Radical Acceptance

In Haiku:

To Open Your Eyes
Is Radical Acceptance
And To Close Your Eyes

In Prose:

A realization I had…
When you are awake your eyes are open.
When you are asleep your eyes are closed.
When you are awake you don’t have to fight to keep your eyes open, only when you are resisting sleep do you struggle to keep your eyes open.
When you are asleep and start to wake, but do not feel like getting out of bed you force yourself to keep your eyelids closed, just to savor that last sip of sleep. Continuing to force your eyes closed even after it is time to wake up, generally produces a headache and fogginess.
Then you go about your waking life in misery, confusion and grumpiness because you still refuse to open your eyes even after you have opened your eyes.
So open your eyes when awake and close your eyes when asleep.

This is radical acceptance.

Life is like this.

Thank you so much.

Squirrels vs. Lobsters

(This was my second essay for my college Comp 1 course. I think I went outside the parameters of the assignment and a little off the deep end. I was supposed to write a simple comparative essay.)

Scheer 1

John F. Scheer

Amy Handy

English 1301

June 22, 2010

Squirrels vs. Lobsters

Today we are looking at whether to befriend squirrels or lobsters. Or to put it differently; whether to befriend people who are Squirrel-ish vs. people who are Lobster-ish. While academics demand clear and concise arguments, they still need to be entertained once and a while. Hopefully this essay accomplishes both. I am using allegory to express my points and by the end you will know who is more amiable, a squirrel or a lobster.

Squirrels are well adjusted and sincere, that’s why they make better friends than lobsters. Squirrels sacrifice their own pride and are willing to laugh at themselves just a bit, they quickly find themselves surrounded by people that love and care for them and their “abnormalities.” Lobsters say they want friendship but never follow through on doing the work. They have greater difficulty building solid lasting relationships. They struggle with letting go of all the fears of what they might loose or what the other will think once that person really gets to know you.

Being a lobster, I can tell you without a doubt that squirrels make better friends. When a lobster invites you over for dinner the first thing you smell is the ocean, salt water brine and rotting organic matter from various flora and fauna. You glance around nervously looking for where you should sit, but all you can see are a couple of rocks and a bed of seaweed scattered about. Not to mention the temperature, how could anyone but a lobster be comfortable in those arctic depths? The lobster stares at you blankly like a deer in the headlights, opens his mouth slightly as if to say something to put you at ease but quickly shuts it again and looks awkwardly at the sandy floor. You clear your throat and lean in for an awkward hug but the lobster shies away either because he’s cold blooded or he’s afraid of accidentally pinching you. You then force yourself to say, “Sooo, what’s for dinner?”

Being a scavenger, the lobster nods with an uncomfortable sideways glance to the cornucopia of rotting carrion and ocean plants.

“Oh, uh help yourself,” he says. You then try and fake an emergency phone call from your niece about your brother being in a car accident, but in mid farce you and your crustaceous comrade simultaneously realize that there is no cell phone reception on the bottom of the ocean. Your four eyes lock and the intolerable awkwardness continues.

What happens when you meet the lobster at the park while you are both walking your pets? As you see him approaching, you franticly look for an escape. You look to the left and right of the trail, but there are little signs that say, “Please don’t walk on the grass.”

“They’re just signs!” You think. But suddenly the gardener is squatting there and looking straight at you as if to say, “Don’t even think about it bubba.” You glance down the path again. Seeing the lobster coming closer and closer, the knot in your throat growing bigger and bigger, the cold lines of sweat run faster and faster down your body. You swallow the unbearable knot in your throat and look for a distraction. Luckily, George, your dog, starts relieving himself on the trail. This was probably the first time you ever actually looked forward to picking up after your dog. While bagging the waste, the lobster walks up behind you, clears his throat and says, “Hey what are you up to?”

You take a long pause and just before it begins to seem like you’re ignoring him you whip around and say, “Just walking my dog. What about you?” His antennas spell out the word, I-N-C-R-E-D-U-L-O-U-S.

“I’m walking my krill,” he responds. Then you notice the seemingly empty fish bowl in his claw and, as if reading your mind, he says, “Yeah, they’re pretty small animals.” Trying to move on you start talking about the gulf oil spill, gesturing with your arms out of nervous compulsion, flailing them about in flamboyant fashion to signify that you are feeling completely calm and comfortable with this meeting, but are still disgusted with the tragedy. Mid flail the doggy bag breaks, its contents make a slow motion arc through the air and land directly at the shoes of the intolerable gardener. But instead of laughing and making a joke out of it like a squirrel might do, the lobster just stands there with his eyes bugging out of his shell and his hind left leg nervously ticking on the gravel. Where’s a squirrel when you need one?

Or what about when you find yourself volunteering at the soup kitchen, standing elbow to claw with this decadent decapod?  You try and keep your own eyes focused on portion control, line speed and making polite small talk with the food recipients. This is so that you don’t seem haughty. You can’t help noticing out of the corner of your eye, the lobster’s eyes are fixated on the soup; his mouth keeps smacking as if from over salivation. He is handing out considerably smaller and smaller portions of food than anyone else; no doubt he is hoping for leftovers. The food recipient’s eyes keep glazing over as they pass the lobster’s food station. They keep unconsciously licking their lips, not while staring at the soup, but while staring at the lobster. They envision him on a platter or sitting in the soup bowl instead of serving it. The lobster keeps taking “smoke” breaks because he says that all the staring is making him anxious. Though, you know he’s going into the kitchen to check for leftovers or rooting around the dumpster for a tasty treat. All the other volunteers keep giving each other knowing glances whenever anyone asks “Have you seen lobster around?” But no one is willing to call him out on his un-philanthropic behavior. Being good idealists they just believe that Karma will get him in the end. Being a lobster, no doubt it will.

A squirrel on the other hand is a horse of a different color. After a long hard day of making coffee seem interesting, and your own personality warm and inviting, you walk to your door stoop. The squirrel pops his head out and hollers down in a tone, cheerful, yet relaxed for a squirrel, “ `Ello guvna! `Ow about after you get settled in, you come up for a wee bit o’ herbal tea?” You detect no presumption or expectation in his voice, just wanting a bit for some company. So you tell him, yes, you’d be delighted. Now after a quick refresh and change of clothes, you go ahead and put yourself up in the cozy doorway of the squirrel drey, which resides in the tree above your house.

The sun is setting and you can still feel a hint of warmth from it as a gentle breeze caresses your nostrils with a hint of apples and cinnamon from the squirrel’s warmly lit home. Before you’re able to knock on the door, he opens, almost bowls you over with a satchel of leftovers for the birds, and is surprised to see you standing there. “Oh pardon me chap!” He exclaims with a smile, not a hint of awkward reservation in his voice. If this were lobster’s house though you might be thinking that he was standing there behind the door peeping and waiting with a trash bag to make it seem as though he were just on his way out. But this thought quickly fades as the sweet smell of herbs de provance fills your head and the gentle rumble of a stew invades your ears. He invites you in and immediately you notice how comfortable yet not overwhelmingly tidy the little drey appears. The squirrel invites you out onto his deck. He quickly scurries back in and returns with a tray of steaming acorn and vegetable stew and two cups of cinnamon apple spice tea. You thought you were full from the three black bean tacos you picked up earlier, but somehow the aroma of the stew and tea make you realize you’re hungry again. After a light meal and hearty conversation, you give the tell tale grunts and sighs that say, “I enjoyed myself thoroughly, but it’s time to go.”

“Well I better not keep you up too late since you’ve got an early morning ahead of you,” says the squirrel. You and the squirrel say “tatah” and you both retire for a satisfied slumber.

If you were locked up in your home all day writing an essay about squirrels vs. lobsters, who would you ask to meet up for coffee, a brisk walk and some nutty conversation to clear your head? A squirrel perhaps could pull it off. You are walking down Main Street to the coffee shop and just before you get to the door you feel your back pocket and realize with chagrin, you left your wallet sitting on the banister at the bottom of the stairs. You even put it there so you wouldn’t forget it on accident and cause an embarrassing situation with the squirrel. But now not wanting to make the squirrel wait, you decide to pretend that you already had coffee at home and didn’t want anything anyway.

The bell chimes as you walk in and so does the squirrel’s grin as he gets up from the table. You both embrace for a tasteful “manly” hug. “What are getting today?” He asks.

“Oh I had some coffee this morning. I’m good.” You respond.

“Oh bollocks, I got your tab. I’m certainly not gonna sit here drinking coffee alone.” Says the squirrel. You give a sheepish smile and order. The squirrel elbows you in the ribs and says, “I bet you left your wallet on the banister at the bottom of the stair.” You both bust up laughing because you know it’s true and he’s just that kind of friend, that knows your quirks and that just makes him like you more.

When you feel inspired to do something positive for the community, who would you invite to plant trees on Arbor Day, a lobster or a squirrel? Squirrels are naturally community oriented and spiritual. A squirrel scurries around hiding acorns, then forgetting where he put them, looks for another and forgets where that one was planted and the cycle continues. Before you know it, the squirrel has planted an entire forest out of pure forgetfulness and nonattachment to worldly possessions. Century after century, as those acorns grow into towering oak trees, the squirrel has built hundreds of squirrel homes for future squirrel generations. On top of that, these are “green” homes that repair the ozone layer and give us the air we breathe. How could you ask for more from a squirrel?

A squirrel, always forgetting where he buried his acorns, may have a little short term memory loss. He may even have some ADD, jumping from branch to branch in search of another acorn, but surely you can see these don’t detract from a meaningful friendship between you and him? So I ask you who of these two creatures would you prefer to call “friend”? I know for me, claws down, squirrels make better friends.

Thank you very much.

What do You want?

(This was my first essay for my college Comp 1 course.)

What do you want?

“Why are you taking a college course?” This question is so fraught with ego. Mainly because human beings are professional bullshitters, both of themselves and people they want to impress. If you can come up with a polished and sophisticated answer anyone will believe you, even if you don’t believe it yourself. It’s called sales and if you sell others long enough you’ll probably end up selling yourself or jumping off a cliff figuratively or otherwise.

Dr. Garcia told me that I would be a wonderful counselor due to my strong intuitive abilities; that I was a natural psychologist because I translated my human experience through sign and symbol. My wife says that I am a great writer, but apparently by the end of this essay you will find out if she’s biased or not. Based on the crazy antics I employ to make it through the doldrums of the retail coffee industry (with my sanity intact), my coworkers say that I should be an actor, comedian or God forbid a writer. Sam, my catholic co-belligerent in coffee slanging, says that I’ll probably end up as a priest. He thinks I have some kind of self control over my “passions”. But that’s probably just a deception to make myself look good in front of others. With all these people telling me what I should or could be, how do I sort it all out on the inside? How do I know what I really want?

“What do You want?” the little boy asked me, his brick wall stare penetrating my insecurities. I noticed he put an emphasis on the “You” so that I wouldn’t take his question flippantly. He had dusty dark blond hair, corn blue eyes and a serious stare that could only come from looking at your own subconscious face to face. The kind of deep ageless stare that you see on a child’s face that makes you realize that children are people too, like grown-ups without presumption. He looked exactly as I had around the age of eight or nine except for the hair and eyes. The colors were muted, like in an old color photograph from the 60’s. Then the boy closed his eyes, he turned and I awoke suddenly with a snort, in the driver’s seat, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of the mid-day sun. During lunchtime I must have fallen asleep from the heat of the beating sun on my smashed up Toyota Tercel. I was drenched in sweat, grit and coal dust from work. My prayer beads were still in my left hand and I could feel the vibrating buzz of Allah washing over me.

For a few months now I had been learning meditation, prayer and spiritual healing from a Sufi healer named David. It had become a rollercoaster of mystical experience where God seemed to be opening himself to me at every turn, prior to that I felt disconnected, malcontent, orphaned from myself. But now I had found my True Love. I couldn’t take in enough. All I wanted was to sit, meditate, pray and bask in the glory of the divine.

Earlier that morning I got up to make the 45 minute drive to the east Austin blacksmith shop I worked at. As I made the drive down Airport Boulevard I was in love with everything and everyone. The whole world was my beloved and even if others didn’t consciously recognize it, we were caught up in a sea of unity where everything and everyone was holy and loved.

In those moments I definitely know what I want. I want to swim in the sea of God’s love and I want everyone else swimming with me. I want peace, harmony, a sense of purpose, satisfaction and fulfillment. I want to not be angry and to stop hurting others through my rage and for others to do the same. I want to affect peace and harmony in the world and come home at the end of the day satisfied with my labor. I want my labor not to serve the gross inequalities of this upside-down kingdom, but to help humankind back to their true nature. In essence I want to help us remember some of the most vital things we’ve chosen to forget.

Louis, my blacksmithing mentor, challenged my dreams with an apophatic approach of never believing that I really knew what I wanted and calling “bullshit” anytime he smelled it. He also helped me to remember what it was to labor and be satisfied with your days work even if you’re not satisfied with the result. David helped me to remember what my true essence was and much as the experience of learning Sufi prayer and meditation set me on a path to find what I wanted from my faith, I am hoping that college will help me find what I want from the right vocation and be satisfied with the days work. I don’t expect a mystical experience, but I do hope to find some guidance.

Thank you very much.