I had an interesting conversation with an SGI member friend a couple of weeks ago. Due to some scheduling conflicts, I was looking for a new SGI district or group, and I wanted his advice. This person is one of the very few folks in the organization with whom I directly discuss this blog and my other online activities, such as the Soka Gakkai Unofficial group at Yahoo.
Since I want to avoid being accused of "creating disunity" or "promoting other groups", I generally have taken a "dont' ask, don't tell" approach to my online activites at the district and chapter level. This way, if someone accuses me of "promoting other groups", I can always say "oh yeah, where?" If they say "online", I can always refer their concerns to Thomas Jefferson and the other framers of that darn first amendment. If you don't like the open marketplace of ideas, you can always re-incarnate as an intellectual during the Chinese Cultural Revolution, that's my philosophy. Knock yourself out.
But now, with my old pal on the line, it was time for the loyalty test......
"So, Byrd," he asked..."Who's your mentor? I mean, is it President Ikeda? Is it Mike McCormick?" There was a pause. He repeated, "Who's your mentor?"
A Buddhist without a mentor is like a hot dog without a bun. Just a lonely wiener. That is the over-riding message of the SGI these days.
So...who is mine?
I thought it was kind of funny that the question was framed as a contest between Daisaku Ikeda and Michael McCormick with my loyalty as a disciple as the grand prize. As if Buddhism was a sort of worldwide wrestling match. In this corner, for the SGI (huge cheers from the crowd)....and in this corner for the traditional Nichiren Shu (boos from the groundlings, and maybe a few tossed cupfuls of flat beer)...and the winner of this match gets... moi. In a bathing suit, wearing a tiara. Weeping tears of joy.
That may explain why the match isn't on pay-per-view.
What else was kind of weird was the implication that I could only relate to a traditional Nichiren minister as a mentor. That Ryuei Michael McCormick and I couldn't be "just good friends", as they say in the National Enquirer. No, he has to be a mentor, and I have to be a disciple. And I have to make a choice. Like those Christian fundamentalist bumper stickers: "Your decision about Christ determines where you will spend eternity". Your choice of a mentor determines the correctness of your faith. None of that "just good friends" stuff allowed. No study buddies.
So...who's your mentor?
I have decided that if I absolutely have to choose a mentor, I will choose my dear old pal Mavis, for the following reasons, and more:
She's almost 84 and spurns the spotlight. Humility is important to me in a mentor.
She doesn't have a telephone. Or a fax machine.
She is shamelessly spiritual (or as she would pronounce it, "spurchul")
She blesses all paths. In fact, she blesses everybody and everything. All the time. She wakes up with a blessing and goes to sleep with a blessing. This is a great practice, and one which I am still learning, especially in tight traffic.
She would be flabbergasted if anyone tried to name a building after her. I can't imagine her trying to name a building after herself.
She lights candles and stuff like that at the equinoxes and solstices.
She likes to wear purple.
She has long silver hair down to her ass which she usually stuffs under a turban.
I can visit her and talk to her any time I want.
I totally want to be like her when I'm an old crone...
...and for many more reasons than that.
So, who's your mentor and why?
Today, we had an interesting Buddhist Gathering of Friends at the Ankers' home in Granada Hills. Our non-denominational Nichiren group had half an hour of chanting Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo. This was followed by five minutes of silent meditation, a T'ai Chi exercise, and a two-fold discussion.
Some of you may wonder why I continue to write about this group -- the reason, quite simply, is that these folks encourage the hell out of me. The group is genuinely self-sustaining, self-motivated, and very supportive of its membership. It is also not subject to the whims of a "leadership" to which it has not consented. And it's doing fine. I really think it's a pioneering image of American Nichiren Buddhism.
Our discussion focused on two things:
First, we discussed gratitude. It is that season, and I talked about my new foray into the realm of literacy volunteering. Pretty much everyone pitched in with something they were grateful for, with several people mentioning how they were grateful for their practice and the the people (or organizations) which had introduced them.
Secondly, we had a truly democratic discussion about where the group should be headed in 2008. One gal seemed concerned that we didn' t have a "misison statement". We sort of settled into the idea that since "Myoho renge Kyo" is a name of the Lotus Sutra, and the Lotus Sutra is like a great ocean, our mission is to continue to practice Myoho Renge Kyo while exploring some of the Buddhist tributaries and engaging in dialogue with other sects of Buddhism.
We will be aiming for three or four speakers from various schools of Buddhism in 2008. I am hopeful that I can get a wonderful young Therevadan monk from the Thai temple near my home, and we're also hoping for a Tibetan Buddhist teacher and perhaps a representative of the Zen tradition. During the other months, we will be processing and discussing our speakers' presentations, as well as continuing to re-focus on our Nichiren practice.
One participant noted that our little band of Bodhissatvas was actively engaging in the kind of "dialogue" which Daisaku Ikeda often encourages for the SGI. I hope that our efforts can serve as a sort of scout ship for that kind of future engagement within the Gakkai.
We decided to keep a minimum of five minutes' silent meditation each month, possibly increasing this amount as the year goes on. We will also include some sort of physical activity (either T'ai Chi or Yoga) in each meeting after the chanting/meditation and before the presentation or discussion.
We're developing a very nice and very comfortable rhythm that everyone is happy with. We had a couple of guests and they seemed to enjoy the meeting as well. I hope we're able to serve as an inspiration to others.
Think for yourself and be happy,
Byrd in LA
I 've been thinking about the things I am truly grateful for in my life. It's "that time of year".
I concluded that I am truly and deeply grateful for the fact that I can read and write. I don' t know how happy all the online souls who have to read my posts are about my reading and writing, but I myself don't know what my life would be like if I couldn't read. One of my earliest memories is of sitting on my grandmother's lap, reading a book. I was quoting Shakespeare at 14 and always scored well on standardized tests. School has always come easily for me -- hell, law school was more sport than work. So, I wondered...how do I repay this amazing ability I have to make sense out of squiggles on paper? This ability to put my thoughts into your head with a few miraculous strokes of my keyboard keys?
A couple of weeks ago, I took the plunge and volunteered at my local public library to be a literacy tutor. Today, I had my training and was assigned my student. He's about my age and he can't really read at all, so we're starting out at the very beginning. That's all I'm going to say because I don't want to invade his privacy.
In today's literacy tutor workshop, we learned a system of teaching the alphabet and the different consonant sounds. We also learned about the simple goals that some people have in trying to learn to read as adults - things like passing a written driver's license test, opening a bank account, and reading a recipe. Things that I have taken for granted for as long as I can remember.
We also did some exercises where we tried to "read" in foreign "alphabets" - an exercise intended to let us know how frustrating it is for people who live in a written culture and can't make sense out of the squiggles. It was pretty frustrating, let me tell you. I furrowed my brow and stared at the strange squiggles, trying to find patterns. Finally, I was able to figure out something simple like "the boy has a dish". Woo-hoo! I felt like I had won a huge victory.
I feel good that I've taken on this new challenge. I will spend three to four hours a week either planning lessons or working with my student, "paying forward" the good fortune I have to be a good reader.
I haven't met my student yet, but he is a hero to me. Just think of the courage it must have taken for him to enroll. Wow.
Stay well and happy, all --
Byrd in LA
Calm down, fellas - this isn't a tell-all memoir of my lusty college days. No, this is a lament about the travails of losing weight.
Yes, you heard me right -the travails of losing weight.
I've lost about 40 pounds since last June, when I was admitted to the hospital with terribly high blood pressure. I have since embarked on a program of eating lots of fruits and vegetables, and exercising every day. I also joined a marathon training group (I don't think I'm going to actually do the marathon in March 2008, but I'm walking with the group and that's getting me up and out to the beach every Saturday morning). I've had a lot of support from various friends -- one fabulous gal even bought me a new pair of running shoes!
I consulted with a trainer at the YMCA where I am a member, and where I go to swim. She has me doing all sorts of "floor exercises". So, over the past five months, I have managed to lose a signigficant amount of weight. Not only that, but I have slimmed down -- I'm not a total skinny mini yet, you understand, but I'm a lot thinner than I was. And that's the problem, because....
I can't keep my pants on.
I shuffled into the office yesterday in a pair of dress trousers I used to wear to the office regularly. I hadn't put them on in a couple of months, and they were so baggy, I felt like I was wearing clown pants. The crotch was hanging halfway down to my knees. It was ridiculous. I had to use safety pins to hold them up at the waist so that I could walk up from the car without embarassing myself.
I walked into a colleague's cube and pulled my pant legs out to the side.
"My thighs are gone!" I wailed. "What's next? My butt?"
She didn't weep for me. Oh, well.
News flash: I just got back from a visit to the doctor, and my b/p is 117/77. Fab, just fab. So they cut out one of my meds. This is very, very encouraging.
Now, I just need to ask Santa for a new wardrobe. Either that or a big box of safety pins.....
When I first started chanting Nam(u) Myoho Renge Kyo in 1984, one of my first prayers was to join the Writers Guild of America. My prayer was answered, I joined the Guild, and a couple of years later, the Guild went on strike. In the immortal words of Billy Pilgrim, so it goes.
The big issues back then were what is called "foreign residuals", that is to say, payments to writers when the studios make money from re-selling the writers' material to a foreign market. The example used over and over again back then was how "I Love Lucy" was the biggest hit show in China, but the show's writers weren't getting any dough from the licensing of those shows. Television producers and studios do make an enormous amount of money in foreign markets, so that pot of gold was something both the writers and the studios were willing to go to the mattresses about.
Of course, at the end of the long and bloody strike, there was a great deal of long-term nasty fallout. The worst, to my mind, has been the proliferation of "reality TV". After all, if producers don't have to pay writers, they don't have to pay residuals, right? No, but your audiences might end up looking at Paris Hilton's shopping sprees and Dancing with the Stars instead of something scripted. If the audiences are willing tolerate that, and advertisers are willing to pay for the air time, then there really isn't any need for writers.
Me, I unplugged my cable when we invaded Iraq, and I'm as happy as a clam.
Now, the Writers Guild of America is on strike again. This time, the issue is money (again), but it's all about new technologies. Cell phones, internet streaming, new media and how to track and compensate writers for ways in which their services profit the studios.
And both sides are polishing their buttons and marching off to war.
What's interesting to me is that the people who survived the last strike are not the people rattling their sabers now. It's a lot easier to be romantic about war when you haven't seen your friends getting blown up, and the same is true of both sides in this conflict. There seem to be those on both sides who were looking for a fight, here, and now we have it.
The Guild has quite a large "strike fund" - that is to say, a pot of money from which striking writers can borrow to pay their bills, house note, etc. for the length of the strike. But, as in any modern war, there will be extensive civilian caualties. The set dressers, the caterers, the mom and pop set-painting businesses, the grips, the costumers, and the restaurants which, in a few months, will have to start laying off their workers because nobody is "doing lunch" anymore. Film making and television aren't really all that glamorous - they're jobs. Our industry is like any other, like aerospace or meat packing or steel. It's a place where people work. And LA is an industry town.
This morning, when I drove up to the studio where I am working (not as a writer), the Guild members were out in force at the gate, picket signs in hand. There must have been at least 50 striking writers at one gate alone. This studio has a small lot and only three gates. I can imagine what it's like at the other lots.
Well, stay tuned and pray for peace.
Be reasonable, be fair, be cool.
Byrd in LA
You may recall my little black cat Toc, the Terry Malloy of house cats. You know Terry Malloy - Marlon Brando's character in On the Waterfront. The "I coulda been a contender" guy. The washed-up prizefighter who takes a beating from the mob dock bosses and is still standing (barely) at the end of the movie.
Well, one early morning last week (like about 2:00 am), there was a howling ruckus in my living room - probably Toc mixing it up with a stray that came in through the window, trying to get to the well-rounded food bowl.
Toc apparently took a hit on his face (I really didn't notice anything until yesterday), which ballooned into an absess on his tough little kitty brow and cheek. It looked quite nasty this morning, as though a huge lump of something had been transplanted under his skin - the whole of his little head was deformed, with a strange, oozing patch of fur. It was quite yucky. He glowered at me over his food bowl as if to rebuke me.
"I thought you would be a good manager when I came through your window," he seemed to be saying. "I thought you were in my corner. Now, one little cut in the ring and you don't even sew me up."
Horrified at Toc's appearance, I put him into a kitty carrier and rushed him off to Good Dr. Sharp & son, veterinarians.
The young vet took one look at my little fighting fellow and pronounced the diagnosis: cat bite.
"A cat bite on his head?" I asked. "That's got to be against the Queensberry rules!"
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marquess_of_Queensberry_rules
The vet peered at me as if I had taken a hit on the head myself -- apparently there are no Queensberry rules in a cat fight. Maybe I should try to write some. Rule #1 would be "no biting on the head". Although how I would enforce these rules is a mystery. Cats are not known for obedience to rules of any sort, even if the rules are for their own good.
"We'll have to keep him," the doc said, and bundled a weakened, growling Toc away into the mysterious Operating Room.
"Come back for him around noon. He should be awake by then."
I waited and waited, then gave a call around noon. Toc was just coming out of the anethesia, and I could come and get him.
How happy I was that all was well! I wasn't so happy about the $175 bill, but at least my little fighter would be at home soon! I went to the vet's office, paid the bill, and waited patiently for my little Toc to come out and come home. It seemed to be taking quite a long time.
A nurse came out and apologized. It seems Toc was putting up a fight, not wanting to get back into his carrier. That's my guy - scrappy to the end. I offered to go back and try to take care of it myself. He would respond to my voice, surely. I could hear Toc's voice, that was for sure. "Roooowwwww! Roooowwwww!" --there is only one cat who can yowl like that. The nurse reassured me that the young assistant would be able to handle Toc and get him up front soon enough.
When he finally re-apeared, Toc was in the carrier, all wrapped in an orange bath towel - apparently, the young assistant had to protect his arms from the wrath of Toc by holding him in the towel while placing him in the carrier. "You can keep the towel", the nurse offered generously. She thought she was being nice, but I knew the truth - they didn't want to open up that carrier door and go another round with Toc in a bout for the towel. I'm going to have to chant a lot before giving him his morning and evening dropperful of antibiotics.
I finally got the growling champ home and let him out of his carrier. I even prepared a nice special bed for him to lie down on - fresh linen for him to rest his weary head. Oh, and speaking of his head -it looks just jolly awful. The left half of his face and most of the top of his head is shaved clean, with draining wounds. He looks like a Cyborg. Like Terry Malloy as the Terminator in a little black cat body. Wow. This new look is going to totally enhance Toc's image with the tough neighborhood strays.
Despite my hard work in preparing a sickbed for him, though, the big guy decided he didn't want to lie down. He strolled out of his carrier, crunched down a few well-rounded bites of dry food and headed outside. He's on patrol around the building as we speak. Don't mess with Toc. He's a street fightin' cat.
Well, as my friend Patrick has pointed out in his comment to my last blog, the SGI does no more than the community at large. Fortunately, this is not an official SGI blog (there is no such thing anyway), so I can support my friends' cause by re-publishing these warning signs of type 1 diabetes (these may occur suddenly):
Extreme thirst
Frequent urination
Sudden vision changes
Sugar in urine
Fruity, sweet, or wine-like odor on breath
Increased appetite
Sudden weight loss
Drowsiness, lethargy
Heavy, labored breathing
Stupor, unconsciousness
It is possible to live a long and happy life with well-managed diabetes. I know this because my mother was a diabetic for 45 years before her death at age 82. She was active, contributed to society, and was an all-around great gal.
Try to remember these warning signs and get your kid to a doctor if he or she shows any of these indicators. November is Diabetes Awareness Month. Misdiagnosis can have tragic consequences, as was the case with the lovely young girl in my SGI district.
For more information, go to:
http://www.jdrf.org/index.cfm?page_id=103498
Stay happy and healthy, all.
Byrd in LA
This morning, I participated in a 5K charity fundraising walk for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. We walked around the outside of Dodger Stadium, and then around the track at the edge of the baseball field itself (fabulous fun for a fan like me - I could actually see what it looks like from the players' POV - what a gas!)
The fundraising "team" I participated with was in memory of a young girl in our SGI-USA district who died of undiagnosed juvenile diabetes a couple of years ago. There were 38 registered members of the "team", each committed to raising at least $100 in pledges. Of those 38 team members, only three (that's right, 3) were members of the SGI-USA, not including the mother and grandmother of the lovely young girl in whose memory we were walking. I don' t quite know what to say about this.
Another dear, dear friend of mine was also at the walk. She has been active for years in fundraising for research regarding Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS). She started this important volunteer work after losing her infant son of less than one month [as an aside, I hope to see an experience from this wonderful friend about her amazing "poison into medicine" Buddhist experience in a future edition of the SGI-USA's study magazine, "Living Buddhism"]. For years, she worked her petite ballerina buns off organizing an annnual SIDS fundraising walk,and for years there was a very, very small show of support from the SGI's members at the actual event. In fairness, I should note that my friend was always able to get an SGI leader to make a presentation on Buddhism as part of the inter-faith porthion of her fundraising event.
We stood together and remarked on the low turn-out of Gakkai members for the juvenile diabetes event today. I mean, my God - a child died in our district! You'd expect to see a huge turnout from the SGI - maybe a banner or something! I'd get behind that in a heartbeat (maybe next year). But my friend sadly noted that even when she was running her SIDS fundraising walks, not a lot of support came from other members of the organization.
"But didn't that improve over the years? Didn't more people come out later on than at the beginning?" I asked. She shook her head. Only I and a few other stalwarts, including some very gifted entertainers who lent their singing voices to the formal presentations came out regularly from the SGI to support this strong Buddhist woman's charity work.
Why is this? I don' t know. But I for one am glad and proud that I showed up today. Does this work differently in different parts of the country? Is it just LA that is lagging on this front, or is this sluggishness general, throughout the SGI-USA? I guess I'm feeling a bit cranky about this. Something more for my famous "washing daimoku" - poison into medicine time!
Be healthy, test your blood sugar, be cool.
Byrd in LA
Well, last night I showed up at the new Burbank SGI-USA Activity Center for the annual Learning Review. For those of you who may not be familiar with Nichiren Buddhism, the pillars of this practice are faith, practice and study. The "study" part is tough for a lot of people - not for me - hell, I went to law school for sport. But there are those who are averse or allergic to studying, and that creates a real challenge. I mean, it really is a lot of fun to study and to learn, but how do you get people past the horrible spectre of a spectacled fourth-grade teacher, droning on about good penmanship? How do you get people through the door of learning so that they will want to keep coming back for more?
Anyway, the SGI has, I believe, a rather noble history of Buddhist study. The organization was founded by an educational reformer, Tsunesaburo Makiguchi, and the Gakkai has founded a number of educational institutions, including Soka University.
For many years the SGI-USA (then called NSA) had "levels" in its study department, from entry level to post-graduate level. In order to pass from one level to another, members had to take sit-down exams, with proctors and monitors and exam books and all that high-stress stuff that people hate to subject themselves to. Me, I don't mind that stuff, but that's me. Over the past few years, the SGI-USA has moved into a rhythm of holding a"Learning Review" (dumping that terrifying word, "exam") every October. This is the actvity which I attended last night.
Last night was a "make-up" for those people who weren't able to take the Learning Review at their district level meetings. The activity was sort of hosted by one of my area leaders, who is also staff at SGI-USA Plaza. After gongyo (evening prayers), she cheerfully announced that she was giving us all "full points" just for showing up. Geez, I wish my undergrad professors had done that....
It took about half an hour for everyone to answer the multiple choice and short-essay questions in the review booklet. After this was over, we went over our answers and talked about the questions. Nobody had to hand their work in, and we all graded our own papers. All in all, a relaxed and fun study experience. I certainly enjoyed it. Did anyone else here participate in the learning Review? If so, what was your reaction?
Byrd in LA