Tannishblog

This week I am again confronted with a common theme in my life: Self-absorption. This is my Karma-cleansing in progress.

For the past decade, as I embrace Buddhist tenets, I am meeting people who can show me myself as I have been. They are as different from each other as can be, but what they have in common is varying degrees of Self-Absorption. As I embrace the theory that everyone I meet in life is here to teach something, I am open to what I need to learn from them.

I grew up with people who were self-centered. Nothing outside of their worldview could be valid; and must be scorned. As I, myself, was often beyond their worldview, I was therefore scorned. As a result, I also became self-centered in defiance. Otherwise I would be destroyed as an individual, a damaged soul. Such was the vehemence of the incessant attacks against my personality and perspective. End result: and angry, self-absorbed young man tossed unto the world. I hated, was angry, couldn’t stand anyone’s views but my own.

I was miserable.

But a book changed all that. I worked in the receiving room at a Barnes & Noble when I open an incoming box and saw an elderly smiling face of the Dalai Lama shining out. He was captivating, but not as much as the title of the book: “The Art of Happiness.”

“That’s just what I need,” I thought. I was right.

I read the book, delved into its practices. I learned more about meditation and Buddhist teaching. For a while I hung out with a Shambala Temple nearby. My healing had started.

Then began the parade of Hurting souls who were mirrors of me at different phases of my earlier life. The first was red-faced Anger. The next was Intolerant and Racist. The third was a Thief, followed closely by the Egotist. Next, the Maniac and the Worrier. More recently I have met the Slacker, and this week I have to deal with the Embittered Soul. All are reflections of the person I once was. All are here, I believe, to help cleanse me of my past, to prepare me for a future rebirth where I can grow further and become more compassionate, closer to Nirvana.

The theme of Self-absorption is the reason I live this life, to rid myself of it’s influence, to raise a daughter free from it’s grip, to stare it down and transcend it. The Echoes of my Soul whom I meet, tortured people that they are, are my friends. They are here to help me. And if I can share my experiences with them, perhaps I can help them as well in their journeys toward Nirvana.

I truly hope so.

I’ve been preoccupied in recent weeks with my Only Child’s imminent entrance to College Life. She will be fine, I’m sure, as she has more life skills in hand than anyone I ever knew at that age. What I’ve been pondering is the change in home life after she’s gone.

My marriage is strong, but I would be fooling myself to say we haven’t - by necessity - grown somewhat apart. How far apart remains to be known as we both reach toward the other across the gap. Will we have the reach? This concerns me.

Too, reaching fifty years is not a happy contemplative occasion. This also awaits me near the end of this year. The lengthening list of “Lasts” this small family is accruing adds solemnity to the celebrations of High School graduation: the last orchestra concert, the last jazz band show, the last piano recital, and - occurring this weekend - her last dance recital weekend. Forthcoming is her last art lesson, her last piano lesson and other, tinier closings of a previous life. These add to the “Getting Old” feeling I haven’t shrugged off lately.

So - a changing of gears, a new beginning for my daughter as well as for my marriage. We will persevere, but not without a healthy dose of trepidation. I am reminded of a quote:

“Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter;
If your mind isn’t clouded by unnecessary things,
this is the best season of your life.”

–Zen master Wu-men

As reported in The Raw Story, Canadian Parliament ”voted to allow US resisters of the Iraq war who fled to Canada to stay in this country, thus avoiding military court-martial in the United States.” This is great news to parents of teenagers in America.

In consideration of America’s focus on a New Century of Anglican, Christian Dominance regarding oil producing nations, contrasted by it’s inability to recruit foolish youngsters, I can only surmise a culture of Patriotic-blinded youngsters forces into military draft. My daughter, regardless of her knowing better, is of ripe age for our Great Country to exploit. She’ll be 18 in October. I would fight on the street to prevent my offspring from becoming a pawn of the military-industrial complex. I would give my life to prevent such an outcome.

Street Fighting may be the only way to avoid such catastrophes. Surely the “wisdom” of our elected officials can’t prevent further destruction of the youth that represents America’s future. We have the “Best Government Money Can Buy.” Even my admiration of Obama can’t disguise the fact that he is “bought and paid for” as much as any other candidate. Never would he get as far has he has without the stamp of corporate acceptance.
I can only be proved wrong by one event - and I do not condone this - a bullet, well aimed. Surely this is Hillary’s only chance, as she has outlined.

Regardless who ascends to the White House, A military draft is the only answer to an advanced strategic conflict that involves Iraq, Afghanistan, and Iran. Especially in consideration of the current administration’s inability to plan it’s way out of a paper bag…

The only way for the Dominuist Christians to continue their fantasy of World Domination, is on the hides of my Daughter’s Generation. I will die before that happens. In light of the fact that I’m a Buddhist peace-nik, this is the one and only cause that I would fight for. No Freaking Way you’re sacrificing my child’s life for corporate gain - No Way!

We’ll all run to Canada first. Barring that, I’ll meet you in the streets.

The inclusion of this blog in a list of outstanding Buddhist blogs is surprising. I’m grateful, but perhaps unworthy. This is not exactly a “Buddhist Blog,” despite a few tentative attempts. Its more like a collection of political, leftist whining. Even in that aspect, it’s losing steam. Perhaps that’s a (insert appropriate judgment here) thing.

Neither do I necessarily feel I am a Buddhist, although I’ve taken vows, meditate (almost) daily and make continued progress to tame the mental patterns of my youth. I yearn to make a contribution to the social and spiritual awakening of your species. Reality says such an undertaking is yet beyond me; I am a Baby Buddhist, so I must make baby steps. For now, any influence I might own is small. So I focus on small tasks to positively improve the world around me:

• I can shed my rage in realization that is has done me only harm.
• I can stop dwelling on how I believe the world ought to function, in realization that “should” is a dangerous toy.
• I can speak only praise - or nothing at all, in realization that discretion is the better part of discussion.
• I can smile more - and mean it.
• I can shed excess emotive states, saving my energy for accomplishments.
• I can be gentle and courteous, professional and honest.

Having such modest aims as a centerpiece of Buddhist practice, I am amazed by its effectiveness. Within my tiny sphere of influence I has seen how these changes affect those around me and spread out exponentially. And when I forget, I recall the opening lines of the Metta Sutra:

This is what should be done
By one who is skilled in goodness,
And who knows the path of peace:
Let them be able and upright,
Straightforward and gentle in speech.
Humble and not conceited,
Contented and easily satisfied.
Unburdened with duties and frugal in their ways.
Peaceful and calm, and wise and skillful,
Not proud and demanding in nature.
Let them not do the slightest thing
That the wise would later reprove…

Such are the tentative steps of a spiritual toddler on the path toward enlightenment. Its Changing my world, One smile at a time. Most of the smiles aren’t even mine.

My neighbor lady is 88 years old. Her husband died a few years back and they have no surviving children. A scattering of friends, neighbors and her husbands 2 elder brothers are her only lifelines. My wife shops for her, as she can’t drive anymore. As far as I know all she does during the day is watch television and read newspapers. Ever since her husband died, she’s been cleaning out her house of forty years of accumulation. She’s methodically cleaning up after her life, putting her affairs in order and awaiting the inevitable. Some days are good and some days are bad. What kind of life is that in terms of quality?

I think on this as I read a New York Times article on Assisted Suicide. Please read it, it may become a very important subject to you one day.

Gloria C. Phares, a 93-year-old retired teacher in Missouri, wrote:

“I was healthy until 90, and then Boom! Atrial fibrillation; deaf, can’t enjoy music or hear a voice unless 10 inches from my ear; fell, fractured my thigh and am now a cripple; had a slight stroke the day after my beloved husband died after 61 years of marriage.

“I’ve lived a happy life, but from here on out it’s all downhill. Is there any point in my living any longer? I’m not living — just existing. I very much want to die, but our society doesn’t let me. Oh for a pill to ease myself out and end my pain, pain, pain.”

No authority exists that has he right to tell anyone they cannot end their life. Not family, friends, the government nor the church can dictate what is best for any person. To the extent that all these entities will try to do so, is the extent to which our society is most wrongfully arrogant.

We have Assisted Living. Why not Assisted Dying. Its humane.

I’m determined to return to blogging - I’m resolved. That would make it a resolution!

Whatever. The point is I refuse to let this blog peter out. I also resolve to branch out from the stale and overwrought topic of Politics. Even I am sick of my constant one-note whining about the disgusting state of our disunion. There isn’t anything I can say that is not said better by more illustrious Bloggeratti.

to start, I offer a Geeks-eye-view on the sorry state of mainstream software, coming from DownloadSquad, and found via Reddit:

The Five Most Annoying Programs On Your Computer

So True!!

Sometimes the start of a new year doesn’t happen when expected. We all think of New Years Day, but that means nothing, really - just a societal convention. Nonetheless and to some degree, we all expect some magic moment in mid winter where some kind of difference is experienced. Like when you turned ten, and you awaited the mystical anointing that would herald in your second decade of life.

Such events rarely happen and - in my experience - never happen on time. No; major events happen in their own time and do not dance to the whims of man.

It so happened almost exactly a year ago I, while managing as small warehouse full of aluminum roofing materials, was instructed to downsize the real estate footprint of the business I served. Times were tough. Thus began one of the worst Decembers I can recall in my adult life. It also ushered in a difficult year for my working life.

January, a traditional doldrums for a roofing company, found me and a coworker, with no work. I sat at my desk rigging my laptop to the corporate Internet provider so keep awake. That’s no exaggeration. I spent the next several weeks getting paid to displace air at a certain place for a certain length of time. What work I had was in a sideline of web design, which I accomplished in an empty, inactive office. Once spring began, I believed, matters would improve, and I can again take up the job I have been place holding.

Not to be. Spring came, then summer, and this once proud roofing company floundered in the marketplace. No sales, no work. By July, it was evident that the company needed to close the office. We were let go; unceremoniously dumped.

Not unexpected, perhaps, yet unnerving. I panicked for my family’s sake and spend 80 hours over the next 9 days perusing the job boards until I found what looked to be a decent offer, and a new direction to my career. Looks deceived me. Although aptly warned during the interview process of needing to deal with "brassy" personalities, nothing - not even my youth spent with indifferent parenting - would prepare me for the neurotic insanity that prevailed at this family-owned company. I would bore you with a description, an anecdote or two, but I would neither do the truth justice, nor would anyone believe me.

From the onset, I was miserable, and for twelve weeks, I did my best to adjust for my family’s sake, and failed. After 60 days, a performance review showed, the obvious, that I couldn’t perform to expected levels. Thirty days later, more of the same. At that time I kindly asked my supervisor (who was not directly involved with the family psychosis), to kindly fire me for lack of performance. We both knew I was searching for work, hampered by my commitments, and unable interview without drawing suspicion. As a measure of his kindness and sanity, he allowed this thin veil, as long as I trained my replacement.

So, at the end of a fourteen week ordeal, I was again cast into the unemployment statistics: two days before my birthday. It may have been the best present I have gotten in recent years. Three weeks of difficult searching ended on Friday Nov 30, when I was asked in for a second interview in a local company (4 miles from home- that local), when I was hired to begin last Monday. Another small company, family-owned, and another new direction for me.

I could pontificate for days about the contrast in corporate cultures. I’ve been here less than a week and I already know my Year of Hard Knocks has ended. I have found a new home. I even have the energy, after a very busy day, to blog my experience and to welcome a new year. So Happy New Year to me, and to you, who may also be struggling through these difficult and dangerous times. May you always be open to better days ahead, and aware of the major events of your life and how they refuse to read a calendar.

My energies have turned inward as I struggle through a difficult few month. The job I took after being laid off last summer was wrong for me on many levels, and most of my energy was consumed trying to overcome that. I had to withdraw from the wit and cynicism of America’s political train wreck its blogification.

After three months in an untenable situation, and during my second unsatisfactory assessment meeting, I asked my supervisor to do me the kindness of firing me for lack of performance. He agreed to do so if I would hang on for two weeks training a replacement. I pondered the irony of the situation only briefly - that I who couldn’t meet the owners expectations would "train" someone - as my interests were best served by getting this new person up and running as quickly as possible.

Last Wednesday I was let go. Now I enter a new untenable state of unemployment. Still, my interest in headlines is diminished, as I enter Phase Two of my Employment Crisis. Regarding this site, expect a slow re-emergence throughout the winter months. I know this will never be the Blog that Shook The World, nor will it gain modest notoriety, but the fact that a few peek in everyday despite my absence is heartening. I’ll hang in there if you do… Thank you.

I’ve been a bad blogger, haven’t I? Since July I’ve been reduced to one or two posts a week, often quickly rattled off and frivolous. Pathetic. The main culprit, I admit is EVE Online, to which I have a strong craving. While I type away on this, another quick jot, My gaming computer is monitoring my avatars’ asteroid mining - something that’s doesn’t take my complete attention.

Too, my lifestyle has changed. Before Independence Day, I had a job that allowed some free time to scan the news and prepare for my rants. The free time grew, and I happily got used to it. Then came the inevitable lay-off, which occurred - you guessed it - in July. After a tense week of job boards, I landed a job nine days later. Not too shabby.

Then the weirdness started. If this isn’t The Job That Ate My Brain, then surely it’s a subtle vampiric attack on my spirit. I’ve had bad jobs before but none quite so debilitating. I’ll forego the litany.

I now find myself at a crossroads: the soul-sucking job has to go, buy I cannot leave without an exit plan. I owe my family at least that much. What meager energies I own must be diverted into another job search. And what time I can spend in the healing void of virtual outer space must be tempered by multitasking. There’s not much left to devote to even as humble a blog as this.

But, in the immortal words of a(n in)famous politician: "Ah’ll be Bock" Tannish and his pet blog ain’t dead yet. Thanks in advance for your patience.

October ninth has been a secret holiday for me. During my preteens and on to high school I was a huge Beatles fan. After the fact, though, as they had disbanded by then. Nonetheless, afterschool hours would find myself and best-friend Paul memorizing every lyric and musical phrase, practicing laughable Liverpudlian accents and pretending to live an a world that few would ever know; inside the lives of two of the most famous people in the world. Yes, my buddy Paul was Paul McCartney, by virtue of name and an uncanny ability to mimic his voice, and I was John Lennon (by default, because, who else could I be in this boyhood fantasy?)

We learned a great deal about the Beatles during our escapist episodes. We both started playing guitars to round out the shared illusion. I still play. Although our lives separated soon after, I’m sure the Paul I knew still does as well.

So John Lennon’s birthday is today, and it’s my secret holiday. A sentimental, nostalgic day.

So sing you favorite John song. I know you have one. And celebrate the stunted love of a confused and brilliant man. John saw firsthand the absurdity of celebrity, the insanity of our world. He tried his best to point that out to us. After that, all he could do was to distance himself and Watch the Wheels go Round and Round.