Not Just Another Saturday.

Closing Time, North Lexington Family YMCA, Lexington KY

Tuesday, October 25, 2011. The day she stole my heart.

Fourteen years ago, she opened her arms and took me in. Since then, I have been reminded almost daily that after 50 years of searching, I finally found my life’s purpose. I am so blessed to be part of the holy work and mission of the YMCA in my neighborhood and in the world.

Boy Scout. Student. Singer, Actor. Stagehand. Manager. Preacher. Teacher. It seems to me that my whole life was preparing me to serve at the Y. Part of me believes that God let me live through cancer so I could be here.

The truth is, whatever success or failures I have known, whoever taught me anything about life or love or knot-tying or good manners helped to prepare me to offer myself to the wonderful people who walk through the doors of the Y every day. I’m so richly blessed to be here, among people who would rather be filling their days with life, than reclining at home with a remote in one hand and Cheetos in the other, marking what’s left of their time on Earth.

Blessed by colleagues who love her just as deeply as I do; People devoted to the holy work of building people up, not tearing them down

Blessed by seniors who show up, not only to exercise and connect, but also to serve and support one another through celebration and suffering.

Blessed by kids who greet “Mr. Bob” in the pool, in the hall, and (maybe my favorite,) in the grocery store.

Blessed by clients who trust and teach me so much more than I could ever teach them.

Blessed by athletes whose commitment and faithfulness inspire me.

Blessed by courageous people who have declined cancer’s deadly invitation, and chosen life, whatever their prognosis.

Blessed to be borne by a river of love that has flowed for 180 years, and will keep on flowing long after my little boat has drifted out into the sea.

It’s always risky for me to start rhapsodizing about the Y. My love and gratitude turns into an avalanche of sentiment that exhausts even me. But sometimes I just have to shout how much I love her and the things she has done for me and for the folks I will always think of as “my people.”

I thank God I was able to find her before I died. It’s a better world with her in it. And I’m a better man with her in me.

God bless the YMCA.

Tru Dat, Mr. Walrus

There are many things in the teachings of Buddhism, that I find difficult to grasp. Now that I think of it, that is kind of the point. Grasping and holding things is one cause of the suffering that was so important to Buddha's dharma (teaching.) So maybe it's a good thing that every time I try to grab hold of an idea like reincarnation, I find it slipping through my mind's fingers. It is just so alien to the way that I grew up. 

Another thing that puzzles me is anatta; it means "no-self" and it tears away something that has been part of most western religions. As I understand it, no-self means that there is no "me" in this life or in the next. The idea of a soul where my consciousness lives, a personality that travels to another plane after death is absent in Buddha's teaching. 

I don't get it. I mean, OK. So there is no life after death except in the sense that our chemical parts disintegrate and are reassembled to become soil, or corn plants, or a platypus, or the cornerstone of a cathedral, or something. But that's only a shadow of the two-fold truth that the Dharma is scratching at.

I recently read an explanation from my old go-to, Thich Nhat Hanh. In The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching, he comes at it it this way. There are two levels of truth. Relative Truth sees things as the world sees them. Of course I have a self. I am me. You are you. We are all together, Goo-Goo Ga J'oob. Or words to that effect. From a close-up view, we see a part of the truth, but only in relation to other parts of the world. I am not you, or the gravel on the road, or the air in the room, or the cheese on the moon. But there is another level of truth, a level you have to stand back a little to see. You have to change your perspective to a place where you see Absolute Truth. Out here, truth doesn't need context. It stands alone. Out here, we are not just related to one another: we truly are one another. I am not just made of the same stuff as my desktop. We are one thing. 

See why I say my mind has a hard time wrapping its fingers around the idea? It makes no sense and perfect sense at the same time. The truth is both/and. I am an individual, unique in all of creation. I am also creation itself, just as a wave is absolutely one of a kind and separate from the ocean, while at the same time it is the ocean. 

I know, weird, right?

So why does this strange idea strike me as so important? I think it challenges the way I think about other people and about (to use a suddenly controversial word) myself. The truth as I see it, is true, yes. But it is only true from my perspective. It is not only arrogant to believe I can know the absolute truth, it is also an inevitable source of suffering for me and for the people around me. I can't know that what you see is wrong, because I can't know what you see. I have to treat the truth with respect and humility.

Does that mean I can't know things? Well, yes and no. I can know that failing to put gas in my car will lead to a stalled engine. I can know that releasing a kettlebell over my foot will result in a lot of pain and a reasonable amount of foul language. I can know that using my debit card will decrease the amount of money available to me from my bank account. But can I know if it is a wicked thing to rely on fossil fuel to get to the gym or if no good will come of a broken foot or what exactly this "money" thing is in my account? Those are things I cannot know without absolute certainty.

I know this isn't particularly profound or revolutionary. But it is liberating, in a way. I can carry the things I see today, without the obligation to hold on to them if I see them differently tomorrow. I can look back on the things I thought were true when I was young without judgment or blame because they were just as true to me then as my new perspective is to me today. And I don't need to attack the things that you see, because I can't know if you are looking at the same truth as I am, just with a different lens or camera angle. 

So what does all this have to do with no-self? I guess it means that the truth - the absolute truth - is the thing that connects us. We might think it is atoms and elements, or the image of God, or the air we breathe, but ultimately, the thing that connects us is that we are connected. 

Just typing that, it feels like gibberish to me. It also makes perfect sense. I am the wave. I am also the water. Not because we are made of the same stuff, but because we are the same. We are one thing.

This is the sort of idea that occurs to you when you sit breathing for an hour with a cat in your lap at 5:00 AM every day. I'm not sure if I'm doing meditation right, but it certainly feels like light is shining in some new corners. And it's a relief not to feel pressure to be the smartest guy in the room all the time. But that is a topic for another day.

Goo-goo ga j'oob, y'all.

Pennsy