All posts by Jim Riis

Overcome Difficulties, Teachings

Scratch A Cynic

5 Comments

The investigation of my personal cynicism peaked in the Watch Commander’s Office of a small police department here on the north coast of California.

I was on staff there and running various delinquency prevention programs and family services. On that day, I was working on a local School Violence Threat Assessment protocol based on FBI research. My head was spinning with strategies and tactics for sorting out and responding to school violence without making the situation worse. An Officer came in my office and asked me to meet him in the Watch Commander’s Office to evaluate a series of calls about high school girls being harassed by a new street person in town.

Four of us sat in the Sergeant’s office reviewing the circumstances, having added in a Detective known to be skilled in profiling sex offenders. After gathering together what little we knew, checking other local jurisdictions and finding no contacts, we sat for awhile drinking coffee and waiting for the State and Federal rap (report) sheets to arrive, quietly contemplating our suspicions. Finally, the dispatcher handed in the findings, saying there was nothing there, the guy had never been arrested. To a one, the Officer, the Sergeant, the Detective, and myself, all blurted out: Yet!. We all laughed.

As I walked down the hall to my office, I had that disquieting feeling that my heart/mind had closed a little bit more. Whether or not that street person was caught for sexual harassment, or worse sometime in the future, really didn’t matter; I had registered an interior constriction that somehow I felt was unnecessary and unhelpful.

Granted, I was working in an environment where the ‘c’ word was avoided. To care seemed to reveal a weakness and was best left to social workers and the like. In fact, many of the more hard-boiled personalities Officers dealt with would take advantage of a kindness, sometimes in a dangerous way. And yet I knew that staff well, I knew they came into police work because they wanted to be helpful (and, yes, for the excitement when they were young) and cared.

However, I couldn’t let myself off the hook. Simply put the practice of zazen and the Buddhist precepts, over time, just did not allow me to put up with adding constrictions of heart/mind. I was looking for true freedom, not safer defenses.

What to do? Well, actually nothing. I couldn’t come up with a strategy to defend myself from the cynicism around me, nor my own. Cynicism had become a mental habit that slowly accumulated like a light, yet continuous, snowfall. Worse, perhaps, was realizing that it also reinforced a severe sense of separation.

It took years for me to see that my mistake wasn’t really the cynicism, but in trying to come up with a strategy to defeat it. The more I sat with the cynicism, with the sense and fear of separation, with the notion that there isn’t anything that needs protecting, the more it melted. It was like dropping a clear jewel down an infinitely deep well of clear water. The movement of the jewel was enough to catch my attention and allow a loosening of the fear based body/mind habits.

Oh, the cynicism-habit is still there, though weaker. I just don’t invite it in for tea (much) anymore. And the jewel, well, it just seems to fall in every direction.

Uncategorized

Garden Snapshot

Leave a comment

No matter what state of mind I’m in when I walk out into the garden on a sunny Sunday afternoon, at least one of my senses is lifted and brought to the fore. My breath catches as I hear the ocean sound shifting north in the changing wind and tide. At the same time my worry scanner is on, sensing garden demands. A plant here that’s a little too dry, sprawling raspberries that have broken free, artichokes colonized by ants. Joy and worry walk with me in the garden. Clearly, worry would like joy to butt out and mind its own business.

Now the sunlight reveals a late-summer slant in the colors it brings out on the zucchini leaves, matched immediately – if not preceded by – the slightly melancholic feeling tone of seasonal change. The wind blows a neighborhood argument in my direction, a dance of vicious words that trails off to be hidden in the ocean. A kaleidoscope of memories arises and focuses on the sound of Sheila Chandra singing: “The ocean, the ocean, accepts all rivers”.

Daily Life

The Moment Before The Question Arises

2 Comments

Our rooster crows early. I would say at the crack of dawn except that here, on the north coast of California, dawn doesn’t crack. Here, where the mountains meet the sea, the sky is trapped low, a dimmer switch of cloud or fog elongates the dawn and smudges the distinctions that sharp shadows would bring.

It can make me feel dimwitted that way. I leave a warm bed, a night owl in diffuse light fumbling with jeans and shirt to free a rooster and chickens from their roost and coop.

Recently, though, I’ve noticed some advantage accumulating in this arrangement. Some value slowly showing itself as an unintended consequence of indenturing myself to the needs of chickens. Actually, I think that advantage may be the wrong word here. The emphasis is more on the noticing itself.

I notice, for example, that it’s hard to think. I notice that my senses don’t mind that a bit. There is the caw-caw, tsk-tsk, and bubbling tweet of the morning chorus free of the need to name the birds. There is the traceless, sweeping arc of bird flight. There is the unencumbered quench of cold well water on the tongue. There is the dew seeping into my clogs. And, then, there is the noticing of the noticing.

That’s not to say that thoughts aren’t arising. Somehow, though, the usual foreground importance of concepts popping up takes a back seat to the simple neural activity of all thoughts – thoughts making themselves known by their activity, like the sound of waves on the beach, rather than by their meaning.

I also notice the perfect ordinariness of all this. The just-letting-it-be-ness. Aliveness without add-ons. Just this….

Daily Life

Running In Circles

3 Comments

Yesterday morning my sister, Judy, and her youngest son and his wife left for Oklahoma from California in a sort of reverse migration of events in American history. Many of the reasons were the same: untenable living conditions and keeping (most of) the family together. Compared to the bloated and collapsing California economy, Oklahoma has reasonable housing prices and more available work. And of course there’s my sister’s oldest son, wife, and two year old child already there; the growing edge of a thinned out family tree. A small part of a new American history, a large part of a new family story.

Well, new and old actually. My father emigrated from Denmark in the wake of the crumbling European aristocracy in the 1920’s, my Iowa-farm-girl mother fled alcoholism and domestic violence for the big city of Chicago. Eventually they left Illinois for work and a healthier climate and worked their way to California in their two-toned 1951 Chevy, my sister and I in the back seat munching cookies. Route 66.

The last days of preparing to leave were, of course, chaotic. It’s impossible to pull up roots without loosening the very soil around you. And there are no close passive observers in family moves, my roots were being yanked even though I wasn’t moving. We drew closer and more honest about our feelings. And more honest about what life looks like through the cracks of altered ordinariness. Every interaction became a reminder that it was one of the last before the big change. If excited, we reveled in the betweeness; if tired, we retreated to observations of how “it could be worse”. Family stories of births and deaths circulated amongst the constant revision of plans.

The big day came. Nancy’s and my house became the staging ground for the departure and I cooked a big breakfast. At times giddy, at times stuck in a middle distance gaze, we were reminded that much of what is good in life is unbelievable.

After they left I started cleaning the house but it was as if I had one foot nailed to the floor. I went from task to task without completing anything. Objects defied me and hid themselves from my use or just broke at my approach. When the computer froze and wouldn’t allow me to send an email to the nephew in Oklahoma, I bolted in frustration and went out on the front porch for some fresh air. I found there a hummingbird trapping itself against the glass ceiling of a skylight, frantically beating itself against the unseen. Her situation spoke to me directly.

I slowed down the internal rush of anxiety, exhaustion, and excitement and fetched the ladder. Step by small step, I put the ladder in place and carefully climbed to the hummingbird, gently caught it, and stepped down the ladder. Each step was an act complete in itself, each feeling of completeness releasing an individual emotion. This step: sadness; this step: joy; this step: fear; this step: release. As I cleaned off the cobwebs on her wings, the hummingbird cleaned off mine. We were both spent. Opening my hand, she rested briefly and flew off.

Daily Life, Out and About, Overcome Difficulties, Teachings

Standing By The Well

Leave a comment

The day started off with a series of minor irritations. Small stuff really, but noticeable because they were adding up and starting to highlight the major irritation: I had to run errands and go shopping in at least four or five different locations. Not my cup of tea.

I don’t consider myself a lazy or inactive person. I’m generally not sitting unless I’m meditating, reading, or watching a movie. Most of my friends prefer to walk and talk unless there’s tea involved. My favorite type of day is to step into the back acre and start walking around the garden. There’s always something that needs doing, and then something else, and then something else…. So a pleasant day is moving from chore to chore, listening to the birdsong, chatting with the chickens, and taking in the weather of the day.

I was determined to make short work of the errands and get back to the more relaxed unfurling of arising chores. But then one of the nose pads on my glasses came off as I was looking for my car keys. I know from experience that a few hours of metal poking the bridge of my nose would soon be painful and even more of a nuisance. Another stop would be required.

I set off for the optometrist’s office brimming with resentment and irritation. But better the burr of irritation than hiding it to myself and letting it fester into anger. I kept it away from other driver’s, pedestrians, and cars with bumper stickers I didn’t agree with. Sort of like limping for awhile after stubbing your toe, aware of the discomfort but patiently taking the next step.

I pulled into the optometrist’s parking lot and a convenient parking spot presented itself. It was a good sign but I wasn’t sure I wanted to let go of the irritation quite yet; what else might show up? The receptionist was warm and genuinely, well, receptive. My irritation was beginning to melt and I considered thinking about what I had to do the rest of the day in an attempt to drum it up again. I’m sure I’m not the only person who has irritation in their repertoire of defenses.

And then she came into the room and called my name. I thought perhaps it was a play of sunlight causing her brightness. Clearly this young women was happy, healthy, and very, very pregnant. She had a shine as penetrating and clear as a flame reflected in a diamond.

We walked to her workstation. Nose pads were briefly commented on. They didn’t seem all that problematic to either of us. I asked her when she was due. Less than a month, she said and beamed. Let me get you those new nose pads, she said, I’ll be right back.

I sat at her desk basking in the great grace that radiated from her immersion in her situation. It was a blessing for me to be in the presence of someone drawing so deeply from the Well.

She returned with my glasses and I tried them on and they fit fine. We looked at each other with this sort of I see what you see recognition. Peaceful, energized. I told her that I wished her well with the delivery and wished her and the baby good health. I asked her if it was her first. She smiled and said, Yes, it is and every good wish is welcome, thank you.

We shook hands and I left the office, the remaining errands now less urgent.