Thinking about Making Curried Vegetables and Other Stuff

I think for me, the stages of encountering "the new" follow along these lines: 1) euphoria; 2) terror; and 3) mundanity. Sometimes #'s 1 and 2 switch places. I've slid past the terror at the realization of my aloneness and freedom in the universe, and now am on to thinking, "well, maybe I could make some curried vegetables this weekend." Somehow, this is progress has been very similar to one summed up by Douglas Adams:

It said: "The History of every major Galactic Civilization tends to pass through three distinct and recognizable phases, those of Survival, Inquiry and Sophistication, otherwise known as the How, Why and Where phases.

"For instance, the first phase is characterized by the question How can we eat? the second by the question Why do we eat? and the third by the question Where shall we have lunch?"

—The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, chapter 35.

Despite my official agnosticism and adherence to no specific religion or philosophy, I do find a lot of wisdom out there to draw from. Taoism, in its most philosophical form, is very useful to me. It has been mischaracterized as "go with the flow" but I believe a more accurate description of the Taoist way is "learning to surf the flow." Logs that go with the flow of a river get caught up on rocks; kayakers endeavor not to do the same.

Other philosophical streams I draw from include Stoicism, Existentialism, Soto Zen and ethical studies. I view the texts and thoughts available to me from the subject areas not as maps for going forward; instead they are like those like those guides showing me how to recognize different species of trees or birds, as I pick my own path forward.

Baba Ghanouj and Soto Zen

Tuesday evening I made some really good baba ghanouj, and made enough for me to make three meals off of it. It was simple enough (eggplant, oil, salt, tahini, lime juice) and patience while the eggplant cooked was the main ingredient. Certainly I'll make more soon. Baba ghanouj is filling and tasty.

I've been reading some pages of three different books lately. One of them is Brad Warner's Sit Down and Shut Up, which is now one of my new favorite books on Zen. He writes out of his history both with Zen and with punk rock, and he has a sense of humor that can at times be a little dorky, but over all serves to leaven his texts so that the heavy and the mundane don't turn the casual reader away. (By the way, Noah Levine approaches Theravada from a punk background, too, but in my opinion his prose comes across more militant and angry than Warner's.) This is his second book; I've read his first one, and I liked it. He's just published his fourth book, but I haven't yet looked closely at either that or his third book.

It seems like my favorite Buddhist writers come from Soto Zen (Warner, Steve Hagen, Shunryu Suzuki). Soto Zen to me appears to be the most no-nonsense version, not even promising any kind of enlightenment other than the simplicity of one going through one's day. Since I was raised on, and have burnt out on, false promises, a bare bones philosophy and praxis makes the most sense to me. I think I would do well to make myself sit regularly.

I have no idea how much I will be out and about this weekend. With the teaparty zombie hordes coming to town, I feel I would be safer staying at home and waiting them out. Still since I live nearest to the green line, and the teapartiers have been warned to avoid the green line, I think I'll be okay if I stay in my neighborhood. Besides I'm more concerned about my own potential anger upon encountering them than I am of what they might possibly do to me.

Sorry, Jesus Ain't Takin' the Wheel

The big question confronting me now: who do I want to be? What behaviors and attitudes do I value, what behaviors and attitudes do I deplore, and what do I do to exhibit the former and eschew the latter?

I was raised by drama-filled fundamentalist Christians. When the going got tough, they ran to God for answers and aid. You've heard the saying, "Let go and let God." Or as Carrie Underwood sings, "Jesus, take the wheel." I no longer have the comfort of abandoning responsibility like that. If I want to do well, I must endeavor to assume responsibility for everything that is within my power to be responsible for, and to accept with detachment all that isn't. No longer can I simply intone, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." Rather, if I want to do well, I must endeavor to maintain the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, to choose to change (and work at the changes) the things I can change, and constantly to weigh and discern what I can change and what I cannot. It is on me, and I would do well no longer to slough it off.

At this time I can think of three sources for knowledge and wisdom regarding how I want to live my life. The first is my own life and my own history. What do I like about myself? What good have I done in the past? What have I enjoyed doing? What mistakes have I made that I can learn from?

The second are 'heroes', exemplars I admire for one or more qualities. What are those qualities I admire? How did they deal with the vicissitudes of their individual circumstances? What were their pitfalls, and how could they have avoided them?

The third are books of philosophy, ethics and psychology. What wisdom do they contain about how to live well? What is the best way to be a good person in the world, and still maintain my integrity and individuality? What are some insights into human psychology to help me avoid maladaptive behavior patterns?

Instead of looking outside myself for divine intervention and inspiration, I want to look around myself and within myself for wisdom on how to live.