remote buddhist

My Leap

noreply@blogger.com (Kwai Chang Pooh) — Sun, 11 Jan 2009 21:01:00 +0000

{As I challenged myself in Spectators, with you as my witness for accountability, I have now made the decision, and my Leap launches materially in ten days. While I have already leaped, internalizing the decision, the outward signs of me no longer settling will be more publicly evident in that short time. And with that in mind, I continue to search for me.}

"... then suddenly, I was my father's son again"

Yes, a phrase from a book, a movie, a song, can convict, reach you right where you live. Reaching back, the me who was, as it turns out, was not so locked away. Once willing to pull away the first bit of defensive dermis, I see that as way leads onto way and truth better merges with vision, I am no longer daunted by the peeling back, but I resent each layer, come to hate the toughskin (all Montagues). Recovering the me who was, and yes, running. As the sand crunches with each stride now, I breathe in that Summer of old (too, the mischief that it was), and the me who was is less now an old friend sharing strides with me, more my pulse. More wholly mine now, my gait is easier, my feet strike true, the running which was work becomes a flow, carries me with it. And I run to, not from.

Make your life art. Know your self.

Your mileage may vary.

legacy

noreply@blogger.com (Kwai Chang Pooh) — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 15:23:00 +0000

not so much

am I wondering how I might be remembered; no,

legacy, only a container

to allow that I step outside, see

a marble jar of the life mine

what shall I be telling with a sigh, ages, ages hence

know thyself

fuller, higher, deeper

what will your verse be

many a measuring stick float by

do I cling to that mirror shows me best

like the whim when Neil fell in love with the actress

playing a part that he could understand

long for clarity

yes, find me,

find that which is without me

I am the boy who helped

and I smiled

I remember me

The Fire Fly Manifesto: a blind review

noreply@blogger.com (Kwai Chang Pooh) — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 14:36:00 +0000

Here is Jonathan Fields' promise:

It gives both hope…and something to do.
It gives you a way to refocus your energy on coming out of the financial funk not only on sound footing, but with a new professional path defined not by the blind quest for false security and the illusion of success, but by equal helpings of passion and prosperity. And, it’s totally free, in fact, you don’t even need to give your e-mail to download it.

I endorse this to you without viewing it first. Trust me. Check out the Career Renegade. Download the (10-page) Manifesto. Go, "take a shot at doing what you love". (Or, consider the alternative.)

to see the poets

noreply@blogger.com (Kwai Chang Pooh) — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 20:47:00 +0000

you've known the soul of a poet when you suspect you've taken a glimpse through her eyes

the good people come along

noreply@blogger.com (Kwai Chang Pooh) — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 15:06:00 +0000

No image here. I do not want you to be distracted or entertained. If you are someone who voted in the majority on one of the below questions, you owe it to a lot of people to read on. Yes. I said you owe it.

Arizona - ban on gay marriage
Arkansas - ban on gay couples adopting children
California - ban on gay marriage
Florida - ban on gay marriage

Help me with this. How can 62% of voters in Florida think this is right. Never mind the argument that recognition of the religious facet of a marriage by the state is troublesome with respect to a "law respecting an establishment of religion". Forget that when you get down to it, the law views it as not a lot more than a special contract. The thing is why. Why do you want to tell someone they cannot be 'married'.

When you vote, perhaps you like to maintain that your vote is private. Why. You are proud of the fact you voted, correct? We all love the sticker. So what underlies that secrecy -- your 'right' to say 'my vote is my own'. Could it be that this is your unadulterated opportunity to impose your will without having to answer to anyone. Is it that you are not so proud of how you voted. After all this time 'they' have flaunted 'it' in front of you -- indeed, in front of your children, this is your chance to answer. Is it that you cannot articulate a foundation for what you have done.

Now I want to argue with you. At least at you. Justify your vote or acknowledge what you have done. Why should your state recognize your marriage, and not a same sex marriage. Your answer is that marriage is ordained of God, right? Let's run with that. Back to the first amendment. You vote under the umbrella of the constitution. Are you demanding that your state recognize your religious union and ignore the non-ordained union? Please. Tell me how in one breath, you claim a constitution, you wave the bill of rights, your right to your religion and no state interference with it, but you privately darken an oval to demand that your state affirmatively disrespect a union because it lacks endorsement by an establishment of religion.

I am not arguing to you that the times are changing. I am not reminding you of all of us being created equal, of inalienable rights, of pursuit of happiness, of peacable assembly. Of privacy -- not just your own. I am suggesting that you ran with a whim. You do not like the lifestyle of a same sex couple. And you had no accountability. That should not be left unsaid. You did not stand up in a town hall and vote; you had the luxury of truly darkening so many ovals without answering to anyone. So many abstract ovals.

I hope the abstractions become real to you today. In fact, you should celebrate. Out of pride in what you have accomplished, you deserve a wish come true -- a chance to reach out and help someone see the light.

How about you go out into your community today, find a same sex couple, and talk with them. You need not even listen. Here is the remarkable opportunity. Acknowledge they are human (you need not say this; a smile may suffice). And after you confirm they are human, gay, and that you have their attention, simply share (because you believe in your vote and you are proud). Following is a suggested script:

Hello. You seem like nice enough people, but I hope you are never able to marry. I voted to see that you cannot. I did that because [insert your honest reason here]. I know you understand. I am here to help.
[Optional for Arkansas -- ] I know you do not see it now, but you are patently unfit to raise and care for children. Nothing personal. I voted to see that you cannot adopt. I did that because [honest reason here]. I know you understand. I am here to help.

While I have a greater word count on this topic, Jason Kottke (link here) has a way with words. And brevity.
... and Andrew Sullivan at The Atlantic writes "Oh, No, You Don't"

... and the Shutter Bitch doesn't mince words

'Simplifiers' : where is value

noreply@blogger.com (Kwai Chang Pooh) — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 17:14:00 +0000

"... to collect experiences, not possessions."

I happened upon an article by John A. Quelch, the Lincoln Filene Professor of Business Administration at Harvard Business School. Those are his words (or perhaps the school's now; you get the idea). I think I took something away from his article, although I am unsure if I took what he meant to share.

{On a day in which I have not yet run} I entreat you to collect experiences --

They are more shareable than possessions.

While they can be fragile, you need not insure them.

You can not remotely monitor their security.

It costs you nearly nothing to share them.

You can give them away without losing them.

Indeed, the more you share them, the more they are yours.

They are portable, susceptible of long term storage.

'Obsolete' does not apply.

There is no enhanced warranty plan.

They are the subject of art -- what art is about.

Symbiotic, you shape them and they, you.

While there are many you yearn to control, the unexpected may tend to abide.

Only as you collect them does the vessel of you become discernible.

The Cure

noreply@blogger.com (Kwai Chang Pooh) — Sun, 02 Nov 2008 13:00:00 +0000

I came to know the clouds just now, as I saw one born while I ran. I was not aware of the entire birth, but as the sun promised to bend around the distance, I persisted in pushing the fog to be sure I was not at the edge of the world. It had been flowing through me for a time, but until the light I had only tasted it. Happening faster than I expected, the fog lifted as it became more certain the sun was to come again. Around me and through me, it lept without sound or trail to the bright blue awaiting. When a child with a window seat is air-bused through, over my cloud, I hope she thinks how far it has come to see her.

{This morning, with the opportunity of an 'extra' hour, I was able to run enough (no regret this time that I should have gone farther). Steps in the dark. I was clarified. In the near-dark, I realized how we scurry. We train our children to scurry ... proud when they do, hope they grow up to become jugglers of appointments. One should run. As it goes by you more slowly, you see it, breathe it and it shares with you; the world around you is not one of obtacles through which you brake, accelerate and veer. Running can fix you. No watch, nor phone, only that between the ground and the sky is there with you.}

water wants to move

noreply@blogger.com (Kwai Chang Pooh) — Sat, 01 Nov 2008 13:28:00 +0000

I ran in the stars this morning. They were not so random, but intentionally amazing me.

Early on, I noticed they were watching. I could not make it out, but I thought they were whispering. As my mind goes, I was sure they were dismissing "another 'runner' ... he will never stick with it."

Midway through my footsteps in the dark, I was sure I could make out "he pushes himself at times, so maybe ..."

As habit brought me back to the starting place, my deep breaths -- warmer now -- assured me they could continue on. They even tempted me with the stars.

And I could hear the stars more clearly now. There was no judgment. They were witnessing. Me. No more. And I wonder. If they marveled at how a runner in the dark found joy, if they found beauty in me doing in the simplest way what is in my nature. From their vast spectacle, did they contemplate me.

Spectators of the Revolution

noreply@blogger.com (Kwai Chang Pooh) — Mon, 27 Oct 2008 15:30:00 +0000

You've never settled so this does not apply to you. Read no further.

If you have settled in some way, it started with innocuous, nearly involuntary compromise. But how routine has it become. I know. Me too.

For today, it began with sneeze of twitter that nearly came and went. It seems even at his age, he was "working circles around" the younger folks. Yes, but ...

I wanted to reply with great wisdom, but never made it beyond "so". Even that never made it to my fingers - the keyboard - and the series of tubes. I almost said, "the thing about working in circles is that it takes you in you-know-whats." And I wanted to say how sad someone is going to be when your tombstone says how productive you were. Then my mind's eye interrupted. I saw my tombstone. It said "PRODUCTIVE" and there was a sticker, and a URL to LinkedIn. The more I almost replied to Working Circles Around, the more I was already painted into a corner.

Scene II. Fitter Happier. So Working Circles Around drove me to a piece of art. It's honest to say this uber-original work haunts me. It comes to me at the end of the day. It looks at me with all the dead pan only the most taking faces can pull off, and it quips, "boy! When your head hits the pillow tonight, you'll know you affected some resources today. Mmm, what a legacy."

And what can I say. The phrase 'make a living, not a dying' comes to mind.

Intermission. So amid vomiting my personal passionless life, I find myself saying "I'm going to do it this time. I'm going to live. I'll jump up out of the Box, lurk for the first person to ask what I'm doing, and I'll insert the Box in his mouth." (That will be my first work of art. The Box is not so small that it fits well inside one's mouth.) Then I'll draw the quick, deep breath one takes leaving the diving board

And, Preamble: The thing about those of us (spectators) who come right up to the edge and almost live is how we love to marvel at those who do. We can talk to you all day about those who inspire, the ones who rise and live, the folks who star when we wax on about how they really "broke the mold." Go on and on. Now I realize. All the time I spend bragging about how bold, how strong, how original are those who have taken the leap -- it is placebo. As I talk about them, I am self-medicating, quenching my personal little urge to be the leaper. I write a little, I feel connected. Until I say it aloud, I almost believe I took the leap. After all, I wrote about it. I said it. I imagined how the fulfillment and the glory tasted. I shared it, which must count for something. At least so long as I keep writing, I can't be expected to take my own leap.

But enough. How much longer before I flush the placebo -- before I trade writing for leaping. Not one more second will aggregate. Not that it's for you, but watch me now.

You are my accountability partner. I don't hear you yet, but I see you. I can see the "sure you will" on your face, so I hope you keep watching. Really. One of us is going to be walking around with a mouth full of The Box. One of us.

{As we continue, you are encouraged to challenge my willingness, my method, and ultimately whether I (in light of my proclamation this day) truly leap. And as you return, I will endeavor not to waste your time.}

lift the lid

noreply@blogger.com (Kwai Chang Pooh) — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 20:27:00 +0000

... I have no lid up on my head but if I did, you could look inside and see what's on my mind

On to the worthwhile:

Loving matters: "The sun is so hot, little girl. Mind your tiny wings."

If BHJ loves like BHJ writes, learn from him. And love a ton. And if you want to write, do it like him.

Beauty : it's all around, under, in, above, next to, and through you, and you can appreciate it deeply without taking away from it. See like Jonathan Fields, and write like him. Be where you are.

Share: When it reaches you, pass it on. Don't you know you create when you give.

Live: Run for your life. Yes, Run. It's your life. Or be a gerbil in a wheel. Choose now. There's a radiohead song if you're having trouble discerning the question.

Passion: live like you mean it.

{Here's where you help. Notice no link for the last entry? Know a blogger who eminates passion, who lives an uber-passionate day every day? Call 'em out in the comments, because I'm looking. The Pooh thanks you in advance.}

Passion -- [read in a whisper] could she be The One? She feels. She speaks up. And not in a walks-up-to-you-saying-"excuse-me-but..." sort of way. Yes, read The Queen. Thank Pooh.

And wait, The Bloggess: She's a total adverb -- a category all her own; I don't know just what to say about her, but when she's streamed a ream of consciousness at you, all you can say is "I gotta get me some of this. I'm soo coming back." The Bloggess is the kid on the playground who taught you the f-bomb and the smart kid you teased about the great grades. Read her. She'll help you be less ordinary.

{She'll also help you find people who will enrich your life ... see her comment below, get to I Obsess, and stick that brilliance in your reader.}

Grasshopper, Dead Ahead!

noreply@blogger.com (Kwai Chang Pooh) — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 19:00:00 +0000

Master Po: [once he defeats young man] Ha, ha, never assume because a man has no eyes he cannot see. Close your eyes. What do you hear?

Young Caine: I hear the water, I hear the birds.
Master Po: Do you hear your own heartbeat?

Young Caine: No.
Master Po: Do you hear the grasshopper that is at your feet?

Young Caine: Old man, how is it that you hear these things?
Master Po: Young man, how is it that you do not?

Just as the Titanic struck its grasshopper, are you careening toward disaster that would be averted but for your din of busyness.

What would you do right now were someone to flip the breaker and take the battery from your phone and laptop. Where would that leave you.

Do you see beyond your email and IM clients, your RSS feeds and podcasts. What remains.

Is your info-noise habit nothing more than firefighting foam that you rake in with both hands, even while it smothers your gasp.

You're up on everything? and nothing?

Look in a new way.

Look no further, Mr. Kim. I'm your man.

Together we step away from the noise, see what we see. (It is there, after all.)

Come back for more.

Unless you are satisfied.

until you snatch the pebble from my hand ...

noreply@blogger.com (Kwai Chang Pooh) — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 18:31:00 +0000

I walk the earth, much like you.

I see the footprints behind me and learn that perhaps I keep finding what it is that I have sought.

You have come here. Like the sun and the flowing water also reveal, we might help one another seek and see.

*remote buddhist*