstacle to liberation.

I learned and now teach Vipassana meditation derived from the time and teachings of the Buddha. I am certain there are other meditations and paths to enlightenment/self-awareness. But big shout out to the Buddha for teaching the nature of reality and the challenges to be free from suffering and to reside in happiness.

My time spent in meditation, training with teachers, living as a novice Buddhist monk, living in a temple in Thailand have been investments which have paid tremendous dividends in enhancing the quality of my existence. Visit me any Wednesday night at 7PM at the Buddhist Center of Dallas. Embark on a life transforming journey which begins with the simple but challenging admonition to focus on your breath.

Loving kindness

Over 70 years ago I entered into an experiment called life.  About 7 months ago I realized I was the experiment.  I am the experience.  It is and always had been within my control to live a full life.  But I squandered so much of it focusing on bullshit.  I nurtured my sense of being a victim. I often created resentments and fear when I would have been better served to create love and kindness. 

So lately I am focused on being present and focused on wholesome attributes. I realize that fear, greed, hate and delusion accompanied by anger, impatience, jealousy and such, have often robbed me off the joy of living in the now. 

I refer to my mind as being like a garden…. needing constant weeding and fertilization to stay healthy. I wish my garden could look as good as I feel. I wish I could feel as good as I look. (I want to thank my mom for my beautiful gray hair.)

So I will continue my activities of biking, watching tv, reading and going to 12 step recovery (and disliking anything Trump). But I will try remain vigilant not to judge my friends who embrace Trump or the far Right. I will bring to mind all the wonderful flawed people who are my friends, or whom I have represented in court and in the streets.

My inner-life has grown too big to allow my spiritual destruction to result from mundane pursuits for economic security and transient pleasures.

The experiment continues. 

May “all beings” be happy, healthy and whole.
May they have love, warmth and affection.
May they be protected from harm, and free from fear.
May they be alive, engaged and joyful.
May “all beings” enjoy inner peace and ease

Clowns to the left of meJokers to the right

Here I am. Smarter and more patriotic than a single republican politician. That should be disconcerting since I never went to college. But I am a student of the law (law degree and licenses) and I was taught civics in grade school.

But Senator Lindsey G. and his ilk did not learn about the essence of US citizenry. They ignored or never learned that the height of patriotism is to protect the health, safety and welfare of fellow Americans. They are so consumed with grabbing power that they have trampled the Constitution and the criminal statutes which have historically guided democracy.

His ilk includes Ted Cancun, who ignored everything he learned in law school in an attempt to seize power. He does not realize that his only admirers are sycophants and poorly educated minions who have no idea what the constitution says.

Ron Johnson, Wisconsin
Known for being the absolute dumbest person in the Senate, for defending Capitol rioters as patriots, demeaning the FBI, and trying to seat false/illegal electors in Wisconsin.

Josh Hawley, Missouri, is just too stupid and too power hungry to even analyze. He became the first senator to announce plans to object to the certification of Joe Biden’s victory in the 2020 United States presidential election and consistently claims the election was stolen.

Mitch Mitch, you obstructionist ass of democracy. So busy clinging to his power that he allows/allowed any criminal activity by a Trump presidency as it served his goals.

I enjoy the burden of understanding the laws and constitution. I know that gun rights are an illusion. Slaves and child labor were allowed in our early days just as militias and muskets. Power mongers who retain power by interpreting the Constitution as a religious document intended to force a dogma on all who fall under its control and then they wish to force us to pray to their God and to strip us of our benefits promised by democracy. These manipulators of the law use gun lovers and abortion haters to illegitimately grab power.

“Trying to make some sense of it all
But I can see it makes no sense at all
Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor?
‘Cause I don’t think that I can take anymore.”

Stuck in the Middle with You Song by Stealers Wheel

The best art museum ever!

I ride my bicycle as much as 6 days a week sometimes. I thoroughly enjoy riding. When I am in hiking country, I hike daily for similar named reasons.

I like hiking/biking to or along water features especially, creeks, rivers and lakes. I love biking woods and meadows. I am not enthusiastic about city streets or urban paths running under high voltage wires.

I was riding along the north branch of the Chicago river yesterday. I found myself having difficulty watching the trail because I was mesmerized by the woods on either side of me. The lush foliage aided by the river, the greens and browns of the tree trunks, the dead trees and leaves in various states of decay and the wildflowers, oh my. I suddenly understood, I am in the greatest multi-dimensional art museum there is. Nature baby!

I am presently in a city with one of the great art museums, The Art Institute of Chicago and also the Museum of Contemporary Art. But I seem drawn to the palette of nature more than any. No 2 days are identical. No 2 minutes are identical on these river trails I ride.

There is a woman I met, Kelly. She is a natural artist in residence in Oregon and she takes items from nature and creates a new art piece, simple and beautiful. She sees it. I cannot do that, but I can enjoy her art and the raw materials she infuses it with.

Even in Dallas, where I live, and the main creeks the bike paths run alongside, are filthy with debris and pollution, I found an appreciation for urban landscapes. Plastic bags and water bottles mingle with turtles, mallards and egrets. I used to get so agitated at the trash but I surrendered to the reality that it is a constant and I am powerless to remedy it and so step back and look and see how nature adapts.

I realize even while I am moving in nature I am smelling the roses. All smells are not equal. In a car I might miss the smell of an oak or pine tree or the smell of death of a small mammal. The stealth of biking or hiking allows me to spot a family of deer, I stop my movement, we stare at each other and get as excited as a little kid at Disneyland.

A good bike ride is no less educational or entertaining as a trip to the Louvre. But the air is fresher and the ride is cheaper. My museum has no humidity control, air conditioning, uniformed guards or expensive lighting. Some days may be unbearably hot and humid, but I never ask for a refund.

I do enjoy a great art exhibit. I appreciate the artists. I am adorned with tattoo art. I own some art books. I have dozens of pieces of art on my walls, floors and garden. So, I am hardly a neanderthal.

When I think about the marvelous art I enjoy almost daily, I can actually claim moments of gratitude. I may be an agnostic but that means that I am awed by whatever force(s) created this thing we call life/death.

I used to have an aversion to being present for death. But the past several years have brought intimate contact with the passing of family and friends. Nature is one of the most visible examples of impermanence. My study of impermanence began with my study of Buddhism. It now allows me to reside in life alongside death. Nature does not sanitize death or decay like people desperately try to do. From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be. And then in some way I will be part of the great art exhibit called Earth.

City after city has demonstrated what a positive impact greenways have on the locals. No one asked me but I urge you to get out long enough to hear every bird nearby, smell every scent and see the various colors only visible when all the barriers are absent.

Just as rivers full of water

fill the ocean full,

even so does that here given

benefit the dead (the hungry ghosts).

May whatever you wish or want quickly come to be,

may all your aspirations be fulfilled,

as the moon on the full moon night,

or as a radiant, bright gem.

Must be because must ain’t don’t sound right!

I live a some what contemplative life. I am alone most of the time. I bike a lot which even if there are others, it is an activity which requires presence and mindfulness. I am compelled to examine my mind and observe the origins and value of my behaviors.

For instance. Becoming a drug addict in my 50s was a bad decision. Losing my wealth in 2008 was a series of bad, avoidable decisions. Marriage, divorce, surgery, what to eat today, series of mistakes permeate my life. 

 I got surgery this year to correct a discomfort in my body. I could have passed on it. It went wrong, twice. It cannot be remedied. I was successful at many things and generally walked away from every success for no apparent good reason. My femur surgery last year has its own set of challenges but arose out of a mistake I made riding my bicycle.

I am hardly unique. Everyone of my friends has made significant mistakes in life. I and many of you have mistakes stacked up to the roof. In this moment, I am often the observer of my thoughts. I find I am frequently viewing the moments in life that once brought pain. But in the Buddhist training, I also learned; not to relive the pains, that all things are impermanent and that my true suffering is my attachment to the “what ifs”, “but fors”, “if I’d a only”, etc. 

No, if “if and buts” were “candy and nuts”, every day would be Christmas. You all give me the gift of being here, in this moment and always reassuring me that nothing matters but this moment. Resistance is futile so practice acceptance. Acceptance does not mean approval. It is merely a recognition of that which simply is.

Like all things, I am impermanent.

How can we talk about life when we cannot talk about death. No one tells you they are going to kill themselves because family and friends will call out the cavalry. So they do not talk about it.

When I was 15, I told a therapist that I considered suicide regularly. He tried to have me committed to a psychiatric institution. Lesson learned. And yet I have often contemplated suicide. But why, or why not.

Like many of my readers I suffer from emotional, financial, psychological and spiritual difficulties. Addiction, loss of financial well-being and the loss of love due to death and break-ups.

Much of my life I struggled with my demons. Made friends with em and broke up with em. Worked through them. Got tired and quit. Came back and started over. Made progress, back pedaled rinse repeat.

I will not likely die a natural death. I expect an accident or suicide will end this chapter of my story. I have no wish to suffer death via illness. As my abilities fade and the losses of life mount, I will go on my terms. Not a damn thing will change that. Buddha sensed what I have been going through and he proposed a path to free me from suffering. It has been very helpful. But I do not think I will achieve enlightenment in time. Talking with my favorite monk 2 days ago, I agreed to investigate some teachings on rebirth. That is for Buddhists. I think maybe Christians get to be with Jesus. My friend Jerry is with Jesus, wherever that may be.

But the reason I started writing today is I have spent many hours in solitude contemplating things. I wonder about love. So many folks are in love with someone who does not love them back. So many of us are trying to navigate romance and it can be a source of great frustration, ache and intense pain comparable to physical pain of the worse kind. Others have loved well and long and then lost to death them that they loved. Alone at the end of the day when they are least likely to re-engage with the types of social milieu that will reintegrate them to romance. Bars and social activities reserved for the younger crowd.

Unlike some, I have tremendous resilience and resources when I am hurt. I trudge on and rebound. But today I looked around and did an assessment. My two daughters live with their mom. I got divorced 5 years ago. I am jobless and my finances are thin and I may be broke before I die. I am starting over and I am simply not ready, willing and able to do so except in short spurts and even then I wonder why.

Do or did I have a soul mate? Did I meet her but we did not figure it out. Did she meet me but I was emotionally unavailable? I met someone I felt so comfortable with and so close to, for 6 months and then it was no more. She was gone. No amount of love, money, or gestures could prevent or return her to me. She was my soul-mate. Big fucking deal.

Aging boomers may become the next “lost generation”. Shell-shocked from cultural shifts unseen in modern times. The digital age leaving us in its dirt. The magnification of regressive politics, polarization and aging leads many of us to feelings of vulnerability, isolation and regret.

I for one lived large. Much to my detriment and regret. But on the plus side so many personal and professional encounters in my life saw benefit to others from my being a warrior. Ex-cons, drug addicts, gangs, and everyday people need what I have and there is no shame in being that special snowflake that they can relate to.

As he said, “Old age is like everything else. To make a success of it, you’ve got to start young.” Theodore Roosevelt

Or him, “Old age isn’t a battle; old age is a massacre.” Philip Roth

“Nothing in the world is permanent, and we’re foolish when we ask anything to last, but surely we’re still more foolish not to take delight in it while we have it.”
― W. Somerset Maugham


The Universal Suffering

Imagine the collective suffering that is taking place at this moment. Each sufferer managing their suffering in their own way. Drinking, drugging, praying, hiding, crying and on and on. I could never tell my whole story even if I knew it. Pain blocks out joy and then joy blocks out the pain. And I begin again. 

I am never going to be the person I most desire nor the person I least respect. I am a middling kind of guy who loved Martin Luther King JR. and vowed to be like him. But in the end I was just a regular guy who has trouble changing a bicycle tire much less the world. 

But when I think about the collective suffering I am reminded that most of us are just trying to get through the trials and tribulations of life. And in my small world I have so many examples of people who managed their tremendous difficulties with great dignity. My suffering is nothing more than the anxiety of thinking that when I feel bad I will always feel bad. It isn’t true. I have to stop making up stories with endings that never happen, sometimes love stories, others, stories of calamity. Doesn’t matter which, cause neither outcome could be permanent except the one where I eventually die.

Sometimes the antidote to my suffering is to empathize with the global conflicts, famine, oppression etc. If I allow the recognition of the global/universal suffering taking place it helps me to understand that empathy diminishes my focus on my pain and allows me to make room for all pain, its devastation and the physical, emotional and psychological effects. Sometimes from this suffering comes redemption but most of the time, it just results in pain.

I recite this Buddhist blessing for all beings as the war in Ukraine rages.

May all distresses be averted.

may every disease be destroyed.

May there be no dangers for you.

May you be happy & live long.

For one of respectful nature who

constantly honors the worthy,

Four qualities increase:

long life, beauty, happiness, strength.

May you be: freed from all disease, safe from all torment,

beyond all animosity, & unbound.

When you are at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.

Thank you my dear dear friends and family. I did indeed recently reach the end of my rope. You advertently and inadvertently showed me that I do not live or die for me alone. I absorb my difficulties so that I can be part of this universal experience we call life.

I remind myself, with your help, that I am a vessel of infinite capacity for the likes of grief, suffering and pain. Unto myself, I am more than willing to slip into the darkest night. But over and over, when I share the difficulties, you remind me that it is my obsession with self that causes the majority of my suffering.

As my health problems multiplied, so did my mental health. But, as I shared, I learned to empathize and sympathize with your difficulties. You shared your tales of broken bones, disease and nose bleeds. ( I was in the ER yesterday for nose bleed.) You gently explained how long and painful my recoveries will be.

Broke my femur and my brother Rick, my sister Karen and others carried me. I lost my kitty cat to heart disease, I found my grief was shared by all pet owners. I had surgery for another problem and friends brought food and comfort

Ram Dass wrote about his stroke and how it changed his identity from golfer and sports car driver to patient in need of care. He wrote about the challenge of allowing himself to be a gracious patient needing help with everything. I carried thoughts of his journey into the ambulance, hospital bed and rehab because breaking my femur was a game/identity changer.

Dontcha think one of the great spiritual axioms is that when we share our burdens we lessen them? I am convinced that friends have repeatedly saved my soul. Perhaps they are merely God with skin on. Dunno. Don’t care. It works and I cannot come up with a better theory.

Community and connection equals my salvation. Rolling Stones sang

“I’m all alone, won’t you give all your sympathy to mine?
Tell me a story about how you adore me
Live in the shadow, see through the shadow
Live through the shadow, tear at the shadow
Hate in the shadow and love in your shadowy life
Have you seen your lover, baby, standing in the shadow?”

Thanks. Gracias. Kab khun krub. Mam’noon.

May you know the affection I carry in my heart for you. May all beings be safe and may you and they be free from all suffering.

Death be my constant companion on the path I live.

I am writing this blog post about unrequited loves and unrelenting hurts, Suddenly, I remembered this song. Nothing new to be said on the subject. Love always seems to be as much of a pain as a joy. So turn up the volume and slow dance. Memories? The sweet taste of loves found and lost in your mouth.

I am listening to the song and strolling down the boulevard of broken dreams and see if there is anybody I recognize. I have been down some mean streets but when I talk to friends who lost loved ones, I think the meanest street is Love Lost. Little can ever be said to help endure loss. Not just romantic love, but close family and friends leave that same hole in the soul.

I came back from visiting Tucson AZ. I have wanted to go back there for a while and work through losses there. The one loss that evaded any healing was losing my friend Jerry. I wanted those closest to him to commiserate with me. But there was no one I could reach for years.
And then this trip I had a long dinner with 2 of his daughters. It filled a bit of that hole in my soul to enjoy their company. It brought more healing in 3 hours than the 5 years since he died.

Similarly, my old boarding school roommate died around 1986 but I did not find resolution for 20 years, when my phone rang with a call from a long lost mutual friend. Then I could explore my feelings and share meaningfully about the loss.

Sharing and caring can precipitate healing, (and more hurt). I do hurt for people who lack the people and resources to facilitate healing. Psychologically handicapped and alone in their own hearts and minds. I worry for their mental health in those situations. In fact, I have floated away at times from everyone because pain robbed me of a voice to express the feelings. I think that is called depression.

If I believed I was alone, I would quit. But I am always reminded that I am loved. What a blessing that is.


“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”
― Kahlil Gibran

Nothing left to offer

Sometimes I have nothing left to offer. No opinions, no explanations, no answers. In this moment I offer prayer and blessings. May our country and all its people heal soon. May we find balance, compassion and love for those we share this country, this planet and this universe with. May we shower all living beings with the same compassion we would ask for ourselves. May all who have been harmed, forgive and all who harmed, be forgiven.I send loving kindness to those I find difficult or resent. I wish to be forgiven for the tone I have taken and the tone I will likely take again. I sought/seek to persuade because I think it important. I sought/seek to protect because I fear there are those who are vulnerable. My values albeit may be different from yours, are a product my experience, education and actions. My intent was to protect myself, the earth, the children and all those who sought my protection. I am a staunch Buddhist and yet I respect and revere and pray to all the various names that God has been given. I do this because I believe all who live, fear and all who fear, need comfort and all who need comfort should find it in whatever form it takes.

“Our real blessings often appear to us in the shape of pains, losses and disappointments; but let us have patience and we soon shall see them in their proper figures.” Joseph Addison

“We look forward to the time when the Power of Love will replace the Love of Power. Then will our world know the blessings of peace.” William E. Gladstone

I get it. I so get it.

I get it. I have friends who are so far right wing that we hardly agree on anything political. I also know that most of those same people have pets they adore, disdain poverty, believe in justice and honor the earth in various ways. None of my friends is simple and none are pure.
Sad that the Trump administration unleashed the ugliest of behaviors and lies in modern history. Sad that so many of my neighbors believe in a man who has been sued thousands of times and accused of a multitude of crimes, sexual, financial and political.
I can not cross that political divide. I can only recognize and honor that my friends believe they are being the best humans they can be. As I also allow for my crazy liberal pals. (No shortage there)
I try not to hate. I put a lot of effort into not hating. I do hate trump freely. When I seek the good in people I can usually find many redeeming features. Such as they have pets, love animals, disdain poverty and believe in justice. I have seen no evidence that trump has any redeeming features including being kind to animals, humans or nature. The likes of trump. McConnell and Graham passing will be celebrated by a lot of people who simply want to be the best American citizens possible. Many liberals will celebrate when Pelosi and Feinstein and Schumer retire for similar reasons.
I seek peace and harmony. I do not believe we will ever get back to peaceful co-existence. I think violence and discord will be an ever increasing presence. But that growing threat will not be diminished by my defaulting to hate and anger. That is the currency that the rich assholes have been paying us with in order to grow their power and profits. May they all be reborn as 3 legged dogs in a 4th world country.

Gun Control. Gun Safety, Gun Something!!

My brother sent me a group of articles on guns. I am not fact checking, most are from sane responsible sources although they may be accused of bias. I am now biased. As a gun owner and concealed gun carrier, I am biased. I think it is time to examine seriously the corruption of America by the NRA. I am biased against the lies disseminated by groups like the NRA which lie, twist and bend the constitution to an audience that honestly believes the bullshit. I know many people who pontificate about the rights granted in the second amendment and none of them can intelligently discuss the responsibilities that all public policies and legislation represent. If you do not understand the underpinnings of the law then you are quite ill-prepared to analyze it. Like the doctors who saw lung cancer but never understood the relationship to carcinogens. Or sees a damaged liver but never bothers to explain the effects of alcohol on that liver. And worse yet, refuse to look at the scientific research that would explain the linkage. So here goes.

There have been more than 2,500 mass shootings since Sandy Hook -includes not just shootings in which four or more people were murdered, but shootings in which four or more people were shot.
Mass shootings make up less than 2 percent portion of America’s firearm deaths, which totaled nearly 40,000 in 2017 alone.
On average, there is around one mass shooting for each day in America

states with more guns tend to have more gun deaths

the US does not, contrary to the old conventional wisdom, have more crime in general than other Western industrial nations. Instead, the US appears to have more lethal violence

“A preference for crimes of personal force and the willingness and ability to use guns in robbery make similar levels of property crime 54 times as deadly in New York City as in London.”

other social indicators in 2011,… found that higher populations, more stress, more immigrants, and more mental illness didn’t correlate with more gun deaths. But he did find one telling correlation: States with tighter gun control laws have fewer gun-related deaths

http://www.gunviolencearchive.org/

one theory that researchers have widely debunked is the idea that more guns have deterred crime

http://www.hsph.harvard.edu/hicrc/firearms-research/guns-and-death/

The problem with much gun violence research is that the Congress forbids the federal government including the Centers for Disease Control to study gun violence. So the best we can do is extrapolate from FBI statistics.

Whichever side of the debate you stand, your ideology or your love or disdain of firearms, the truth is that we kill a lot of innocents. The law has a term, reckless disregard for the life of others, to act without regard to the risk of death or great bodily harm to others. Recklessness means the person knew (or should have known) that his or her action were likely to cause harm.

A failure to do something; a neglect of a duty, is an omission which can be the foundation of liability. We all know the lethality of guns. We know that gun violence in the hands of gun possessors causes harm to innocents. And we are guilty by omission everyday we do not explore and implement changes in our society to protect innocents!. Universal background checks on all firearm sales is the beginning and can and should be implemented tomorrow upon an act of a united congress. I know that is never happening but I write because saying nothing is just more omission, negligence and a betrayal to every innocent who will die because we did nothing.

GUN CONTROL!

As many of you know. I owned the DFW Gun Range in Dallas TX for several years. I have been licensed to carry a firearm since 1993 and have done so. I have many friends from my participation in the gun industry, but none have ever openly supported my advocacy of universal background checks and none has ever published in social media that I have seen, of advocacy of any gun limitations.

I have been interviewed in the news, many times on gun ownership and openly stood against most gun restrictions and argued passionately that the problem is more about mental illness and poverty than guns. I am right about that but those problems are much more difficult to address than simply putting restrictions on buying guns.

I do not believe that the safety of my community must rely upon my ability to carry a gun. It certainly should not rely upon folks who are precluded by law from getting guns but can buy one privately without limitation. We are asked throughout history to make compromises and sacrifices for the safety and welfare of the common good. Hitler and Mao may have instituted gun control in their countries before persecuting folks. But is it better to be shot at the grocery store or in your first grade class than in a gulag or prison camp?
Don’t be ridiculous. It was useful to have a gun when men tried to commit violence against me or break into my home. I have never needed a rifle, ever. My handguns were just fine.

We are dying as a democracy but it is not liberals killing it. I have said this repeatedly…I know more about gun rights than any of the pontificators who continue to assert some absolute right to have guns. I know more about gun laws, the constitution and history. Your zealousness arguing in any absolute right to guns is wrong as has been determined by every governmental authority, legislators, courts and executive branch. You continue to misinterpret the law, believe propaganda and stand on ground which you can only hold through obstinacy not morality or legality.

Wash your hands of my input. Put no weight on my experience, education and training. I guess the blood will have to flow through your living rooms to bring change.

To the rest of you, there are too many guns already in private hands to confiscate, eliminate or buy back. There are many actions which can be taken to help but if you advocate confiscation, you will fail, miserably. Safe storage, background checks and a thorough examination and study of the causes of gun violence. And please stop pontificating about gun owners unless you have insights rather than prejudices. We are as afraid of being victims as you are. Our reaction to violence has been to prepare ourselves to defend ourselves and our families. We never lived in a country that had gun control and an absence of violence. We know this country which has made blood an integral part of our history, anthem and flag. In our world where we do not harm anyone, we do not practice callousness towards others. We intend on being good citizens, helping our communities and loving our neighbors. The carnage you see was not initiated but the average gun owner. It is precipitated by hate mongers, gang members and mentally ill persons.

We gun owners sure do need to broaden our perspective, initiate, investigate and advocate for reasonable limitations on gun access and its use in murders and mayhem. Shit happens. Shit changes. We learn. Now we need to act. Let me be clear. I have used a gun to prevent felonious assaults intended against my person. How badly I would have been hurt without a gun I do not know. But when I weigh my safety against those many victims of gun violence, I submit to the better good. (I do not believe the government is my biggest threat and necessitates my owning guns. I think it is white supremacists.)

When I was young!

The photo above shows a storefront on what was always referred to as 57th Street on the south side of Chicago. The photo itself slightly predates the events described in this narrative.

I started running away from home when I was 15. This was the first place I ran to because I heard that I could find people here to steer me to a “crash pad”, a place to sleep or live temporarily and at no cost.
It was this alley and on this block where I was taken into police custody on a few occasions. My most serious criminal charges arose out of actions taken in this vicinity. The alley seen adjacent to the store was also the heart of an adolescent social community which I became a part of.

I would eventually be arrested on this very block for disorderly conduct, loitering, resisting arrest, possession of a controlled substance and possession of stolen or mislaid property. I was probably stopped and searched here by CPD at least 20 times.
The storefront in the photo was a bookstore and coffeehouse. I was banned from this business at an early age and as a result I retaliated and escalated my activities in and around there which resulted in a manager putting a gun to my forehead, bouncers removing me and Chicago police escorting me to the local precinct station.

That alley was possibly the epicenter of the cultural revolution for dozens of teens like myself. Many days and nights, multiple squad cars would arrive and harass the gathered long-haired hippie teens. Here is where many a drug deal went down, the revolution planned and consciousness was expanded via intellectual discourse and LSD.

Next door to this corner building you can see the Christian Science Reading Room. The Room was the location of my least productive commercial burglary. About $3.65.

4 storefronts down was Ahmad’s Persian restaurant where I could be found in the evenings selling pot. My friend Abby Bardi worked at Ahmad’s and depicted it in her great novel, Double Take. This is also where my fence, (a much older criminal also depicted in the novel) met me in the evenings to take possession of my stolen-goods for safe keeping. It was Ahmad’s where the CPD arrived, in what is generally described as dragnet (a network of measures for apprehension), looking to place me in custody for innumerable burglaries . Fortunately, I had escaped out the back door just in the nick of time and fled the jurisdiction (not depicted in the novel). Days later you would have found me safely ensconced in San Francisco. In a time before cell phones there were 2 ways to communicate with me when I was a youth. Come to 57th or call the pay phone inside Ahmad’s.

Very few of my pals from those days survived. Those that did are still friends of mine. Drugs and violence took so many so young. I was shaped by the many youths who crossed my path here. All colors, sexual preferences and intellect. Kids whose parents were janitors and some whose parents were nuclear physicist or molecular biologists and such at the nearby University of Chicago. The first artificial nuclear chain reaction took place 5 blocks from here in 1942.

I am a productive member of society now. I was just simply lucky that I was spared death and prison. The massive amounts of hallucinogens, barbiturates and amphetamine I consumed could probably have caused my death even in the absence of other violent forces. But, my heart and soul and concern for the welfare of others was shaped and concretized here. It may be a paradox that I could have had such a flexible moral code while simultaneously being shaped into the very progressive, liberal stalwart that I remain today.

It is hard for me to have seen this photo online today and not get nostalgic. Try as I might, I will never feel I can do justice describing the place where I was at my craziest, slickest and most evasive. That street introduced me to some of the smartest, craziest, stoned but cool kids ever. In my own way I am proud to have been here to mingle and play a role when the cultural revolution we associate with the hippie culture was at its peak.

If you know me to be visiting Chicago, you can bet that I will take a stroll down 57th or as I now call it, Memory Lane.

Not out of the woods yet.

The following may be too intellectual for some users of social media, but Trump grips his power over his supporters by being the nationalistic, forceful leader with religious and aggressive/violent supporters who keep talking about killing liberals, BLM and Jews. Just read below and think this through with Putin instead of Chinese, communism from Christianity and pandemic for famine etc. This is our time we live in.

What follows is derived from Wikipedia and the University of Minnesota Center of Holocaust and Genocide Studies Taking power in Cambodia at the height of Marxism–Leninism’s global impact, Pol Pot proved divisive among the international communist movement. Many claimed he deviated from orthodox Marxism–Leninism, but China backed his government as a bulwark against Soviet influence in Southeast Asia. To his supporters, he was a champion of Cambodian sovereignty in the face of Vietnamese imperialism and stood against the Marxist revisionism of the Soviet Union. Conversely, he has been internationally denounced for his role in the Cambodian genocide and is regarded as a totalitarian dictator who was guilty of crimes against humanity.

Those that Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge regarded as enemies were killed. These mass killings, coupled with malnutrition and poor medical care, killed between 1.5 and 2 million people, approximately a quarter of Cambodia’s population, a period later termed the Cambodian genocide.

Because the Khmer Rouge placed a heavy emphasis on the rural peasant population, anyone considered an intellectual was targeted for special treatment. This meant teachers, lawyers, doctors, and clergy were the targets of the regime. Even people wearing glasses were the target of Pol Pot’s reign of terror. Muslims suffered great loss of life. Khmer Rouge militia regularly killed those they deemed to be “bad elements”. A common statement used by the Khmer Rouge to those they executed was that “to keep you is no profit, to destroy you is no loss.

Polarization and victimization and scapegoating are the essential elements which have been infused into our society/country which is in retreat from itself and its values. Trump supporters are angry and trump hopes to use that fire, add gasoline and then scorch his political opponents. If an international tribunal were to have the power to investigate, I have not a bit of doubt that they would discover that trump committed multiple crimes against the US. Historically when evil loses power, the void is filled with reformers and patriots. But this government is filled with fat cat politicians who have thrived in this environment and are now populist heroes of the Right. They find no value or cache in reform and lament the loss of their corrupt Pol Pot.

Hitler is a fair analogy for trump as is the Third Reich for trump’s administration but his never reached fruition. We successfully slowed his authoritarian gestures and resisted his attempts to marginalize, demonize and harm his opponents which were largely liberals. Sadly liberals suck at politics and our shaky reprieve will be short-lived if our leaders do not wake up to the precarious nature of our victory.

They still do not understand immigration hostile Mexicans-Americans. The liberal politicians fail to actualize the promises made repeatedly to people of color. Liberals/democrats eat their own. Even as I write this Joe Biden is under attack from almost every special interest group in the democratic umbrella. His appointee is gay but not black. His appointment is a black male, why is it a male. And on and on ad nauseum. We are dodging a bullet and should be celebrating that we freaking survived. But instead, all day long pundits are taking to the airwaves to chastise the proposed Biden administration for every secretary appointment and policy maker. I am a progressive. Dear Joe Biden, take your time and do not worry about me. I just want you to move us away from this nightmare, this depravity of a spiritual, psychological and emotional nature of the USA.

God bless the real US.

For reference. https://cla.umn.edu/chgs/holocaust-genocide-education/resource-guides/cambodia#:~:text=Because%20the%20Khmer%20Rouge%20placed,Pol%20Pot’s%20reign%20of%20terror.