Jeez. While I’m tapping out paeans to friggin’ flying squirrels, Sister Sangye’s writing this (you owe it to yourself to click the link she provides to The Spoon Theory – you’ll never see those you know suffering from chronic illness, physical or mental, the same way again), in loving response to Brother Chris’ phenomenally moving story here. Somehow I missed the fact that Chris, one of my sangha brethren and just about the most delightful person you’d ever get to know, has been blogging again. Read him regularly at Bowdawg on the Mend, and my apologies to him (and you) for the delinquent addition of a link on DODR’s blogroll.
In a similar vein, I’ve been absorbing the news and pictures coming out of Gaza with deep sadness at the fundamental futility of it all. I’ve wanted to write about it, but each time I start to construct a response, a voice in my head says, “Yeah, but your country... (apparently the voice in my head isn’t American) ...has perpetrated violent attacks and occupation in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Pakistan that have killed anywhere between 10 and 100 times more civilians. And they didn't just greenlight this catastrophe, they're bloody cheerleading it.” It’s undeniable and achingly shameful. I’m going to have a jolly little celebration on January 20, as the heartless, immoral demons running the joint for the last eight years finally take a hike.
But I see that the Canadian monk, Ajahn Punnadhammo, a gifted and thoughtful writer who I wish posted more, has addressed the Gaza massacre in two recent essays, here and here (if nothing else, go to the first one and watch the video of the impossibly courageous Palestinian girl deliberately placing her body between heavily-armed Israeli soldiers and stone-throwing Palestinian boys and quietly pleading with them to back away and, you know, refrain from killing them). He said all that was in my mind, and better than I would have managed to express it.
Now, if you need to a little counterweight to all that
heaviness, it’s a little naughty as a monk, but I’ve been preserving some
semblance of lonesome Mongolian winter sanity through the ministrations of
pharmaceutical doses the brilliant DJ’s over at Dragon Radio Lounge. If I could
hire someone to design the soundtrack to my life, that crew would be serious
contenders for the job.