Today I got up and went to the dentist. As I sat in the chair, the hygienist was really on the attack with that sharp metal poker they always start with, and it was more painful than any visit in recent memory.
Even so, as I dreamed about how I would rather still be in my cozy bed so I could sleep off this nagging cold I've had for five days, I remembered, "Hey, it ain't crucifixion."
After all, it's Good Friday. That's why I have the day off in the first place. They say it's named that because it's about that man going up to heaven, and not about him getting tortured and killed... but then why do people wear crosses around their necks instead of cumulus clouds or stars? How about a shining sun, like the one that can now shine a light through the ceiling of Notre Dame? I think I remember something about the way and the light...
"Ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That is how the light gets in."
Leonard Cohen sang that. He also sang "Hallelujah!" In related news, Happy Bicycle Day!
Then I remembered that old Hindu teaching from The World's Religions about transferring your attention from your immediate situation so that you can understand the ups and downs of life and how the world is still doing fine even if you're not so happy in the moment, and how the example Huston Smith gave was about a woman in pain in a dentist's chair imagining herself floating above herself and feeling sorry for herself, but then realizing that she's experiencing plenty of delightful moments in other situations.
I also was reminded of the Taoist teaching, "Who knows what's good or bad?" and thought that maybe I'd get a story out of this somehow.
And of course, I also thought of the Sufi's from Islam teaching that there is nothing but God, which would imply that even that sharp metal thingy stabbing the nerves in my mouth is the holy manifestation of God and I should just be thankful to be in this at all.
While I was driving home, I saw a man with a Christian collar on holding a sign that said, "Palestinians are God's children too," so I gave him a thumbs up and he nodded, and then I pulled up behind a line of cars, and I was idling by a Jewish temple. There wasn't anyone outside, but I still gave a nod. I'd begun the day with my first What'sApp from my friend Jacob (who was born into a Jewish family) sending me a positive message from India, and I'd spent Wednesday night in Manhattan watching my Israeli friend Noah play jazz guitar while his Christian girlfriend from Portugal smiled back at him.
Eventually, when I got home, I read this George Saunders story, and it was incredibly sad. A boy is unloved and told that he's basically a loser by his mom and stepdad, and then gets hit by a car, and as he's dying and thinking that the man standing over him and begging for him not to die is kind of lame, he hears the man telling him that he is beautiful and God loves him and sent his only son to die for him. Saunders is a Buddhist.
I wanted to feel better, so I opened up the collection of Life Prayers my mother gave me, and right on page 267 is a poem whose words "All is well all is well all is well" seem to jump out of the page.
Last night I walked around by the light of a full moon and thought of the Iroquois prayer to Grandmother Moon guiding the birth of children in this world, and thanking the Great Spirit for providing everything we need to live on this Earth.
We went to dinner in Greenwich (pronounced "Green Witch"), which reminds me of that story told by that black lesbian Wiccan who informed the audience that Wicca teaches the embrace of love in all of its forms.
Anyway, my old Earth Science teacher came up to us to say hello at dinner. He'd taught me about geology, meteorology, ecology and astronomy, and I was happy to relate a story about something he'd taught us about the Earth's rotation on its axis during halftime of a basketball game, because he was also our basketball coach.
So many ways to spin a ball...
Even so, as I dreamed about how I would rather still be in my cozy bed so I could sleep off this nagging cold I've had for five days, I remembered, "Hey, it ain't crucifixion."
After all, it's Good Friday. That's why I have the day off in the first place. They say it's named that because it's about that man going up to heaven, and not about him getting tortured and killed... but then why do people wear crosses around their necks instead of cumulus clouds or stars? How about a shining sun, like the one that can now shine a light through the ceiling of Notre Dame? I think I remember something about the way and the light...
"Ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That is how the light gets in."
Leonard Cohen sang that. He also sang "Hallelujah!" In related news, Happy Bicycle Day!
Then I remembered that old Hindu teaching from The World's Religions about transferring your attention from your immediate situation so that you can understand the ups and downs of life and how the world is still doing fine even if you're not so happy in the moment, and how the example Huston Smith gave was about a woman in pain in a dentist's chair imagining herself floating above herself and feeling sorry for herself, but then realizing that she's experiencing plenty of delightful moments in other situations.
I also was reminded of the Taoist teaching, "Who knows what's good or bad?" and thought that maybe I'd get a story out of this somehow.
And of course, I also thought of the Sufi's from Islam teaching that there is nothing but God, which would imply that even that sharp metal thingy stabbing the nerves in my mouth is the holy manifestation of God and I should just be thankful to be in this at all.
While I was driving home, I saw a man with a Christian collar on holding a sign that said, "Palestinians are God's children too," so I gave him a thumbs up and he nodded, and then I pulled up behind a line of cars, and I was idling by a Jewish temple. There wasn't anyone outside, but I still gave a nod. I'd begun the day with my first What'sApp from my friend Jacob (who was born into a Jewish family) sending me a positive message from India, and I'd spent Wednesday night in Manhattan watching my Israeli friend Noah play jazz guitar while his Christian girlfriend from Portugal smiled back at him.
Eventually, when I got home, I read this George Saunders story, and it was incredibly sad. A boy is unloved and told that he's basically a loser by his mom and stepdad, and then gets hit by a car, and as he's dying and thinking that the man standing over him and begging for him not to die is kind of lame, he hears the man telling him that he is beautiful and God loves him and sent his only son to die for him. Saunders is a Buddhist.
I wanted to feel better, so I opened up the collection of Life Prayers my mother gave me, and right on page 267 is a poem whose words "All is well all is well all is well" seem to jump out of the page.
Last night I walked around by the light of a full moon and thought of the Iroquois prayer to Grandmother Moon guiding the birth of children in this world, and thanking the Great Spirit for providing everything we need to live on this Earth.
We went to dinner in Greenwich (pronounced "Green Witch"), which reminds me of that story told by that black lesbian Wiccan who informed the audience that Wicca teaches the embrace of love in all of its forms.
Anyway, my old Earth Science teacher came up to us to say hello at dinner. He'd taught me about geology, meteorology, ecology and astronomy, and I was happy to relate a story about something he'd taught us about the Earth's rotation on its axis during halftime of a basketball game, because he was also our basketball coach.
So many ways to spin a ball...
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