jakebe: (Buddhism)
When I'm not pretending to be a giant rabbit who writes fiction on the Internet, I work at a services company where I deal with customers all day. The nature of our business is such that people often mistakenly believe we're responsible for things that we aren't, so it's not uncommon for me to get calls from an irate stranger demanding that I change something I have no control over.

I would love to be able to say that my meditation and Buddhist practice enables me to respond in a calm and present manner to these calls, but I can't. It's times like these when the lizard brain takes over -- often, I'm confused about why I'm being screamed at, and that makes my chest tighten and my heart beat faster. I'll try to tell the caller why it's not my fault they're in this situation, which if I were thinking clearly I would realize is the wrong tack to take. Then an argument ensues, and all that matters is gaining the upper hand. For me, a 'win' would be getting the caller to drop their accusation of responsibility and go elsewhere. It doesn't matter whether or not they're frustrated or feel like they've been helped. As long as they stop being angry with me, specifically, that's what matters.

When I'm rational, I know that this isn't a personal thing. I'm merely the most convenient face for a problem that someone has, and since I'm on the front line as it were I'll bear the brunt of the negativity for some people. But it's really difficult to remember that as it's happening; that the person repeating "What are YOU going to do about it?" in your ear again and again isn't speaking of a literal 'you'. At that moment, you're a representation of your work place, an entire company given a voice.

I'm not sure if you would have guessed it or not, but I like to avoid conflicts whenever possible. Part of it is I don't like the stress that a conflict brings, but another part of it is the knowledge of my own temper. It's a quick one, and I've learned a while ago to disengage myself from a situation that sparks it -- chances are it'll die down quickly and I can come at it reasonably later. Obviously, this isn't an option when there's someone on the phone with you, refusing to give you space until you resolve a problem that you just can't solve.

But see, this is why you meditate. The feeling that you get on the bench, when you're just breathing, is meant to be carried with you through the rest of your life. If you can remember, all it takes is a few breaths to bring you back to mindfulness, to remember who you are and what you're doing, to take an approach to the situation that's less instinctive and more helpful.

I ended up raising my voice to the caller the last time it happened. He was especially pushy, demanding that something be done and using the time-honored "repeat yourself in a louder voice" to control the conversation. I admit, I was flustered. I took it personally and handled it poorly. At that moment, all of my meditation training went out the window. I played his game, and lost.

If I had taken just a few breaths, I would have realized the truth of the situation. He was painting me as an enemy, an obstacle to a desired outcome, but I'm really not. Instead of allowing myself to be placed into that role I could have side-stepped that relationship entirely. I could have said, "No, I'm a friend, let me help you any way I know how." While I don't have direct control over the situation, I could have come up with a somewhat workable solution with just a little thought. But it's hard to think straight when you're running on adrenaline.

One of the things that I've tried to do is tell a story of myself that runs closer to the person I would like to be. I suppose this is an advanced version of 'faking it until you make it,' but hopefully it will be useful. As I move through my day, I tell myself that I'm a friend to everyone, even the people that would rather not see me. I tell myself that I'm helpful, generous, kind, attentive, compassionate. I construct a myth of myself -- a rabbit who is an Avatar of Comfort, dedicated to putting everyone around him at ease. It doesn't always work, of course -- sometimes I forget myself and then I'm just David, grumpy and harried, who'd rather get back to whatever it was he was doing instead of being patient and helpful. But that's OK. People fail to live up to the myths about them from time to time, but it shouldn't stop them from striving for it.

That's one of the ways I 'access my totem', I suppose. I marry my vague, animist spirituality to my Buddhist practice, so that my idealized self, the picture of myself at enlightenment, is a rabbit that radiates calm and peace. I'm not sure if there's a name for that sort of thing (besides insanity), but it helps, when I remember to let it.

Does anyone else do this? What sort of stories do you tell yourself, about yourself, to encourage you to be a better person?
jakebe: (Buddhism)
It's taken me a very long time to understand what meditation is for. When I first started to practice, I assumed that the time I'd spend on the bench was in preparation for something else. By sitting down and counting my breath (one-in-out-two-in-out) my brain was being molded in a way that would manifest elsewhere. I assumed that meditation was a ritual, and that like most magic it would work in ways I wasn't looking for, that it would surprise me with its effectiveness when I needed it to. An incredibly stressful situation would arise, and suddenly I would get through it with grace, focus and clarity without knowing how it happened. One day, just like Neo in The Matrix, my eyes would open and I would simply see everything for what it is. Instead of lines of code, I would see another person, sharing the same air that I was, wanting the same things I did, no different from me at all. I'd put in the time, and there would be a reward later, a mysterious effect disconnected from its cause by time and thought.

That's a completely shitty idea. I know that now, of course, but I didn't then. It took me a few years of sporadic meditation to understand that meditation isn't a preparation for anything. It's an act, it's *doing*, and that you're expected to take the focus and awareness you cultivate on the bench and carry it with you through your day. Meditation isn't a ritual that pays dividends down the line -- it's the beginner's version of how Buddhists are expected to move through life itself.

It can't start out any easier. You simply sit down, and pay attention. The ideal thing is to pay attention to whatever is happening in the moment without attaching to it; when you attach to it, the thought carries you away from the present along a stream of associated thoughts and moods. When that happens, let it go, then return to where you are. It takes practice to maintain that presence, but the idea is that when you do you find yourself responding to what arises in a much more centered way. And the bench isn't the only place where this happens. Meditation is a practice you can cultivate wherever you are, whatever you're doing.

That's one of the things I've been trying to focus on recently. My meditation practice is as spotty as ever, I'm afraid (I've never been one to develop good habits), but even when I don't manage to sit on the bench I've been trying to really pay attention to what I'm doing when I do it. If I catch myself getting stressed at work, I take a moment to step back from that emotion, figure it out and move on. It really helps when you're dealing with anxious or angry customers I've found; instead of taking a remark or behavior and being carried away by it, I can try to anchor myself and focus on a need that's being expressed.

And that's a huge deal to me. I come from a long life of depression, which is a pretty self-centered condition to have. You get used to thinking in circles around yourself; everything comes back to you, how you're deficient in some way, how no one could ever love you, so forth and so on. Even managing it, it's difficult to learn to step outside of yourself if you don't work for it. That's what meditation does for me; it provides me a way to step outside of myself, simply by being active in my awareness and focusing on my surroundings, other people, or feelings as they arise and fade. That helps me relate to people better, it helps me solve problems more quickly and easily, and it helps me to understand people and their perspectives without warping it through my own.

One of the reasons I'm talking about this is to try and explain my perspective in the hopes of encouraging people to explain theirs. Meditation helps me quite a bit, but I know a lot of people really aren't into it. I'm curious about what other folks think about it -- is it useful to you, if you practice regularly? Did you try it for a while, but find no good use for it? What do you do instead, if you have something that centers you? How does it work?

I think it's important to have a way to remember the things that are important for you, no matter who you are and what you believe. Meditation is mine. What's yours?
jakebe: (Buddhism)
Over the weekend Ryan and I watched Dead Man Walking, with Susan Sarandon and Sean Penn. In case you don't know too much about it, here's a brief synopsis: a nun is sent a letter from a Death Row inmate (who murdered two teenagers, raping the girl before he killed her) requesting her help with his case. She accepts, of course, and strikes up a relationship with this man as well as the families of the victims. This is a situation completely outside of her experience, and she has to navigate not only her own feelings but the exceedingly raw and difficult emotions of everyone involved. The families of the victims are understandably angry, and want to see the inmate die. The inmate himself is difficult to like but desperate, and Sister Prejean's investment in him lends him a grace and dignity he's unwilling to take on himself. It's an incredible, moving film and if you haven't seen it I can highly recommend it.

The movie leaves you with an awful lot to think about. Besides the obvious hot-button topic of the death penalty, there's so many questions that are difficult to answer. Sister Prejean believes in the idea of a basic human dignity, that simply because a man exists he's entitled to a certain set of considerations. Does that really exist? Can someone do something that strips them of that? The families of the victims certainly seem to think so, and that clears away the biggest argument against putting this inmate to death -- that as a human being, there is something fundamentally wrong about a system that allows him to be effectively killed by the state. How do you reconcile the idea that people can become something...less than human with other religious ideas? How do you square the idea of the death penalty and all of the reasoning for it, with a Christian mindset?

OK, so that loops back to the death penalty, but removing that question entirely, you can't fault the victims' families for being so angry, so hurt. This is an act so devastating that the consequences have come to define who these people are. Because the actual victims are no longer alive to carry the mantle of victimhood, their parents take it up themselves. There's a finality to it that makes it so much more difficult to handle because it's so senseless and needless. How could someone else take a life so lightly? How could someone be so self-absorbed that they don't think about the suffering they're causing someone else? Normal people don't rape and murder a teenage girl. Normal people don't just kill people on a lark. Anyone who does that must be broken, immoral, soulless. That's the only reason people can make sense of something so random.

Once the certainty of his death sets in, the inmate must face the reality of his life. On one hand, you wonder if he would have arrived at that point if death weren't staring him in the face. On the other, you feel that Sister Prejean's assertion that there is a basic goodness in him has been affirmed. Despite the inmate's racist, sexist attitude through most of the movie, his love for his mother and family is undeniable. It's difficult to reconcile the Sister's experience of this man with the reality of what he did, and in fact she's the only one who even comes close to taking in who he is entirely. It's because she's the only one who wants to.

And this brings me back around to faith, its purpose, what it does for us when we truly understand it. The movie is set in the south, so just about everyone is touched by religion in one way or another. Yet it seems that Sister Prejean alone has any idea how to behave compassionately towards all parties. Even the prison's chaplain states that the inmate is simply a bad person out to manipulate her, to use her for his own ends. Was she able to coax goodness out of him simply because of her faith? Would she have been able to do this if she had been more directly involved. If, for example, someone were to do something similarly horrible to Ryan or my mother, would I be able to see past his actions to the basic goodness and decency I believe to be there? It would be incredibly difficult for me to look at someone who's hurt someone I love, see past what they've done to something I only believe is there and struggle to see their worth. Why would I? If they don't believe it's there themselves, why should I work so hard to lead them there?

One of the things I took away from the movie is how difficult it is to truly forgive someone who's wronged you in a severe way. I think we've all been hurt deeply by someone at some point, and it's really easy to put them in a class beneath you (or at least the people you admire) so that you have an excuse to hold on to your hatred, bitterness, anger. I do it myself -- there are grudges that I'm holding on to even now, fueled by the fallacy that someone is...less than. I think it's a completely natural impulse that helps us to preserve our self-image and our ideas about the world and our fellow man. But it also holds us back from holding the full measure of the human experience.

Any one of us is capable of doing something unspeakably awful. Any one of us, from the people we admire most to the lowest of the low. But we're also capable of great love, of wonderful things, of being generous and kind and astonishingly open. It's difficult to reconcile the two extremes of our potential, but I think we absolutely need to if we ever hope to look at other people with any sort of clarity.

We all have our people or groups to hate or mock. For most of my peers, it's going to be Christians for all kinds of understandable reasons. A lot of us grew up in strict Christian households that focused on avoiding God's wrath over embracing God's love. We live in a society where the public discourse seems to be dictated by people who insist on forcing people to recognize their own self-absorption, a trait that is as anti-Christian as they come. Most of us have been hurt tremendously or known someone who has been hurt by someone in the name of Christ. We see it so consistently that our idea of the typical Christian has been stereotyped, a sort of empty vessel that mirrors any delusion that makes them feel superior. And this may be a bit of an extreme equivalency, but it's the same process that these people use to justify the death penalty to themselves, or the cutting of our 'social safety net', or anything else we think of as harsh and isolating. They've been hurt and made to feel afraid too. This is their reaction, the same as ours.

It takes compassion, strength and resolve to see that, and to base your actions on that knowledge. A lot of us choose our delusions because the alternative is too difficult, including myself. Put simply, it's easier to hate the people who are unkind to us. It's so, so much more difficult to love them, to find them worthy of love. Most people can't do it. I can't do it. And that's what makes Sister Prejean's story so remarkable. In simply opening herself up, as honestly and completely as she knew how, she found a way. Sometimes it takes that kind of contradictory behavior -- to surrender yourself to a new experience, to cling tightly to the ideals that will guide you through it -- to do something that the rest of us see as impossible.
jakebe: (Default)
Hey folks!

I'm trying to get ready for FC2010, but I need a bit of help doing so. Hopefully I'll be taking on a few additional responsibilities and there are a few things I'll need to do to make sure I handle them properly.

First, I'd like to make an open call to anyone who would like to host a Spirituality panel. I believe we have participants for a Christianity, Native American and Norse Spirituality, Buddhism and roundtable panel. I'm particularly interested in anyone who would like to run a panel on furry and Christianity, Islam, atheism or other religious tradition that isn't usually represented.

Second, could anyone point me to a good community of spirituality in the fandom. Broad net and interfaith communities are particularly useful.

Any nudges folks could give me in either direction would be greatly appreciated!
jakebe: (Meditation)
I picked up this book from Dainin Katagiri several years ago, because the title just leapt out and grabbed me so strongly. You have to say something: Manifesting Zen Insight. It was a pretty big dilemma for me at the time, and it's an issue that continues to dog me to this day. What in the world could I possibly say about Buddhism? If I couldn't explain myself to the people around me, have I really learned anything? If someone were to try and pick my brain about my beliefs on the spot, chances are I'd end up tongue-tied and frustrated. What makes sense to me intrinsically becomes this baffling and weak train of logic if I try to put it in words.

But as I get older I realize the vast importance of speaking and acting on the things you've learned. It's not enough to go up to the mountain and stare at a wall until you've reached enlightenment. It's definitely a good thing, to go into a hermitage, to find your personal connection with the divine in your own way. But every once in a while, you have to come back down. You have to talk about what you know, what you don't, and how each of those pieces make you who you are. Discussion is just as important as silence. Action is just as important as sitting. In order to truly understand a lesson you think you know, you have to find out how it translates from being an idea to being an action. If your spirituality doesn't change how you act, if it doesn't make you more engaged in the world around you, in my opinion it's failing to do its job.

Earlier this year I was asked to help with the Spirituality track at Further Confusion 2010. It's always been one of my favorite things about FC, so I accepted. It's really exciting to be able to take care of this conversation, and what I hope to do is give people a forum to voice how their spirituality has changed them and driven them to act on the principles of their faith. I know that the current political climate has made this a really unattractive idea, and especially in the furry fandom spirituality hasn't enjoyed the best reputation (*especially* if you're Christian), but I think it's important for us to have a dialogue about how faith can be a tool for something positive.

We don't have to agree about where our spirituality takes us, and we probably never will. But I think it is important for us to realize where we're coming from, and to know how we differ and where we agree. Tolerance and respect don't come from being completely segregated. I think that people of all backgrounds can mingle and even debate with respect. That's what I would love for the Spirituality track to help accomplish.

Right now there isn't much that's solidified, but I would love it if we could find someone to speak about Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism and Atheism...all with an eye towards a furry bent, of course. I would also love to put together some sort of Sunday morning interfaith service, a spirituality round-table, and other panels designed to encourage dialogue among differing views. If you or someone you know would be interested in helping with this, please let me know. It would be great to hear from you!

Ultimately, spiritual people far too often feel like their faith is something that should only be intimate, that it has no place in the social sphere. I think it's important for us to be mindful of people who have no place for it in their lives, but at the same time I think it's time for us to speak up, not just in words, but in deed. The time has come to say something.
jakebe: (Aborigine/Shamanism)
I noticed that a woman whose LiveJournal I read regularly defriended me recently, presumably for popping off about my dissatisfaction with my run-ins with totemist groups (or "weres," or whatever they're calling themselves these days), my admitted baby-newishness when it comes to seriously considering my relationship with Rabbit, or just because my journal isn't the most interesting thing to read. :) We admittedly don't interact much, even in each other's spaces, though I do love reading what she has to say. Anyways, best wishes to her and I'm sure we'll run into each other again. Apologies to her or anyone else I might have offended or disappointed.

Anyway, zazen is...zazen. :) It's a bit like riding a bicycle; when you pick it up again after an extended period away you find yourself falling into the practice easily and comfortably. The sitting gets easier very quickly, and the focus you cultivate gets easier to carry with you throughout the day. Even on days when I don't sit (and I have to admit to dropping the ball here a few times), it's easier to just be mindful of what I'm doing from moment-to-moment. It's a very cool thing to feel like you're living your practice from breath to breath, at work, at Taco Bell, in the shower, even watching television...

This combines with my writing to make me feel like...I have a better handle on who I am and how I tend to express myself. I can look at myself objectively, chuckle at myself when I'm being empty-headed, or afraid and insecure. Walking into work one morning this week it struck me how afraid I am, of everything, all the time. It also hit me how Rabbit has been gently nudging me toward recognizing how pervasive that fear has come to be, and how to begin the long and arduous work of untying all the knots that I've been developing through just being scared all the time.

I've been through an awful lot in life. Not as much as some, but a lot of bad stuff has happened to me. I've survived it, and I can be proud of that, but I didn't survive it intact. This probably happens with most people who have to deal with any sort of trauma in their lives; you find a way to cope, but not without taking a few lumps and scars. To make sure you don't have to go through that intense pain again, you deaden yourself against its source. Gradually we lose interest in new things, anything from taking a different route to work to taking a trip to a country we've never been to. We stick with the familiar because it makes us feel comfortable and safe. While there's nothing wrong with that *really*, we get accustomed to that comfort and start reacting badly towards anything will take us out of that, for good or bad. By the time we're adults we've closed ourselves to anything that deviates from the normal, cutting off most of the world for the narrow part that makes us comfortable. I do believe this is why people tend to grow more conservative when they get older. :) And this, I realize, is where I'm heading.

I don't think that my fear-based lifestyle is something unique to someone with my background or experience. It happens to everyone, all the time, in different ways. When you realize this, that most everyone around you does a lot of the things they do out of fear, it changes the world you look at the world. You're able to let a lot of people off the hook; people aren't assholes, they're just frightened.

Rabbit teaches this. He also teaches what to do with this fear; not to move around it, or hide it, or ignore it. He teaches you how to deal with the fear directly, to befriend it. Without learning this (even before I knew this was what I was learning), I doubt I could have made the move to California, or start awakening to so many other things now that I'm here. It feels like I'm waking up to the world entire after taking a big nap. :)

I realize this quite possibly sounds excessively New Age. Well, fine. Perhaps. But this is where I am right now. There are a lot of scary things in the world, and in my life, even, that I feel more equipped to deal with now than I would have been, say, a year ago.

There's a book called After the Ecstasy, the Laundry by Jack Kornfield, that describes the path of the spiritual, all the way up to encounters with satori and enlightenment. His idea is to chronicle what happens afterwards; how do Zen masters deal with unruly teenagers and people cutting them off in traffic? Believe it or not, enlightenment is some magical spiritual stasis that people remained locked into; you may have all the grace and wisdom of the Buddha, but you still might want to curse out that jerk who took the last parking spot.

The first part of the book details the spiritual journey, from those initial callings to quest for...answers, or comfort, or truth-with-a-capital-T. At some point, your search for meaning in the world at large reflects back into a search for *your* nature. And, as you peel the layers you've covered yourself with, you'll find grief, fear, anger, regret and sorrow over things you thought very long buried, according to Kornfield. This has been largely my experience with my practice; no matter what I keep coming back to the same issues with my birth mother, my adopted mother and father, old boyfriends, friends, teachers, mentors, people I respected, people who slighted me, turning over incidents time and time again, re-opening wounds so they can be properly tended to. It's a process.

Anyway, a lot of folks asked about what Rabbit is 'for', and that's what I think. That's the kind of work I've been doing with him. As for whether Rabbit is really a spirit guide or just a convenient subconscious construct, I'm still not sure. It helps, is all I know.
jakebe: (Let's Get Retarded!)
There's this song, you see, by Rufus Wainwright, called "Rebel Prince." In it, he sings part of the chorus in French and by God it's the sexiest thing ever. There's just something about that silky, slightly slurred voice hitting those notes with words that...inexplicably sound good. Man. It's been running through my head all day.

*stares and drools at his otter*

I haven't been writing very much here, mainly because I never seem to have the time to sit and try to spin my activities in a properly introspective light. I've been living what I tend to call, perhaps unfairly, 'the shallow life.' You know, work, watching movies, socializing, hanging out and all of that without any real...examination of who I am, what I'm doing, where I'm going, etc. etc. This really isn't a bad thing, as the little tag I've given for it would seem to indicate. Sometimes you need a break from all the thinking to just take the time to enjoy things. Which is what I've been aiming to do. By and large, I've been succeeding.

[livejournal.com profile] daroneasa let me petsit her new rabbit, Niuk, last weekend while she was out of town to do a family thing. It was my first experience ever...having a pet while I was on my own, and my attitude towards them have changed considerably. Well, maybe it was just the species bias. :) There's just something transformative about having something so helpless and dependent on you under your care; you learn the depths of your gentleness, patience and love. There's the fine art of discipline, the overwhelming desire to spoil with treats and petting, the need to be with this tiny little thing all the time to protect it, to make sure every need is attended to, to know that it's never lonely. I wouldn't have thought I had it in me to be endlessly loving, at least I didn't until a few people showed me what it was like. I think, emotionally, I'm ready to be a father. Now I just have to wait for the rest of society and my finances to catch up with me. :)

This is all...a bit much to extrapolate from merely taking care of a rabbit for three days, and I'm not sure I'd really cut the mustard as a parent. But I know the love is there, the boundless, endless love. I'm surprised by it, but in some ways I'm really not. ;) It's always been there, just...I've never been able to express it quite as readily, through various neuroses of my own. I've gotten better about that, and I think I'll only continue to get better. Next stop: making sure that my friends know this.

The move is coming closer and closer. January seems like two weeks ago, and already we're sneaking up on April; July and August are going to be here before I even know it. This is such a huge step, and because, I guess, I know that I'm going to be taking it I've been worrying about it night and day all year. Only...it's too early to finalize everything, or to even make the first tentative steps towards being out there...so there's nothing I can do except put myself in a good position for when the time comes, which is something I'm working on. [livejournal.com profile] toob and I got into a fight about the rabbit, actually (I wanted to keep him, he said it's a bad idea), and from that I think we've gotten onto the same page about a lot of things. I need to work on...how to be properly angry, I guess, so that communication doesn't break down. Once that starts to go...

I love [livejournal.com profile] toob with all of my heart. :)

Let's see...Matt's Changeling game started Tuesday evening. I haven't touched the setting in quite some time, and I forgot how...deceptively simple the setting is. The concepts are very esoteric, so you can dash off explanations fairly quickly, but when you *really* start to think about them, things get pretty hairy and bogged down with all kinds of rules calls. I think the game is best played loosely, so that rules can change and shift to fit the needs of the story and character development. You need a really capable Storyteller and really mature players, though, to do that, and even then it's not going to work always. Of the games, I think, Changeling is the most subjective; it's never *about* the same thing between any two or three people. And because the nature of its make-believe allows for such an incredibly wide spectrum of concepts, it's hard to get everyone to play nice under one roof. Possible, but difficult. I think Tuesday night was the best example of this ever. :)

My character is a rabbit pooka named Rochester Runcible Shaw. I've gotten fairly attached to him already, but I don't think I'll get to do as much with him as I'd like. The game is huge (6 players) and short (4 hours), so I'm not sure how...involved everything is going to be. Either way, it's a pretty fun ride and I get to be a class clown, which is one of my (not-so) secret desires.

Oh! I've lost 18 pounds in the past three months, hooray for me! I'm down to about 152 - 155 pounds, depending on how much fat I've eaten, and I don't feel quite so 'svelte' as that. ;) I think it's because I need to do more exercise, honestly; my stomach has gotten considerably smaller, but there's a noticeable paunch. I'd like to be flat and toned (the last time I could see my abs was high school...never lost those 'freshman 15' from college), so I'm going to work towards that. My ultimate goal, health-wise, is to be able to bike to work and back without killing myself by the time I'm Californy-bound.

It's occured to me that when friends of mine say 'I don't think of you as black,' I really should be taking that as an insult. Before, I've been thinking of it as a slightly misguided, left-handed compliment, but the racism implied in the statement has gotten a bit too strong to ignore. The idea is that blacks have some kind of stereotypical behavior concurrent with rap/hip-hop culture; slurred words, ghetto-speak, trendy, improperly worn clothes, thumping bass and bling. Because I don't buy into the culture, I've somehow risen 'above' the base desires of my race to a sort of transcendence that seperates me from the typical inferiority that black people tend to be plagued by. I speak so well. I dress like I've got some sense. I don't throw my race in people's faces in any obvious way. I'm unthreatening and non-confrontational, like Bill Cosby in the 80s or Wayne Brady today. I'm not quite sure what to do with this sentiment my friends seem to have of stereotyping my race and my supposed climb from the crackdens to proper...er, whiteness, I guess, but I'm not going to start going all Marcus Garvey over it. :)

Still, I'm black and I'm proud. And people need to lay off the 'black people suck but you're one of the cool ones' bit.

I saw "American History X" again last night, and there's been a bit of fallout from it. ;)

Anyway, I would say more, but I'm at work and I really should be shelving some books or something. :)
jakebe: (Aborigine/Shamanism)
Not a 'real' post, just a thought:

You know, rabbit is fitting better than any animal has...ever. Better than kangaroo, way better than raven (sorry guys)...so well I'm having to reconsider my entire take on the relationship between myself and 'my animal'. There's just something...deep...going on here.

I'm not sure how mystical or spirit-oriented I want to go here. There's still a good, healthy doubt arising about the whole 'soul' issue; there's no way to prove the existence or absence of a soul, and I have my own theories about it based on...let's call it personal spirituality. But...hmmf. Rabbit.

Today is a very Rabbit day.

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