A Little Bit of Fury and a Lot of Friendliness

I’m really not sure what’s going on, but I have the sense that things are moving. The question, “who am I? What am I to do?” is so insistent that its intensity colors everything. I walk down the street asking this of everything, and the air and the flowers seem to be straining to reply; like a person’s mouth moving soundlessly under water, I can almost make out the words.

I took myself into downtown Corvallis with the intention of posting flyers for an upcoming workshop at Great Vow. Although I didn’t really need an excuse, this errand provided me with a much-needed opportunity to interact with others, which is equivalent to seeing myself.

I was surprised at most people’s friendliness and willingness to help and just chat a bit in the middle of a Monday. And I was also quite taken aback by the hostility and suspicion of the local internet service provider.

In some ways, he taught me the most, though I’m not sure what the lesson is. Perhaps that it’s all too easy to fall into a confrontational mindset? I mean, this guy was hearing things I wasn’t saying, and drawing conclusions that just weren’t true, all as a result of a really devastated picture of self in the world. I had some sense of what to expect as I waited to talk to him: the friendly guy who told me to come back to talk to the boss was now cowed and tentative.

So watch out what you become? Is that it?

Part of me wants to go check in with this guy again, to hear what he’s all about, and to suggest that being as asshole isn’t the way to get things done. How successful can his business ever be if he terrifies his employees? I was hoping his company could host web pages I produce, but now having any sort of professional relationship seems really aversive.

Or maybe I can just see him as a wrathful deity, a pinball bumper kicking the rolling ball back on track.

Don’t go fucking around in something you’re not willing to do well, or persist at?

And then maybe it’s nothing, just the world flowing and hurting and going onwards.

My heart is so open, and I know that the upcoming sesshin will continue to cook me and show me unavoidable truths.

I’m thinking of life path as being about That Which Cannot Be Avoided. You’re going along, not really very inspired, and then something happens, and you’re in the Peace Corps, or starting a Worm composting business, or recruiting a martial arts instructor to give local kids an alternative to Fight Clubs.
It doesn’t matter if your hearing is sensitive, and you allow yourself to be led by the dance, or if you require forcing and pushing: the truth will get you, whether you serve it willingly or reluctantly. The only question is how much it’s going to hurt to get you on track. I suppose you could ignore the call altogether…but that kills you.

So in this world, with so many enticing paths within leaping distance, yet none assuredly certain, what do I do?

I’m interested in teaching a class at LBCC, and in publicizing worm composting and self-massage via classes and articles.

I’m interested in talking to Mark Unno about how to pursue a scholarly approach to a religion one loves.

I’m interested in how organizations can be healthy, psychological, financially, and structurally.

I dream of other countries and things to do there, but I’m not really on the path of doing Peace Corps in Poland, importing handicrafts from Indonesia, making miso in B.C., or teaching at Catlin Gabel. I’m becoming more satisfied to let others follow those wonderful other paths. Other people can be bodyworkers, and I can support them. Other people can be millionaire importers and manufacturers—how wonderful that I can meet them and share inspiration!

There’s this interesting impulse to put oneself in the heart of suffering; when I hear about natural disasters, or invasions of troubled countries by my own, I want to go to that spot.

Maybe that’s what I was learning today from Sam the computer man: I can sit there and face extreme bitterness, and hold on, maintain eye contact, and come to some understanding with the person. In this case, a theme was that we were coming from different assumptions about the collaborative nature of the world. Which is not to say that meeting Sam didn’t send my nerves tingling. But I also didn’t quail or lose sight of my goal in being there, and I remained quite willing to get up and leave. I wasn’t invested in the conflict, and I wasn’t consumed by it.