Where Are the Adults in the Room?

        Gandhi in the Hood

As grown-ups, when we see two kids on the playground fighting, do we first decide which kid deserves our support and then jump in and start punching and kicking the other kid?

No, of course not.  Our job is to step in, bring an end to the conflict, help restore good will, peace. That’s what adults do.

Alas, the recent decision by the Biden administration to bomb and kill numerous Syrian fighters in that country’s civil war—the Pentagon says two were killed, the local Syrian hospital reported seventeen were killed—shows there were no true “grown-ups” in the room when the president authorized such unconstitutional and internationally illegal barbarity.

As with Iraq, there is simply no military solution to the Syrian civil war. Both sides are committing atrocities. Military solutions are no solutions.

And in another recent sad decision by the Biden administration, when a grown-up witnesses one kid push another off the platform to be dismembered by an oncoming train, that grown-up does not just shake his head and turn his back, just because the pusher kid comes from a very wealthy family. He doesn’t let the pusher kid simply continue playing with his mates.

No, the grown-up, steps in, separates the rich-kid killer from his mates, and isolates him such that he does not have the opportunity to continue such inhumane actions.

So once again it seems there were no true grown-ups in the room when the Biden administration recently decided to not impose sanctions and diplomatic restrictions on Saudi Arabia’s Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, colloquially known as MBS, for his ordering the killing and dismemberment of Jamal Khashoggi, a Washington Post reporter critical of the Prince’s dictatorship.

According to a CNN report, “Sanctioning the crown prince . . . would have been ‘too complicated,’ according to two administration officials, and could have jeopardized US military interests in the kingdom. As a result, the administration did not even request the State Department to work up options for how to target MBS, one State Department official said. Another current administration official said sanctioning the crown prince was never a ‘viable option’ given that it could upend important initiatives in the region.”

Too complicated? Jeopardize U.S. military interests?

These are childish, short-sighted reasons for not sanctioning a brutal murderer.

The United States desperately needs a return to—or perhaps make a beginning toward – truly “adult” foreign policies based on a mature understanding and expression of universal human values, beginning with the most fundamental value of all, “thou shalt not kill.”  Any foreign policy, by any nation,  that uses killing, or condones killing of human beings, or threatens such killing,  is a faulty, dangerous, unsustainable foreign policy. Such a policy contains the seeds of that nation’s own demise.

Perhaps we, the U.S. —and much of the rest of the world—never have been brave enough to remove murder,  and the condoning of murder and the threat of murder,  from our foreign policy tool kit. But it’s time we did so.

When with this new administration we all had such high hopes for a “return to normal,” we neglected to remember that in our foreign policy “normal” has been, way too often, so often, a militaristic swagger that relies on individual and group killing. (Quick examples: The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and Trump’s assassination of Qasem Soleimani, the Iranian major general. And, alas, how much of our “foreign aid” is given to help countries purchase our military equipment?)

We adult Americans don’t want a return to “normal” in our foreign policy. We want a truly healthy, humane and supportive foreign policy that reflects  the values of the majority of American people. Thou shalt not kill.

We ordinary citizens won’t remain silent when these values are completely reversed.  We expect grown-ups, and mature human values in our governors.

It’s a long road ahead. Speaking out against “official murder” is one small, yet so obvious a step.

Mrs. Life and the Other 10,000 Names for God

Something subtle is obviously here in our lives, that cannot be put into words. This something, which is not in fact a thing, is what allows us to be alive and aware and ever present, intelligent and orderly. (This “something” is what allows me to write and you to read and understand these words.)

Okay, okay, we could call this subtle something God, but then we’ve lost, or left out everybody who does not speak English, and we’ve also left out a sizable portion of English speakers who reject the very notion of God, or at least reject the word itself. The word God carries millennia of baggage. Some very good things are included in those bags, of course, but the word itself has lots of baggage.

Continue reading

Spiritual Economics 101

So how can the urban/suburban householder monk or nun most mindfully (lovingly) relate to the myriad money matters that arise each day, each week, each month, each year? We can’t ignore money, obviously, no matter how much some of us might try. (When we ignore money, we most often end up very, very broke!)

              As we detail here on this site (see The Basics)  the most important thing we can do for ourselves and those around us, whether or not we’re monks or nuns or just plain ordinary people living our lives—the most important thing we can do is to enjoy our happiness, be at peace. We might argue this, when the time and place are appropriate, but  for those of us practicing at HMM, this is pretty basic. Would you rather have a happy, peaceable friend, brother or sister, or one who was not happy, not peaceable?

              Duh.

              So when it comes to money, we want to be happy, peaceable. Money  might be one of the hardest arenas for some people to practice their joy, their peace.  But it’s the arena most easily “demonstrated.”

 A number of years ago I had a very profound, but nevertheless simple, basic, insight:

              The thoughts I enjoyed about money were prospering thoughts. The thoughts I did not enjoy about money were impoverishing thoughts.

              Put another way, when I am at peace with my thoughts about money, I am prospering, I am prosperous. When I’m not at peace with my thoughts about money, I’m impoverishing myself, I’m impoverished.

              Naturally, along with this insight came the very clear observation that (at that time) I did NOT enjoy 90%  of the thoughts I was thinking about my money situation! I was not at peace with my “money thoughts.”  Most of them were: Yikes, that’s too much (to pay.)  Arrgh, I don’t have enough. They’re overcharging. I’m not going to pay that. These bills just keep mounting up. Etc. etc.

              And we’ve all had the experience of getting a check—be it a paycheck or a check for services or refund check or gift check—where we were maybe expecting, hoping for much more. So when we get the check, we look at it and are disappointed. “Ah shucks.”

              That’s a little bit like going over to a friend’s house, knocking on the door, and when he/she opens, she says, “Oh, it’s you,” obviously disappointed. Chances are, we’re not real anxious to return to that friend’s house anytime soon. Same thing with money.

              So how do we make friends with money? Our own money and other people’s money?

For this post, let’s just stick with our own personal money. We can train ourselves, a penny, a nickel, a dime or a dollar at a time, to enjoy whatever money is coming in, and, just as important, if not more so, whatever money is going out.  This is Spiritual Economics 101.

So when we get a refund check from the telephone company for $1.76, we grin, and are grateful. We enjoy the $1.76. And when the utility bill is $374.00, we write a check and, to whatever degree possible, enjoy the fact that we don’t have to go down to the river to haul our water, we don’t have to chop wood to heat our house.  When the credit card bill arrives, or the rent is due, we send the money out, not begrudgingly, but thankfully. And if we can’t pay the whole $374.00 at this time, we can be grateful for the $174.00 check we are sending.

For most of us, it takes time to redo our basic money programming. As Americans, as westerners, and particularly as Christians or Jews,  most of us were NOT taught to enjoy our thoughts about money. Au contraire. We were taught to generate a whole host of “worry, worry, worry” thoughts (thoughts we did not enjoy) about money.

But again, Spiritual Economics 101: The thoughts we enjoy about money, the thoughts about money with which we are at peace, are prospering thoughts. The thoughts we don’t enjoy about money, the thoughts about money with which we are not at peace, are impoverishing thoughts. It’s basic physics, and/or basic metaphysics.

Again, you can argue this if you want. As the Senior Librarian here at Heart Mountain Monastery, I’ve been practicing this very simple form of “basic spiritual economics” for over ten years. From my own direct experience, I am as confident about this basic economic principle as I am about gravity.  I’ve dropped enough heavy things on my toe to know . . .

Lots of nuances and implications regarding this basic principle, of course. But it gives us a place to start. Do you enjoy that thought about money? Are you at peace with it? If so, great, you’re prospering. If not, you are not obliged to think it, no matter what the world might say.

Let me know your own experience. As you will discover, or already know, this is a very rich vein to mine.

Pope Francis, the Lord’s Prayer and Free Cowboy Theology

I was quite tickled earlier this year when Pope Francis made a little tweak to the Lord’s Prayer—saying that God never leads us into temptation, so why ask Him (on a daily basis!) to refrain? The Pope said the real translation should be, “do not let us fall into temptation,” which he says is much closer to how it is said in other languages, and perhaps how it was in the Aramaic or Greek itself. It’s a half-step, but I like it.

I, too, being a Taoist-Jewish-Buddhist-Vedantic-Catholic-Quaker-Sufi-Episcopal-Methodist-Bahai-Neo-Advaitist free cowboy, (Buddhist Methodist, for short) have been personally (secretly) “tweaking” the Lord’s Prayer for over fifty years, just trying to understand it better, follow it better. Glad to see that I’m not alone in this.

Let’s start quickly with “Our Father.” (I promise not to go through the whole thing. That could take several books!) I’ve heard it said that if one could truly, deeply understand just those first two words of the Lord’s prayer, then the rest of the prayer all falls into place. Indeed, need not be said. So one of my first, earliest, most obvious tweaks was “Our Father-Mother.”  I mean, duh.

And then over the years, Abba, Allah, Amma, Nityananda, Brahma Da,  (Hallowed be Thy Name.) “That which can be named is not the real Tao,” Lao Tzu cautioned, as did the early Jews, who thought saying, pronouncing the word of God out loud was sacrilege. (Maybe Her real name is Silence. Or at least one of Her real names.)  It would have been easier—maybe– if Jesus had spoken English.  Maybe not.

At any rate, with the Pope tweaking the Lord’s prayer, which is said on a daily basis—in one language or another— by more than 2.2 billion people, it sort of opens the door (at least for those of us not bound by vows of obedience to the church rather than vows of obedience to love—which I take as the first and most basic name for God, as well as the basic action of God!)—with the Pope’s tweaking it opens the door, sets an example for the rest of us to work with the Lord’s prayer in ways that serve God best, or at least our understanding of God.    

Not that we needed the Pope’s permission, but still . . .

My own tweaking of the phrase, “lead us not into temptation” is the simple reminder, “She is with us when we are tempted.” Wholeness, integrity, health, wisdom, clarity is with us at all times, if we will stop and listen for Her. But we get so caught up, I get so caught up—so tempted—to feel fragmented, to cut corners, to disparage myself, go around in a cloud, a funk —welcome to modern life—that I often fall, yield to such worldly, unhelpful temptations. Jesus reminded us, through his prayer (His prayer?) that we have help when faced with such personal chaos, those moody temptations.

The galaxies are moving in orderly, harmonious, unstoppable ease, even as they smash into each other. It’s good, on occasion, to remind ourselves of the larger picture. That’s what Jesus was helping us do with his (His) suggested prayer. Such suggestions, seems to me, are worth checking out.  

Here’s the future, according to Einstein . . .

Joel S. Goldsmith: The Practical Signs of Spiritual Healing

The writings and tapes of Joel  S. Goldsmith, and lightly, the Infinite Way community,   made Goldsmith one of my early “go-to”  teachers. (And now available on youtube, alas audio only.)  He’s been an inspirational  companion and teacher for more than forty years.

Joel S. Goldsmith

His biography, The Spiritual Journey of Joel S. Goldsmith,  by his long-time assistant, Lorraine Sinkler, documents one of the 20th century’s most powerful and articulate spiritual healers and teachers. His early healings of people assigned to the “death shacks”  of tuberculosis wards gave indisputable proof that “something” was happening through this man that was beyond what materia medica could explain. He continues to work wonders, even after his passing, again, via his many books and tapes.

So I occasionally find myself turning to this old friend to help clarify, uplift and simultaneously ground my own practices. I confess, as a contemporary Buddhist Methodist,  (Taoist, Toltec, Quaker Advaitist, Ekhart Tolle, Rupert Spira enthusiast)  I now have to “translate” in my own head many of Joel’s deeply traditional (and thus a little tired and timeworn) phrases into my own contemporary language. Nevertheless, his deep insights into spiritual healing practices are undeniable.    

Recently, these three paragraphs, from Beyond Words and Thoughts, one of Joel’s later books, jumped out at me.

“For your own demonstration of spiritual attainment, seek to live ‘by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.’ That means to live by turning within to your consciousness and letting your consciousness speak to you, letting the activity of the Christ be your demonstration rather than the demonstration of employment, supply, happiness or health.

Those of the present generation have been led up through the metaphysical, where it was legitimate to call for help when their child had a 103 degree fever, and then call up to express gratitude when it went down to 101 degrees, as if we were practitioners of materia medica.  Or it was legitimate  when someone called up and wanted increased supply, and then reported, “oh, my salary has doubled!” to consider that a demonstration.

But in the mystical realm, this is not demonstration. The demonstration is the realization of the presence and the activity of Christ: that is the demonstration. The demonstration is hearing the word of God, because it is This that we live by. The demonstration is the attainment of the meat the world knows not of. The demonstration is the attainment of My peace.   (Beyond Words and Thoughts, p. 73.)

I happened to read these paragraphs at just the right time, when something else I had read (by Catherine Ponder) led me to see that what I truly was looking for was “peace” from a particular challenge. So often in spiritual healing work we look, watch and wait for signs of the abatement of symptoms, or unfolding of better conditions.  But, as Goldsmith here points out, what we are truly seeking is the “peace” which abatement of symptoms might afford.

In some of the most inspiring spiritual healings, someone will affirm, “I knew in that instant I was healed,” but then it would be many days, or weeks, or even months later that the actual physical symptoms disappeared. Recognizing, experiencing the peace that the world knows not of, is the most direct, most practical route to reclaiming the living harmony that is our birthright.

Enough said?

(No, of course not. We’ll talk more about this topic in later posts.)  

ICE Agents Should Refuse Their Orders

As with many (most?) of us, I’ve been deeply bothered by the latest tactics to intentionally frighten and traumatize undocumented immigrants. I wrote a piece for Writers with No Borders, encouraging ICE Agents to refuse their orders, that I hope some of you might be moved to share. Towards dignity—

The Monk’s and Nun’s Basic To-Do List

At one of our recent men’s group weekly gatherings with the Abbot, Buzzy, one of our monks, was complaining about his overloaded “To Do” list.

“At work, at home, everywhere I go,” he said, “I look around and see more things I need to do. I have a smorgasbord of chores I need to do—or should do—  that are not even on my to-do list. I’m going to “to-do” myself into the grave.  I worry that I’ll look down from heaven and see a mountain of chores that never got done.”

We laughed, of course, and could identify.

“Actually,” the Abbot said, after things died down, “I can appreciate your feeling. Your plight is the plight of modern man. But if we are to bring the monastic tradition into the lifestyle of the modern man —which is the most practical and loving and generous thing we can do for the modern man—we  should remember that in essence we need only two actions on our to do list.”

“Two actions?” Buzzy asked. Continue reading

How Our Heart Condition Affects the World

A sad, cranky, unkempt, fifty-something woman came to see me  as her stop smoking coach off and on over several years. She came more for the chocolates I kept on my desk, I suspected, and the contacts I had in local social services than for any wisdom I might inadvertently bestow regarding her addiction. So it goes.

She had reason to be sad and cranky (as do we all, in our way.) She was awaiting a new heart, because her old one only pumped on one or two cylinders. Having a bum heart is enough to make anyone cranky.

This lady was disgusted with her doctors, disgusted with her ex-husband, upset with her kids, Continue reading

A Tax on Sunshine and Clean Living?

As a monk, I find myself disturbed a bit by our minority president’s  recently imposed tariffs on solar panels and washing machines. It feels like the Lord of the Manor in his castle on the hill has had his henchmen build a new wall around our lands trying to keep the outside world from coming in.

As a monk, my basic aim is to keep  peace in the land, starting with my own inner land. This inner disturbance at the latest actions of the Lord of the Manner causes me to question both myself and the Lord.

The first thought that arises is that maybe I’ll go into the solar panel and washing machine smuggling business, become a monk smuggler.  That could be fun, and profitable. This latest tariff opens up such a possibility.

I’ll hold that thought for a bit, maybe come back to it later.

The second thought that comes to mind is that the tide of the ever-more globalized world economy—including the international exchange of solar panels and washing machines— will continue to rise with or without this Lord’s new seawall. (Pardon the mixed and awkward metaphors.)

It strikes me that the panels and machines originally intended for our shores will continue to be produced but find their way to South America, Africa., Europe, other parts of Asia. So be it. Solar panels and washing machines are good things. Other economies—other people– will benefit, as The Manor Lord cuts off his own people from sunshine and clean living.

We ARE a one world economy, because we are one humanity. The globalization that has been naturally occurring over the past 50, 100, 200 years will continue, and with such globalization increased living standards for more and more people, less poverty, less disease, less violence and heartache.

As a monk, it helps me return to peace to see the larger picture here, remind myself of the larger harmony ever unfolding.

And just because I’m a monk doesn’t mean I can’t be a little sarcastic on occasion.

 

I have a little more peace now, a few more grins.  Not a lot more peace, but a little.  And some days, that’s all you can muster.  So maybe now I’ll go take a walk and bask in this wonderful January sunshine, freely beaming.

 

The Near Death Experience Brings Heaven to Earth

What can we do to enjoy a better December?


This was a question of the week for one of our December Sunday morning men’s group. (These are regularly, though not always, held in my front living room. The group includes at least one atheist, several agnostics and a rainbow of other weltanschauungs. As the organizer of our local Buddhist Methodist Quaker Church, Satsang and Artist’s Studio, it is often, though not always, my responsibility, and pleasure , to come up with the question of the week for these dudes.)
For longer than I care to admit, December had not been my best month. As a husband, son, father, (now grandfather) brother, and other assorted societal positions of trust, I feel the pressure to make sure everybody has a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Serendipitous Solstice, and/or Bountiful New Year. I’m not always artful in meeting these expectations, or dealing with these pressures. Thus, the origin of the question of the week. (I generally, intentionally do not have the answer to weekly questions posed, though I do have the curiosity.)
So, December:
The solstice: the bringing of new life, new light.
Christmas: again, the bringing of new life, new light.
Hanukkah:  this makes thrice: celebrating bringing light back to the Temple.

So how do we do it? Bring new life, new light?

Paradoxically, at least part of the answer might come from people whose lights went out, who died, and then came back to tell about it. I admit, those types of experience intrigue me, and were helping me to have a better December.
For the previous three or four months I’d been on a “near death experience “ (NDE) kick—not literally, or physically, myself, near death, or so it seems, and so I hope —but reading about it in the vast NDE literature, and talking with folks in person who have had these experiences and listening to them on Youtube.
Along with NDE’s, I’d also been led to research the “between life” phenomenon, and the “before life” phenomenon—e.g., reincarnation and the memories of such. And oh yea, I also likde to read about, and listen to those folks, “mediums,” who are able to talk with those who have passed on– ‘a la Long Island Medium, and the like.

Let me also confess, when I say I had been on that kick for the previous three or four months, that just means this time around. These questions and these experiences have been for me a lifelong fascination.

I know, I know… I’m somewhat of a kook, out on the edge.
But as John Lennon famously observed, “I’m not the only one.” So…

One of the latest books I’d been reading— God and the Afterlife, by Jeffrey Long., MD. and Paul Perry— is one of the more enjoyable and informative books in the NDE literature simply because it contains more first-hand accounts than many of the others, and is organized in a unique way. Long’s book once again inspired me to simplify and rethink “the purpose of life.”
(As mentioned in previous posts about the purpose of life, it seems both practical and wise to have a basic working theory for the purpose of life, for one’s self, if for no one else. If we don’t have at least a grade school hypothesis for the purpose of our life, then we tend to while away our time here for any old purpose that comes along, which can be both dangerous and unhealthy, for ourselves and others, not to mention disappointing when it’s time to turn in our cards.)
Trying to articulate “The purpose of life” is a biggie, of course, but seasons do arise in one’s life where it seems quite appropriate to tackle these bigger issues—issue like what the hell we’re here for. Lots of times those questions come up early in life—particularly in childhood, adolescence and young adulthood— in one or all of these seasons.
But then we often get lost in paying the mortgage, going to school programs, making the team, or the cut or a promotion or the next best house, etc. etc. We get lost, distracted and just do our daily deeds as if we had a clear picture of the Big Picture.
The question about the purpose of life often comes up again for many folks in mid-career. They say, “I can’t keep doing this for the rest of my life. Life surely needs to be more than this. What’s the purpose?” Sometimes known as mid-life crisis, which can occur at any time.
And then again the question comes up at the end of a career—nearing retirement, or at retirement, or after retirement : what now? Endless golf? Cruises to the sunny places? For some, it’s simply: what’s my next diversion? More knitting, woodworking, lawn care, scrabble or cross word puzzles?
But for others, it goes deeper: what am I supposed to be doing with this breath I take every day?

After going on this NDE kick, this after-life, before life, previous-life kick, it has, for me, come down to this: OUR BASIC PURPOSE HERE ON EARTH IS TO BRING HEAVEN HERE TO EARTH.
I know, that sounds corny. And heaven, of course, is multi-hued, multi-leveled, multi-beautiful. But heaven is basically LOVE, in all its permutations, which is another word for BEAUTY, in all its expressions, and Love and Beauty are words for PEACE, and JOY, DELIGHT and SURPRISE— all words for the same frequency. (“Heaven is not a place,” one NDE’er remarked. “It’s a frequency.”)
Our purpose here is to bring heaven—love, beauty, peace, delight, surprise, joy, compassion, wisdom—to earth. Which might mean something as simple as putting a flower in the windowsill of the kitchen. Or helping the gas station guy to laugh at the craziness of his customers. Or to sit quietly with a friend who needs to talk it out.

Almost every NDEer talks about experiencing peace like they’ve never felt before, unconditional love, beauty, joy. “I felt like I was home,” they report time and time again.
So, it struck me that our purpose, there in December, as well as in all the other months, was– is–to bring heaven to earth. To the room, and space, and frequency that we are?.

Such musings made me think I might clean up the clutter in my office. And not be so judgmental about the skill level of other players in pickle ball. And simply enjoy the companionship of my kids and their kids and the chilly weather that we share.
Bringing heaven to earth. A good catch-all phrase for what we’re doing here, in the flesh, at this time, but perhaps most especially in December, and in all the other winter months, when light seems scarce. 

It would of course be nice to bring an end to the wars, an end to poverty, an end to ignorance and brutality in all its shapes and forms. Which we do, by putting a flower in the kitchen window, and being with a friend in need.
Bring heaven to earth. Such a simple phrase, Such a practical life’s work.
I’m open to other suggestions, if you think you can say it better…
And a Merry, Happy, Serendipitous December– and New Year– New Life–to you…

Brother Charlie Rose? Brother Kevin Spacey? Brother Lewis CK? Next Step: Join the Monastery?

An invitation to become a monk to Charlie Rose, Lewis CK, Kevin Spacey, Bill Cosby, Harvey Weinstein, Roy Moore, Donald Trump and the more than 30 other jerks who have recently been exposed as sexual predators, and/or grown men with junior high sensitivities.

So, what are you guys going to do now, what with your various careers (rightfully) flapping in the wind in shreds? And the people who loved and admired you now having serious doubts about their estimations of you? What now, huh?
After this, what are you going to do for the next five or ten or thirty years before you die, so that when at last you are on your death bed you might smile, and say “yes, I learned my earth lessons, this was a life well-lived?”
What will you do so that on your death beds you may be at peace, no matter what your various obituaries might dredge up?
Although I personally would prefer to stand back, let each of you wrestle with your differing destinies on your own turfs, in your own ways, the Abbot asked me, as Senior Librarian of Heart Mountain Monastery, to extend this simple invitation to you guys to consider adopting the monk’s way of life. He says adopting such a lifestyle might be the only way out of the messes you’ve made for yourselves.
For what it’s worth, in his earlier days the revered Buddhist monk, yogi and wise man Milarepa was, like many of you, a practitioner of the black arts. In his youth he, like you, not only caused much suffering and hardship among his family, friends and neighbors, he actually was responsible for many of their deaths. (Did any of you kill the careers of the ladies and men you knew?)
Also, Milarepa, like many of you, was considered one of the “royalty” of his time. But, again as with you, he experienced his own public comeuppance, and was led by the wise men of his day to give up everything to seek just one (mono, monk-o)) quality: wisdom, a clear understanding of what our lives are all about. (“Wisdom is supreme. Get wisdom. Yes, though it costs all your possessions, get understanding.” Proverbs 4:7)
Toward the end of Milarepa’s life, having attained an enduring wisdom, he told a close friend, “In my youth I committed black deeds. In maturity I practiced innocence. Now, released from both good and evil, I have destroyed the root of karmic action and shall have no reason for action in the future. To say more than this would only cause weeping and laughter. What good would it do to tell you? I am an old man. Leave me in peace.”
All of you could do worse than strive from here on out to attain Milarepa’s non-dual understanding of himself and this world.
When we suggest you take up the monk’s lifestyle, the monk’s mindset, the Abbot and I are not suggesting you come here to the physical grounds of Heart Mountain Monastery. First, we don’t have room, for you or the reporters following you. Second, ours is primarily a “monastery without walls.” Most of our monks—and nuns– don’t actually live here. The majority of the folks who take up the monastic lifestyle do so right where they are, be it a big city or small town or somewhere in between. The monk’s and nun’s lifestyle can be practiced anywhere. The Monastic lifestyle is fundamentally a state of mind, an insight into how best to live, rather than a physical place or brown tunic.
The Abbot pointed out that you guys are now in that perfect seasons of your lives to take up the monk’s vocation, the monk’s state of mind. To start, as monks, you agree to walk away from your day jobs. For most of you, this is easy, because the day job has walked away from you.
But more fundamentally, you are invited to walk away from grasping onto the prestige, the worldly rewards, the trinkets and trophies which such day jobs have provided. To be monks, you learn (however slowly, a day at a time) to relinquish your thirst for personal power, prestige and professional renown, to a point where you maybe even change your names.
Your goal now, if you should choose to become monks, is simply to learn to be easy, loving, peaceable people here on earth, wherever you are, wherever you go.

More bluntly, the Abbot felt you deserved an opportunity now to learn to be more honest, more open, more regular, like most of the rest of us men have had to learn. You guys are invited to leave your long season of being “extraordinary” and learn again the beauty and power and dignity of being ordinary, down home, upright fellows.
Clearly, where you’ve been, who you’ve been, has been extraordinary. But many of your personal relationships, acts and behaviors were obviously not expressions of peace, joy and good will toward men—or women. On the contrary, you have repeatedly expressed violence, disrespect, unhappiness and un-peace toward yourselves and others. This way of living, although it may be somewhat standard among men in previous millennia, is what, as monks, you will un-learn.
As a monk, you learn to be a simple presence in the room—not a presence that commands attention, adulation and wonder– but rather a genuine presence that is easy, at peace, maybe funny and inspiring. But most of all just ordinary, every day loving and natural. You need to learn to be a milk man, or a plumber, or a candlestick maker. Your quest is to become natural and easy, where you don’t have power over other people and their careers and their economic well-being.
As a monk, — a lowly householder monk, of course— you will need to learn the attitudes, world views and daily routines of those who have quietly, even secretly dedicated their daily minutes and hours to helping bring more light to earth, more peace, more joy. As a monk you’re expected to mow your own damned lawn, mend the fence, pick up dog poop. You learn to give up your worldly ambitions, worldly prestige, fame, all of which, as you may now recognize, do not in the end bring lasting peace, satisfaction or happiness. .
Of course, you’ve each earned bad-press reputations here lately. So part of your new monk discipline is to learn to accept people’s negative reactions to you without resistance. You can learn to transmute these reactions, channel this energy into higher consciousness. As scripture suggests, “ bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. “ (Luke 6;28)
As monks, your work now is simply to be peace on earth, without lust for the earthly reputation of being peace on earth. Your reward will be the inner calm that comes about, finally—the calm that you were looking for all along. Be
peace on earth. Be nobody special, like the rest of us. .
So, that’s the invitation, the suggestion: join the monastery, right where you are. Make the only thing you do the practice of peace on earth, right where you are. There’s lots of help in learning to do this. Long, revered traditions of learning to do this.
This first invitation is part of that help, that tradition.
And if this invitation doesn’t interest you, then let me suggest, as an interim method: keep your damned hands in your pockets!

Which is More Private: Sex, Religion or Money?

I would suggest for most of us we keep our money lives more private than either sex or religion. We also keep our sex lives private, of course and our religious understanding is shared mostly with family and fellow travelers. But our money lives we keep secret, not only among friends often even from our kids and  our spouses.

Curious, this.

I probably would just as soon not know too much about other people’s sex lives, though I do have the curious voyeur in me, as I assume most other folks do, at least a bit.  We keep our sex lives private for a reason, and pretty good reason. Our private sexuality is part of the beauty of being human, part of the intimacy involved. Like an orchid exposed to too much sun will wilt in such abundance, so too our sexuality, with too much exposure, loses some of its delicious mystery, beauty and power.

Relative to religion, some folks emphasize the verse which says, “If you are embarrassed (ashamed) aof me, so too on the day of judgment will I be embarrassed of you,” or some such.  So they wear their religion on their  sleeve, telling everybody within preaching distance just how things should be. Could be, openly claiming a certain religious status. So be it. Everybody has their way, and season for such religious exhibitionism. As with sexuality exhibitionism, it’s a way of connecting with others—a particularly narrow way, in my view, but nevertheless a way.

My own sense is that those who wear their religion on their sleeve don’t yet have it in their underwear. But that’s just my person sense of things. (I believe everybody has religion in their heart, if they would just look for it there. )

When it comes to money, it seems that most of us—if not all of us—are very resistant to talk about it, unless we are trying to inflate ourselves and our status. Most of us are reluctant to talk about money because we are insecure—or at least unsure—about where exactly we fit in, and how others might think of us and our personal money use and abuse.

For some of us—more than might be expected—we are a little embarrassed by our “embarrassment of riches.” We are embarrassed by  how well-off we are.

Others of us, of course, are embarrassed by how close we are to bankruptcy, or homelessness.

Most of us are somewhere in-between, and have only a vague notion where, on the “Bankruptcy to Riches” scale our friends, family and strangers we deal with every day might fit in. So we keep our money lives private. So be it.

Nevertheless, it would seem both useful and healthy if we could be more open about our money matters—our money in and money out balance, or lack thereof.

I’ve come to understand and accept that we are social critters—like the honeybee, the ant, the wolf. Of course, we each have the “lone wolf” gene – be it dominant or suppressed. But un general, we all want to roam with the pack, move with our class from  4th to 5th grade, from social studies to recess, from winter camping grounds to summer grazing grounds. We’re tribal. We’re part of the flock. This “private, private, private” money mindset feels a bit constricted, even unnatural.

I feel fortunate to have spent seven years or so as s stockbroker, so I learned to go beyond my comfort levels and talk openly, if quietly, about money matters with lots of different people at many different levels of the money scale. And I also find money to be a fascinating “energy,” and conundrum, in spiritual circles. I’ve made a study of it over the past many decades.

So this is first in a series, talking openly about personal money matters. Pardon me if it feels a little bit like talking about the weather with my zipper down.

Why are we shy, or embarrassed or reluctant to talk about our money lives? Our money concerns? Our money ignorance and vulnerabilities?  I think these are questions worth exploring.

So, for just one easy payment of $2,500.00, you can join me in this exploration.

Of better yet, for free, if you want to sign up here…  .

    Every Home a Sanctuary

    I recently published this on the New Buddhist Methodist Church site. Thought I’d publish it here, too:

    The Quakers sent me a neat poster this week with the words, “Sanctuary Everywhere.” Made me think I wanted to hang it in my window.

    Our local Unitarian Church recently offered sanctuary to a local woman – from Peru—whose application for residency had been—has been—held up by government inefficiency and narrow-mindedness, and a deportation order had been issued. I really admire the Unitarians. 98% of the congregation voted to open their Church to such use.

    I wish that our whole city would become a sanctuary city, but the mood is not here yet, the understanding, the compassion is not here yet.  The independence. The bravery.

    I love that California has made significant moves to become the first “sanctuary state.” Refusing to cooperate with Immigration Service goons who demand we turn over our brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts, cousins, neighbors, friends, to be sent out of the country. No. We’re not going to do, it.

    Here’s why:  Most of the people in this country now without papers are not at root outlaws—not “illegals.” God – Allah, Brahma, The Universe—does not make illegals.

    Rather, these “undocumented” folks are mostly very upright, very ambitious, very brave and responsible  ordinary men, women and children who were victims of an American born economic con job, a bait and switch conspiracy. And especially for the “dreamers”—those whose parents were victims of this same economic trap.

    Jim Wallis is one of my heroes. He’s the founder and editor  of Sojourners Magazine, a Christian publication which time and time again talks truth to power, takes a stand for human rights, human dignity, human compassion. This week he wrote a beautiful piece, which you can find here, about the need to keep fighting for reasonable, humane immigration policies, and to stop the racist and Islamophobic practices now pervasive in so many of our governmental activities.

    In the New Buddhist Methodist Church we follow the early Christian practice—and early Buddhist practice and early Muslim practice and contemporary Taoist and artists’ practice–  of meeting in our own homes for “prayer and meditation,”  (and an occasional stiff drink and/or poker game.)  We do strive to treat our homes as “holy places,” as sanctuaries where the highest ideals and practices can be practiced, as well as simple relaxation and artistic pursuits, of course.

    Point being, each of our homes is a “holy sanctuary,” and should have legal status to “shelter” refugees and those without official papers from the long arm of the harsh law. So each of our homes can—dare I say should—be a potential “sanctuary home”  for those on the run, just as the private homes of compassionate people were “sanctuaries” for the Jews and other “misfits” in Germany in World War 2.

    Can we get legal status to make our homes legal sanctuaries? Probably not. But we will apply for such status, based on our contemporary practice of using our homes as our churches, as our temples, our Mosques.

    In the meantime, let us of like mind recognize that this may be the time—these are the times—that such bold actions may be necessary. Just planting a few seeds here, as the immigration hubbub grows horns.

    Let us make safe peace in our homes, and open them, when necessary, to those who seek such.

    Al Franken, Giant of the Senate— Still?

    UPDATE: With recent accusations, revelations, of Al Franken’s improprieties with two different women, I had to consider whether I would have written this piece. Looking at the details of those accusations, and the response Senator Franken offered, I still see him as a man of integrity, though also flawed, and imperfect, as are we all. Thus, I remain his distant friend, and consider his book well worth reading.
    I was very surprised.

    I actually got inspired about politics recently, just by reading Al Franken’s  new book.  His book inspired me such that I might even attend a city council  meeting.  (How inspired and crazy is that?)

    But first,  I wrote a little piece  about his book for Writers With No Borders. You can find it here.

    Or, what the heck,  I’ll make it easy and just copy and paste the Writer’s With No Borders piece right here. As always, I’d like to hear your response. Continue reading

    The Abbot, Abbess, as Spiritual Principle

    When we first elected the Abbot to be the abbot of HMM, just because he’d been here the longest and loved the monastic life–  at least in theory– more than most of us—well, more than some of us– and understood the contemporary potential and function of a monastery-without-walls–he said was honored, and would accept the role, as long as we understood and agreed upon a few things:

    1. He was first and foremost a monk. The title and function of “abbot” was a secondary, or tertiary, or even quadrary role, or description, of his primary interest.
    2. Perhaps even before his role as a monk, he saw himself as an artist. He was an artist not only of his particular personal crafts, (the art of bonsai, the art of bocce, and the arts involved in producing pieces in various writing genres,) but also the artist of experiencing, recognizing and expressing the inherent prosperity of WIGO (What Is Going On),
    3. And finally, but perhaps most fundamentally (the abbot is known for redefining priorities as he goes along) that we were all to understand that we were/are each and all responsible for accepting and performing the abbot, abbess role in each of our lives.

    Continue reading

    Be Still

    Zen

    garden

    in winter.

    white rocks, white snow.

    My quiet upper window reminder.

    My New Strategy: Don’t Click on All the Trump Rants

    It has always been a mystery to me how men can feel themselves honored by the humiliation of their fellow beings.   — Mahatma Gandhi

    What would Ganhdi do?

    My new strategy is to not click on all the Trump rants, both for him and against him and from the man himself. Not clicking on the rants is my new strategy for bringing a little more peace to earth – at least to my little corner.  I desperately need a new strategy, because right now, clicking on Trump rants seems to inject more angst, fearfulness and mean spiritedness into my own brain, and the brains of my  friends and family. For my own health, and the health of the planet, I need to stand back from such injections, such clicking.

    I try to start my day with a little peace of mind– coffee and quiet, maybe some reading in uplifting books or whatnot.  I assume that if I want to experience an artfully  peaceable day, I need to start with at least a little artfully peaceable time as my  springboard. (See The Monks and Nuns Daily Discipline.) But my cell phone sits right next to my meditation chair, and occasionally I am not thinking, and turn it on, and start clicking into what turns out to be very un-peaceable  zones—like  Facebook, and Tweet Ville and my own inbox.

    Once again this morning on Facebook I found many of my friends – and some of my family– ranting for and against Trump. Most of my friends are aghast at him. A few family members  support  him. I myself see him as a Boy Bully– a man who never matured out of boyhood, a  junior high “Richie Rich” boyhood where most of his classmate tried to please him, went along with whatever he said and did  just  because his daddy owned the cookie jar. (Sorry about that little rant. Just ignore it, if you can.)

    Going from the peace of my meditation chair to the Trump Rant field on Facebook made it quite clear what such rants were doing to my brain. That’s when I knew I needed to experiment with this new non-click strategy.

    Yes, I know: I’m going to have to be very brave to not click on all the Trump rants.  I do worry that if I ignore Trump’s own childish rants, and his intentionally mean, spiteful actions, that I may be neglecting my social responsibility. I fear that if I don’t click on him, the world will be worse off.  That he’ll get away with murder—murder  of our environment,  murder of our educational system, murder of our foreign relations, murder of our one man, one vote system– murder of integrity and grace and dignified leadership.

    The majority of people seem to suggest that we  can’t just not click on Trump.  Many fear that Trump may be the biggest danger America has faced in its entire  240 year history.  We can’t just ignore him, not click on him. The stakes are too high/

    We tell each other that it is our mutual yet individual responsibility to  get outraged along with the majority of people in the country who did not vote for him. And it is our mutual, and individual responsibility to confront the minority of people who do support him.

    But this exact same outrage and confrontation has  been the strategy—on one side of the fence– since his nomination. And outrage and confrontation has continued to be the strategy since his election.  And supposedly, this will be the strategy for the next four years, if he avoids impeachment that long.

    But let’s admit—or at least I have to admit— at least for me, that strategy simply, clearly, has not worked, is not working to bring more peace, more justice, more sanity to earth.  At least to my corner.

    Here’ my thinking: By not clicking on the Trump rants, the rants  for him and against  him and by him—by ignoring the rants  I’m simply not giving the Boy Bully  any more energy. Mental, emotional or  physical. He obviously thrives on rants,  somehow needs the rant energy, thrives on rant energy, to fulfill his agenda.  Ranting is his game.

    So I’m stepping back from the rant  game, just as the student of jiu-jitsu learns to step back from the charging opponent, and uses the opponents own bull in a china shop clumsiness to subdue him.  I’m no longer willing to meet rant with rant. It hasn’t worked (for either me or Hilary.)

    The “don’t click on the rants” strategy comes, at least in part, from a poem I once memorized in Junior High by Rudyard Kipling, which begins:

    If you can keep your head when all about you// Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,//If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, // But make allowance for their doubting too;//If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,//  Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,//Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,..”

    A tall order, this. But wisdom, too.

    Just as Gandhi was wise when he said, “It has always been a mystery to me how men can feel themselves honored by the humiliation of their fellow beings.”

    Here’s the experiment: Even though the strategy is to not click on the rants, we absolutely need to continue with the work we are doing, and have been doing — – whether the work is real estate, or music, or painting, or teaching, or environmental research or policy making— we need to not only continue with the work we are doing but we must do it better than we have ever done it before in our lives. For this we need clear heads and great energy, and purpose and direction. Rants rob us of all of all these.

    While not clicking on the rants, we of course continue to engage the  Gandalf -Nuremberg  Strategy… we quietly refuse the crack-pot demands of this new administration, wherever and whenever they impinge on the harmony of our daily world, just as the brave, wise folks at the Department  of Energy recently did by refusing Trump’s illegal request for a list of names of employees who attended climate change conferences.

    We continue with our daily work, our long-term dream,  as we have been doing for forty years,  of  creating, evolving a more just, more open, more equitable society, if only in our own little corner.   We can not click on all the Trump rants yet  continue to bring  more justice to our courts,  more  wisdom to our schools,  a lighter touch and gentler insights to our environment, near and far.  And we must do so with more energy, more humor, more precision than ever before we have done.

    We have a mighty work ahead of us.  Getting angry and fearful, staying angry and fearful, won’t help our cause. We need all the energy, the clear headedness, the good humor and compassion that we can muster.  That’s why my current strategy—experiment– is to no longer click on Trump rants.

    I’d love to hear your thoughts on the matter.

    Merry Christmas, Merry Revolution

    jesus-revolutionaryThe daily routine at Heart Mountain Monastery doesn’t change much during the Christmas season-=- okay, the holiday season. That’s one reason why we get quite a few folks asking if they might come stay during this time. The ordinariness, and the lack of pressure, seems to be a real draw.

    When I say our daily routine doesn’t change much, I’m not talking about a rigid or complex set of rituals or mandatory times for rising and eating and going to bed, which one often finds in monasteries “with walls.” Ours is first and foremost a monastery without walls. . We are very laissez-faire here.  You might even call it the Lazy Fair. Each person—  each monk or nun, each artist— is allowed, encouraged,  to follow his or her own life  art, at his or her own pace. Welcome to the freedom the spiritual lifestyle.

    That said, we have mostly agreed about four  basic modes for our daily routines that seem to support and encourage the highest lifestyle, art-style:  1.) daily  tuning, 2.) daily creating, artistry in one genre or another;  3.) daily manual labor, or exercise; 4.) daily outreach, e.g., sharing our art, sharing our discoveries, with the wider world. .

    Of course, the distinction between these four modes of activity is slight. Ideally, we are “tuning in” when we are creating, and when we are reaching out to others. And the reaching out is a form  of a manual labor, etc. etc. In other words, we endeavor to do all four modes at the same time, though few of us are so skilled. Thus, our routine of devoting specific time each day to these activities. (See “Monk routine” category for more thoughts on this matter.)

    Just a quick word about daily tuning:   It seems reasonable that every monk or nun would be interested in spending at least a little time each day in prayer and meditation.  We are, after all, a monastery, even if a monastery without walls. We have found that it is  sometimes  useful to pray and meditate  together, but  most often we  each do this in our  own way, in our own time. (95% of the monks and nuns associated with HMM are “householder” monks and nuns–= living in our  own suburban or urban homes and apartments, doing  our own thing on our own time schedule.) Our general term for prayer and mediation is “tuning.” Prayer and meditation are such loaded terms, they turn off many people. (A  healthy percentage of the HMM monks and nuns consider themselves atheist or agnostic.)   Basically what we are doing is tuning to what we call WIGO, or What is Going On. within and without.   In  a word, we’ve been led to the monastic life style, at least in part, because we’ve  noticed, there’s quite a miracle—quite a mystery— quite a circus of art and wonderment going on here, both within and without. Rather than being constantly caught up in our own little amusements and problems, we sense it might be  a good idea to consciously, intentionally, tune into WIGO, in one way ore another, just so we don’t keep bumping  into the walls. Prayer and mediation are the traditional terms used for “tuning in.”  This is not a part-time practice,  though we’ve found that setting aside at least a little dedicated time each day for “tuning in” seems quite beneficial.

    Most of us most of the time do our tuning first thing in the morning—often with a cup of coffee, and just as often with good reading, or particular yoga routines, or chanting or singing or traditional and non-traditional prayers and, yes, meditation. Learning how best to tune is a very personal pilgrimage.

    As mentioned, along with tuning, , we encourage artistic expression— every day, six days a week. (Even God–  Mr. And Mrs WIGO– took the seventh day off. ) It’s a bit like breathing. First tune— take in WIGO, feel the mystery, the creative presence— inhale. And then exhale, create some little thing, or big thing, or something in between.

    “The real reason we don’t change our routines much when Christmas rolls around,” the Abbot recently mentioned at one of our Wednesday potlucks, “is because —at least ideally, — every day is Christmas here. Every day the Christ is born again in us, every day we are bringing, seeing, witnessing heaven being born again on earth.”

    “That’s a nice sentiment,” Linda Durst said, “but I confess, one of the reasons I like to come here during the Christmas season is because every day out in the world feels more like Good Friday. The Christ in me gets crucified, hung up to dry and die, time and time again.”

    We all laughed, and could dig it.

    “And I confess, I have a fairly big  problem with the word Christ,” Larry West  said. “And that’s  one of the reasons I like to hide our here, during  the holidays.  First, I’m Jewish– or at  least I was brought up Jewish. And then, well, so much blood has been shed in the name of Christ, so much misery, so much divisiveness, not only within families, but within and between  whole societies. I do have problems with that word ”

    Most of us nodded our head in agreement.

    “Yea, if Jesus could see what people are doing in his name,”  old Bones chimed in,  “He  would probably turn over in his grave.”  Most of us chuckled.  Louise Solo, sitting next to him, slapped Bones on the arm.

    “When I talk about Christ,” the Abbot said, “I talk about the  inextinguishable flame of life that is present in everybody. The Hindus call it the atman.  It’s the  spark of life that is in you, me, everybody,  even after we drop the body. The spark may be pure, individual  consciousness itself.”

    “So maybe for convenience, and to be more politically correct,” Bones said, “instead of Christ, which is such a loaded term, let’s just call it Sparky.”

    Again, most of us laughed, and agreed.

    “So we’ll have the Sparkyness Season, rather than the Christmas Season?” Shelly asked.  “And  then we’ll celebrate Sparkyness Day?”

    “Yes, yes, I’m in, ” Jim  Bancroft laughed.  And then he broke into song. “Have yourself a merry little Sparkynesss.  . . .”

    For a while, we all had a good time substituting  “Sparkyness” for Christmas.   Sparkyness sales. Sparkyness vacation.   Sparkyness bonuses. Sparkyness gifts.  Sparkyness cheer. After a while, the craziness of it went away and we quieted down. We could tell that the Abbot, mostly silent, was  thinking on a different level.

    “Are you offended by all this? ” Louise asked. “Does substituting ‘Sparky’ for Christ upset you?”

    “Not a bit,” the Abbot said. “The Christ, the Sparky, is an experience, a presence, that can not be confined by words. If and when we consciously recognize Sparky in our consciousness, or maybe as our consciousness, we hold to this recognition  every day, we are no longer confined to the traditions of our forefathers, the somewhat sad Christian tradition.  When we prioritize our relationship with Sparky— which, I understand is another name for love– we have set up the conditions for a non-violent, ever more wondrous revolution. Following Sparky, we can begin to overthrow the misery and suffering of the world, and bring heaven to earth.  Isn’t that what the tradition says happened? Heaven came to earth? So, following the inner spark, we would no longer feel the  need to  go to war. We would  no longer follow unhealthy or unjust corporate orders, just because they come from  above. We would know that life itself gives abundance. When we  pay attention to Sparky, heaven appears again on earth.”

    “Did you say Sparky is another name for Love?” Jeannie asked.with_other_sub

    “Yes of course,” the Abbot said. “But let’s take it further. When we have sparkinesss alive in us—when we recognize that sparkiness is alive in us, it is our own daily consciousness — we no longer see national borders. We see all people on earth as equal recipients of sparkiness, equal vessels of spaarkinesss, of consciousness. With Sparky, we are first and foremost citizens of the earth, or even more, citizens of the universe. Only secondarily are we citizens of particular countries. We refuse to participate in the oppression or exploitation  of our brother and sister sparks. We recognize ourselves  as the same fire, the same light, the same consciousness, the same life.  Seeing Sparky, we see heaven on earth, within and without, everywhere we look.”

    The Abbot’s words brought a hush to the room.  He continued,  and summed up:

    Merry Sparkyness can be our daily motto. Isn’t that what Jesus himself would have wanted?”

    Blunting the Boy Bully: The Gandalf Nuremberg Strategy

    When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time they seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it always.” — Gandhi

    gandalf-2Looking back, it’s clear that we did figure out, quite early—even before the inauguration—what we needed to do to blunt the Boy Bully in his tracks. And, by grace, it turned out to be quite easy, natural, and oh so human, though it wasn’t quick. It was called, of course, the Gandalf Nuremberg Strategy.
    Even before the inauguration, as the Boy Bully began naming his cabinet, the fear rose—fear for the dismantling of decades of progress in education , in environmental protections, in gender rights, minority rights, worker’s rights. It felt as if a pack of pit bulls had been turned loose on the school grounds. In those first months after the election, it seemed a very frightening picture to us all, or at least to a majority of us.
    Only now, here in relative peace and quiet after the Boy Bully’s impeachment, with dozens of state and federal indictments filed against him and against his millionaire cohorts for their fox-in-the-hen-house approach to governing, with his personal passport confiscated, and being confined to his tower, only now can we recognize that the Gandalf Nuremberg Strategy —employed by The Boy Bully Vanquishers Secret Society—was successful beyond our wildest imagination. Order and sanity, beauty and truth, simple dignity and a hearty hey-ho have been restored to the land. Not to mention the rule of law which insists no man or woman is above the law. Once again, Lady Justice, standing proud with the flame of liberty still held high, we bow to your deep-rooted feet.
    The Gandalf Nuremberg strategy— so obvious, so simple, so natural, and yet so radical that the Boy Bully could do nothing about it but huff and puff out his cheeks and tweet and threaten to deport us all—began to be employed even before the inauguration. The as-of-yet nameless strategy was so obvious and natural that it spontaneously and simultaneously sprouted up in literally thousands of places employed by 10’s of thousands of people all across the country. Once recognized, the strategy was quickly, and mostly quietly adopted with ever more practical artistry.
    Although the strategy itself was natural, the name for the strategy, a name which quickly went viral, came about one evening shortly after the election when a number of us monk and nun artists at Heart Mountain Monastery were complaining to each other and bemoaning our fate and wondering what in the hell we could do.
    As artist monks and nuns you might assume that we could hold ourselves above the political fray– that the election did not have the same effect on us as it did on the majority of the voters. Nothing could be further from the truth. As monks and nuns, and more especially as artists working to create beauty and wider consciousness in ourselves and our surroundings—a challenge we find more interesting and engaging than simply trying to create more money and fame and social personal power— we were, dare I say, perhaps even more devastated by the outcome of that bizarre race than many ordinary citizens. Yes, the race itself and its outcome did reaffirm our basic insight that here in the 21st century lasting leadership and inspiration and practical direction for fulfilling our purpose in life does not, generally, or even often, come from the political arena. Thus our quiet half-withdrawal from the political fray and our dedication to a different path. And yet, even though our faith is not in the political process, simply being here on the planet our attention is drawn time and time again into that old-millennium, rotting strew. So what to do?
    On that late evening of complaint in the main lodge at the Monastery, when we were wondering what we could do about the political catastrophe, the Abbot reminded us of the words of Gandalf, the White Wizard in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. For some reason, the Abbot had Gandalf’s words memorized. Lifting his beer, the Abbot quoted: “Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check. But that is not what I have found. I have found that it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folks that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love.”
    “Yea right, good luck with that,” Bruce Billingsly said. He voiced what a lot of us were thinking. Sometimes the Abbot gets a little starry–eyed.
    “The folks I’m particularly thinking of,” the Abbot went on, “ are the 22 million people who work for the local, state and federal governments.”
    “Government workers are not known for their small acts of kindness,” Lucille DeSantos chimed in. Everybody laughed.
    “No,” Connie Estes said, “but they haven’t been tested this way either. My mother worked for the Department of Motor Vehicles. But she’s a good lady. Remember, a majority of people were denied their choice for president.”
    “And it goes deeper than small acts of kindness,” the Abbot said, “though such acts, as Gandalf pointed out, are in fact the backbone of what we can do. But the principles for what we can do—we should do, we must do—were also laid out at Nuremberg.”
    We all went quiet and looked at him.
    “At Nuremberg,” he said, “It was determined—as an international principle, based on human dignity– that unjust and inhumane orders from above need not be followed. Should not be followed. At Nuremberg it was established as international law, that it is not only an individual’s right, but also a duty to refuse unjust and inhumane orders. Even if the top ranks have been temporarily taken over by the madness of crowds, the ordinary people who actually do the work can be trusted. They can resist, they can delay, they can refuse to follow orders.”
    “Oh, wouldn’t that be nice.” Connie said again.
    And as it turns out, that’s exactly what happened. Over the course of months, and then years, government workers, and people contracted with the government, on their own and in small groups, simply refused to be quick about fulfilling the Boy Bully’s agenda. Instead, they followed Gandalf, and the principles laid out at Nuremberg.
    By refusing to obey unjust, inhumane orders, and simply being kind to the people who needed kindness, official letters were lost, communications were garbled, programming for new projects was delayed time and time again. File names were switched. People in need actually received the aid that the Boy Bully’s people were trying to withhold. More and more computer errors allowed for more and more services to continue. In a reversal of tides, mistakes happened in favor of the people, not of the system.
    Illegals somehow became legals, as they did with Schindler’s list. Paradoxically, the borders became more open than ever before. And eventually, local, state and federal judges came on board, such that the Boy Bully’s policies and wishes were simply made mute.
    Some workers were very brave and openly defied the new administration. They were quickly fired, of course, and others put in their place. But by their acts they inspired courage and direction for many who were not yet so brave.
    Other workers were resistant to the Boy Bully’s policies, but were not so open. Still, their actions counted. It was a guerrilla campaign waged by secretaries and office managers, by area division heads.
    The “secret password” by which we all recognized each other as members of the Boy Bully Vanquisher Society was the common phrase, “the majority rules.” Simply slipping that phrase into our ordinary daily communications alerted others of our true intents and feelings. The majority, after all, even within the government work force, were not supporters of the Boy Bully.
    “These 22 million people who work for the local, state and federal governments are our brothers and sisters,” the Abbot had said. “They can recognize what is right and what is wrong. They are not blind. They are not robots. We can have faith in them.” And he was right.
    In the end, the American people came together as they never had before. The people recognized that it had been the small, 1% who had somehow taken over the government, and had fooled the people into believing they were working for the good of all. It became apparent quite quickly after the Boy Bully took over that his loyalties were with the militaristic billionaire class.
    But the American people were—are—good people, and showed that they did care passionately about our common land, about our shared water and our air, and most importantly about the welfare of our fellow citizens, fellow human beings.
    In the end, the Boy Bully himself was the cause of his own destruction—as always happens. But the Gandalf-Nuremburg response of the people —engaging small, every day acts of kindness, of bravely extending deadlines, of forgiving penalties, of letting people follow their dreams and take care of their families and express their highest good— this could not be stopped. It was not stopped.
    As Gandhi wrote, “ When I despair, I remember that all through history the ways of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time they seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it always.” Gandhi, too, proved prescient.
    So 2020 will be a much quieter election season, thank God. We have learned our lesson. We are once again ready to think for ourselves, act for ourselves. The principles were laid out at Nuremberg, and by Gandalf: So simple, so powerful. At the time, at the start of the Big Bully’s reign, we didn’t realize how powerful such simplicity could be. We needed to remind each other.