Buddhism

Souvenirs—Personal Ad

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Wanted—A buddy/pal/partner—or a BFFN (best friend for now)

I don’t care about your political views, religious beliefs, tax bracket, sexual orientation, profession, race, gender, visual appearance (picture not required) physical condition (disabilities are a plus) IQ, marital status, your merits or accomplishments, educational background, your favorite sports, interests or nationality——

ONE STRICT REQUIREMENT: YOU MUST BE OLD, VERY OLD, IN-FACT—–THE OLDER THE BETTER!

The following traits, suggestions and activities are not mandatory, but preferred:

  • You must not be computer, iPad or smart phone savvy. Preferably, modern technology leaves you hankering back to the good ole days when shaking hands, looking someone in the eye and sharing time and thoughts were a valued pastime (prior to the advent of multitasking and trying to do a bunch of meaningless bullshit at once).  Please do not confuse emailing, Facebook postings, texting and voice mailing with the art of communication.  Yes, it’s an art, not an exercise in technical maneuvering.  Communication requires a commitment of time, patience and compassion—-as does companionship.
  • I don’t want to have sex with you.  At this stage of the game I don’t even like looking at my own naked body in the mirror.  I don’t mind hugs or holding hands regardless of your gender–tenderness is good.
  • I am attracted to anarchist, recluses, eccentric’s and those possessing a sense of rugged individualism—-in other words, I prefer those who are off the social grid e.g. “I wouldn’t belong to a club that would have me as a member” Will Rodgers.
  • If you express your political and spiritual beliefs by displaying them on bumper-stickers, please do not apply.  If you believe the world is flat and that global warming is a farce, you need not apply (I will not suffer a fool).
  • I don’t care if you are vegan or prefer a super-sized McDonald’s meal, but—being a fan of ice cream and all things sweet is a huge plus.
  • Must enjoy taking slow inconsequential walks while idly commenting about the weather and other such insignificant topics. After all these years, watching the seasons change is still a divine experience worth observing and discussing.
  • Must possess a silly, ridiculous and absurd sense of humor.  This includes busting out in spontaneous giggles (best reserved for solemn occasions such as funerals, medical waiting rooms and fine dinning venues). Immaturity, lack of social etiquette and refusing to act age appropriate is a total bonus—-at this stage of the game, who gives a rats ass what anyone else might think of you.  Must possess the capacity to laugh at oneself and be comfortable in your own wrinkled, saggy, age spotted skin.
  • Must not be afraid of silence.  Especially while watching children play or when enjoying a sunrise or sunset.
  • Preferably you enjoy petting cats, dogs or any other animal that understands unconditional love—-oh yeah, this may include feeding birds.
  • Wearing clothing that is colorful, out of style and mismatched is much approved and appreciated.  This includes, wild hats, large print moo moo’s, suspenders, onesie’s, bow-ties, snuggies, overalls, fancy shaw’s, jumpsuits, afghans, scarfs, sequins, cat-eye glasses, squealing hearing aids and all things comfortable, expressive and fun.
  • Music, music and more music.  Turn off the depressing 24 hr news and all the crap that passes for entertainment on the TV.  Shut out all the clutter and noise that fills this manic modern world.  There is nothing better than spinning an old vinyl record from back in the day. Better yet, breakout the piano and the tambourine and start singing and dancing your ass off.  It’s great exercise and nourishes one’s soul.
  • After a long walk a group nap is always an enjoyable activity of choice—BYOB—Bring your own blanket.
  • Feel the sun on your face, walk in the rain, catch a snowflake on your tongue. No matter the season, there are always new and interesting things to do.  Life is never boring, there are only boring people. 

Aging requires that we all become more Zen like.  God has a funny way of teaching us these simple lessons.  The key tenet of Buddha’s teachings is this “Attachment leads to suffering”.  Aging demands that we let go of everything——when you get old, you need less and less material crap.  A game of dominos with a friend or a Sunday drive to visit family is more treasured than winning the lottery.

No need for fancy cars, boats or planes (can’t operate them anymore and there is no place you really need to go) no reason to own a big house (to much to keep up and no one to share it with) no storage sheds, garages or spare bedrooms full of possessions (just a bunch of crap to dust and worry about losing) no job title or profession (don’t have that to hang your identify on now (it’s just you hiding beneath wrinkled skin and brittle bones) no more vanity (can’t make it on outward appearance, fashion or putting on airs, its all about letting that little inward light shine) no need for pridefulness (age will humble your ass, and force you to realize that you were never as important, smart or pretty as you once thought you were).

You no longer have anything to win or lose, nothing to conceal, to protect, to defend, to covet, to prove, to own, to desire, to lust after, to judge or hate, to atone for, to forgive, to worship, or to define————– and in this state of mind you will discover an all-consuming peace.

You will learn to accept and enjoy living in the present moment.  This is mainly due to the fact that your long term and short-term memory is shot to hell—-your entire past is a blank slate.  The future is at best tenuous, you’re surprised and pleased to have woken up this morning to find yourself currently alive and still breathing—your future is a mirage.  All you have is this precious fleeting moment.

Companionship is based on how you are being treated—right now.  You have no grudges, no obligations or biases; in fact, you have no memory of the faces and names of past friends and lovers.  Every one you meet, even old friends, once again become new friends.  If someone is being kind to you, then you will respond with kindness or visa versa.  And, at some point you won’t even remember your own name, or your own face in mirror.  Finally, with no motives, hidden agendas or selfish intentions, you are now free to love yourself and all others unconditionally.

If this request for friendship connects with you, I would love the opportunity to make your acquaintance.  I can be found most afternoons sitting on a bench at Kiva Beach.  I’ll be the guy wearing plaid shorts, stripe shirt, a white bucket hat (Gilligan style) with black socks and brown sandals—-

I can often be heard whistling a little tune that goes like this——

“Row, row, row your boat—Gently down the stream—Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily—–Life is but a dream”.  Ain’t that the truth.

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Feeding Crows

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Craziness, madness the big crack up is a disease of bad thinking.  My latest drinking escapade has left me with two options in regards to what it says about me and the rest of the world as a whole.  Either I drink too much or the rest of the world is too sober.  I wish it were the latter, but at night when there are no distractions and I am stuck with only myself to consort with, it’s then that the line of insomnia creeps ever closer towards lunacy.  In the shadows of a 3:00 am quarter moon, there is no backtracking, no sidestepping, no skipping through the spotlight of truth.  At this hour, when the music stops and there is no chair to be found, I find that there is no place to go but inward. The voices in my head mock my foolishness, they scoff at my big plans, calling them nothing more than pipe-dreams, they let the air escape from my inflated thoughts of becoming a better person.  To have flaws is to be human, to be flawed is to be broken.  Isn’t it strange—-that the things you think may save you, may very well kill you, and those things that you think will kill you, may very well save you.  I appreciate the words written by Bukowski, “Find what you love and let it kill you.”  I’d rather die of fatigue chasing my loves, than blindly sleepwalk into oblivion.

My heart flexes with a contraction and then spasms outward like the legs of a startled bullfrog.  Am I having a heart attack, is this how a massive aneurysm feels as it bursts within my chest?  My body is suddenly glazed over in a cold sweat.  My mood flips from a sullen depression where nothing seems to matter, to an all-encompassing sense of dire anxiety and a fear of losing my foot hold on the slippery rocks of consciousness.  God please absolve me of all my sins, save me, don’t take me now, not here, not all alone in these loveless sweat soaked bed sheets.  Where does that piteous sun go when I need it most?

Sometimes I just get plain sick and tired of everybody and everything; myself included.  I swear—-nothing is ever good enough for anyone anyways, especially for someone with such a ruptured sense of wellbeing as me.   I’m forever over-thinking things, over-feeling things and over-analyzing everything. People say, think like a buddhist and live in the present moment, but that’s so fucking clichéd and trite.  I can’t keep pinching myself saying, “Now is now—-Now is now”.  I need my past as an anchor to prevent me from being set adrift and left at the mercy of the currents.  And, I need the future as my lighthouse to guide me through the fog keeping me clear of the treacherous rocks.  I pop in and out of the present moment as it suits me. I prefer to fondle that illusive “now” in-between my daydreams and fantasies.  Occasionally I catch a fleeting glimpses of that camouflaged illusion ironically known as reality.  I prefer to say, “What is, is.” That way I can choose to surrender to it, or to do battle with it.  “What is, is”, can be expressed as a statement or a question.  The seeds of wisdom or madness always germinate within a question.

I’m better off alone.  That way I don’t piss people off, or more honestly, they don’t piss me off.  How is it, that everyone is so fucking calm, boring and self-assured.  They plod along through life as if they’re going to live forever, as if the planet isn’t dying due to their own personal selfish excesses and abuses. They idly stare at the T.V. news as if they’re somehow exempt from all the calamity and misfortune that descends upon “those other poor souls”.

Life is not tidy, clean or simple—-it’s a madhouse, an asylum filled with desperate people running around seeking some form of refuge.   Refuge means different things to different people.  It might be a religious creed, a bottle of whiskey, a cause to defend, a love to possess, a dream to fulfill, a profit to be made——these concessions make up the tiny pieces of hope and faith strewn behind us, a trail of stale breadcrumbs to guide us back home.  Beware of those thieving black-crows of time—as they steal away our paths, leaving each of us standing alone in the wilderness asking “What is—is???”