two seagulls peck at dead pigeon
two pigeons stand watching
About eight years ago, in a review of His Holiness the Dalai Lama's book Beyond Religion, I wrote:
The Dalai Lama is one of the most misunderstood public figures, and he is misunderstood in two major ways. His fame as a spiritual teacher, combined with the warmth of his huge personality, makes it possible for people to enjoy his presence without actually hearing what he says, and so many of his fans experience him as a cuddly enabler along the lines of Thich Nhat Hanh or Deepak Chopra. In actuality, he is as far from Oprah Winfrey as fire is from ice. He is a deeply serious, tough-minded practitioner and teacher of a shockingly harsh and demanding religious discipline.
I still stand by those words, so from comments he's made recently, it seems clear he's now a few beads short of a mala:
The interviewer, the BBC’s Rajini Vaidyanathan, pointed out the campaign for Britain to leave the EU used one of the Dalai Lama’s quotes about migration to Europe as part of its campaign. “The goal should be that migrants return and help rebuild their countries. You have to be practical. It’s impossible for everyone to come,” he had said.
When does our journey end? When we realise we were never on a journey. For as long as we are the protagonist of our own story, on our own journey or quest or search, there’s no peace, because we’re never where we are, always where we aren’t. The path of Zen takes us to where we are.
"Why did Bodhidharma come from the west?"
"The oak tree in the garden."
The dreary Scottish Review of Books got denied 45 grand from Creative Scotland, so Rosemary Goring is jumping and and down and blaming "diversity targets."
Claire Squires explains how absurd Goring's fit is.
Daishin, the Angry Tattooed Monk, has changed blog platforms, which has affected her RSS feed. The new feed is at:
I recently heard a man, with no therapeutic training, tell a woman, a therapist, that her understanding of therapy was wrong. She values being present and listening more than giving instruction, and the man told her the patient might as well be talking to a dummy.
It reminded me of a conversation I had with someone who wanted to tell me their story. I listened for more than an hour, occasionally asking a clarifying question. The person found it helpful and comforting — except for when I interrupted to make a comment intended to help and comfort.
I dreamed I was writing in my notebook so I could remember the dream. But, in the dream, things kept happening to prevent my note-taking.