Joe Isuzu's Daily Slander

My Friend

It’s been quite a while since I’ve had the time to write anything. I’ve been extremely busy with the stuff of life. I’m torn between entitling this “The Stuff Of Life” or the more provocatively eye catching “Underage Hookers: The Stepping Stones To Enlightenment”. As you’ll see both are valid titles, but in either case I’d like to share something about My Friend.

Back around the beginning of June a fellow member of my local group here in the good ole SGI asked if there was a time he could come over and chant with me. I said how’s about 7AM Monday morning? He said okay. And that day, that morning, we chanted together an hour, then had coffee and talked about stuff. Before he left he asked if he could come again at the same time a couple of days later on Wednesday. I said that would be fine. So he showed up at 7AM and we chanted an hour, had a cup of coffee afterwards and talked about stuff again. When he was leaving we looked at each other and simultaneously said “Tomorrow?” We’ve been doing this every weekday since. Unless one of us is out of town or something as unavoidable as common sense takes precedence, we haven’t missed more than a dozen days. We’ve just started our fifth month.

With grave hesitation to label something as such, this experience has had its spiritual moments. Robin had some interesting personal insights on spirituality in the last entry on my last blog, The Karma Hypothesis. I hesitate too in using that word because like the word “faith”, what is considered spiritual needs, at times, a redefining or clarifying subjectively. For example, once a week I receive an email report about a weekly shakabuku campaign from an overtly enthusiastic Buddhist who always starts with this indicative of his spirituality, “Dear precious Bodhisattvas of the earth,” or, “Dear precious leaders”. I’m sure he’s sincere. Preciously so. And if he expresses himself that way, I'm sure that there those who can relate to it. And that's okay. Just as long as it's just as valid for me to not be indicative. So, in my case just think, “transcendently cool” as in “that was cool!”

When we first started this journey together, this fellow and I, without revealing any details of the circumstances that remain in confidence, it was a matter of desperation on his part. Suffice it to say, things were not well.

The summer sun announced itself brightly at 6AM in June. It would burn each morning a hole through the horizon and into my bedroom window. My dog, Ms. Celie Gonzales, would let me know that it was time to get up, put food into her bowl, make coffee, open the doors, and wait together for our guest at the chanting place. This was the routine. And my dog was way into it before I was.

Some mornings were tougher than others for my guest. He’d walk into the room bent over from the weight of his worries, and with a face slacking from a sleepless night. He reminded me of those depression era pictures that could best be described as a depiction of hopelessness. We’d chat for a minute or two, chant for an hour, then have coffee and really talk. But he always left with hope. And that, I believe, is why he always returned.

Some mornings were tougher than others for ME. Alcohol, drugs, hookers, rock and roll parties can really slow you down. Especially if you can’t get the hookers to leave until 3AM. Okay, I’m kidding. 1AM. (Some idiots will do anything for a laugh. I’m still kidding. All my hookers are under age and can’t be out past 10PM. My daughter will vouch for me on that because she goes to school with them.) Now, where was I?

I’m going to give the Readers Digest version of this because the nuances are too many and perhaps too subjective for this quick story. After a month or so of this regularity of chanting and chatting together we couldn’t help but realize how much we had in common and the similarity of our two seemingly separate lives. We started bonding. I will give one silly example. (Since most of my metaphors come from movies, this will not be an exception.) It’s October now and the sun isn’t as high in the sky as it was back in June. But back in June, while we chanted, there would be a hot spot of sunlight that would creep across the wall, into the altar and land right on the character Namu 南無 exactly at 8AM when we’d stop. This only lasted a few days. But it reminded me of Raiders of the Lost Ark where Indiana Jones puts the pendant on a pole waiting for the sun to shine through it’s crystal center and show them where to dig for the Ark of the Covenant. So once I simply said, “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” and without missing a beat he says, “yeah, and the bad guys are digging in the wrong spot because their stick is too short.” Cool.

And eventually came a moment when his goals became mine. I mean really mine, because I needed to see results in his life for myself. Or to put it the way I put it to myself, “we” need to see the effect of this effort. Now I’m not going to say what the goal was, because, as I’ve said before, the goal is the reason to take the journey, and the trip is the benefit, not the goal. But that also doesn’t mean the goal isn’t just as important as the trip to it because without the goal you’re not going on the trip. Did I mention underage hookers are stepping-stones to enlightenment? Did I mention why they have a hard time printing my experiences in the World Tribune?

Well, we started seeing results, which first appeared as courage in the face of the vicissitudes of life. He would say “thanks for letting me come over,” and I would say, “I’m getting as much out of this as you, so thanks for coming over.” Then we actually attained some of the goals. You can just call that “acquisition of stuff” if you like, I really don’t give a hoot, because basically, in my humble opinion, chanting to be well from sickness can also be labeled just more stuff acquired: the stuff of life. For me part of the prize was also being able to unite for something not of myself but which became a part of myself, which I am endeavoring to extrapolate into the cynical areas of my life. Lucy, we got some 'strapolating to do! My guest, who at times seemed a burden, is now my friend. And sometimes when he leaves he jokingly says, “Thanks for letting me come over, precious Bodhisattva of the earth,” and I answer, “I’m getting as much from this as you, precious.” This relationship has reminded me of a ninja I once knew. And a very large Byrd. And maybe someday I'll have an opportunity to transcend myself with an overtly enthusiastic precious Buddhist.

Posted by joeisuzu at October 5, 2008 06:17 PM