The Turtle by Chuang Tzu

Chuang Tzu with his bamboo pole was fishing in Pu River.
The Prince of Chu sent two vice-chancellors with a formal document: "We hereby appoint you Prime Minister." 
Chuang Tzu held his bamboo pole. Still watching Pu river, he said: "I am told there is a sacred tortoise, offered and canonized three thousand years ago, venerated by the prince, wrapped in silk, in a precious shrine on an altar in the temple. 
What do you think? Is it better to give up one's life and leave a sacred shell as an object of cult in a cloud of incense three thousand years, or better to live as a plain turtle dragging its tail in the mud?"
"For the turtle," said the vice-chancellor, "Better to live and drag its tail in the mud!"
"Go home!" said Chuang Tzu. "Leave me here to drag my tail in the mud!"


"The Way of Chuang Tzu" translated by Thomas Merton

The Day I Learned How to Swear

I was 26 before I learned what it felt like to swear. I had experimented with ‘drat’ and ‘dagnabbit’ in High school and even said ‘sucks’ and ‘crap’ on occasion but had never expressed the words known primarily by their first letters. The situation was I was a grad student in the Counseling program at Cal State Fullerton awaiting news about my practicum placement. I was already on track to graduating a year late because I did not get into an agency my first time around. I was experiencing a sense of urgency.

It was February, a couple of weeks before the practicum faire, that I contacted the agency that I had previously interviewed with the semester before and set up a second interview. I went through the interview, thought it went quite well, and was confident about being accepted by the agency. Flash forward to May. By this time I had contacted/interviewed with a dozen or so other counseling agencies but did not receive any offers. I was becoming a bit anxious to say the least.I still held out hope for my first agency until I heard a friend in my class tell me she had just been offered an internship by that agency. She had interviewed with them the week prior.

I called the agency to ask about my application just so I could have some sense of closure and was told they were sorry but there were no positions left. I asked if there was feedback they could offer me that I could take into future interviews and was told the following, “Well, it’s hard to give you feedback, what with such short notice, but there are certain characteristics that we look for and I’ve heard you do comedy and that you do it well. I think you should look into doing that.” I said thank you and hung up.

I wrote in my journal for a little bit and then called my friend who was also in the program. I told her what happened and that I was disappointed. She said I seemed to be taking it well but asked how I really felt. I told her I felt the situation was really fucked up and that ‘short notice’ line was such bullshit because they knew they didn’t want me back when I interviewed in February but didn’t tell me because they wanted to wait until they found someone so that they could just tell me they were sorry but there were no positions left. It felt good to swear. I was surprised. It felt freeing.

After that and my subsequent leading of an anger management group at the excellent agency I was accepted to, I came to appreciate my ability to express anger. Before I would hold on to my anger and not express it because I thought it would mean I was a bad person or not ‘holy’. I’ve realized though that anger can become very dark and compounded if it’s not accepted, processed and expressed. I now have profanity buddies that I can share my feelings with if that’s what I feel I need. I’ve also begun drawing and have found to it to be a wonderful way to process my thoughts, feelings and experiences. Anger is something that is unique to everyone I believe and I wanted to share my experience in case someone finds something familiar and encouraging in my story.

Rad Sechrist

I found the following post by Rad to be very encouraging, particularly because even people who are 30 can still become great artists :) You can check out Rad's blog at http://radfordsechrist.blogspot.com/

Now, I wouldn't consider myself a "good" artist yet, just not "bad". But, I've only been not "bad" for a very short time. As little as 3 years ago, I was a horribly bad artist. Now, if I messed with a drawing for long enough, I could make you think I was ok at drawing, but it was extremely frustrating and difficult. If I had to draw the same character in multiple poses, it really showed that I was "bad". And if I had to draw something really fast, it was so embarrassing That I will never show any of those drawings to anyone. 

Some people are naturally talented at drawing. I was not one of those people. So, in 2005 I finally just got fed up with being bad at drawing and started studying. For about 2 years I just copied stuff and took drawing classes. I think I've paused every frame of every Disney movie and copied the drawing. To this day, I still start my day with 1-2 hours of studying. I still make really bad drawings that I don't show to people. I am constantly forgetting the basics and having to relearn them. I have whole days or even weeks where I can't do a single good drawing. But, as a whole, I've come a very long way from where I was and hope still go a lot further.

One of the most inspiring things was seeing that other artist who I consider to be "great" were horrible when they were as old as 25 or even 30. Now again, some people are "great" when they are 15. I've seen it and it can be very discouraging to the rest of us who are not naturally talented. But there is hope. So to all my fellow "Bad" artist, who don't have any talent, don't give up hope. You can make up for it with hard work.

Martha Graham

"There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable it is, nor how it compares with your other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open.

"No artist is pleased . . . [There is no] satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others."

- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille, Martha: The Life and Work of Martha Graham

Andrew Loomis

I can think of no field of endeavor so sadly lacking in simple organization of its working principles. Nothing quite so hap- hazard, hit-or-miss, as the whole field of artistic endeavor. I am not a cartoonist, but I choose caricature for the beginner: principally because there is fun in it, and from the start I want him to feel a little of the creative joy he is entitled to. When artists begin to compile and set down their combined experience, give freely and humbly what little they can add, as do the other sciences, then art may have some chance to reestablish itself in the hearts of everyday people even against the mechanical perfection of the camera; even in a period of social adjustment and financial depression. The mental de- pression of our era weighs heavier on our race and future than do our dollars or lack of them. A little joy from the in- side must be welcome to almost anybody. Perhaps my book is a step in that direction.
Yes, folks, I’m tired, but I’m happy. My little job, feeble as it may be, is done. I wait as breathlessly to see how you will like it as I ever waited for the verdict of any art editor or director. I’d give many more sleepless hours just to feel with you that first thrill of having created even if it be mere lines of a pencil. You’ll get to love those little folks you draw, even if they are a bit unwieldy and only a little bit human.
- Andrew Loomis, Fun With a Pencil

Getting Milk

What was I getting again? Oh, there’s Jason. I haven’t seen him in a while. I’d like to stop and chat but I came here to get . . . Milk! I came here to get milk. I came here to get milk, cookies and a pineapple. I’ll just mosey on over to the produce section and check out their selection. Hmm, this pineapple looks good. Mom didn’t really give any specifics. I’ll just put this in my basket and proceed towards the milk. Milk, milk, mil - Are those cocktail weenies? I’ll just stop and have a few, pick up some complimentary napkins. No! I came here to get milk; I can have cocktail weenies after I’m done. On my way to get some mil – Is that free pizza? Ohh, be strong George, be strong. You know, I’m pretty proud of myself for – strawberry shortcakes! Oh, now that’s just not fair. I mean honestly, strawberry shortcakes! I guess just having one wouldn’t hurt, and besides I deserve something for saying no to those other culinary temptations. Mmm, this is so good; I could have another one. No, I’ve sat down long enough, I’ll just pick up some complimentary napkins and than I need to continue on. I’ve had my strawberry shortcakes; nothing can stop me now. Free gummy worms? Nope, keep walking. Ice cream floats? Nope, just a few more steps . . . and ah! I’ve got the milk. I’m not sure how good of a story this will be for class. It seems like it’s been pretty uneventful. Ah well, now to just place the milk in my basket next to the pineapple and see what’s next. Let’s see, oh good. Cookies!

George pulled the list from his pocket and began the process of deciphering his handwriting. Let’s see, oh good! Cookies! George’s face lit up as he thought about the selection of cookies before him. He began drooling but caught himself, it’s a good thing I took some extra napkins. Boy it’s cold in this section.
George wiped his mouth, put the napkins back in his pocket and wondered, why are my pockets wet? George didn’t give much thought to his cold pockets, he reasoned, It’s probably just the condensation from the milk . . . which does feel unusually light. George was unaware that his milk was in fact leaking all over his pants, his mother’s pineapple and the newly cleaned grocery store floor. I think I’ll get the sugar cookies. The milk had now formed puddles around George’s feet. I really like sugar cookies. The milk slowly made it’s way through the aisle, presenting threats to customer’s stability as it seeped and flowed. The milk had already claimed one victim. Wow, that must have hurt. People really should watch where they’re goiiiiing! George stepped out into the milk and slipped. Where did all this milk come from? George thought. Oh No! It’s my milk! The mystery of George’s wet pockets, the surprising lightness of his milk, it all became clear as George counted one more victim in this accident; his cookies. Noooooo! George cried. The tears poured like milk from an open container.
“No use crying over spilled milk.” A fellow customer commented. George did not appreciate the advice. 
“It’s not the milk I’m crying over you idiot. It’s my cookies.”
“That’s how the cookie crumbles.” The customer said with a grin on his face. George thought, how do these people find me? Do I have a sign on my back that says talk to me I care what you think? That’s it. I’m just going to get up. Purchase my mother’s pineapple and go home. My pineapple’s all right isn’t it. Don’t tell me something happened to the pineapple?
“Excuse me, but is this your pineapple? There are pieces scattered all over the floor. You might want to pick them up.”
George was too tired to yell, cry or display any sort of emotion. He began walking over to the pineapple pieces picking them up one by one. All George could do at the moment was sigh.

A Day in the Grocery Store

Setting: A produce department. Bruce and Chris have just finished attending a funeral for their friend Randy. They are both 80 years old.

Chris: What’s that?
Bruce: Words escape me.
Chris: Well, you never were too bright.
Bruce: You’ve always had a dim view of my abilities.
Chris: My eyesight’s not what it used to be.
Bruce: And I let you drive?
Chris: We’re still alive aren’t we?
Bruce: Are we?
Chris: Are we what?
Bruce: What’s that? My hearing aid just went out.
Chris: You have gout? And you never told me?
Bruce: Goats? I don’t have any goats? I had a duck once.
Chris: Duck? Why? Is someone going to throw something at us?
Bruce: The lettuce is in the back. Let’s get the new stuff.
Chris: The old lettuce is cheaper.
Bruce: You always have to bring that up?
Chris: What’ s that?
Bruce: The prices of things. The high cost of living.
Chris: I’m on a fixed income.
Bruce: Phbbbt on your fixed income! I want to live. We don’t have that much longer to go. What are we saving our money for?
Chris: You really should eat your vegetables. I spot some nice carrots to your left.
Bruce: What’s left? Have I seen all I’m going to see?
Chris: We can always go to a different aisle.
Bruce: Food is food.
Chris: It was a nice day out.
Bruce: It’s a pretty ugly day in I’d say.
Chris: I’m glad I’m not in your shoes.
Bruce: They’d never fit you.

You Never Know

Habakkuk is sitting at the table nearest the far window. He has his Bible, his Bible commentary and his Bible on tape. He is wearing sandals, a robe and a beard. He is also holding a shepherd’s staff should there ever be sheep that need herding.

Jezebel is walking in through the back entrance wearing all red. She has various tattoos and piercings. She is heard swearing as she walks in. On the back of her shoes it says, “Follow me”. (I will be shortening the names to Hab and Jez for the sake of convenience).

Jez: Is this seat saved?

Hab: No, but I am. Ha Ha Ha

Jez: Is that a shepherd’s staff? Why the @#$% do you have a shepherd’s staff?

Hab: I will have to ask you not to use such foul language in my presence. My staff is in case I run into any lost sheep that need herding. Always be prepared in season and out of season.

Jez: How did we ever agree on having a date like this?

Hab: I asked you, “Did it hurt?”

Jez: And I asked, “When” like a @#$%^&* idiot. I should have just killed you then and there.

Hab: But you did not. And I then said, “When you fell from Heaven”

Jez: And I asked, “ Do I look like Satan to you “

Hab: And I replied, “ Well, that would explain the tail” How is that coming along?

Jez: It just fell off last week. Vive la evoluccion.

Hab: I will not have such blasphemy spoken at my table.

Jez: What do you normally order?

Hab: I normally order bread and, wait. I shall seek the Lord for guidance. 

( Habakkuk bows his head in silence)

And salad. For man cannot live by bread alone.

Jez: You are so !@#$%^&* lame it’s not even funny. Well I guess it is a little funny. Ha ha

Hab: Hopefully I will have you converted by the end of the meal.

Jez: You can die . . . I mean try. You can try.

Hab: Death holds no fear or worry for me. To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.

Jez: To be absent from this conversation is all I’m asking for.

Hab: Do you know what you want to order? I do not have money to pay for the meal but I shall have faith that the Lord will provide. I do not worry about what I shall eat or wear for the Lord knows I have need of such things.

Jez: I can tell. It looks like God has been providing you meals left and right.

Hab: God is good.

Jez: What kind of name is Habakkuk anyway?

Hab: It is a proud name. I am not aware of its meaning however. I do know that your name however is Hebrew for ‘impure’.

Jez: Well if the label fits.

Hab: I have also heard reference to you as the great whore of Babylon and on and on and on. Yet you have not spoken much tonight. Have you perhaps reconsidered your adulterous and illicit ways and have chosen to begin following God?

Jez: Sure.

Hab: Really, are you sure?

Jez: Eh, what the Hell?

(Suddenly and without warning a flock of sheep rush into the restaurant overpowering Habakkuk and devouring Jezebel. All that is heard among the Baaahs and Aaaahs is Habakkuk saying, “This isn’t my Shepherding staff, this is my walking staff”.

Today I turned 30

In recognition of this, I would like to share a poem by Ryokan:


Too lazy to be ambitious,
I let the world take care of itself.
Ten days' worth of rice in my bag;
a bundle of twigs by the fireplace.
Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment?
Listening to the night rain on my roof,
I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out.