the oily bird finds the worm is dead

the industrialists have finally done it--they've made the entire earth the equivalent of the Gowanus Canal! Hooray, future generations of "humans" will thank us. They won't resemble us physically of course, they will have out of necessity mutated into ozone-breathing, petroleum-sucking, ultraviolet-light-ray- and microwave-resistant creatures with no need of clothing or hair. Maybe like sentient tumors bottom feeding on GMO krill shot full of hormones. They will thank us for preparing earth for their emergence.

Aptly enough, the Gowanus Canal, has the words has "anus" and "anal" in it and it frequently smells like crap because of all the solvents, garbage, guns and bodies in it. And now the Gulf is like that, too. Great.

The thing is that greed is what leads to these horrors. This is the pornography of greed. I don't know, maybe if there were some other motivation it would be acceptable or understandable. But so it is.

The efforts to clean up the Gowanus are charming and idealistic, and sweet because there is an ugly beauty to it and visionaries see potential here. I hope the idealists win, they clean it up and someday people will promenade on its splendorous banks. I hope the same for the Gulf.

lacking inherent existence

This is one of my favorite recent sightings along one of my favorite areas in Brooklyn, the Gowanus Canal. It's still affected by postindustrial blight, at least visually and olfactorily although signs of gentrification are rampantly present.

What is funny about this sign is that it's asking us to agree that the area immediately around it is no longer a basis upon which to impute "bus stop" because a bus will no longer be stopping here. I like it because it's a reminder that everything we encounter is an imputation of our mind upon the encountered stimuli--at least according to my understanding of Buddhism. This is great, good news. I try to imagine other things surrounding me are accompanied by similar signs: "Attention This is not a cat. You are imputing cat on these furry and annoying aggregates begging for food and stinking outside the box."

Ah, everything we encounter is colored by our mindset.

why rescue

Something I've been turning around in my mind for a while is: why do people "rescue" animals. I've just returned from the veterinarian with Baxter, a cast-out fellow that found refuge in my yard. Hopefully, I will be able to place him in a loving home, he is starved for affection! My own 3 cats have had just about enough of my bringing in strays or ferals and finding them homes, forgetting that they were once in the same position.

In the 11 years I've had a backyard in Brooklyn I've learned about the massive stray and feral population in my neighborhood. I've met many people involved with TNR, volunteers and people that work at animal shelters. They've been selfless in their work, many devoting their lives and money to helping place these foundlings in homes or shelters, loving the ones deemed unlovable by the unseen people who have turned them out to meet their fate.

One unforgettable time I was walking my late dog Guinness around midnight a few days after a blizzard. The sky was the dark navy blue that comes when a waxing moon has set, the crystalline snow sparkled like diamonds in the street lights. Guinness nosed at what at first glance looked like an old crumpled sweater in a snowdrift. But it moved and I realized it was an orange tabby--he was barely alive! I swept him up and placed him under my coat, brought him indoors to food, water, and a makeshift bed. The next day I brought him to the vet and named him Jones, after the cat in Alien who met death and survived. He made it and went to a loving, loving home.

Another lasting memory is when I was waiting at the vet to pick up medication for Guinness, when some rescuers burst in with an emergency. The spokesman entered first to apprise the vet of the situation and we were all asked to please step aside to make way. I backed into a corner and the rest of the rescue crew carried in a massive pit bull whose bloody blanket fell away to reveal a leg with the meat torn clear off, the tibia bone plainly visible. Unbelievably, the dog was smiling and panting, happy to be petted and held by human beings!

There is the cliché of the crazy cat lady, or the people who love animals but hate people. I think what happens is that when you work with animals, you see the damage some people have done and it can make you angry. I wonder, why is it that some folks recognize that animals have feeling just as we do, and some folks do not see this? Do the people that lack empathy for animals also show the same disregard for people? Studies have long ago correlated that animal abusers often become abusers and even killers of people.

And what about the reverse, where does the compassion or compulsion to save animals come from? My own anecdotal evidence, not at all scientific, indicates that many rescuers have had some childhood trauma, or witnessed it. Maybe there is a need to help the helpless because in childhood one was unable to do that.

Well, I am happy to help animals whenever possible, and am thrilled that there are thousands of others doing the same. I'd like to add that many animal volunteers help people in need as well, we are all animals after all, aren't we?

lotus likeness

Buddha Shakyamuni used the idea of the lotus growing out of the swamp to flower and open above the murk into the clarity of space as a metaphor for our own mind, with its potential to free itself from the murk and confusion of our own thoughts.

Today is the birthday of the human incarnation of my spiritual guide--Happy Birthday, Geshe-La! It is (to my mind) apropos to quote his wonderful translation of one of the greatest Buddhist works: Guide to the Bodhisattva's Way of Life by Shantideva: "There is no thing not included in the mind."

A great teacher in the Buddhist tradition said, "When you change your mind, you change the world." So today is the day for me to think twice about all occurrences and decide that they are good ones--even the prickly ones I reject can be used as lessons learned. Everything is mind, because we are creatures that cognize our existence via experiences. Experiences are engagements of our mind with phenomena. So all is of the same "fabric" or nature of our mind. Anyway, thus reasoned Buddha, and I am inclined to agree.

capitalism spills

On my commute yesterday (I freelanced this week for a pop "culture" magazine/ landfill fodder) I saw this revelatory and insightful graffiti: CAPITALISM SPILLS. It was painted on an oracular building which can be viewed in between EAGLE Clothing and KENTILE Floors where the F train rises above ground in a rollercoasteresque arc above Carroll Gardens.

I noticed on webular news venues, the oil spill disaster is being referred to as the "Louisiana Oil Spill"--why not say the truth and call it the "British Petroleum Oil Spill"? It's their fault, and the fault of all oil-driven economic policy which had come years ago, thanks to the great oil junkies, such as GW Bush, Tony Blair, et al. Language shapes public opinion, so place the blame where it belongs.

In any case, although studies show that the "me generation" is apathetic towards others (http://www.livescience.com/culture/empathy-college-students-generation-me-100528.html) it would appear that some youth do care about the environment, hence the graffiti. The economic, political and environmentally irresponsible quagmire we find ourselves in took generations of selfishness and lack of empathy to create, so I would argue that the current pathology has its roots in Reaganism.

This building is like an oracle, with social concerns posted by committed artists. I'm thankful for whoever is involved.

kids, yoga and light

Sadly, today was the final class of the season for those of us volunteering practicing yoga with autistic children. With all due respect to my colleagues and friends in the Buddhist sector, I have not seen a more genuine expression of pure love and compassion in action than in these classes. It was nothing short of amazing and inspiring to see the gentleness and enthusiasm the boys and girls brought to yoga!

At my first class I did not know what to expect. But I enjoy playing and being around children and how different could these kids be? What I found was there were varying ways in which some of the kids were able to communicate. It appeared as though it was painful for some to even look at the world and they preferred sitting quietly covering their faces. There were eruptions of joyful hand clapping or vocalizations--at least they appeared joyful. Some of the kids were quite willing to communicate and make jokes, others would repeat strings of phrases, one of my favorite kids would only make a variety of birdlike sounds--very accurate ones, actually.

It must be refreshing to be out of a classroom and in a room with smiling and encouraging ladies (and the occasional gentleman). All of us volunteers were eager to help and gently interact with the kids if they wanted help. I have to honestly say I felt love for each child, and judging by all the volunteers' faces, they loved them too! In the weeks that passed since my first day, the kids also progressed, all sat on mats and participated. Credit goes to Bridget, our teacher, and all the teachers and caretakers that created the space for the kids and volunteers to feel comfortable.

I peeked at one point when we had our eyes closed and saw blissful expressions all around. Since it was the last day, the kids brought Bridget cards they drew--such sweetness! At the beginning of class, we were asked to imagine ourselves filled with light, which was easy in the light which streamed in through the stained glass windows of the auditorium, some jewel-like colors reflected on our clothes, skin and hair and the polished wood floor. I think it was more than summery light that warmed the room, though, it was love.

a dog's day in Williamsburg

Here's another picture of Guinness and a failed attempt to hypnotize her to keep her from trolling for sidewalk treats when we walked. Also I forgot to take pictures of my volunteer day last week when I walked dogs for BARC shelter in Williamsburg. I was dazzled by the "hipster silk route" and other rumors I'd heard about the rampant gentrification. Parts of it didn't resemble NY at all, it was almost like part of Berkeley, CA, crashed into a toxic waste site on the still waterside of the East River. Also there were these megalithic condos keeping sentinel watch on the shore, their fronts facing the water and sunset, much like the Easter Island heads. There were still traces of the generations come before, little hints of poverty, old churches, Boricua College. And of course the animal shelter, where saintly (yet cheerful) people work tirelessly for very little pay to alleviate the suffering of the helpless dogs and cats which come their way. The first dog I walked was Champ, and he was so cool I took him on a long jaunt--his coat was the same coloring as Guinness, he was from similar stock but his head was the shape and size of a St. Bernard. They told me he would be adopted soon, shepherd mixes are in demand. My last dog was a young hyper mini Pinscher named Rocco, we sidled along the luxury condo overlooking the water, I was hoping the small manicured ovals of grass would inspire him to poop, when I saw the doorman get up. Uh oh, we'll be chased away--but no, a tall unassuming graceful figure was advancing and too late I realized it was a famous actor (I think). The doorman was going to get the door for him; celebrity smiled at the mini Pin. Maybe he'll adopt? Rocco has a wife, they will get adopted as a pair. Anyway Rocco and I went off to another more private area for his business, the sun was setting, a breeze cooled the air, all was well.