Ceci n’est pas une blog

Seeya. Wouldn't want to beeya.

I have said it before:  Aden Nak rocks my world. Over and over. In my post New Years myopic emotional haze, I missed his farewell to Dubbya. It's worth acknowledging even at this late date, lest we forget what we've been through for 8 long years.

There is no need to wait for history to obscure the details in a battle fog of conflicting punditry and rosy nostalgia. George W. Bush was, is and forever will be a miserable failure, from his ape-gait lumber to his spoiled child certainty to his ghastly inability to refrain from smirking when invoking the memory of the dead. But worse than that, he was an empty-headed creature. A pseudo-folksy front man for a band of Pollyanna armchair generals who see the world as their own personal political rutting ground. Men who thought the domino theory that worked so bloody well in Vietnam was worth trying again - only this time in reverse and in a region far less stable. Not that any of them were around to see the domino theory in action. Like Dick Cheney, they all had other priorities.

Read the rest here:  Clearing Brush by Aden Nak

Pink Cloud Mojito and Other Valentine’s Day Ramblings

While having dinner at the bar at Mucho recently with my friend Hilarie, we helped the bartender and chef concoct their new drink, a Pink Cloud Mojito. These martini glasses, filled with plumes of cotton candy are about to be liquified by the pouring of a minty lime and tequila mixture. Add a little John Cage music in the background and it's almost a Happening.

I have much to be thankful for this Valentine’s Day, not the least of which are two wonderfully scrumptious kids who rock my world every single day. I find myself envying the way my friends who aren't parents can navigate through life. There is the simple matter of time. With a 2-year-old boy and a nearly 12 year-old-girl, you can imagine what kind of time is left for me at the end of the day. Hint: nil. I consistently steal time from the administrative and logistical activities of keeping a household running for a chance to read, connect with friends or catch up on the few shows I TiVo. Bills don't get paid, refrigerator is empty, beds don't get made...all so I can come back to center on a regular basis. I often feel like I live in perpetual motion; chasing or being chased. The hyper-awareness that is required of me at all times is exhausting.

For all that I am drained by the constant juggle, I am also fed by the presence of these two beings, my children. It's difficult to articulate what it means to wake at 5 am to a little voice calling me. It is easy to describe the desperation to be left alone to sleep. The dizziness of having to stand erect and be present. The dread at having to spend 3 long hours with a demanding toddler with limited communication skills before the rest of the world is even conscious. But there is more, and it goes something like this:

It is an honor to walk alongside my children as they make this journey through life. To be the person they depend on to see them through. To watch my son learn how to use his body, to learn to speak, to learn how to use a spoon, to figure out how to wield his power over his environment and the things in it (including his mother!). To watch my daughter figure out who she is, what she believes in, how to negotiate complicated friendships. To see her explore where her boundaries are, deciding how much to give and how much to demand. To begin to see and admire both her sharp wit and generous spirit. To be her mirror as she defines herself as a woman, a lover and a mother. 

I am not at all sure what it means in the larger picture. Why have children? For whose benefit is it to bring more people onto an over-populated and environmentally deteriorating planet? (These questions are even more pointed in my case because I have managed to blow apart the panacea of the traditional family model twice over.) What I do know is this. For all it's challenges and personal sacrifices, motherhood remains the single most important and fulfilling thing that I do and that I am. Perhaps this goes without saying. But in a year where I have been brutally honest with myself about all kinds of things, my feelings about motherhood have not escaped scrutiny and analysis. I love being mom. I love who that makes me. I love my children — both as a concept and as individuals. I love the way they love me. I love the way they see me. I love the way we nourish each other. It is this love that I celebrate today, on Valentine’s Day. 

Do you know how they picked the Dalai Lama?!

Am I wrong? Isn't the Dalai Lama both the spiritual leader and the head of state of the Tibetan people? He is referred to as HHDL — His Holiness the Dalai Lama. He is lauded as one of the great moral authorities on the planet. (And he sends those great emails about being centered, grounded and generally benevolent person, then threatens eternal damnation if you don't forward the message to 10 of your closest friends. Okay, okay, maybe I should check snopes.com.) 

Tenzin Gyatso is the 14th Dalai Lama. The Tibetan people believe all the Dalai Lamas are the same soul incarnate in different bodies. I was fascinated to read last week about the methodology by which they found this current HHDL.

The search for the present Dalai Lama commenced in earnest in 1935 when the embalmed head of his deceased predecessor is said to have wheeled around and pointed toward northeastern Tibet.

Then, the story goes, a giant star-shaped fungus grew overnight on the side of the tomb. An auspicious cloud bank formed and a regent saw a vision of letters floating in a mystical lake, one of which — Ah — he took to refer to the northeast province of Amdo.

High lamas set off at a gallop and found a 2-year-old boy in a distant village. This child, they determined after a series of tests, was the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama.

I have to appreciate the absurdity of this information. I am as appreciative of mysticism and metaphysics as anyone, but it seems that this selection process leaves a wide margin of error. 

Read the whole article, Can You Choose Your Reincarnated Successor? and tell me what you think.