The Frustrated Buddha

There are many words that could be used to describe who I am as a human being in this world.  Ones that spring to mind would likely be different depending on the person doing the describing, and I'm humble enough to know that some may not necessarily be complimentary--but I'm certain that the word 'pious' or any of its even somewhat-related synonyms would make it into the Top 100 that anyone, friend or foe, would choose.

I recently heard a statement that nature is not cruel; it's indifferent.  I grasp hold to this statement as I make thin attempts to make sense of this world, a world where my friend Summer struggles to come to grips with having so many hospice patients under the age of 50 dying of cancer; a world where Maya Thompson channels her overwhelming grief at losing her perfectly gorgeous youngest son Ronan into action; a world where my friend Meghan isn't here to raise her three babies.  I should not personally know two completely unrelated people, one in his thirties and one who was only five, who have died from brain tumors.  And three more under the age of 40 (including my own brother) who have had cancer, but thankfully the roulette wheel turned up a non-fatal kind.

And cancer aside, of course there's a whole host of other devastations that could turn any eternal optimist into a Debbie Downer.  

I can only make sense of this life and its everpresent attendant, grief, with reserving my...piety, if you will...for life itself.  For our Earth, and how lucky we are to be here with the people we love for the time we're given.  

A friend gave me this in college, and it hangs in my bedroom by my closet back in Denver.  I can't think of a more true statement.

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I think the first tape I ever bought was Beastie Boys' Licensed to Ill (it was either that or Huey Lewis' album Fore!, but I'm going to go with Licensed to Ill to keep my street cred).  During a road trip that summer of 1986, my brother and I tortured regaled our parents with our rendition of Paul Revere (that to this day I still know every.single.word. to, even though I can't remember what I made for dinner last night).

Adam Yauch, Beastie Boys band member and practicing Buddhist, passed away last month after a three-year battle with throat cancer.  I read a Rolling Stone interview with Yauch's friend and fellow band member Adam Horovitz, and this statement caught my eye:

Did the comfort he took in Buddhism help you deal with his illness and passing?

I don't believe Adam was afraid.  Bummed out, yeah.  But I can't think when I ever saw him afraid.  We got jumped in Brooklyn one time, so we've been afraid in that sense.  But, man, he hadn't been afraid in a long time.  That gives me peace. Read more: http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/beastie-boys-adam-horovitz-opens-up-about-adam-yauch-he-was-in-charge-20120523#ixzz1x4oSkGn8

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Scripture is offered in Australian schools, so I signed the boys up for Buddhism.  I don't care for attaching myself to any organized religion, and I feel strongly that the boys should make an informed decision if they should ever decide there is (or isn't) a particular belief system they should follow.  That aside, Buddhism feels less like a religion and more like a philosophy, and there are principles that are useful for making one's way through life.  I know you could in theory say that about any religion, but Buddhism seems to lack the absolutes and judgment about how one should live their life that have soured my view towards the rest.

Alex has expressed frustration at attending Buddhism classes, but he unfailingly cracks me up in his earnest, wholehearted protests.  Imagine a true, verging on teary-eyed, complainy voice as you read these gems:

• "We watched a cartoon movie about the Buddha and it was so fake!  He was born and then just started walking right away; that would never happen in real life!"
• Him: "All we do is chant 'Lumbini Garden'!!"  Me: "What is Lumbini Garden?" Him: "It's where the Buddha was born.  I saw a picture and it's just grass; there's no flowers at ALL--what kind of a garden is that???"
• "I can't even tell my Buddhism teachers apart!  They dress the same and have the same hair!" (they are monks who wear robes and have shaved heads)

Still, I catch him incorporating little Buddhist things into his day now and then, more so than Jackson.  And if it can help him navigate his way through the world, deal with grief, and be a better, more conscious person, then I think it's time well-spent.

Necks Out For Adventure

Both of my older boys had the good fortune of having the same teacher for the 2-year cycle of kindergarten and first grade.  And not just any teacher--the kind of teacher that has the rare ability to fill kids with wonder.  The kind of teacher that sets high standards and gives her students the tools to reach them.  She's inspiring, supportive, engaging and patient.  The kind of teacher where the most painful thing about leaving your home to go live in Australia for a year is the fact your son won't be able to finish first grade with this teacher.

Because they attend a public charter school that follows an expeditionary learning model, the students have experiences together that include hiking, camping, rock climbing, snowshoeing, and as they get older, kayaking and mountain biking.  Before their first camping trip at the start of the kindergarten year, Alex's teacher read a book called Necks Out For Adventure about a brave clam that dared to think outside the box to save himself and others.  It was a perfect story for a group of 5-year olds on the brink of their first camping trip without their parents, or for some, their first night sleeping in a tent.  Alex, who has always has a giggle at the ready when he sees clever writing or unique illustrations, loved the book.

...

One of the boys found a clam at the beach while we were camping on this most recent road trip, and brought it back to the campsite.  It was closed; the little creature was still in there.  I didn't pay attention to it until the morning that we were packing up camp to head out, but the shell opened a teeny bit, despite being out of the water for a couple of days.  It was still alive in there.

I became fixated on this clam, absolutely desperate to get him back into the ocean, which was a hike away.  As we folded up the tent and loaded the car, I found a moist, shady spot in the grass for him.  I anxiously asked Sam when we could get going; it just seemed like a shame for him to have made it this long and not get back to where he belonged, and the minutes dragged on until we were finished and set off for our hike.

Alex held the clam and had the honor of returning him to the sea--and as he tossed him back into the rolling surf, he yelled, "Stick your neck out for adventure, Little Clammy Boy!".

I love that child so much my heart hurts.

Would you go up against this 4 year old in a Geography bee?

From the way he absorbed the information on an electronic US map puzzle that we weren't even aware he was using, we're thinking that auditory learning may be his strongpoint. Keep in mind that, despite what you see here, simple things like finding his shoes and putting them on the correct feet are too difficult a task on most days. I love this kid.

They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To

Sam has completely exposed the wall innards (that's the technical term), ready for the contractor to build the support walls to hold up our second story while the beam is installed. This is the view standing in our kitchen and looking into the dining room...

A hundred year old home always has its quirks, and this one still has plenty of the old knob and tube wiring.

While I think it looks really neat and I appreciate its historic nature, I'm also thankful that little by little our electrical wiring is moving out of the Victorian age. Antiques are fun; fire hazards less so.

I didn't mean for this to be a home improvement blog, but it has been dominating our life in recent weeks. Summer days this week have been filled with Sam taking the boys to swimming lessons at the pool, followed by lunch and more swimming. I get home from work by 3:30, and it's outside playing and hanging out with neighbors, which usually carries over into picnic dinners outside, and inside only for a quick bath, stories, and bedtime. I love summer. I did take a picture of each boy sleeping last night, mostly because Kenyon looked more like he was sunbathing on a chaise by the pool in Cancun than sleeping in his crib. Here are my sleeping beauties...