The Beautiful Answer

The World Lost a Great Guy

I didn’t know Adam Yauch, not really, though I knew people who did. I lived in New York at around the same time, walked the same streets, went to the same parties and shows. I remember someone putting a demo of “Cooky Puss” on a tape and sending it to me when I lived in England. Yeah, we listened to tapes then. 

Today, I was sadder than I probably had a right to be when I heard that Adam, aka MCA, had left this plane. I’m sure as a Buddhist, and someone married to a Tibetan woman, he knew a thing or two about impermanence: the passing away of things that are precious to us, even our own lives, and the coming into being of other things, other people, other lives. Still, you have to think it’s sad that someone as creative as he was, and as young as he was (only 47) to leave so soon. 

All I could remember, when I pictured his face throughout the day today, were the wry smiles, the silly grins, as well as the reverent bows to speakers like the Dalai Lama and others supporting the Tibetan cause for independence over the years. Maybe it’s good that most of us didn’t get to see him in pain. Maybe he saved us from that. But the world lost a great guy today, from what I can gather. Most people I know say he was kind and generous, devoted to making the world a better place for everyone to be. And I don;t think they’re just saying that to canonize the dead. You get the feeling just by looking at his actions that he cared, deeply, about life on this planet. We will miss him, and think of him, and hope to live up to the example he set. 

Not My First Rodeo

Tomorrow’s a big day, so gotta make this short. It’s been a strange day, filled with roller coaster emotions and realizations. Growth can be like that. 

There was one moment when I thought I had had enough of the way things had been, but was sick of changing all the time, reacting to this and that, always adjusting around the ways of the world. Weird thought, for me at least. 

Then I saw the world turning in my mind’s eye, the stars chasing each other around the globe and the earth turning its way to greet me. Not that it was revolving around me; that would be stupid. But it was trying to meet me halfway it seemed, to allow my highest development as a soul. And after I had that vision I felt so filled with something like responsibility, that I thought to waste this chance would be, well, disrespectful. 

So though this isn’t my first rodeo, not by a long shot, it’s one that’s now been sanctioned by the Dalai Lama and the earth itself, which feels like I’ve got some heavyweights in my corner. Now, hopefully to live up to their wisdom with my actions. 

Sometimes Dreams Aren’t Subtle

Last night I dreamed of the Dalai Lama, for the first time in my life. Though I’ve studied Buddhism for the past 16 years, he hasn’t made a single appearance in my subconscious, even though some part of me might have found that comforting. 

In the dream, my husband and I were in my car. I was driving, and we were with a lot of other cars, inching into a crowded stadium parking lot. We were going to some sort of event, when all of a sudden, I saw a black car next to ours, on my left. I noticed a man get out of the car and stand by the side as the traffic inched along. He was wearing a rust colored sweater over maroon colored robes that fell to the ground, and had a bald head. I told my husband that it was the Dalai Lama, and all of a sudden he turned to face me and I saw that it really was.

Without thinking, I put the car in park and got out r to approach him. In real life, the Dalai Lama is probably at the very top of the list of people I’d like to meet. I don’t care too much about actors and sports figures, though I have my favorites.

In the dream, the Dalai Lama turned to me and I said my name was Alyson and that I’d always wanted to meet him. He smiled warmly and said he was happy I’d come. We continued to walk alongside the cars. I kept looking right and left, worried that someone might try to hurt him (his security is always very tight), but he was relaxed and open. I asked my husband to get back in the car so we wouldn’t back up traffic and he went back. I told the Dalai Lama that I had always wanted to go to Dharamsala but hadn’t had a chance yet and he said I would have to come, that it was beautiful and we would have tea. We kept walking and talking, discussing the various movies that had been made about Tibet, some of which his own life had been dramatized. Then we were in a backstage area, where people were rushing around getting ready for the show. He touched my arm and said he had to go now, but he was glad I came. 

As he moved away from me, disappearing into the crowd, I realized I would have to go back and find my husband so I could see the talk, a musical performance, and then a screening of a new movie about Tibet. Arto Lindsay and another guy were playing nearby and being filmed, so I realized I would have to jump over the fence. I hurtled over one and then another and another before I realized I couldn’t get out that way. So I had to climb back over the third fence, getting nails stuck in my gray cashmere sweater (someone had made homemade razor wire to keep people form jumping the fence in the first place). Then I woke up. 

Sometimes, dreams aren’t subtle. I have a pretty big meeting scheduled for Monday. I had begun to feel a little anxious about it (not hugely, but still), and voila, a dream about the Dalai Lama, who seems to be himself so effortlessly, all welcoming and compassionate, yet also sharply intelligent and devoted to living his life for the alleviation of suffering. I want to do that as well, in my own way, as much as I can. I’m sure I can and will take a page from his book before Monday, and try to be half the person he is when my time comes. 

On Patience

You’ve never seen so many impatient people until you’ve either seen a Dalai Lama talk in person, or stood in a virtual “line” with others waiting to see a talk streamed live over the Internet. In person, you’re put through more security checks than at any given airport (sad but true that many would like to see the man dead), and if you’re waiting virtually, same deal. It’s not that you’re the one being put through all the security. You’re waiting for those who are, and that means that seldom do one of these things go off on time. 

The Dalai Lama is currently Long Beach, California, giving talks about how to keep your peace of mind in troubling times. How to stand your ground without becoming too dug in about it, and how to extend kindness to others, even when you may be feeling groundless and uncertain about your own existence. Worth it, no?  Especially when it’s free over the Internet. 

The problem became evident almost immediately. I haven’t had much luck with UStream in the past (many call it UScream instead, for the amount of frustration it engenders), and after an hour, we were told that there were still hold ups with people moving through security at the event. An hour and fifteen minutes passed, then an hour and a half, and finally the talk got started. In that time span, I did some writing and filing, got caught up on email, and just waited quietly for the talk to begin. A few times, I glanced over to the scrolling list of comments, where most were acting as if this were somehow ruining their lives, their days, their entire incarnations. Some wanted an apology (Huh? For a free event?), some wanted to blow off steam. The level of vitriol was what was most surprising. But a few things seemed true from my standpoint. 

Was it frustrating? Absolutely. Could it have been avoided? Maybe, maybe not. Did anyone on the other end of that owe any of us anything? Not really. 

They did the best they could, and if nothing else, it was a good excuse to practice with patience, which we could all probably use. 

Consider My Mind Blown

I read this today, and my mind froze: 

“The suffering and happiness each of us experiences is a reflection of the distortion or clarity with which we view ourselves and the world.”

— The Dalai Lama 

Whoa. Hold up there. You mean all I have to do is see the world clearly and then I’ll be happy. What the …?

I rolled this around for an hour or so, letting it clunk around the edges of my consciousness. I went over each word, looking inside it for deeper and deeper levels of meaning. Then I found myself back at the beginning, wondering how it had not occurred to me to put it this simply before. It’s a sentence that’s filled with poetry. Every single word means something. Every single one of them explodes in your mind like a little Pop Rock of goodness if you let it. 

And I suggest you let it. 

Clarity — how do you get it? Reframing, for one. I’ve found that out from firsthand knowledge and lots of practice. Letting the crap and negativity roll off you, for another. And allowing your mind to be blown every once in a while by something already know is true, but hear again as if for the first time. 

Healing is a Fuck You to the Haters

We’re moving through the third and final eclipse in a 30-day period, and people are beginning to come down a bit. The energy has been so high, with two solar and one lunar eclipse, not to mention extremely emotional and on edge, that it feels good to begin to attract some new clients into my life who aren’t hanging on by their fingernails. 

Not that fingernails is bad, mind you. It can just be tiresome if the individual in question isn’t dedicated to healing but instead devoted to maintaining their own screwed up state, all the while claiming the exact opposite. But never mind that. Today I was able to spend some serious time in self-reflection, and concentrate on my own healing, in addition to helping others along on their journeys. And I realized that the urge to heal, to truly and deeply examine your own junk, is so foreign to our way of being that it’s like a giant, double middle finger extended to the doubters of the world. 

Just like punk rock wasn’t about hate, but a righteous howl of indignation about inequality, dedicating your life to healing your own crap is saying you’re free of the bullshit, free of the hype, and definitely free of the Kool-Aid purveyed by much of our daily lives. It’s not a path for everyone. Hell, sometimes I wish I didn’t know what I know, or didn’t have the awareness I have to notice things, or could turn to drinking or drugs like other people, to block out the painful experiences of life. But that’s a sucker’s game, a way of keeping you too anesthetized to observe the events around you. 

Instead, I’m going to take the hard work out of healing by reframing it as a big fuck you to the haters of the world, who’d rather read about a Kardashian than the Dalai Lama, be cruel instead of just, and kill their native awareness in one way or another. That’ll at least make me laugh when I think about it. Because you suckers? I’m gonna murder you with kindness. :)