"God is great, beer is good, and people are crazy."

I don't know, yes indeed, and amen.

Sometimes things seem to finally be going my way and just at the last second, that which I really want (okay, what I think I want) is snatched away from at the last second. So close that I can taste it, and then like a carrot on a string yanked just out of reach. Not gone. Nope, just close enough that I can see it, smell it, and oh yes desire it. So I get to thinking, maybe, just maybe there is a god, and he is indeed fucking with me. I picture god as a wiley coyote, a trickster god playing games with the little sheep running around bleeting about out "amen" or "save me"! Perhaps the great Coyote is trying to severe us from our attachments - our tightly held desire to understand, plan, and control.

I had an argument this past week with someone who accused me of never planning. Naturally they were both wrong and right. I plan, but I am seldom so committed to my plans that I can't alter them according to changing circumstance or let them go altogether. I don't see that life is something that I can control, only experience. Plans held onto too tightly are often the cause of much disappointment and bitterness in life. I love the story of the Taoist farmer, and I believe the great Coyote would find much to be admired him (if the Coyote does indeed seek to free us from our attachments).

So in taking instruction from the humble Taoist farmer I see my plans have fallen to dust, my desires have been thwarted, and yet my life continues and I breath and I adjust and I accept. Perhaps the Great Coyote is good, and perhaps he is nothing more than a mental construct to help me along. Regardless, the reality of the Coyote is not my concern as much as the lesson's learned.




The Taoist Farmer

There was once a Taoist farmer. One day the Taoist farmer’s only horse broke out of the corral and ran away. The farmer’s neighbors, all hearing of the horse running away, came to the Taoist farmer’s house to view the corral. As they stood there, the neighbors all said, "Oh what bad luck!" The Taoist farmer replied, "Maybe."

About a week later, the horse returned bringing with it a whole herd of wild horses, which the Taoist farmer and his son quickly corralled. The neighbors, hearing of the corralling of the horses, came to see for themselves. As they stood there looking at the corral filled with horses, the neighbors said, "Oh what good luck!" The Taoist farmer replied, "Maybe."

At that same time in China, there was a war going on between two rival warlords. The warlord of the Taoist farmer’s village was involved in this war. In need of more soldiers, he sent one of his captains to the village to conscript young men to fight in the war. When the captain came to take the Taoist farmer’s son he found a young man with a broken leg who was delirious with fever. Knowing there was no way the son could fight, the captain left him there. A few days later, the son’s fever broke. The neighbors, hearing of the son’s not being taken to fight in the war and of his return to good health, all came to see him. As they stood there, each one said, "Oh what good luck!" The Taoist farmer replied, "Maybe."

Another day has passed, chores completed and the daily drama unfolded. One day closer to death but no closer to truly living. Going through the motions
And so another day passes by and still I wonder why.

I trap myself by my own stubborn refusal to be happy - does it matter that my happiness would create unhappiness for others? Obviously it matters to me, but I can't seem to find the reason behind the madness. It's interesting that my three spiritual guides (if I can call them that) - Jesus, Buddha, and Lao Tzu - all made choices contrary to the happiness of their families and friends. Okay, so against their superficial and presumed happiness, but their families didn't know that. And lets be honest, I can pretend that I hold any intentions of similar nobility as Buddha or Jesus. Maybe I just dream of peace, and quiet, and attaining just a little of what I imagine my potential to be. Or maybe I just feel like an old dog that wants to wander off into the valley, grow old and die in peace.

But then, maybe it doesn't really matter because what I feel now is not what I felt yesterday (or even this morning). You know, it really does get tiresome, this not seeing any meaning or point to life. Well, I suppose I think that the point of life is living, but then that takes me back to being trapped by all of my choices of yester-year, the bondage or responsibility and commitment. So what to do when you can't really live the life you want to live (no matter that how humble that want be), especially when you can't find the point to wanting to live the way you want to live. Hope and apathy make poor bed-fellows.

I'm pretty sure I should have been a monastic or hermit. Of course, one that lived close enough to town so that I could slip in and socialize when I so desired. And one close enough to a good bookstore - I wonder if it would be hard to find a cave with comfy couch, satellite tv and the Internet. Oh, and a lake view, set in rolling hills and a snow-free climate. Would it be too much to have some good teachers on hand too?

Hmm, maybe my dream life is not so humble. I guess it doesn't really matter since I can't attain any of those things anyways. So what can I attain within the life I do live? Precious little, if truth be told. Of course, that may be self-fulfilling prophecy since I can't hold onto motivation or meaning - kind of like picking up a handful of sand and watching it slip through my fingers.

Damn, but my cat has life figured out better than me. Why can't I make it as simple as he does? Sleep, stretch, eat, sleep, stretch, play, sleep eat...and all the wonderful natural functions of the body embraced with as much concern as a wandering thought.

I suppose it would help if I could either rediscover the faith that sustained me for years or, failing that, finally leave it behind once and for all. Instead, I keep looking back, like a dog returning to his vomit as it were. I suppose it is okay, since I don't have anything to move forward to. But again, maybe going forward would be easier or more naturally accommodated if I was holding onto the past. Sigh, the bible did mention something about the double minded man - that's me, do doubt.

Free Will or Independent Will

I have recently been in a discussion about free will and I am left with a few thoughts.
First, I argued against free will because I don't see that the will is free. I had stated that I don't believe in free will but in reflection I don't think that I have proven that statement. What I do think is clear is that the will is dependent, and that within the parameters of dependency the will may have a sense of freedom. Certainly the will is dependent and conditioned, or so it seems to me, but it is not certain that the will is at any time free.

Now, it has been explained to me that freedom lies in the fact that I can choose this or I can choose that. It is the ability to choose that defines free will. I struggle to accept that definition because the very choice is in many ways conditioned, dependent, and influenced from a multitude of means.

I think that much of my thoughts hinge on how you define free will and what is meant by that. The term is thrown about without much thought as to what it means. Mostly I think it comes across as balme for the ego. Of course, one needs to assume that there is any reality to the ego, that it is not a burdensome illusion. Certainly Christians (and I would suppose any of the big 3 western faiths) cling to the idea of free will to various degrees because it fits into their doctrines of judgement and accountabilty (and I suppose to theories of personal salvation to a lessor extent). Is free will a major player in the thought of the eastern faiths (taoism, buddhism, sikhism, hinduism)? It seems that it does in terms of practical day to day living, but in terms of systems of belief I think it falls to the side with the belief in the non-self.

Movement as relationship

I was lying in bed late last night thinking,unable to sleep again. I was looking forward to my beginners Yi Lu class in the morning and I was struck by the idea that my classmates and myself are related by our movements. Usually at the end of the class we stand around for a few moments with hesitant smiles and a sense of togetherness, yet lacking words. Every week now for months we have been meeting together and under the guidance of our Sifu we simply move together. Practicing the forms, learning the new movements - silently, with little communication. Occasionally Sifu will make explanation or comments but, since my Cantonese is rather poor, it is really the movement that binds me to the class.

Lately I have been struck by the excess of word in my life - mine and others. So little is communicated by so many words, such great distances are left socially and relationships often struggle under the weight of so many words. To experience the connectedness of silent movement is a great gift that I hope I don't quickly lose sight of.

Woke up this morning and had the sinking feeling that I was slowly slipping a bag over my head. I know looking back is giving me a kink in the neck and that I should stop it...but it is kinda like smoking (I imagine, since I don't smoke)...you know should quit but before you know it you are taking just one more puff. I need some kind of patch to help kick this habit...oh wait, I already have a patch, tai chi...I just keep forgetting to apply it according to directions! Sigh, happy new years, and may the double mind be gone, the kink finally heal, and the future look bright!