Category: Essays

The Paper Washed in the Blood of My Handy Red Pen

~ Deb ~ 5 Comments

We would rather be ruined than changed,

We would rather die in our dread

Than climb the cross of the moment

And let our illusions die.

                        — W.H. Auden

I graded a paper tonight written by a self-proclaimed Christian student whose essay declared her fear about Barack Obama’s presidency.  Apparently, the main reason he frightens her is because he wants to bring peace to Palestine and Israel.   I had to wonder — do Christians no longer believe in peace?  Has peace become something that we should be afraid of?

This student’s paper went on to berate and belittle “those people” (Muslims) and explains how “we Americans” are right not to trust them.  She also perpetuated the lie, which I thought was long ago put to rest, that Barack Obama is a Muslim.  President Obama has declared his Christian faith about 200 times more than he should have needed to.  Is it now Christian to call someone a liar?  More importantly, have we crossed a de facto line into having a religious litmus test for holding public office?

I had to fight the urge to write in huge red letters on the last page “This paper is racist drivel and right-wing propaganda!”   But, my professorial authority stops just shy of ad hominem attacks.   Instead I simply pointed out the flawed premises upon which she had based her argument and then used all kinds of big words to explain her small grade.

My response to her paper, however,  did not remain completely limited to a critique of her style, tone, and mechanics.  I pointed out that I had been an American long before she was, and she certainly did not speak for me when she used such generalizations as “we Americans.”  Nor did I believe she was accurately representing the approximate 7,000,000 Muslim Americans who had an equal claim to the title of Citizen.

I recount this here especially for those of you who do not live in the general vicinity of Red Jesusland from whence I hail.  You might find it alarming and even mildly shocking to discover that this way of thinking is not only present, but bountiful here in the South.

When did ignorance become a tenet of faith?  When did “us versus them” become the standard for those who supposedly follow the dude who ate and talked with “them” every chance he got?  When did a religion of love become so dependent on having a group to demonize?  (And I know this is true, because I’m a member of one of those groups.)

I was raised in Christianity, but left it years ago.   Now I realize that’s not altogether true.  It did quite a bit of leaving too.

Never Wave a Brick Wall in Front of an Aries

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The best way out is always through.

                                                   — Robert Frost

My regular readers should know by now that I am presently running in continual exhaustion mode.   After three straight weekends of chicken pen building, it would seem that a regular, non-working weekend would have been on the docket.   But then the “doghouse” blew down.

It happened on Wednesday.  The canvas-covered, tent-like garage structure that we were using for a dog shelter blew away in the winds that Oklahoma sent our way.    I spent Thursday and Friday planning and then Saturday and Sunday building a dog house.

It is a stunning structure.  I might have even momentarily channelled my grandfather during this process.  It is large enough for both of our big outdoor dogs (and probably a third, should we meet with temporary insanity again).  It has a peaked roof, which now is low enough to actually hold in body heat, thank you Soonerville.   And as soon as I get the wood siding and shingles on, I’ll post a picture.

On Saturday, I thought I might actually collapse.  Why is it that only celebrities can be hospitalized for exhaustion?  Either they’re really getting treated for something scandalous, or they’re pussies.  I have to question that whole “hospitalized-for-exhaustion” thing because I feel I’ve pushed myself about as far as humanly possible and didn’t need any medical attention.

Then on Sunday, I felt oddly refreshed.  I was still achy and tired, but it was a comfortable, familiar feeling.  I no longer felt like I was dying.   In fact, I felt like I was living.

I’m beginning to get into the zen of accomplishing something every day.  I’m really beginning to get into the zen of building things.  Working with wood seems natural to me.    However, I am not getting into the zen of lifting a 4’x8′ sheet of 3/4″ plywood over a fence by myself.

When I was little and didn’t feel good or was just tired or maybe just didn’t want to go to school, my mother’s answer was always, “Get up and move around and you’ll feel better.”    It really pissed me off when I was 10.    Between my genetic material and my Aries nature, there was no way I was going to have a life of leisure.

And there ain’t no gettin’ around that.

Moore on the Buddha

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So, my friend Blanche got me one of those Page-A-Day calendars with zen sayings.  It’s becoming a holiday tradition, actually, since she got me one last year too.   It’s kind of like my spiritual Red Bull.  Every morning I sit down at my desk and rip off yesterday to find the wisdom of today.   This morning’s saying, however,  was more like caffeine-free Diet-Rite.

From the end of the nose

Of the Buddha on the moor

Hang icicles.

— Issa

Okay, does anybody else read that and have to fight the desire to respond, “And the dog barks at midnight”?

So I sat here and glared at that all day long.  It was in my peripheral vision as I worked and periodically I stopped and looked at it like it was a child tugging on my sleeve and begging for my attention.  “WHAT do you WANT?”

And, you know, the more I looked at it, the more it started to make sense.  I’m still not sure how it made sense or why, but it just did.  Maybe that’s the essence of zen.

Possible interpretations of today’s zen-on-a-rope:

The Buddha meditates in any environment, even a cold one that will make icicles on his nose.

The Buddha is not immune to nature, even in meditation.

The Buddha has a cold, but will not blow his nose during meditation and thus has icicles, or snot-cicles as it may be.

Perhaps I was subconsciously drawn to the saying throughout the day because it contained the origin of my name – moor.   My family name is of Scottish descent and comes from the moors, or rocky cliffs, on the shores of Scotland.   In fact, that word stuck out to me because it seemed so non-Buddha and far more Maxwell McCormack to me.

And the word drew me back and drew me back, again and again.   It drew me back to the same spot over and over until I saw that there are icicles on the Buddha because the Buddha is still.  And I hadn’t been in so long.  And I needed it desperately.

There is another saying from the above-mentioned calendar:  “Life without zazen is like winding your clock without setting it.  It runs perfectly well, but it doesn’t tell time.” (Shunryu Suzuki)  Zazen is the place of stillness sought in meditation.

Shhhhhhh. . .

Reclaiming The Brain

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I am not a profundity snob.  Truth can just as likely be found on a bumper sticker or a billboard as it can in the words of a yogi master.   And sometimes it can be spoken by a half-drunk, Irish actor.

At last night’s Golden Globe Awards, Colin Farrell gave an acceptance speech which included these words: “Curiosity is love.  Ignorance is nemesis.”    And my entire life suddenly made a certain kind of sense.

I have a need to know . . . everything.  If I read a novel in which a minor character is a bricklayer, I want to know how bricks are laid.  If I hear a friend talk about a trip to Austria, I will ask her questions about the land and people and customs and food and architecture.   If I watch a t.v. show on the birds of South America, I am likely to get on the Internet and research the lovable caique, a relatively small and brightly colored member of the parrot family.

My spiritual journey has centered around two big lessons.  One is that I must move from my head to my heart.  I am (news flash) a head person.  I can analyze everything, even emotions, which of course should be felt.   I am on a continuing journey to move the center of my attention about 18 inches south.   Because of this spiritual lesson, I have often condemned my great need to know.  After all, isn’t all “knowledge” kind of like a huge trivia game we use to pass the time in this incarnation?

The second big lesson of my spiritual journey is to be in the moment.  Being present means being aware, and being aware . . . wow . . . could mean caring about Austria when it comes up in conversation.   Being aware could mean having an understanding about what it means to be a bricklayer rather than just skimming over the word.   Being aware could be what made me Google caique.

Curiosity is love.  Ignorance is nemesis.

Thank you, Colin.