Dang Zang

A little while ago I made a brief entry on the theme of “There’s Nobody as Irish as O’Bama” after the successful American elections.

St Patrick’s day fell earlier this week, of course. Strong as my connection with Ireland is, I didn’t go out to join the jollity. In Ireland there is indeed plenty of merry-making, much of it alcohol-fuelled, but there is also a lot of church going, mass saying, visiting of family and friends, tea drinking, cake-nibbling, praying and so on – there is, in short, a balance. Here in ex-pat land (half the world it seems, though most of them are essentially just wannabee ex-pats) it tends to be little more than a booze-up with green trim.

However, as I was reciting the Mahamudra Lineage prayer that morning, as I have done (almost) every day since the early 1980s, I was blown away by the vision and realization that the 8th Karmapa too, Micky O’Dorje, was also to all intents and purposes Irish.

The Tibetans call him Mikyo Dorje, in case you weren’t sure. Above is the picture of him that hangs in my office.

After serious discussion, as befits a Buddhist forum, on the Kagyu list at yahoo, concerning such matters as kangaroos, possums, drinking beer in singlets while talking about footie and wearing thongs (in the Australian sense of the term), not to mention the Australian meaning of Durex, Jamie (whom I suspect to be a whisky-swilling Scotsman) offered me this impression of myself, reproduced below. It is definitely not totally correct – my mala, for instance, is not red. Do my dear readers think it might be accurate?

I am considering blasting back with a picture of myself in full magnificence, but I’ll have to think about that a bit. Is such a picture possible? Can I manifest magnificence?

This is not original, but it is funny (I think so, anyway):

Sayings of the Jewish Buddha

If there is no self, whose arthritis is this?

Be here now. Be someplace else later. Is that so complicated?

Drink tea and nourish life; with the first sip, joy; with the second sip, satisfaction; with the third sip, peace; with the fourth, a Danish.

Wherever you go, there you are. Your luggage is another story.

Accept misfortune as a blessing. Do not wish for perfect health, or a life without problems. What would you talk about?

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single Oy.

There is no escaping karma. In a previous life, you never called, you never wrote, you never visited. And whose fault was that?

Zen is not easy. It takes effort to attain nothingness. And then what do you have? Bupkis.

The Tao does not speak. The Tao does not blame. The Tao does not take sides. The Tao has no expectations. The Tao demands nothing of others. The Tao is not Jewish.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Forget to do this and attaining Enlightenment will be the least of your problems.

Let your mind be as a floating cloud. Let your stillness be as a wooded glen. And sit up straight. You’ll never meet the Buddha with such rounded shoulders.

Deep inside you are ten thousand flowers. Each flower blossoms ten thousand times. Each blossom has ten thousand petals. You might want to see a specialist.

Be aware of your body. Be aware of your perceptions. Keep in mind that not every physical sensation is a symptom of a terminal illness.

The Torah says, Love your neighbor as yourself. The Buddha says, There is no self. So … maybe we’re off the hook?