Notes From A Burning House

Richard Brautigan described California as a “metal-eating flower” drawing in lives from other places in order to feed and sustain itself, to continue “the purpose of California.”  What is the purpose of California?  Is California really a place, or an ongoing consuming force as Brautigan suggests?

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     How is a flower different from a fire?

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Why are TV stations agreeing to air Governor Schwarzenegger’s staged town meetings? If the governor sees no reason for an honest debate about his special election initiatives, our media should be cluing him in.  Democratic societies benefit from dialogue.  If our governor truly cares only about protecting his message from that dialogue, he is not governing democratically.

If we value democracy, we are entitled to demand it from our governor and from our media outlets.  Tit for tat sloganeering is okay for selling toothpaste; as a means of deciding public policy and setting the course for the future of our state, it stinks.

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     A special election has been called for November 8.  The Governor felt frustrated that the state legislature was not executing his agenda, so he used the ballot initiative process to put four measures on a special election ballot.  He paid for the services of professional signature gatherers (yes, that is an actual industry), got them on a ballot and bypassed the legislature.  Every tax-paying citizen of California should be calling the governor’s office and asking him what he thinks we have a representative democracy for. 

     The special election will cost $54 million. 

     The initiatives are not popular, yet they may pass if voter turnout is low.  Now that our governor has run around the democratically-elected legislature, low turnout is his best hope for getting the laws he wants.  Do you see what’s going on?

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I fault our country for accepting a politics that is bad for community and at odds with democracy. We get the politics we deserve.  Instead of feeling cynical, we might feel embarrassed, and ask ourselves honestly what we care about and where we want to go from here.

     John Daido Loori, an American Zen Master, says it often and my heart agrees: if we understood what we really are, there would be no need for laws protecting our environment from our behavior and our habits.  It would make no more sense than me cutting into my own flesh with a knife.

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We do not have to put up with economic arrangements that harm community and discard human beings.  We are entitled to an economy that does not operate on the logic of a wildfire, consuming everything it can and moving on until there is nothing left and it starves itself. The logic of exhaustion is as clear as the bathtub ring that grows around Lake Mead as it is swiftly drained away by unsustainable development.

    The hard question is, do we really want anything different? 

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Speaking of op-eds, oh! how I wish I had written this! It is one of the funniest things I have ever read in The Onion, and definitely the sweetest.

The boy was trying to pick up a small puppy with two sticks. 

          The puppy squirmed away from capture time and time again, landing on the ground and bounding away.  The boy chased after the puppy with his two sticks.  They did that for an hour.  A passing stranger asked the boy why he didn’t use his hands.  The boy explained himself with the universal expression of self-evident obviousness: “Because!!”

          One try after another, for an hour, until the boy’s eyes filled with hot tears and he threw his sticks down to the grass in a jolt of fury because the sticks should have worked. 

How did you hear about our Zen Center?

‘Twas by a scurvy dog we picked up on a ship we boarded in the Aegean Sea. He said the Zen would do me good. Say, laddie, is that Buddha made of gold?

What got you interested in trying Zen?

Seems to me, sonny, that I’ve been flying under the skull ‘n’ crossbones all me life, ever since I got knocked in the head and woke up on the deck of the ship I now command. Never gave it much thought before, but – there’s an appointment we’re all bound to keep, aren’t we? Whether it be dancin’ the hempen jig or hanging from the end of a cutlass, Davy’s going to come around, isn’t he?

Have you ever tried meditation before?

Sometimes, lad, I gaze out at the sea. I take my seat over by the binnacle and feel the boat carrying us over the seas. None of the rascals and scalliwags on the ship ever understand this, but – the island where we came from, and the islands where we might arrive – there’s no line that connects them, you know what I mean, lad?

Are you thinking about time and space?

Time and space belong to God, lad; I can’t touch any of the three.

Are they necessary?

Say, me lips are dry, lad; is there a hogshead?

Sorry. No alcohol at the Zen Center.

Cor blimey!

*SQUAWK!*

Well, I’m glad you are visiting us, Mr… uh…

Admiral Nancy, lad. I am also known as Nancy the Pirate.

Admiral Nancy. Wonderful. The simple meditation practice we use here can, I think, help you investigate the question that has brought you here.

That’s fine, lad. Fine indeed. I am wondering, lad, that Buddha there – is it made of gold?

SQUAWK!*

Let’s go over the meditation posture. You know, I have never done this with someone who has a, um, a prosthetic –

Me peg leg? Bitten off by a caiman, it was. That was quite a day. Never mind about the leg, lad, it screws right off. See?

Well, that’s convenient.

Now, I have a question for you.

Yes?

If you say this is not my true leg, you are attached to name and form; if you say it is my true leg, you are attached to correct situation, correct relationship, and correct function. Don’t make anything, lad. What is this?

Uh. Wait a minute-

*Squawk!! Already dead! Already dead! Squawk!!*

I see, lad. The waters be too shallow to anchor here.

*PONK!*

Don’t worry, lad. When you wake up and get over the headache, you’ll make a fine sailor. And you’ll have plenty of time to answer me question. Now let’s get this Buddha in me sack.

Many people believe that acting is about pretending to be someone or something that you are not.  Plato believed it: he wanted to kick poets and actors out of his ideal republic.  In the Lotus Sutra, the Buddha warns us to avoid actors.  Actors are often disparaged, psychoanalyzed, or infantilized.  We are reduced to organ monkeys or barking seals in order to make a living, balancing beach balls on our noses. 

Some of my old monk teachers and dharma teachers back east shake their heads ruefully about my theatre work because they associate acting with fantasy and delusion.   You can’t fault them for this.  They can believe this because many actors believe it, too.

The best acting, however, comes when the actor realizes that the characters that populate our mythologies are part of the atmosphere.  Any role we may play – Hamlet, Medea, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mother Courage, anything – is present in our own karma.  You can play King Lear only when you understand that you are King Lear; when you say his words and play his actions, King Lear is you.  Good acting means digging into our own compost fearlessly and using it to tell these stories from our heart, using stories to connect all human beings. 

            I have not always been successful at this - not always brave enough or meticulous enough; but it is always my aspiration.  Why be an actor otherwise?  What would be interesting about it? 

            We blow our spirit into mythologies old or new, and the song is a call to wake up and consider the true source of human suffering.