Tag: Buddhism

musings

Death is so special. It is final, inevitable and for most of us frightening. My friend Chuck died, suddenly. I get it, I know it. But this morning, I looked for his car at our regular meeting place. And when I realized he wouldn’t ever be there again, I felt weird and sad. I can hold him near and dear. I can tell his story. But he will fade into the rearview mirror. One day I will try to talk about Chuck and no one will know who I am talking about. Just so, this will be my fate also.

Not only do I want the story of Chuck to be told, I want it to be my version. I am uncomfortable if I find out there is a different Chuck story out there. I want my story of my life to be the one that is told. I am afraid of the alternative version.

I want to sit with Chuck before he goes. I want us to get our story straight before it is too late. Even now I struggle with how to memorialize him and honor him. I intended to ordain in my Buddhist tradition for a short time to give my pal the best chance at a good rebirth. I want to share with Chuck how the Buddhist system works and how beneficial it may serve him. I want to comfort him that I will be there for him in death as much as I was in life. I want to talk about how he will be remembered, solidify the story such that the memorial will create itself.

I want to be a spiritual companion in death as I was in life. But reality is intruding in my wants and wishes. The opportunity to create the memorial I wish is severely limited by my lack of credentials, training and experience. It is limited by existing social structures, religious institutions and spiritual communities.

Death is just so challenging to the living. I have no clue what happens…heaven and hell, rebirth, reincarnation, mere energy, or what. I do not hold a concrete idea about after. I can freak myself out meditating on death. I meditate on how I will have a dignified exit and my loved ones will be comforted by my dignity. I want to take the fear of death out of my family’s life so they won’t have to concern themselves with scary existential issues. Let them enjoy life without fear of death. As if!

I just quit a year of hellacious entrepeneurial activity. I am stressed, tired and soul weary. Today was the first day of liberation. I am free to spend some time as I wish. I want to go back to Chicago and spend more time with my mom. At 97, she should have the gift of family. Her friends are long gone. Amazingly, all her kids are still here. And I am a bright light for her. I can sense her appreciation for my existence, which appreciation often eluded both of us.

I want to take my spouse and vacation. I want us to both feel the yolk of financial desperation lifted. Ditch the kids. Let her enjoy some time doing stuff now while she is young enough to be mentally and physically capable and present.

It is time to regroup. It was a regrouping which Chuck was undertaking also. He was making the effort to improve spiritually. He was working to be there for his spouse. Had he known a year ago of his untimely demise, he would have put the pedal to the metal. As the Buddhist say, death is certain, only the when is unknown. To be continued……

To all living beings

When I drive or bike why do I stare at objects in the road which appear to be animals that may have been run over. I am drawn to the sight to verify what I often think. Frequently it is just a pile of leaves or debris. Sometimes it is a dead squirrel or rabbit, cat etc. And my reaction is always the same. I am pained by the sight and then I say a silent prayer that it died quickly and painlessly. But I cannot explain why I even look closely to see what it is that seems to be laying in the street.

So while I was biking Sunday, I pondered this ritual of mine. It stimulated me to think how I desire to have all living being be free from suffering. I pray that all living beings be free from all forms of suffering. I pray that no living thing live or die in fear. I pray that there is a power in the universe which will protect sufferers such that their physical or mental anguish will be mitigated by the higher power.

I cannot imagine the suffering someone like the 3 women in captivity by Ariel Castro. How much suffering is associated with being held captive, no one knowing where you are and never knowing if you will ever be freed. Or what is it like to be  Jaycee Dugard, the abducted girl who was held captive for 18 years.

I especially hurt for kids lost, kidnapped, ill or injured who have not developed the coping skills of someone much older. Defenseless! Is God there to provide some relief from untold fear and suffering?

And then how about the men and women who just struggle every day to make a living and support themselves and family. Never having enough to be comfortable. Always fearful of losing a job, having an auto repair or a medical expense which creates anxiety about being able to pay the rent or utilities. I pray for them too.

I pray for people who have emotional, psychological, mental or physical handicaps that result in their isolation and seclusion from others. Living alone with their illness, alone without family or friends to comfort them or assist them.

I wonder how to support my country against its “enemies”. Often those that wish us harm are those we harmed. I didn’t start it. I didn’t wish it. I do not want young Americans placed in harms way and I do not want them to suffer further upon their return because of my aversion to inject our country into these armed-conflicts. So I pray for our troops and I pray for our enemies.

I pray for those in prisons and I pray for those who imprison. I pray for the wage slave and the corporate plantation owners. I pray for the prey and I pray for the predator. Once I start on a course of compassion and loving kindness for any as described by the Buddha, I find little freedom to not pray for all. My willingness to be selective in my compassion has dissipated and now I am compelled to include all. Evil is no less deserving of my prayers than goodness. Sinners no less than saints.

I can’t explain how I got here. It started with a spark of love which was always in me. It was enough to make me an advocate for those I felt needed an advocate. It was enough to make me believe in and act on behalf of street kids, gang-bangers and drug addicts. But not enough love was left for the persecutors, bullies and predators. What I had left over was a lot of judgement.

My policy statement was found in 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.” 

Now age and maturation fueled by the practice of Buddhism and Metta (loving/kindness) has broadened the group which I classified as deserving and diminished the group who were undeserving.

I am difficult. Easy to anger, quick to fight. I do not tolerate any threats, physical or other of any sort against me. I will resort to verbal or physical violence if prodded. I prefer to be kind but I am not hesitant to show anger. I wish it were not so, but until future progress, I think we can safely say this is where I reside. But despite all the violence and difficulties, love grows through practice. Compassion is slowly demanding more of a seat at the table. Equal time is now given to the practice of metta and I always include the reflection on loving/kindness before I end a meditation.

I don’t know why I stare at the crash. But at least I pray for the well-being of the victims. And I know that this practice of mine is good and wholesome. And I know that if everyone were practicing metta, that the world would be a better place. I don’t need someone to tell me that. I don’t need to see it. I just know its truth.

Thus was I told….

I met this nice lady by the name of Winona at a counseling center in Dallas. I asked her could she help me with what was a difficult adjustment returning to Dallas from Tucson. I was getting angrier and angrier at the driving habits of people in Dallas. I felt on the edge of violence. Winona thought I had PTSD from watching serial acts of violence when I was young.

I made the comment that I was hardwired for aggression. I said that because it has been my default position for so long that I assumed its truth. I have experienced so much violence but more so imagined so many acts of violence. I would draw upon the fantasy life I have, from the teaching of deadly force to others,  and to revisits of my own real life experiences. Winona replied. It was something she said which I probably heard others say in other ways. But this time it sunk in. Winona said, “it is not a hardware problem, it is a software problem.”

And I knew its truth and I have been working diligently to reprogram. I had a good start with my Buddhist studies, my background in social work and my upbringing in Hyde Park in the late 60s and early 70s. It was there that LSD and the hippie movement introduced me to universal love and respect. It was then and there that I learned to resist killing others in the cause of spreading democracy and freedom.

But something was terribly wrong in my head. My heart was good. But man oh man could I go to dark places, hang with rough crowds, and slip in and out of violence as readily as some people sat for lunch. I thought nothing of threatening violence. I thought nothing of having it threatened upon me.

When I was 19 or so, a man working as a cook at the Medici in Hyde Park threatened retaliation against me for threatening him. I scoffed at his threat. He replied by suddenly taking out a gun and pushing it into my forehead. My response was “you better shoot me now or I will find you, take your gun and shove it so far up your ass it will blow out your throat.”

I was scared but my street ethic prevented me from responding with fear.  That ethic served me well at times. Kept me safe in dangerous situations. Made me formidable as a social worker and as a lawyer. In the main, as a life attitude and response it did me poor emotionally. But I didn’t know I was writing the script to my own play. I didn’t realize I could change the way my stories unfolded. I didn’t believe there was a more appropriate or more sensible approach. I believed my own lies about my life and my lies became my truths. Hard and fast did I cling to these values and behaviors.

So I know another truth. I can change the story.

One more reason to be mad at me

Because I am likely a smug, self-righteous ass who practices righteous indignation at every opportunity. My thoughts that I am a generic ass rests on my actions and thoughts of the past 24 hours. Early yesterday I wrote that the tragedy in Conn. would start a fire and fuel the debate about gun control. That didn’t take much intelligence to predict. But 18 hours later the persistent posts about how this event was a gun issue troubles the heck out of me. It defies all empirical data and it shifts the debate from the public health arena where I feel it belongs and makes it a law enforcement debate. The same tactic has been utilized in the abortion and drug debate. There are those who believe the solution to drug abuse is to outlaw drugs. There are those who believe that since they are against abortion, everyone should be legally prohibited from getting an abortion. Gun control advocates believe they can limit crimes of violence by prohibiting the possession of guns. Or they believe in the alternative that their position is justified if the next murderer cannot kill as many people as quickly thus mitigating the carnage. Maybe all the prohibitionists are correct and I am wrong.

If you are what I call a progressive or lefty, then it seems you tend to view the right with derision for their short-sightedness  and their demands that we practice what they preach. But the conservatives arrived at those solutions the same way most of you got to the gun control answer. Ignoring facts, drawing conclusions based on feelings or religious convictions and the belief that a complex problem can be resolved through controls on human behaviour.  My personal belief is you, who believe that, are guilty of the same crime as the right-wingers that offer that if God were allowed in schools then criminals wouldn’t be found there. It just pains me to see people treating their perspective as truth and marching sharply and in unison behind their causes.

I do not know if guns are the answer to anything. I know what my personal experience is. I do not mistake that experience for even the truth of the moment as I experienced it. Example, I used to think I was a responsible drinker and drug abuser. Time has taught me that I was not responsible but I was an idiot. But I do not extrapolate from that insight that everyone who uses or even abuses drugs is having the same problem I had.  I do not presume that abstinence or 12 steps in the sole path to recovery. It is simply my path which I am on today. I take great comfort in the teachings of the Buddhists who emphasize personal responsibility over salvation through religion.

By the way, on a related note, I offer one more reason to hate me. I do not wave the American flag, I stand against religion in government and I do not believe in controlling human behaviour through legislation.

I do believe the suffering of families in the United States ranks right up there with those who lose children in Iraq, Afghanistan, the Gaza, all over Africa and elsewhere. It is fashionable to support our troops. Our president got a Nobel Peace Prize he didn’t deserve. I support keeping our troops out of harms way. I support every attempt at diplomatic solutions before sending a single soldier into the fray. My personal solution is to practice a form of personal responsibility and to practice loving-kindness for all living beings. My greatest contributions to society so far are my daughters who are vegetarian, practice recycling and will save the life of insects that find there way into our home.

Yep, that is what I am doing or not doing about the pointless death of people in Conn. I am trying to do what I can to take personal responsibility about how I behave. And I am trying hard not to self-righteously hold the rest of you in disdain. I am inclined to do that with people who do not agree with me, but with practice I can act my way into better thinking.

Imagine that….I lead mindful meditation

As there are in most people’s lives, I have people who come and go. Some recent acquaintances and some long standing. Most old friends have never seen me in my new environment. Even my old, (40 plus years) friends back in Tucson may never have seen me directing meditation for a group. And the Chicago friends, fuggedaboutit.

So what? Well I find I straddle between who I was, who I am and who I am becoming. Not only is it a transition, it is a laborious process. Imagine that I arrived  in Dallas with a letter of introduction from a Buddhist monk in AZ to the Buddhist temple in Dallas. The letter was written in Thai so I will have to guess what it said. I think it went something like this. Ken Goldberg is competent to lead Westerners in meditation!

How had my life come to this? Dozens of hikes up and down the mountains with the monk. Days spent learning meditation on the mountains, in the desert and in the non air-conditioned Buddha Hall. I accompanied the monk to art fairs, grocery shopping, community meetings and finally as a novice monk. My head and eyebrows were shaved, I was assigned a bed in the hall, and typically I was in the Buddha Hall by 5.30 AM chanting and meditating with fellow monks.

This post is not for those who have come to know me in the recent past. What would you care my journey. This is for the old crowd. To them I say, Imagine that….I lead meditation, in a Buddhist temple. With the blessings of the monks. I know darn well, not one of you, not ONE, ever thought this day would come. And with good reason. This day had no business coming. It was not on the itinerary or flight plan. My orbit was not scheduled to come into retrograde Aquarius with a Sagittarius moon or some such. Nope, live fast, die young and have a good looking corpse.

If anyone had told me I could modify my life in this way, I would have scoffed. If someone called me sweet, I would have mocked them. I would be derisive to those that had not learned to fear me.

You are welcome to join me every Wednesday night at 7 PM at the Wat Dallas at 8484 Stults Road for meditation. Ends at 8 PM. Or join me Tuesdays at noon,  Presbyterian Hospital of Dallas community mental health center at 8140 Walnut Hill Lane #200 Dallas, TX 75231‎ for meditation. That is an invitation you never saw coming.

Kill or be killed?

I grew up strange. I despised violence and I reveled in it. I was beaten regularly but not severely by my father. My middle-class neighborhood turned less middle class at some point in my grade school days. Along came bullies meting out violence to the small and defenseless.

Why was I bullied. I was small, for my age and for my grade. I was 12 when I graduated grade school. I was a mouthy kid. I couldn’t fight physically, at all. But I never went down without a verbal barrage. I learned to manipulate the streets to accommodate my desire to live free or die. Others chose to get off the streets when it became unsafe. Go do homework.

Not me. With almost no friends or protection I sauntered to the local playground and watched from outside the fence. The tough kids and the athletes moving freely. I stood apart, locked in fear.

Maturity or something resembling that put my skills to work making pals. On every side of the fences. Gang kids, high school fraternity pals, Jews, Black, Ricans, but not Irish or Italian. The Catholics were bad news for me. Christ killer they said.

I learned to act tough. I learned to adapt. I learned to thrive on violence. I hung with criminals. I became a criminal. A burglar, a thief, a dealer. I threatened people and I was threatened. I was arrested. Repeatedly. And I prepped for prison. Simultaneously, I joined in the love, peace and drugs movement. I dropped LSD and grooved to Jefferson Airplane. I marched against the Vietnam War. I was called up to serve and I dodged the immoral war and refused to kill in the name of peace. The sergeant at the draft board took a look at me and said “we need tough guys like you in Nam”. The cop on the beat said I looked like a felon. Subsequently I was convicted of unlawfully carrying a handgun in Chicago.

Then I became a social worker specializing in street gangs. I buried about 13 kids in 3 years who were homicide victims and perpetrators.  Social worker to the very emotionally disturbed and I preached peace. I denied violence as a credible response to conditions. Then, I worked the next 2 years with kids enmeshed in a race war on the far south side of Chicago. I was attacked by both sides and took some physical licks to the head in the process. And I preached peace and preached against violence as a solution.

I became a drug counselor in Woodlawn. A hard-core inner-city community. I made home visits and prayed I wouldn’t get beaten or killed….again. A community infested with various black street gangs whose reputation for violence was well earned.

Then I became a criminal defense lawyer. Always in the streets with my clients. Always aware of the threat of violence being all around.

Eventually, I became a gun range owner and seller of firearms. I became real good with a gun. I taught the proper and legal use of deadly force. I taught the application of violence to certain conditions. And I preached peace and denied violence as a proper rsponse to conditions.

I am lost. I have violence and aggression permeating my thoughts. I have lived in acceptance of violence for years, even when I preached against it. I defended the users of violence when I was their social worker, lawyer and friend. I made friends with violence even as I chastized its application.

Now I am too old to protect myself physically. I have injuries. I have lost strength and muscle tone. I could not prevail against threats to my well-being. But with a gun, I can dominate situations that a weaker man would lose. I have the mind-set and the skill set to apply deadly force when I think it prudent. All the while unconvinced that it should ever be prudent if I were to mind my manners, stay out of conflicts, avoid making eye contact with aggressors and practice my Buddhist precepts and meditation.

Kill or be killed? I don’t know exactly how I got here nor how this will turn out. I accept that exposure to violence has left me damaged. I recognize I am eager to live by peaceful principles. I know I have to work at it.  I know I am a good teacher and a good pistolero. This battle has not been decided yet.

Right Action for me, today, in this moment.

I had a chat with a friend this morning. The subject of truth-telling came up. I advised that since I took Buddhist vows I have not lied. The Buddhist vows or “precepts” are as follows

1. Panatipata veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami: I observe the precept of abstaining from the taking of life.

2. Adinnadana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami: I observe the precept of abstaining from stealing or taking that which is not freely given.

3. Kamesu micchacara veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami: I observe the precept of abstaining from sexual misconduct.

4. Musavada veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami: I observe the precept of abstaining from lying or gossip.

5. Suramerayamajjapamadatthana veramani sikkhapadam samadiyami: I observe the precept of abstaining from intoxicants.

Since I declared my intention to practice Buddhism I have tried to adhere to these vows. I fail at times but not for lack of trying. Neither I nor anyone in my immediate family has purposely violated the first precept and so much as killed an insect since we formally took the precepts.

Why would a Jewish-American choose the practice of Buddhism? Why would a man with my history undertake any religious practice?  I heard the Buddhist pronouncement that life was suffering. As Bhikkhu Bodhi wrote “The search for a spiritual path is born out of suffering. It does not start with lights and ecstasy, but with the hard tacks of pain, disappointment, and confusion. However, for suffering to give birth to a genuine spiritual search, it must amount to more than something passively received from without. It has to trigger an inner realization, a perception which pierces through the facile complacency of our usual encounter with the world to glimpse the insecurity perpetually gaping underfoot. When this insight dawns, even if only momentarily, it can precipitate a profound personal crisis. It overturns accustomed goals and values, mocks our routine preoccupations, leaves old enjoyments stubbornly unsatisfying.”

I experienced this and now I confine myself to behaviors and undertakings which increase the likelihood of success without regret. That would be success without the accompanying dissatisfaction at having had to harm anyone financially, psychologically and emotionally. I live with those very type of regrets as relates to my 2 former spouses and anyone else who drew close enough to my flame to get burned.

It is 20 years ago today that I was wed to now ex-wife Laurie. I would have to look far and wide to find someone more deserving of  great kindness and happiness. Despite believing that, I let myself slowly drift from the straight and narrow and into a spiritual abyss which I did not escape from for many years. I can say with certainty that she gave me every opportunity and resource to live a normal rich and rewarding existence. She offered solid ground upon which love could thrive. So here is what I learned. I had demons which lurked, waiting always to undermine good choices. I had unresolved issues which were always waiting to manifest in my behaviors. I had mental-illness ready to unravel any progress I might exercise.

And but for 2 little girls, now my daughters, who needed me less than I needed them, I would have spun out. But God gave me strength of character to protect the weak and needy. While my attributes were inadequate to bring me salvation, my resolve to act honorably was resolute enough to bring me to a place of willingness to take the actions needed to protect them.

Thus is born the seeds of sobriety and Buddhism in my spirit.

I ran across this arrgogant twit today

This is the kind of crap that makes it easier for non-religious people to feel good about themselves.  This opinion piece is filled with suppositions, errors and arrogance. So why republish it? Because I am struck by its tone, its use of language and the effort intended to degrade another’s beliefs. In the name of organized religious. Ironic that the defense uses the very tools that cause the rejection of religion.
 Examples follow and the bold italics are mine.
“I’m spiritual, but not religious,” represents some of the most retrogressive aspects of contemporary society“
Those in the spiritual-but-not-religious camp are peddling the notion that by being independent – by choosing an “individual relationship” to some concept of “higher power”, energy, oneness or something-or-other – they are in a deeper, more profound relationship than one that is coerced via a large institution like a church.
The trouble is that “spiritual but not religious” offers no positive exposition or understanding or explanation of a body of belief or set of principles of any kind.
I wanted to reply to Mr. Miller but I didn’t see anywhere to do so on the CNN page. I have a religious practice and I understand issues related to the “pick and choose” notion of spirituality often referred to as New Age.  But I guess it is opinions like this that make me rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.
Yes, a citation to Billy Joel followed by more BJ
“You might have heard I run with a dangerous crowd.
We ain’t too pretty, we ain’t too proud.
We might be laughing a bit too loud,
aw, but that never hurt no one”
I do not know Alan Miller. Probably a nice twit but twit he do seem to be.

What is the measure of a right life?

I struggle to get it right. But what is right?

What will determine whether I had a good life or not. Is it to be a spiritual analysis? Did I abide by the Golden Rule, or pass the test of a karmic challenge, or was I properly restrained by religious dogma? Will it be an IQ test or economic analysis? (Historically I am a good test taker.) The Buddha said that a right life is to develop insight into the truth of reality. The eight parts of the path to liberation are grouped into three essential elements of Buddhist practice—moral conduct, mental discipline, and wisdom.

Here is a synopsis of what has happened. I lived fast, tried to die young and have a good looking corpse. The strategy failed for a couple of reasons. First, I outlived the time frame of die young. I lost some of my delight with the idea of dying. I created possibilities and achieved them. There became this idea I could affect not just my life positively, but others.

I got addicted and from my recovery I found salvation. I lost salvation. I created effects but they were not always positive. I created exes, like ex-wives and ex-lovers. I did good, but I didn’t know how to do better. I gave up trying to be better but never gave up trying to be good. I took a road less traveled. I went against advice of counsel. There became little tolerance for pain. Intolerance led to escape and escape led to spiritual and financial ruin.

Now, I have trained myself to accept what is. I have practiced being better and I am better. I have embraced the counsel of others. I have given permission to teachers and guides to lead me. I became a mentee, a student, a sponsee and a client. It began when I accepted a teacher to give me a program of recovery.

A second man/teacher guided me up the mountains. Over and over, time and again, at the break of dawn, without question, I followed him up mountains and through canyons, dodged rattlesnakes, and along the paths, shared our life stories.

Then another of my teachers ordained and wrapped me in the saffron robes of a Buddhist monk and assigned me a small bed to sleep in. Like religious men from centuries ago, I rose early, every day, for months, to chant and sit in silence.

I went on meditation retreats and opened my heart and mind to new ways of coping. And I became willing to hope for change. I became the teacher, the mentor and the sponsor.

Today, were I called into eternal sleep, would I go with the acceptance of someone who has lived right? Pain is in resistance. My body is feeling the effects of aging. My financial fortune has evaporated. My mountain mentor committed suicide. I have few financial prospects and my daughters while wonderful are growing up and away. Affection is rare from these kids who once hugged and kissed me often.

Now the daughters are interested in things I have no interest in and vice versa. Their mom, Rachael and I divorced.  A 17 year life together gone in a matter of minutes.

Is it enough to strive to be good? Is it enough, even as you fall short in the eyes of those closest to you? When the grade-books come out for the semester in the class of life, will I get any points for effort or will it all be based on the final exam. I once thought I was willing to go to any lengths to be better. Sometimes, now, it is all I can do to not be worse. Despite going to bed early and early to rise, I have yet to be healthy, wealthy and wise. The good news is I am not unhealthy, poor and stupid.

Salvation is a fleeting possession. I want to acquire it but I don’t know if I am willing to give chase. It is a moving target which I should have hunted more rigorously when I was fleeter of foot and mind.

But at the end of the day, my belief system has at its core, that my best efforts are all that is required. And in my heart I have tried to be a good man, father, husband, friend, counselor and adversary. If I were told my time was up, the thing I would most regret is that I didn’t spend more time in acceptance of life on life’s terms. I would have had a lot more serious regrets if this same question had been asked of me years ago.

Please feel free to send me a copy of the test of life and the corresponding answer key. (How much harder than law school could it be?) It isn’t that I am looking to cheat. It is just that I want to see the correct answers so it will become clear if I passed or failed.

 

A monk has died in Texas

When I lived as a novice I was trained to treat all monks as my seniors and to treat monks as family. Ajahn Poomin, abbot of Wat Treethepdhammaram, El Paso, Texas was a car traveling monk and he traveled extensively by car to many locations. So, he dropped into our Tucson temple (Wat Buddhametta) often on his way hither and thither. As a temple leader he was given the respect accorded to monks of his rank. Like many monks from Thailand he rarely showed his English skills unless necessary. Once he came to me to discuss a legal matter and I discovered he was fluent but reserved. After that he was always friendly and gracious. (Novice Anglo monks are treated, how shall I say,….. like a kid.)

Doesn’t matter if you have a law degree, head of household or are older than the monks, you are just a rookie. What simple lessons are derived from that experience, Humility, Obedience, Discipline.

So here it is, sometime after I disrobed and have returned to the life of a lay person and I find I am very touched by his loss. It is as though a relative has passed away. I marvel sometimes at the force of the change that took place living in the temple. I rarely reside in anger and resentment like I used to. I would often harbor ill-feelings with little reason, for long periods of time. Now I find those negative thoughts to be fleeting in contrast to the past. I find that negative thoughts embarrass me after my practice of Buddhist meditation/chanting loving/kindness over the years.

Where I once thought casually about the death of those I didn’t know or didn’t care about, now I find the presence of pain in suffering in living beings evokes the wish that all beings be free from all suffering. And I hope that Ajahn Poomin has an excellent rebirth and that his footprints do not fade soon.