Chanting and Ranting

shitmystudentswrite:

Rawls says that justice happens when everyone gets his just desserts, i.e. an equal piece of the pie.

I’ve been here before, teetering on the verge of disaster and success. I don’t like it. Not one bit. The past two years have kept me vacillating between the two extremes. I am exhausted by it, and more than a little scared. This must change, and it must change completely and immediately. Disaster is not an option.

I’ve chanted and prayed and begged. I need miracles to occur, you see. Swiftly. But there’s only so much I can control. I don’t like it when things are out of my hands. I don’t like not having a say in how things pan out. Sure, we can argue the philosophies which say I do have a say, and it’s only me that causes my reality, and only I can shift it. I don’t necessarily disagree with that, but let’s just say that if I could put rent money in my bank account, I would. 

And I know I’m not alone here. Times have been tough for much too long. Everything feels so out of control. When you do everything you can to make the changes you need, and are met with silence, it’s hard to keep believing things will work out, that everything will be okay.

But, everything has to be okay. That’s the only option. The only choice is to win.

This year, everything must change. And it must change for the better. Therefore, this year, I’m giving myself certain things that in the past I only vaguely promised:

Success Which one would think would be out of my control. Yet, I’ve let others handle or have a say in my projects which have hindered them more than I care to admit. Now I must take responsibility for what I want to achieve and make it happen, in no uncertain terms, manifest every project to its full potential.

Growth I’ve felt stifled for so long, trapped it what my finances allow. It’s not material things I crave, but adventure and experience. I want to travel and see new things, learn from people different from myself. That takes funding, which is where Success plays another role.

Love The focus has been on survival rather than connection. But life needs to be shared with another and intimately discovered together. And Success and Growth will play into that.

More With everything so contracted, I’ve been living less of a life. Staying in rather than going out, because going out costs money and takes away time from creating what might lead to that needed Success. Spending less time with friends because I wasn’t able to do the things they wanted (which typically cost money) hindered my Growth. There was always a reason not to do more. I was being responsible. I was also isolating. I deserve More. More Love and adventure, more happiness and Success. More opportunity and friendships, more joy and knowledge. More to give. More to share. More with which to help. I will have More, please. Thank you.

These are simple things, things we all desire. Yet, we tend to go without them or wait for them to wander to us. I’m no longer willing to go without or wait. I will seek out these things and let them come to me easily. Life can be compliant, if you ask it to be. And so I have. 

There is only a short time to set this in motion. The clock is ticking, the scale is tipping. And so, tomorrow, when the world goes back into play, I will begin the alchemy that will set me free. With my success comes yours. My growth will inspire another’s. My love will open hearts. And there will always be more to share. And the same is true for you.

What you have blesses others. What you give enriches the world. There is more than enough to go around. We just have to ask for it and believe it is possible to have our dreams come true. 

Happy New Year.

Who gets into a fight at a Buddhist meeting?

Well, me, of course.

It happened a  few weeks ago (I’m beyond behind in posting this; it’s been in draft mode over a month…not like you care — I’m just clarifying). We had our “chant and chat” meeting, to which I was 15 minutes late. New job, longer commute, L.A. traffic — therefore, I was pretty much on time. Still, I hate being late. It’s just rude. What’s ruder? To be 30 minutes late and enter with your obnoxious lap dog and fuss about so that *everyone* knows you’ve arrived. I mean, we wouldn’t want our chanting to get in the way of your entrance, now, would we?

Meet our new “leader”. She annoys the shit out of me. How anyone can practice for 14 years and be this much of a trainwreck is beyond me. I mean, really. That takes an effort, no?

We have a new set of “leaders” in our new-ish group, which, ironically, is comprised of many “old” members, those who have been practicing 25, 30, 40 years and more. Now, to be clear, I would not want to be a leader. Way too much work, and I would have to pretend to like people like this particular breed of always late, dog-carrying trainwreck brand of a Buddhist. I just don’t have the time or energy for that.

So, anyway, our “leader” — we are going to need a name for her…let’s call her Crash — takes her seat in front of the Gohonzon and immediately ripples the rhythm of the chanting. I know. Totally rude, right? Whatever. We made it through.

Now, on to the chat aspect. When asked if there was a topic anyone wanted to discuss, my Buddhist mother’s hand shot up. She wanted to talk about bringing in more guests, how we can do it and how we can keep those guests coming. Because, when you get down to it, it’s all about the numbers. Quantity over quality. How else are we going to change the world? People talked about the complexities of politely shakubuku-ing folks — not always easy to do with co-workers or other random individuals. After everyone gave their two cents, I chimed in.  I explained that I don’t bring people to our monthly chapter meetings because of the way those meetings were run.

Eyes widened. Jaws dropped.

You see, being a group that meets on the Westside of Los Angeles, we have our fair share of performers. And they have a passion for it. One lass in particular (let’s call her Shine), always volunteers to either be MC or present an explanation of something or other. Once, she came in costume as an old, English woman, replete with a fake nose modelled (though, it was more mottled than anything), out of some sort of latex clay. She spoke in a shaky fairy voice throughout the night. Classy, right? Oh, she also had theme music played from her laptop via iTunes. She really went all out.

The next month, she came up with a quiz, also with theme music. It was supposed to be a clever way to explain Buddhism and remind people what they did not know from the texts, but I think she really just wanted an excuse to hurl chocolate at the “winners”. Crash was her partner for this (because, obviously, giving good quiz requires more than one person). When they ran out of time (because we Buddhists keep our meetings on a tight schedule), Shine and Crash were really sad because, you know, they had put a lot of time into it and all the best bits were saved for last. When they (talking amongst themselves like none of us were there) suggested that they should just go on and finish anyway, they were taken aback by all of us saying, NO!

So, when I mentioned that I wouldn’t be bringing guests to a chapter meeting, citing those two incidences, and naming names (sorry, Shine), Crash took it personally…on Shine’s behalf, because Shine wasn’t there (please rest assured that I would have said the exact same thing had Shine been there, because I’ve been meaning to talk to her about that). I continued to explain that I found those vaudevillian shenanigans to take away from what the practice is — for me — and that I would be more likely to bring a guest to our less theatrical weekly meetings.

Amongst the gobsmacked, I did see a few folks with Thank You in their eyes. And two of those came up to me after the meeting for our extended chat session. Fleur and Sage (clearly pseudonyms) were asking me more questions, ferreting out my suggestions on what would make a more successful meeting. Over Fleur’s shoulder was a red-faced Crash, unable to stand still, shaking with her rage. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I thought that was highly disrespectful. Shine had put a lot of time preparing for those meetings. She gives so much when she performs.” I know, I calmly stated, stopping short of saying that we have many artists in our group (painter, musicians, writers, sculptress, etc.), and they aren’t whipping out their mediums to enlighten; actors should be equally accountable. “I just think it takes away from the discussion.”

“Well, what do you bring to the meetings?” Crash asked (rather demandingly, I might add).

“What do I bring?” I mocked back. “Well, for one thing, I bring my reverence. I do my best to be on time, and if I can’t be on time, I enter quietly. I don’t distract people by talking or saying hello to everyone. My cell phone is off, I sit in my chair, face the gohonzon and chant. I don’t turn to my neighbor and ask a question or start a conversation, I just sit there and chant.” 

“Well,” Crash replied. “I try to be the change I want to see in the world. I try to be that every single day.”

I stopped myself from saying, “Then we’re are fucking doomed, my dear.” See, the Buddhism is working.

Sage and Fleur stepped in to diffuse the situation, as Crash looked as though she was going to implode. Poor thing. Not to be all indiscreet, but…why not? This is an anonymous blog. Crash is a recovering everything. And that is to be commended. I mean that sincerely. It’s not easy to overcome a dependency. But she is one of those highly annoying addictive personalities that needs all of the attention. And that is draining. If she’s not talking and bringing the conversation back to her, she’s rustling the papers in her lap or talking to her dog. I’m trying to find my compassion for that, but I really just want to tell her to shut up and sit still. See, again, the Buddhism in action. More or less.

After that meeting, I got a couple of emails giving me back-pats for saying what needed to be said. I assume those who disagreed were giving me the middle finger instead of using it to type out a screw you email. (Again, Buddhism for the win.) Of course, Crash went straight to Shine to tell her what I said. And now Shine won’t look at me. Whatevs. I was going to give an apology/clarification when I saw her next, but she made sure to stay as far away from me as possible. I suppose I struck a tender nerve. Eventually, I will ask her out for a glass of wine and apply a salve of sorts. When Buddhism falls short, booze to the rescue.

So, let me tell you about my week. It was…well, you can insert whichever expletive that might also describe your week. Because I know I’m not the only person that had this kind of week. Why don’t you pour yourself a glass of something and we’ll get started.

First, let me start with last week. Last week was wonderful. Brimming with potential. Everything was still possible. I was first choice for a great new job that would get me out of my current crap job. I had a meeting set for the next week on not one but two of my scripts, and we were still in the running for Film Independent’s Fast Track.

Then, this week happened. 

On Monday, the asshat I work for gave me two weeks’ notice. This really isn’t that big of a deal. I only work for those jerks part-time. Fine, whatever. I had a third interview for the great new job I was the number-one for that I needed to leave early for. Getting notice was the perfect excuse for leaving early so I could be on time for my meeting, which went great, by the way. Thanks for asking.

When I got home, I found that the little tiny leak in the hot water pipe to my water heater put in overtime and overflowed the container I put there to catch the few drips it was over the weekend. I left the second message of the day for my landlord. Of course, it leaked down to the cabinet below where I store what’s left of my Christmas decorations that were destroyed a few years ago when my old water heater broke. My duplex has shitty plumbing, and a shittier landlord.

Tuesday morning, the worker came to fix the pipe. I was under the impression they were going to fix all the pipes, which has been on the menu for about two years now. Nope. It the work was enough to eat up half my day, which was made longer waiting for the answer on the great new job. Only crickets chirped on my phone.

I made it into the crap job about 2:00, and kept checking my email. I don’t have cell reception there so everyone knows to email me if they can’t get me on the phone. Finally, two new emails magically appeared. Not from my potential new employer, but from Film Independent. Subject: Regarding Fast Track Application. We weren’t supposed to hear until the first week of June. This had to be good news to come so early…and twice! I clicked on the first message:

On behalf of Film Independent, thank you for applying to Fast Track. Unfortunately, you were not selected to participate in this year’s program. Our selection process is very competitive, and many wonderful and deserving projects will not be included. We wish you much success with your project.

Fuck. But there were two messages from them. Maybe they changed their minds and were just punking me with the first email. So I opened it:

On behalf of Film Independent, thank you for applying to Fast Track. Unfortunately, you were not selected to participate in this year’s program. Our selection process is very competitive, and many wonderful and deserving projects will not be included. We wish you much success with your project.

You have got to be kidding me. You would really cc the same person on a rejection email? Really? Mutherfuck.

By this point, I can’t believe it’s only Tuesday. I drive home from my crap job, with still no call regarding the potential new job. I parked, dropped off my things and walked to the corner shop t buy a bottle of wine. If you ever find yourself asking, “Pinot grigio or Sauvignon Blanc? Pinot Grigio or Sauvignon Blanc?” get the pinot grigio. Or vodka. 

So now I’m at home, on a Tuesday night, gagging down the world’s worst wine when I get an email from my co-producer to let me know that our Thursday meeting needed to be rescheduled.

This is a common plague in Hollywood, the inability to understand let alone master the math that makes for a successful calendar. You see, I actually put ink — not pencil — to paper for my appointments. And they stick. I hate having to mark one out. Which I related to my co-producer. “This is like dating,” I emailed back. “If he’s interested, he’ll honor the date. If not, why are we wasting our time?” My co-producer is a man. I don’t think he necessarily understands female logic, but he emailed back the cancellor and, while it took another three days, we set the date for next Friday.

Finally, Wednesday came. I know, right? We are only at Wednesday? Yes, if you can fucking believe that. Because I couldn’t. Anyway, I was at my other client’s that day, not the crap job, exhausted and slightly hungover from the god-awful Sauvignon Blanc (not that I ever really get hangovers, more like allergy-ish reactions) and semi-functioning off three-hours of sleep. (I replayed a bunch of Angry Birds levels to numb out…next thing I knew, it was nearly 3 AM. Fucking Angry Birds.) So, after a hectic day, as I’m getting in my car to go home, my cell phone rings. It’s the potential new employer. He really wants to hire me, but — since I have to be paid as an independent contractor — he is going with someone salaried. Which I would totally understand if the person I would be replacing wasn’t also established as an independent contractor. I mean, seriously. But, he was very kind. He’s going to try the new person out for three or four weeks. If it doesn’t work out, can he call me? Yes. If he needed me for a day or two here and there, could he call me? Of course. We’ll see if I don’t have a new job in three or four weeks.

Thursday was spent at the crap job. I’ll spare you the ridiculous exchange I had with the two asshats there. It was another long day. Then, my email chimed. It was the Daily Encouragement sent by my Buddhist Mom. It read:

In Buddhism, we either win or lose—there is no middle ground.

I was totally on the losing end of the week.

Now and in the future, let us advance, determined to win in every sphere of our lives.

Well, that’s more or less the plan.

By winning in our lives, we are advancing kosen-rufu; and by advancing kosen-rufu, we win in our lives. 

And the sky is blue because it reflects the ocean, the ocean is blue because it reflects the sky.

By Friday, I was beat, but also happy. I only have a few days left to suffer that crap job. I start a new client on Tuesday, next week, I’ll have my old life back (gym in the morning, no clock to punch), two less asshats in my life. Later Friday evening, an email from my co-producer. Meeting is set again for next Friday. And, after a three-day weekend, life will once again be good.