Sunday, December 28, 2025

Backyards of Success

-2 and clear—a cold day in the darkest time of year. Christmas, a blur of memories and movements converging from years past. 

COVID and a pinched nerve allow me to isolate without a flood of questions, disrupting a role as butler for a dynasty buzzing below--an infectious virus.

Children here, young adults now, figuring out their places in the next generation of whatever makes sense in an absurd world: envisioning grandeur; chasing perfection; expressing aggression.

Outside my window, childhood objects disintegrating in the backyards of success. 









 


Sunday, February 2, 2025

January 2025

 The first month of 2025 came and went. A flash. 

A few highlights:

  • Participated in a daylong zazen retreat with the Anchorage-based Upright Noble Zen. I joined my son for the practice period.
  • Three days after the retreat, I dropped him off at the airport for a flight to England. He is studying humanities at Oxford in a Middlebury program. 
  • On the 18th, I returned to my childhood home in SW Arkansas to see my aunt before her exit. Alzheimer is vicious. As I sat with her in silence, the three unavoidable realities--old age-sickness-death-were in full view. She died the day after I returned to AK.
  • #47 was installed in the Whitehouse on the 20th. Hateful authoritarian edicts undermining democracy, promoting racism, creating anxiety and chaos across the nation and beyond. 


Monday, December 30, 2024

Return: December 30, 2024

I began this experiment 14 years ago to break through "writer's block," an ego entangled in lies, distortions, and doubt—years of practice. The last post was in December 2021. Entries from Darkness 2022-23 remain drafts. How heavy before the collapse? I know.


Today, the sun is bright, the sky is blue...clothes drying, dishes washing. 


Let go of a hundred years and relax completely. Open your hands and walk, innocent. 

(From "Song of the Grass Roof Heritage" by Shitou Xiqian, 700-790)

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Friday, December 31, 2021

Holding Environment: Is this "good enough?"

 

I saw this picture of me holding my son when he was about one year old (2004). Reminded me of Mark Epstein's references to D.W. Winnicott's emphasis on the "good enough" parent, one who meets the child with an attuned holding environment from which the child emerges as an intact human being.

"An infant who is held well enough is quite a different thing for one who has not been held well enough...The reason why this special property of infant care must be mentioned...is that in the early stages of emotional development, before the senses have been organised, before there is something that could be called an autonomous ego, very severe anxieties are experienced.  In fact, the word 'anxiety' is of no use, the order of infant distress at this stage being of the same order as that which lies behind panic, an panic is already a defense against the agony that makes people commit suicide rather than remember. I have meant to use strong language here. You see two infants: one has been held (in my extended sense of the word) well enough, and there is nothing to prevent a rapid emotional growth, according to inborn tendencies. The other has not the experience of being held well and growth has had to be distorted and delayed, and some degree of primitive agony has to be carried on into life and living. Let it be said that in the common experience of good-enough holding the [parent] has been able to supply an auxiliary ego-function, so that the infant has had an ego from the early start, a very feeble, personal ego, but one boosted by the sensitive adaptation of the [parent] and by [the parent's] ability to identify with [the] infant in relation to basic needs. The infant who has not had this experience has either needed to develop premature ego functioning, or else there has developed a muddle." (Winnicott, cited in Epstein, 2013, pp. 29-30--Trauma of Everyday Life

May my holding be good enough.

Sunday, September 5, 2021

Projections and Identifiers: "You can't...You should...You are"


Lately, flooded with memories of messages from childhood, infused with identifiers of what I could not do, what I should do, and who/what I am.

"You can't spell."

"You can't write."

"You can't read."

"You don't get math as fast as..."

"You should take the easy classes..."

"Here's the teacher's edition with the answers to make it easier for you."

"You are slouching! Stand up straight! Suck in your gut! Look confident!"

"You're so 'sweet,' so kind."

"You're lazy...you won't amount to anything."

"You should be an insurance salesman."

"You look good."

"You should go outside and practice basketball--stop sitting in the house playing the piano with that 'fat [racial slur] woman!"

"If it weren't for these damn kids..." 

"Don't trust anyone."

"You will respect me!!!" 

"You're too sensitive."

"Be a man!"

----------------------------

Others' projections? Mostly.

Identifiers? Not necessarily.

Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Take care of problem and keep walking

I easily conjure up lofty ideals about what it means to walk a spiritual path. These fantasies are nurtured by a spiritual industry that offers tantalizing retreats and other products promising happiness and liberation. These marketed commodities interface with my constructed ideas of a successful spiritual life, perhaps one characterized by "daily practice" or an unwavering awareness of "big ideas" such as transformation...consciousness...non-duality...In terms of an authentic spiritual life, these notions are delusions. They are bull shit.

Zen teachings offer the reminder that practice is action in daily life: Taking care of what needs attention when it needs attention. Taking action fully without expecting a particular result or reward. Tending to problems as they arise without attaching to a preferred outcome.
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So how can we know the state of "the self prior to our parents' birth," or thusness or what-is-just-is-of-itself? This is a big question, a big project for us to research. The best way to do this research is just to sit down and do zazen, and let the flower of life force bloom in thusness. That is all we can do. Nothing else. In other words, whatever problem we have, we have to take care of it and constantly keep walking. (Katagiri, 1988, p. 54. From Returning to Silence: Zen Practice in Daily Life)

Sunday, May 24, 2020

How much is enough: Consumer

The second awakening is to know how much is enough...If you want to be free from suffering, you should contemplate knowing how much is enough.  (From Dogen's Eight Awakening of Great Beings)

Immersed in a culture of acquisition and consumption, capitalism turns everything into commodities that can be acquired, bought and sold. In this context, humans are primarily defined as Consumers, valued for what we produce and consume. Billions of dollars are spent on ads to manipulate desires and fears with the promise of satisfaction if we just buy this item, or attain this symbol of success.

Living out how much is enough is radical in any place and time: It's always going against the grain of dissatisfaction that's inherent in the human condition. However, in a context where everything is translated into objects of consumption, the teaching itself is easily perverted: It too becomes a commodity. Thus, the challenge to enact how much is enough in these conditions should not be underestimated. 




Sunday, May 17, 2020

Covid-19: Pause

In the book Radical Acceptance, Tara Brach says the first step in this practice is learning to pause. She defines pause as a "suspension of activity, a time of temporary disengagement when we are no longer moving toward any goal." (p. 51.)  This, she explains, allows us to be fully present, attentive, and listen.

Covid-19, with its disruption to our culture of consumerism and frantic activity, provides an opportunity to pause. I am grateful for the space to pay more attention to areas of life that matter most, even as I navigate the pandemic's stress and uncertainty while trying to keep up with my job and other responsibilities. I'm biking with my 17-year-old son. Sitting zazen with practitioners in Anchorage and Portland in the early morning hours via Zoom. Taking daily walks through the neighborhood and woods behind our house, sometimes accompanied by my wife or one of the children. Playing guitar and singing with my daughter as she learns to sing alto on old Southern Gospel hymns that I sang as a child...

Pause.







Tuesday, January 9, 2018

Know how much is enough: Confidence

Reading Dogen's Eight Awakenings of Great Beings. Today, I read the second one: "Know how much is enough." Speaks to a ground of being that is content, not "constantly pulled by the five sense desires and pitied by those who know how much is enough."

A word that comes to mind is confidence. Not arrogance or certainty but the embodiment of trust in what matters most.



Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Social Justice: Message and Delivery

Yesterday at a conference I'm attending in Portland, I sat through a three hour session led by a professor and advocate for social justice. Her critique of the current state of affairs resonated: Neoliberalism has taken over higher education and the same dehumanizing ideology in the mainstream P-12 educational system destroys human spirits. However, the relevance of her message was eclipsed by her visibly angry, patronizing, and judgmental delivery that came through in "mini lectures" and in the way she offensively criticized participants who spoke up during the discussion parts of the session.

I do not question her sincerity or the importance of her message, but the delivery reminded me of a Donald Trump rant rather than an informative, thoughtful, and provocative message about such an important and timely issue. Interestingly, more than once as I read the pre-conference article that she authored and during her live presentation, the thought crossed my mind that she is doing exactly what she is criticizing the oppressors of doing: She is presenting a dogmatic, simplistic dualism that places participants in a position of having to choose between a commitment to social justice based on her point of view or remain in the safety of their unearned privilege. There was no space for respectful dialogue, different perspectives, dissent, or the complexities of dispositions and development related to individuals' commitments to social justice.

The presentation prompted a several questions as I consider my personal engagement in social justice work and the approach of broader movement. For instance,

  • What is the goal in these types of presentations? Is it to unveil what is going on and invite others to share in the struggle for social justice? Is it to shame people from privileged positions? Or is it to voice one's own unresolved, internal anger and hurt? 
  • To what extent has the presenter--the advocate--done his or her own work? By work, I mean the internal work related to positionality, privilege, and the emotions related to these parts of our experiences and identity. I would dare to bet that the extent of effectiveness is directly correlated with the extent to which one has processed his or her own issues, reactions, and identities related to these themes.
  • In what way does the presentation create unnecessary defensiveness and resistance? I realize there are folks who do not want to see their personal privilege or the ways the "system" benefit them at others' expense. I'm not referring to these individuals, although they too need to hear the message. Rather, I'm referring to folks already committed to social justice, who see how structural issues create and perpetuate injustices and want to make a difference. The presentation yesterday unnecessarily dismissed and marginalized many of these people. 
  • What role might contemplative approaches play in creating the conditions for individual and social transformation? I think we have to go deeper, look beneath the surface and consider what it takes to change from the inside out while also emphasizing and never losing touch with the necessity for real life, on the ground action. This work is not about mind games or generating warm and fuzzy feelings. Instead, it is about facing intense suffering and taking actions that relieve suffering at the individual and collective levels. 

Friday, June 3, 2016

Summer Morning: Friday, June 3, 2016


Snapshot of this morning. Eva on couch reading Pirateology. Annette painting Zena's fingernails. Asa just beginning to stir. I am working on writing project at home before heading to office. Summer morning.

Monday, October 26, 2015

Tooth Removed, Trauma Revealed

When I was 15, the night before the finals of a junior high basketball tournament, I had a dream about playing in that game. While dreaming, I violently slammed my face on the window sill next to my bed, abruptly awakening to a bloody mess, a gashed lip and broken front tooth. The next morning, I saw our family dentist who cleaned the wound, bandaged it, and sent me off in time to play in the game. Our team won. And I played one of my best games ever.

Over the years, this tooth has offered several reminders of the trauma. First, about 11 years after the event, while living in a remote Alaska Native village, a painful abscess developed resulting in an emergency trip by small plane to Bethel where a pipe smoking, hippie dentist lanced the abscess and performed a root canal. Ten years later, the root canal failed so I had it redone and a crown installed. Then, early this fall, 36 years after the original incident, the revised root canal also failed, leading to an extraction just three weeks ago.

The dentist who pulled my tooth encouraged me to use IV-sedation, saying "this is the type of procedure we usually do with sedation." I declined, ostensibly because I wanted to work immediately after the procedure and needed to be alert. However, the primary benefit of not undergoing sedation did not reveal itself until the procedure was underway and I realized this was something I did not want to miss.

While the tooth was being extracted, I heard loud crunching and cracking as the crown broke into little pieces and fell into the back of my throat. I felt intense pressure as he ripped out a part of me deeply embedded in flesh and bone, so close to my brain. I had dreaded the procedure, but interestingly, when in it, instead of resisting, I found myself releasing, giving in, attempting to "help him" remove the tooth. When it finally popped out, he held it up and said matter-of-factly, "Well, here is the problem."

After the procedure, I sat alone in the reclining chair. I washed out my mouth then stood up to leave the operatory. I noticed a table behind the chair, and there I saw the blood-stained, lifeless tooth peacefully laying on a tray surrounded by soiled gauze and metal dental instruments. I felt an urge to pick the tooth up and take it with me as a keepsake, a memento of sorts. Instead, I just looked at it and begin to feel an unexplained sense of regard, a strange kind of reverence. I stood there for a moment, then walked away leaving the tooth behind.

On one level, this was simply a tooth that had gone bad: "here is the problem." Yet my reaction, what I experienced during and after the procedure that day, suggests I'd also attached a story to it. I don't grasp the fullness of that story, what it means or has to tell me, if anything. Perhaps my work is to drop it, let it go and just see the tooth for what it is, or was. Or maybe it would be useful to listen to the story, explore it, unpack it... I don't know. But I do know the tooth is gone, and I am beginning to feel better.

Saturday, July 18, 2015

For New Teachers

I often teach a seminar for preservice teachers during their final semester at the university. As I was preparing for the last session this spring, I found myself rehearsing what I wanted to tell them, ideas about how to teach that were likely not taught in their university teacher education curriculum. Although I decided to not share these thoughts with my students, below is a draft version of what I wanted to say.

Take your stand as teacher. As a new teacher you likely feel unsure about your ability teach, manage a classroom, work with children, etc. Regardless of these normal insecurities and doubts, is essential that you fully accept your role as teacher. Your students do not need you be their friend or parent, they need to you be their teacher.

This reminds me of a story Koun Franz told about advice he received just before beginning to serve as priest at the Anchorage Zen Community. He wrote:

In 2006, when I was preparing to move to Anchorage, one of my teachers sat me down and offered this advice: “Always stand in your position.” What he meant, essentially, was to accept the role of being a priest, not to apologize for it. It’s easy to refuse to sit in the high seat, to laugh at the silliness of having everyone bow in your direction, to wink and say in a thousand little ways, “Don’t worry—I know we’re just playing. I’m just like you.” People practically beg you to do it. But my teacher’s stance was, and is, that deep down, people do not want the priest to be just like them. They want that person to have the strength to sit in the position of the Buddha, unflinchingly, and to speak and act from that place. Because who else will do that? 
(http://www.patheos.com/blogs/wildfoxzen/2012/01/standing-in-ones-position.html)

In a similar way, your students need you to take your stand as their teacher, to “speak and act from that place.”

Meet your students as complete, right now. Contemporary education focuses on the future and students are portrayed as lacking what they most need for future success. Teachers are told their job is to fill this deficit by giving students knowledge and skills needed to succeed in college, jobs, and the marketplace, all in the future. In this way, education is separated from students’ present lives and sends them the message that what is happening right now is really that what is important.

John Dewey (1929) offered a radically different view when he wrote:

Education is a process of living and not a preparation for future living. The school must represent life—life as real and vital to the child as that which he carries on in the home, in the neighborhood, or on the playground. (“My Pedagogic Creed”)

Preparing students for the future is certainly part of what you do, but this effect of your efforts does not negate the importance of meeting your students as complete human beings and honoring the process of living right now.

Come back to the present. When feeling overwhelmed by the busyness of the day—lesson preparation, grading, paperwork—and pressures to meet students’ many needs and demands, bring yourself back to the present moment. This can be as simple as noticing your breath, seeing the color of a kid’s shoe, or spotting sunlight streaming in through the window. This is not an escape strategy, nor will it magically make the challenges go away. However, it can create a space where you are more likely to mindfully meet your students and tasks, to fully attend to the busyness of the day. 


Embody what you teach. Your actions—what you do and how you do it—are your most powerful pedagogy. Therefore, pay attention to how you stand, walk, sit; the way you open the classroom door; what and how you speak to a child; and how you react to a parent wanting to talk. Show your students curiosity, openness, and critical thinking by the way you think in front of them. If you want students to treat themselves and others with respect and dignity, you, as their teacher, must embody these ways of being.  

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Anything-Nothing

My 4-year-old daughter says "anything" for "nothing." Today I asked her, "What do you have in your hand?" Her reply, "Anything." Last week, when she and a friend were playing, I asked, "What are you doing?" Again, she said, "Anything."

Her word choice may simply be a 4-year-old's confusion, or a sign of language development that will soon mature and self-correct. However, each time I hear her, she cuts through my view that something "is" or "is not." It can't be both at the same time--you either have something in your hand or you do not. But for her, it could be "anything," which leaves open all possibilities, including "nothing."

...Form does not differ from emptiness, 
emptiness does not differ from form. 
Form itself is emptiness, emptiness itself form.
(From the Heart Sutra) 






Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Blue Sky

Blue sky filled with smoke from a magician's black hat hidden in the shadows of a roadside swamp. Nothing heard as a voice trails into the dark, landing on the mossy forest floor offering refuge to the blind. A stellar jay carries a walnut away for another day, where silence cracks the vault of safety and delusion.


(Picture by one of my children at the Anchorage Waldorf School.)

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Family Day and Machine Guns : August 24

A family day in the Marley-Jester home in East Anchorage. A dedicated time this weekend to reconnect as family, to play, talk, cook...together. A few minutes ago, I walked upstairs and was distracted by the haunting sounds of machine guns firing just a couple miles away--the Army doing "training exercises." Questions come to mind, like, what is the purpose of training these young men and women to kill? Do they know, or care? Is it to protect "freedom?" Freedom for whom? Democracy? What is democracy, really? Human rights? Whose rights? Or is it about preserving capitalism, that which ensures the elite continue to prosper and stay safe in their bubble? Who decides?...

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Joshu´s Washing the Bowl

(From Gateless Gate, Case 7)
A monk told Joshu, "I have just entered the monastery. I beg you to teach me." Joshu asked, "Have you eaten your rice porridge?" The monk replied, "I have." "Then," said Joshu, "Go and wash your bowl." At that moment the monk was enlightened.

Doing what needs to be done, taking care of what is right here, right now: eating breakfast, washing dishes, saying good morning, driving to work... 

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Manila, Philippines: Day 2 (Sunday, June 30)

Awoke to rain at 5:00 AM. Rainy season: Lush, green, warm. When I told my Filipino neighbor in Anchorage that I was going to visit the Philippines, he said "Really?...They going to rob you." Perhaps. But yesterday, when working out at a crowded gym near my hotel, I inadvertently left my new Bose headphones and iPod on the treadmill. Realizing my mistake after I'd returned to my room, I rushed back to the gym with his words of warning reverberating in head. To my delight, the headphones and iPod were right where I'd left them. 

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Monday Morning in Islamabad

Sitting at a desk in an Islamabad hotel room. It is 5:30 AM, although my body feels it is in the middle of the afternoon. Running through my mind are thoughts of home and family, work in Alaska that continues uninterrupted thanks to internet and a 14 hour time difference, and tasks here for which I traveled halfway around the world to do.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012