Crossing Nebraska

The election is over. The people have spoken. Some, no doubt, are joyously celebrating the result, perhaps even praising God. Many, however, see a dark cloud hanging over our nation. An undeniable shift in the body politic has taken place—a shift that has many grieving profoundly what has been lost and deeply anxious for what may yet be lost. Count me amongst the latter. If I seem more composed than some others, it’s simply because I’ve done a fair amount of preparatory grieving already. No, I did not see what was coming. It’s just that I’m Buddhist, and Buddhists value equanimity. I knew that I wanted (needed?) to wake up after the declaration of the winner of this election and get on with living, regardless of the result. Which is not to say that I don’t know what it feels like for those who are deeply grieving right now. I was and am horrified that women’s bodily autonomy has been stripped away—at great risk to their liberty and their lives. I continue to be disturbed by the hat

  Welcome to a blog within a blog! I first began writing Power, Practice, and Peace under a pseudonym while completing my first book. I published a number of pieces back then, but the project stalled as the publication of That Which We Already Know came to fruition. A recent review of those writings motivates me to now resurrect them and build on their foundation. Thus, look for Power, Practice, and Peace posts popping up here from time to time. I'll keep a running compilation of posts here . Perhaps I’ll also make them stand out by marking them with the following image—adapted from the banner image of that erstwhile pseudonymous blog.   What is power? Is it something we have or lack? Do we enjoy it or fear it? How do various power differentials and dynamics play out in our personal and professional lives, our communities, our spiritual practices and sexual relations? How do they play out in the way we view ourselves and the world? That is what this blog within a blog is about.

  It has been a season of many losses within my family and circle of friends, bringing life and death to the forefront of my mind. Life and death is something of a koan that each of us must resolve—the Great Matter that I spoke of in a recent post. Dogen’s Shoji ( Life and Death ), on the other hand, is a koan in the more traditional and literal sense. It is one short fascicle of a larger work, the Shobogenzo , composed sometime in the first half of the 13 th Century by Eihei Dogen, preeminent teacher within the Soto Zen tradition. Sunset with silhouette of trees Dogen begins Shoji with a quote from another Zen teacher: “Because in life and death there is buddha, there is no life and death” (Nishijima and Cross, 2009, p. 299). This first sentence may well be a koan unto itself—a koan within a koan, if you will. What does it mean? Perhaps we can gain a toehold by thinking of Buddha as ultimate reality beyond all so-called separate things. Thus, when we recognize Buddha in life and d

Our family lost its matriarch this past April. Darlene was an incredibly accomplished professional woman—having traveled the world as part of a wife and husband ministerial team. She was retired by the time I got to know her, though, and most people in our circle simply referred to her as Mom or Granny. Darlene holding one of our newest family members. Having married into the clan somewhat late in life, and with my biological mother still alive, I never quite felt comfortable calling her Mom. Instead, I settled into calling her Darlene. Regardless of what I called her, though, as my birth mother slowly faded away into the haze of dementia, Darlene was there for me as the perfect mother-in-law. But there were times when I felt like an imperfect son-in-law. You see, Darlene poured out more love than I was able to accept. She knew I loved plants and gardening, for instance, and she just kept them coming. Even after we got young cats that made keeping houseplants nearly impossible, the

Occasional days of warmth and sun and new growth peeking from the earth have blessed us, yet winter’s gray embrace seems here to stay. So many people I’m close to are struggling mightily these days with loved ones dying, relationships crumbling, or serious illness descending full force upon them. It reminds me yet again of the howling reality that life can plunge us in an instant from the sunny heights of all is well into the icy depths of pain and bewilderment. Thus, even with spring right around the corner, I find myself revisiting what Zen Buddhists refer to as the Great Matter —the mystery that each of us must resolve regarding life and death. The first spring flowers this year If unresolved, the Great Matter follows close behind wherever grief may lead—darkening it, deepening it, and making it lonelier still. On the other hand, resolving the Great Matter provides context for our grief. Contextualized, our pain joins the chorus of loss’s universality rather than being an isolated

Gosh, it’s been almost a year since I began this series of posts recounting some of my recent experiences of synchronicity. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at it having taken so long, though, given that I knew from the start this installment was coming and would require of me a fair bit of emotional heavy lifting. In fact, this post may well be the most personally revealing one I’ve ever written, dealing as it does with the dysfunction of my family of origin and the karma it has wrought. But to disregard such messy context would be to excise these synchronicities from everything that gives them power and meaning in the first place. Please bear with me then, as I share enough background information to allow you privy to my state of mind at the time of these events. You may read the first two installments here and here . Interior of Liverpool's Bombed-Out Church First of all, I must say that I’m a Zen Buddhist and not particularly invested in any theories about the afterlife, not