The Appeal of a Buddhist Framework.

Posted on November 16, 2012 by John Swinburn

Some people consider Buddhism a religion.  I don’t.  I consider Buddism a perspective or a contextual reference, a  framework within which one can try to understand one’s relationship with the world in which one lives.

I’ve struggled to understand why I find Buddhism so attractive, especially in light of the fact that I lack belief in a supreme being.  I readily admit a bias that is anti-religion (though I try to tolerate religion and those who embrace religion) and anti-spiritual, though I sometimes wonder whether it’s simply my understanding of what others call spirituality that I find offensive.  Buddhism, though, does not require me to accept a deity.  In fact, Buddism does not require me to accept anything.   Buddhism is simply a way of interpreting the world around me.  It’s a cause-and-effect interpretation that I find, in many respects, quite attractive.

Buddhism requires nothing of me. It simply offers a framework for understanding the world.  The more I read about Buddhism and the more I think about the context it provides for those who understand its simple foundation, the more I appreciate it.  Though I do not accept in any literal sense many of the concepts of rebirth that some people equate with Buddhism, I finally have come to understand the idea that every beginning leads to an inevitable end and every end leads to an inevitable beginning.  Life has a beginning and life leads to an end…death…that leads to another beginning, the beginning of death, if nothing else.  And death leads to the beginning of survivors coping with that death.  It’s a simple concept, but one that requires more flexibility of thinking than some people may be willing to accept.

It is surprising to me, a persons who considers himself a pretty decent writer, that I am unable to satisfactorily explain this “end is a new beginning” concept.  It upsets me to some extent that my attempts at explanation appear uncomfortably close to mysticism; that is not at all what it is, but words sometimes fail me.  Fortunately for me, the very essence of Buddhism  offers some comfort to me, in that, through the kernels of Buddhism, I am better able to deal with the disappointments of my fallibility.  That is a good thing, as I have quite a lot of it.

At this point, a person reading this post might think I consider myself a Buddhist.  I do not.  I do not define myself by the context of my life as I live it, whether that context is religious or not.  Rather, I use Buddhism as a single reference point, a comparison, that allows me to contrast myself with others in the world around me.

Buddhism is not “the answer,” for me.  But it does provide an anchor, however temporary, that allows me to think about life in ways that make sense to me and that do not rely on magic.  I do not claim to be particularly knowledgeable about Buddhism; in fact, I know only bits and pieces about it.  I know enough to know I can use it to help me explain and to understand certain elements of the human condition.  And I know enough of it to know that I can abandon it and its framework if, at any moment, I decide there is a better one.   I like that flexibility and that freedom to think.  It’s a refreshing perspective, far more appealing to me than any “religion” that requires me to suspend my disbelief and far more appealing than what I consider “militant atheism” that expends its efforts to condemn religious beliefs instead of supporting freedom of belief (or lack thereof).

I  hope I know enough about Buddhism to be able to use it to achieve the ability to focus on the here and now and to recognize that all I have, all any of us have, is today.  Only today have I come to understand that yesterday exists only in today’s memory and tomorrow is only a dream or a hope or a fear.  I understand I will not forget yesterday and I will not stop thinking about tomorrow (as Bill Clinton instructed in his campaign’s theme music), but I will understand that those memories and that anticipation are experienced through the lens of now.

And humor is OK, even when having “big” thoughts.

Back to the “big” thoughts.  One of the many things I’ve read about Buddhism that helped me grasp some of its core concepts (the Four Noble Truths) was this, written by an American woman, Sylvia Boorstein, who now apparently makes quite a nice living from Buddhist thought:

  1. Life is challenging. For everyone. Our physical bodies, our relationships-all of our life circumstances-are fragile and subject to change. We are always accommodating.
  2. The cause of suffering is the mind’s struggle in response to challenge.
  3. The end of suffering-a non-struggling, peaceful mind-is a possibility.
  4. The program for ending suffering is the Eightfold Path.

I don’t begrudge Sylvia for her Buddhism-related income stream; she has helped me achieve a better understanding than I had heretofore. Nothing wrong with that.

Enough of this for tonight.

Posted in Philosophy, Religion | 2 Comments

Ennui of a Deeply Personal Nature

Posted on November 14, 2012 by John Swinburn

I have not been in the mood to write much of late. but I thought I should post a few notes just to prove to myself that I remain moderately alive.

The reasons for my lack of interest in recording my thoughts are too complex for me to understand, much less write about.  I suppose there’s a hint of depression in here somewhere, along with boredom and renewed focus on mortality, mine and others’.

Among the issues I cannot find the energy and creativity to write about are these:

  • Politics
  • The decay of humanitarian values
  • Love and its pretenders
  • Despair
  • Hope
  • Dreams
  • Nightmares
  • Spirituality and its non-deist companions
  • Inadequacy
  • Remorse

You see, there are so many things to think about and write about.  But in the end, no one really cares much about them except “in the moment.”  We are creatures of the instant, caring little about the past or the future and not a great deal for the present.

I am overcome, sometimes, with emotions that flood from me in ways impossible to describe or explain.  Tonight is one of those times.  This past week has been one of those times.  I try to engage in banter, but fail miserably, leading anyone with whom I’m interacting to conclude I’m either stupid or distracted, possibly both.  Self-interactions say they’re right.

 

Posted in Depression | 3 Comments

A Tasty Disappointment

Posted on November 11, 2012 by John Swinburn

I made dinner tonight.  The idea was to have a nice vegetarian meal, tasty yet filling. So I browned slices of eggplant in olive oil, then layered the eggplant slices with slices of tomatoes and slices of onion, topping the batch with shredded parmesan.  Then, I drizzled a quarter of a cup of balsamic vinegar over it, finally topping it with about 3/4 cup of bread crumbs.  I cooked it for 30 minutes at 350.

It was tasty, but cold as a corpse.  So, I cooked it for an additional 30 minutes at 375.

This dish has potential, but that potential was not reached tonight.  Not even close.  Oh, hell, it was a very tasty disappointment.

Posted in Food | 2 Comments

Time Change

Posted on November 4, 2012 by John Swinburn

What does one do when one forgets to set the clock back an hour when Daylight Saving Time ends?  One wakes up an hour earlier than one planned.

Posted in Time | 1 Comment

Remembering Mary Eleanor Swinburn

Posted on November 1, 2012 by John Swinburn

I don’t know quite what to do to celebrate my late sister’s birthday tomorrow, November 2.  She died February 19, 2010.  I guess I’ll just remember how remarkable she was.  She, more than anyone I know, made me understand why compassion for the less fortunate among us is the best characteristic any of us can have.

Posted in Family, Love | 1 Comment

The Magical Meal

Posted on October 31, 2012 by John Swinburn

When my wife and I were in San Antonio a few days ago we had dinner at Bohanan’s, an upscale steak restaurant on Houston Street, not far from the downtown river walk.  We had been planning to have dinner there for quite some time; in fact, I think the promise of dinner at Bohanan’s was my wife’s anniversary present…or was it a birthday present…several years ago.  For various reasons, we hadn’t made the trip, but a few days ago, we did.  I’ve posted, on Facebook, photos I took while we were on the river walk but I’ve not recorded for posterity and as an aid to my own flagging memory what we had during our special meal.  Here it is.  For the record:

Candied jalapeños in cream cheese on toast (complimentary appetizer)
French grilled oysters
Gaspacho blanc
Sauteed spinach
Grapefruit sorbet (a palate cleanser between courses)
12 oz. ribeye steak (for my wife)
12 oz. New York strip steak (for me)
Argentine malbec (a glass for me)

As we waited for our food to arrive in this festival of gluttony, I looked around the restaurant and took note of the ambience of the place. Stuffiness was in the blood of this place. The tablecloths were white and the place settings spoke volumes about the monied few who are able to dine in the establishment. Flowers in tall glass vases stood guard along half-walls between sections of the restaurant, giving the impression that the large room was smaller and more intimate than it really was. Dull but expensive wall sconces were so deftly placed that they almost blended into the background. Cream and beige wall coverings, with muted stripes and understated elegance washed the background in every direction. Well-worn, but meticulously polished, hardwood floors tied the walls together with a gentle strength. The waiters, dressed in black suits and fully outfitted in uncomfortable ties, were serious about the seriousness of the food. And then, there were the people.

I pulled my notepad from my jacket pocket…I was dressed in black slacks and a grey tweed sports jacket and wore black shoes, for this was an event at a restaurant where looks mattered…and jotted descriptions of some of the people I saw around us:

  • A distinguished-looking elderly gentleman with long white hair, wearing a dark blue suit, is seated at a table with a few others a few feet from ours.  A somewhat younger man in a mottled brown sports jacket and two middle-aged and two women who may be clients of the two men sit across from him.  The women, who are dressed in what appear to me to be house dresses, listen intently as the white-haired man talks; they continue looking at him while his colleague joins the conversation.
  • A man, probably in his late thirties or early forties, sporting a five-day growth of beard, is sitting across from his female companion.  He is wearing an untucked shirt, white with wide blue stripes; his “look” appears to me staged and artificial.  His female companion could have been plucked from a 1950s commercial for a kitchen cleanser; she is fresh-faced and has a “girl next door” look about her, a stark contrast to her partner.
  • Behind me and to the right is a couple engaged in animated conversations punctuated with booming laughter and cackles of delighted surprise.  He is a large man, tall with a round face and a freshly-shaved head.  The word “temptress” describes her; her smile flashes quickly and easily and her eyes dart around the room, seeming to search for someone else who might have noticed her movement, her laugh, or the way she tossed her hair.  She is dressed in layers of see-through-thin fabrics draped over her ample frame.  Her attire might be considered somewhat formal, but his is decidedly not.   They do not care that they are a bit louder than this room suggests they should be; I like them.
  • A middle-aged couple who are, judging from the rose petals strewn across their table, celebrating an anniversary chat amiably with their waiter and his assistant, asking what they would recommend.  They opt for tap water instead of the bottled stuff.
  • Just behind me and to the left is a couple I’d describe as a New Jersey gangster and his brassy housewife.  They are loud, both in voice and in attitude.  He seems to want to draw attention to himself by emphasizing that he is not “from here.”  The brassy housewife across the table from him mirrors his style, looking around the restaurant to see whose eyes are on her each time she screeches.
  • An elderly woman, probably in her late seventies or early eighties, is seated alone for awhile, but soon is joined by a younger woman I assume to be her daughter.  They are dressed in understated elegance, the older of the two women sporting a necklace of large pearls that somehow goes quite well with her ruffled blouse and dark blue jacket.

As I am observing the people around us and jotting notes, it occurs to me that I am judging people on the basis of their appearance, augmented to a limited extent on the sound of their voices and the words I overhear them say.  Once that thought occurs to me, I wonder how these people might be judging us, this slightly uncomfortable couple sitting stiffly in the middle of the room, gazing around at the people and activities surrounding them.

My embarrassment at my own shallowness caused me to close my notepad and return it to the inside jacket pocket from whence it came.  I knew nothing about these people and was allowing myself to categorize them on the basis of stereotypes of my own creation.  What a fool!

Just moments after that flush of embarrassment, though, I decided my reading of these people and the pictures of them I was painting in my head  were just pieces of the process of understanding and interpreting the world around me.  My imagination was at work.  I was engaged in the creative process.  So I reassessed and decided I would use this experience as an episode in my own creative development.  So I gave the people names and backgrounds.

Later, perhaps much later, I will write more about these people.  I will explore their lives and why they were at Bohanan’s that night.

  • I will say more about Derrick, the distinguished gentleman in the blue suit who is in the business of providing pre-planning services that enable his clients and their families to more easily face that inescapable time when death is at their door.  Derrick and his aloof associate, Hank, will be explored at the same time I share more about the two sisters they were with, Glynda and Colleen.  Glynda and Colleen have been talking about planning their own funerals for almost a year now; dinner with Derrick and Hank is the first step toward taking action to put a plan in place.
  • Tom, the bearded hipster in the untucked blue and white shirt, is celebrating with his wife, Jill.  The reason for the celebration: he just closed on the purchase of a private detective agency that specializes in loss prevention for the hospitality industry.  The celebration will last only a few days, though, because Jill’s long-standing affair with a semi-retired entrepreneur fifteen years her senior will be unexpectedly and very publicly revealed.
  • The plumb temptress, Phaedra, and her bald-headed boyfriend, Stucco, chose tonight to celebrate their new business, too.  Phaedra signed the incorporation papers earlier in the day for Primal Phantasties, a travel planning company that creates one-of-a-kind vacations for people who love to drink and have “crazy” experiences but who are averse to the risks of uncharted territories.  Stucco will handle operations and ensure that their clients enjoy high adventure and cutting-edge risk-taking, but without the risk.  Phaedra says the business “is like adventure travel for accountants.”
  • Lester and Terry, the couple celebrating their anniversary with tap water, are enjoying their last meal before their lives come apart at the seams.  When they return home from dinner, they will find a dozen police cars in the street in front of their house, their flashing lights reflecting wildly off of the Police Line tape stretched between the trees on their front lawn.
  • Joey and Susannah actually are from New Jersey.  They arrived in San Antonio only three days ago, flush with money that Joey unwisely snatched from a safe in his boss’s office.  They drove to San Antonio in a 2008 Honda Pilot they bought, with cash, from an eBay Motors dealer in West Palm Beach, Florida.  Joey though their travels, which began in  Ocean City, New Jersey, would be hard to track because of the way the traveled: a friend gave them a ride to Atlantic City, where they took Greyhound to Ames, Iowa, then rented a car and drove to Chicago, then flew to Miami.  As it happens, Susannah’s proclivity to talk made tracking them a simple matter, after all.  Their lives were about to take an unexpected turn.
  • Ellen Murphy and her daughter, Viola Scaff, were unlike most other diners at Bohanan’s that night in that they were simply there for a meal, not a celebration.  Ellen is the widow of Angus Murphy, Jr., whose father, Commander Angus Murphy, built a fortune as a shipbuilder at the Port of Brownsville, Texas.  First Ellen, and then her daughter, Viola, had become accustomed to the good life that massive wealth could buy, so much so that what you and I consider “the good life” was, to them, just another form of drudgery. Fortunately for the slightly uncomfortable couple sitting and silently observing from the center of the room, the money Ellen and Viola took for granted would soon be dwarfed by an unexpected and utterly undeserved windfall.

And there, for now, you have it.  These disparate…and desperate…lives have intersected at a completely random place and time.  Out of randomness, though, comes order.

Posted in Fiction, Food, Travel | 2 Comments

An Evolving Political Manifesto

Posted on October 29, 2012 by John Swinburn

I have repeatedly expressed my support for President Obama’s election…again.  I have spoken against the possibility of a Romney White House.  I have encouraged…and still do encourage…people to vote to return Obama to the Presidency.

You’d think I was a Democrat. Once, you’d be right. But now, you would be wrong.

I hold Democrats in only slightly higher regard than I do Republicans.  Both parties are guided by the lust for power.  Though the underlying principles upon which they are based are very different, they are too much alike.  I relate more to the Democratic platform, but I can’t say I agree with it.  Certainly, I can’t say I agree with its execution.  But, for today, I feel better supporting that platform than I do supporting the Republican platform that idolizes greed.

But once the election is behind us, I will formally and forcefully sever all ties with the Democratic Party in favor of working to advance the cause of a strong new party.  I expect the new party I will support to have many of its roots in the Green Party, but I expect it to have some foundation in, I shudder to say it, Republican pragmatism.   If I could modify the genetic code, I would temper the idealism of my youth (and my advancing old age) with the pragmatism of the real world  We will not achieve our goals if our goals are made of magic.  We will achieve our goals only if we accept that our goals must be built on the environments in which we find ourselves.

I don’t hold any hope for Democrats.  Nor for Republicans.  Certainly not for the Tea Party.  If there is hope, it is a party that sets it sights on the best of our principles, yet accommodates the world around it.  It is a party that never forgets its principles, but that never abandons its constituents in favor of its rigidity.

There will be more.  Much, much more.

Posted in Philosophy, Politics | 2 Comments

More on Religion

Posted on October 28, 2012 by John Swinburn

Image from Progressive Dawoodi Bohras

I have an acquaintance who’s an Episcopalian.  I know this because he frequently comments about his faith on his Facebook page.  He makes no bones about his faith, but neither does he condemn people of other faiths or those who have none. I don’t recall him ever mentioning non believers so, in fact, I don’t really know what he thinks of us.  But I have never felt “under attack” from him.

Today, he posted a link to a blog entitled Unapologetically Episcopalian. Always curious to know what drives people to belief and to religion (but never fully understanding), I followed the link and then read more about the site and its genesis.  I found a particularly interesting bit on the site’s About page.

That page acknowledges an apparent internal conflict within the church (I think I recall reading about some such things, but to be honest I usually tune out on church news, despite my curiosity about what drives religious fervor).  While acknowledging the conflict, the page directs readers to the works of the church in various places…a food pantry in Kansas, a healthy aging program in New York, and AIDS care team in North Carolina, and an arts and autism program in Alabama, among others.

While none of these programs, nor anything from the scriptures, will cause me to believe in one or more gods, they bring to mind for me, again, a haunting question: why is it that churches are so successful at creating and operating social assistance programs?

If the answer is “faith,” then I’m afraid non believers will be unable to duplicate those successes.  But I don’t think that’s it.  I think the lessons of morality emphasized within that faith may explain churches’ success in creating and operating social service programs. Certainly, there must be an element of “following the word,” but I can’t help but think the people who create and support those programs are doing so out of more than institutional religious coercion.  They support those programs because they believe it’s the right thing to do.  They act out of compassion.  While their sense of morality may be reinforced by the church and their religion may claim to be the source of that morality, I think they are acting out of an almost universal, hard-wired moral code.

The success of the church, then, in marshaling support for social service programs may be its focus on what is right, what is just, and what is compassionate. (I will not stray, here, into all the horrifically ugly things “the church” has done, nor what members of the church continue to do, in the name of faith…there are ample opportunities for that another time.)  Just as importantly, though, is the success of the church in building a sense of community, a feeling of affiliation, among its members.  People tend to “do good” as part of a group, more so than as individuals.  Affiliation, then, is a key element.

So, how can non believers collectively join the church in successfully developing and operating social service programs?

The answer, I think, may be addressed in two key ways: 1) creating a movement to enlist non believers in rallying around and promoting a code of secular morality with its attendant opportunities to “do good works” under the auspices of a new secular institution, and 2) making overtures to religious institutions about joint religious/secular social service initiatives in which both “sides” agree to focus on objectives and to avoid judgmental behaviors.

In practical terms, we need to create an institution, similar in dimension and scope to the church, to which secularists will be attracted.  To generate acceptance, especially by people of faith, it is imperative that such an institution avoid being judgmental of religion and religious institutions.  Rather, the institution should embrace all people who subscribe to its principles of morality (the majority of which, incidentally, would align quite well with the moral codes of most religions).  As I see it, this institution and its local affiliates would serve a community of like-minded people in much the same way as a church serves its congregation.

In looking around the web and other places over the past few years, the closest “thing” I have found that resembles what I have in mind appears to be the Unitarian Universalists.  The church encourages “borrowing” concepts from many religions and support social justice in various ways. In addition, it provides many social opportunities for its members, thereby offering a sense of community.   Were it not for its core platform of religious belief (albeit a very, very broad one that’s subject to interpretation), I’d say it is the institution I’m describing.  But that kernel of mysticism remains and there is not, to my knowledge, a truly comprehensive set of moral principles.  That having been said, the Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations (UUAC) promotes the following principles on its website:

  • The inherent worth and dignity of every person;
  • Justice, equity and compassion in human relations;
  • Acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations;
  • A free and responsible search for truth and meaning;
  • The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large;
  • The goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all;
  • Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.

OK, so this is looking a little more interesting, though the issue of god remains a problem for me.  But here is something else from the UUAC website:

What do Unitarian Universalists believe about the existence of a higher power?

Diverse beliefs about the existence of a higher power are welcome in Unitarian Universalism. Individual Unitarian Universalists may also identify as Atheists, Humanists, Christians, Pagans or with other theological and philosophical traditions. As a non-creedal faith, Unitarian Universalism does not require its members to share the same beliefs.

Alright, then, maybe this is worth a closer look. Maybe the secular institution already exists, but just doesn’t sell itself quite the way I had in mind. Maybe I will explore it personally. Or maybe not. If you return to this site in the next few months, I suspect I’ll have had more to say about this.

Posted in Philosophy, Religion, Secular morality | 2 Comments

Lost and Angry

Posted on October 26, 2012 by John Swinburn

Every time I get away from the city, I take a risk.  I risk overwhelming sensations of longing for a life close to the land.  It’s cliché, but it’s real.  I want so badly to feel connected to the earth, the sky, the hard-scrabble life among scrub oak springing impossibly from weathered rock.

That’s it.  There’s nothing romantic, nor real, about it.  It’s simply an aching sense that I’ve never been where I should be.  Later, when I realize it’s an impossible dream, it’s an opportunity to feel lost and angry.

 

Posted in Philosophy, Wisdom | 1 Comment

The Road

Posted on October 24, 2012 by John Swinburn

If just for one day, a road trip is what I need now.  And it shall be.  We don’t know where we’re heading, but we’re off in a while, maybe south, maybe west, maybe off toward the pine forests of east Texas.

I love spontaneous road trips, trips with no direction and no purpose other than exploration.  We have a $50-off coupon for a Best Western motel, so we hope to land tonight in a town with a decent Best Western, but that’s not an absolute requisite…though the fact that the coupon expires at the end of this month does tend to give it more significance.

Mornings like this one…cool, windy mornings with the promise of Fall just around the corner…are right for road trips.  The call of the open road is too clear to ignore.

Weather forecasts call for a hard chill by Friday.  Now’s the time for me to get into Fall!

 

Posted in Travel | 1 Comment

Random Thoughts

Posted on October 23, 2012 by John Swinburn

Fashion Models
It occurred to me before but as I was skimming an old copy of D Magazine it struck me again.  Young female fashion models who have their photos taken wearing haute couture, whether  bikinis and impossibly tall spiked heels or layers of heavy leather and silk, must be prohibited from smiling for the camera.  Does the pouty look, that look of vacuous seriousness, sell? I guess so.  Just not to me.  I find myself laughing darkly at these creatures with perfect “skin and bones” and looks of vacant ignorance on their faces.

The Universe
I know I’m not alone in this, but it feels as if I were: I cannot fathom the vastness of the universe.  I cannot begin to comprehend the distance from earth to our sun, much less the distance between galaxies.  When I contemplate what must be “out there” in distant space beyond our ability to see or hear or measure, a sense of wonder and deep sadness overcome me; wonder at the vastness of how little I know and sadness that I will never know it.

Political Parties
The two corporately-financed political parties, Democrats and Republicans, have finally gotten under my skin in a way that makes me believe I will never support either of their candidates again. Too many lies, too much subterfuge, too many greased palms, and too little intellectual and emotional substance have ruined any chances that I’ll support them again. I will vote for Obama this time around because the only other candidate who could possibly capture the White House is Romney, which would in my mind be catastrophic. But just as soon as the election is over, I plan to decide which “fringe” party to help energize and “mainstream” to the extent it might win four years hence. I’m leaning Green, thanks in part to a post I read today that led me to the party’s website. Whichever one it is, a lot of work must be done, not only to get recognition and build viability, but to configure a platform based on principle, but also deeply rooted in pragmatism.  That, in my view, is one of the problems with the platforms of alternative parties; they may be philosophically attractive, but utterly devoid of practicality.  But that can change.

Absurdity
It strikes me as patently absurd that I should in one sentence wax poetic about the wonders of an unknowable universe and in the next address the despicable ugliness of mainstream party politics. Who am I fooling? Who are we all fooling? Each other, I suppose. And ourselves.

Posted in Dreams, Philosophy, Politics, Wisdom | 1 Comment

Weather Forecast

Posted on October 22, 2012 by John Swinburn

Today: Expect cataclysmic thunderstorms, some capable of producing epic floods and nuclear-force winds, to form before noon today along a line from Anchorage, Alaska to the western edge of Iceland.  A line of massive thunder showers was observed moments ago by Channel 666 weather-spotters from the western edge of the state of North Dakota to Nova Scotia, moving south-southeast at the speed of thought. Doppler radar has confirmed the ferocity of these storms and their potential to cause volcanic eruptions, polar shifts, and the transmogrification of time.  With cloud-tops reaching past the troposphere and stratosphere into the mesosphere, these fierce storms threaten to flush the skies of air, water, and hope.

Tonight: Considerable cloudiness with occasional rain showers.  Low of 41F.  Winds light and variable.  Chance of rain 50%.

Tomorrow: Solar winds that could incinerate the northeastern seaboard of the U.S. and boil the northern parts of the western Atlantic ocean are forecast for the morning, with gradual weakening throughout the day.  Temperatures during peak solar windstorms could exceed 10,000 F but should drop to -75 F by mid afternoon in effected areas.

Tomorrow Night: Considerable cloudiness with occasional rain showers.  Low of 41F.  Winds light and variable.  Chance of rain 50%.

Wednesday: Expect huge swarms of EF-5 tornadoes and category 5 hurricanes, exacerbated by magnitude 9.9 earthquakes that give rise to devastating tsunamis worldwide.  Large pieces of the moon, which was unexpectedly shredded by massive new gravitational forces of the sun on Sunday, along with shrapnel from the explosions of Mars and Venus, are expected to rain on the eastern Atlantic Ocean and northern Europe throughout the day.

Wednesday Night: Considerable cloudiness with occasional ice showers.  Low of -540F.  Winds light and variable.  Chance of layers of atmosphere, crytalized into ice, crashing to the surface of the planet 50%.

Thursday: Due to geotechnical difficulties, our computer models are incapable of providing a Thursday forecast.

Posted in Fiction, Weather | 2 Comments

Another Year Older

Posted on October 21, 2012 by John Swinburn

Birthdays used to excite passion.  They were occasions to mark progress toward some desirable future, some as yet unclaimed state of affairs, that would be better than today.

This murky, never-articulated premise for celebrating birthdays was never clear, but it was certainly omnipresent. The nature of this better future was always unclear, but its service as the never-articulated foundation for birthday celebrations was always just beneath the surface of the festivities, whether real or simply imagined.

I now consider birthdays as solemn markers of the inevitable march toward oblivion.  With each passing year (or month, day, minute, second, or nanosecond), that inevitable point at which our engagement with all things simply stops comes nearer.  That inevitable end-point is not something I’m anxious to celebrate, so I look elsewhere.

So today, and for several years now, I have celebrated my birthday not as an accomplishment in the journey toward some unclear wonderful future but as one more anniversary of keeping my distance from that inevitable void.

And it’s a celebration of all the things that have come before, all the goals met and the successes in coping with those that weren’t met.    So, happy birthday to me.  Another year older and deeper (or not).

Posted in Aging, Philosophy | 3 Comments

Lucien Freud: Portraits

Posted on October 20, 2012 by John Swinburn

Yesterday, we drove over to view the Lucien Freud: Portraits exhibit at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth before the ends of its run on October 28.  It was one of the best exhibits I’ve seen.

Two Irishmen

While Freud’s technical capabilities usually did not compete with the subjects for attention, in some portraits they were breathtaking.  One piece, in particular, caught my attention: Two Irishmen in W11, 1984-5. Freud’s skills in showing the men’s faces was extraordinary, but I was absolutely awestruck at how he painted their suits! While the stylized brush strokes of the two faces and much of the background seemed almost abstract, their suits were painted  more carefully and precisely, almost like he painted every thread.  The wonderful but subtle contrast on the same canvas between the stylized presentation of the two men and the clothes they were wearing was exceptional.  What I found equally interesting was that the two very different styles on the same canvas did not seem out 0f  place; it was quite natural and added to the strength of the painting, I think.

Self Portrait: Reflections

Another portrait, and one that  I think is quite well-known (if for no other reason than the promotional pieces for the Fort Worth Modern exhibit), that I found quite compelling was one of his self-portraits, Reflections.  This one is one of many self-portraits that show Freud shirtless and seemingly absorbed in deep thought.  I don’t recall when he painted this, but I think it was during his middle age, possibly even younger (his year of birth and death were 1922 and 2011, respectively).

A number of the portraits in the Modern’s exhibition were, like a number of Freud’s portraits in general, of nude people from all walks of life.  Mostly, they were laying on couches or draped over chairs.

Standing by the Rags

Large Interior

None of them, in my view, was the least bit sexual; they were, instead, simply expressions of people as they really are, but through the eyes of a man who interpreted his subjects’ experience through his art. The piece, Standing in the Rags, to the left, is one such portrait that conveys (in my mind) mood and experience and acceptance of life’s path.

Another piece, one that inexplicably held me transfixed for a long time as I viewed it, was one (of several) entitled Large Interior; it’s the photo below, showing five children, four on a couch and one on the floor, looking almost in shock and in emotional pain, though one of them is playing a string instrument.

In addition to the Freud work, we wandered around a bit and saw several other pieces from the Modern’s permanent collection.  One set of photographs made by Nicholas Nixon, consists of forty photographs, taken annually, of the four Brown sisters (one of whom, if memory serves, is his wife), before the camera in the same order and with very similar expressions.  It was a wonderful set of photographs, showing how much time changed the four sisters, yet clearly showing how much they stayed the same.

For additional background on Freud, who was the grandson of Sigmund Freud, click here for an interesting obituary in the New York Times.

Posted in Art | 2 Comments

An Enlightening Perspective

Posted on October 19, 2012 by John Swinburn

On occasion, I relearn something I’ve long since learned and lost. Sometimes when that happens, I’m struck by the fact that I’ve allowed myself to forget something so pleasing, so enlightening.  This morning was one of those occasions.  It was a very simple thing, but so very illuminating.  The lesson today taught me about how the way I look at things can color, in a very real way, the way I think about them.  It taught me, again, how seemingly inconsequential events can shape our view of the world around us.

I awoke later than normal, due in part to the fact that I was ill yesterday and tried to use sleep as a weapon against the malady.  I could see through the large plate glass windows that look out on the back yard that the sky was black as midnight.  It would remain that way for a good two hours.

I fumbled through the darkness into the family room, where I flipped the light switch to turn on the two incandescent can fixtures that provide light for the room. Instantly, I heard the tinny rattle, accompanied by the buzz, that signals the imminent demise of a bulb.  Both lights were just as bright as normal, but I knew one of them would not survive another on-off event.  I left them on and went to the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. This morning, I decided to forgo my usual walk and not to wait for my wife to awake before making breakfast.  I prepared a slight variant on my usual egg substitute and turkey bacon breakfast, opting for “frying” two real eggs instead of a quarter cup of what I call artificial egg goo.  I call what I did frying, but I only used a small spray of oil…I don’t know quite what to call that mode of preparation.

The appearance of a fresh egg’s yolk combines color and reflection and light like nothing else.  The shiny yellow yolk looks almost artificial, with its polished sheen.  The color and the glistening reflective qualities of the surface appear almost like plastic.  But plastic can’t quite capture the look of that perfect half-sphere of high-gloss yellow.  As I watched the eggs cook, it occurred to me that I was seeing them differently in the light cast by the lights of the range hood than I would see them in sunlight.  Had the sun yet risen, I might have compared their appearance under real, versus artificial, light.  But the sun had not yet risen.

After washing my breakfast dishes, I turned off the family room lights as I was heading to my study.  Just two steps in the direction of my office, I turned around to turn them on again, just to verify that one of the bulbs would not come back on.  I was right.  And that’s when I re-learned the lesson.

Only the bulb on the other end of the room alit when I flipped the switch.   And when that bulb became illuminated, the appearance of the room was completely different from normal.  Instead of a large portion of the room being bathed in light, there was a smaller pool of light at the end of the room.  The room looked completely different, like a setting designed to evoke a sensation of well-being, a much warmer and more comfortable place than it had been when both lights were burning.

The demise of that one down-light bulb completely changed the character of that room.  It became a gentler, more inviting room.  Though the absence of the burned-out bulb rendered a good half the room unusable for reading without the support of reading lamps, it changed the mood of the room. Just one bulb, a little change in the way light reflected from the surfaces of the walls and ceilings and a reduction of the light on the dark rug under the big square coffee table altered everything.  The room changed from a large room that invited activity to a small one that invited contemplation. It was truly a stunning change.

And the lesson I re-learned was a simple one we all know, but too often either forget or let slip into the far reaches of rarely retrieved memories.   The world around us is not always as it appears; a slightly different way of looking at it can change one’s attitude, one’s perspectives, and one’s mind.  Before that bulb burned out, I focused on what I was going to do today.  Now, I’m considering what I might think today.

Posted in Philosophy, Wisdom | Leave a comment

Improper perspective, rectified

Posted on October 16, 2012 by John Swinburn

I dropped the aging Camry with the mechanic at about 8:45 this morning.  I had decided to walk back home, rather than take the bus, because I hadn’t taken my normal walk this morning.  And I needed to do some walking to get back on target to hit my goal of walking 1000 miles by year’s end.

It was a walk of moderate length, 4.6 miles, but it felt much, much longer.  Unlike my usual walks, taken early in the morning on near-empty streets and walking trails, this day’s walk was taken during the commute rush on very busy streets.  The two most jarring segments were 1) crossing the feeder roads at Arapaho and the Dallas North Tollway and 2) crossing Preston Road at Arapaho.  Crossing those roadways during the commute rush is something I do not wish to do again.  Even waiting for the “walk” signals, stepping into the street is a highly risky endeavor.

Fortunately for me, I was able to dash across Preston Road quickly to avoid being run down by angry drunk soccer moms driving oversized SUVs full of screaming children while texting, talking on their cell phones, putting on makeup, and changing from gym clothes to work attire.  I can only imagine how tough those crossings would be for elderly couples who need the support of one another to stay upright as they cross the road.

Aside from those episodes, the walk was generally disappointing.  Diesel fumes from buses and Coca Cola delivery trucks filled the air along most of the route.  Broken and buckled sidewalks along the way required constant vigilance to avoid tripping.  A cacophony of car  horns and revving engines, coupled with the screech of hard braking, was a less than pleasant serenade to my endeavor.

But all of the stress and discordant noise gave me a surprisingly pleasant perspective on the walk: it made understand more clearly how absolutely wonderful my early morning walks are.  They give me time to think and allow me to experience a useful and pleasant solitude.  By comparison to today’s trek along side heavy traffic, my usual walks are paradise!  Were it not for my experience today, I might not appreciate my daily treks as much as I do at this very moment.  That would be a shame.

So maybe I should take an occasional walk at rush hour, in heavy traffic, just to put my good fortune in proper perspective.

Posted in Cars, Philosophy, Walking | 1 Comment

A Brief History of the Past Few Hours

Posted on October 15, 2012 by John Swinburn

We met our friend, Jim, for lunch today at Flavors, an Indian restaurant in Addison.  While I enjoyed the food, it wasn’t exceptional like it was the last visit.  But I am not one to complain about an Indian buffet from which I left stuffed, after two trips through the buffet line.

After bidding good day to Jim, we headed to All Star Automotive, the shop we’ve been using for car maintenance and repair for quite a while.  I’d felt and heard thuds from the front of the car at slow speeds and I guessed the beast might have a broken motor mount (having experienced similar thuds before, which were fixed with a new motor mount).  We asked for a diagnosis.  Sure enough, I was right, but it wasn’t just one, it was two, the front and back mounts.

Motor Mount

Back in the real world USA, the cost to repair two broken engine mounts in our aging Camry will be $575.  The parts, alone, will $181 for each one.   So, tomorrow morning I will drop it off and will either walk or take the bus home.  I could have my wife drop it off and I could pick her up in the beater truck, but I’d just rather pretend I lived in the real world, where not every couple has two cars.

Some people who know I could buy a new car for cash, if I chose to, think I’m odd for preferring to drive cars into the ground.  I don’t mind being thought of as odd, though; one of the reasons I have the wherewithal to buy a new one is that I have opted not to trade vehicles  frequently.  My rule is that a car should be kept for at least 12 years, and preferably longer.  An exception to my “rule” was my purchase of a Honda Pilot that I kept for only two years.  That purchase helped, I hope, cure me of SUV fever; it was not at all a bad vehicle, but it’s mileage was atrocious in comparison to the cars I’m used to and its maneuverability left a lot to be desired.

There’s a lot more on my mind, but it simply won’t make its way to my fingers at the moment.  Maybe if I focus on reading A Briefer History of Time (Stephen Hawking with Leonard Mlodinow), which my brother gave me a few days ago, my mind will be more cooperative with my fingers.  We shall see.

I just recalled a conversation that took place on our way home from All Star Automotive…about time.  The conversation started when I mentioned the name of a subdivision as we were driving by it: Reflections.  I thought it an odd name for a subdivision.  I commented that I would have far better names for subdivisions, were I developing them.  For example, I said, I might name a subdivision The Past or The Future.   People who lived in those places could have fun by telling strangers, “I live in The Past,” or “I live in The Future.”  At the time, I thought it hilariously funny.  Now, I’m not laughing as hard.  Could I have regressed back to 8th grade for just a few minutes during the drive home?

Posted in Cars, Food | Leave a comment

Photos from Mexico

Posted on October 14, 2012 by John Swinburn

I was not as much of a photographer as I would liked to have been during our visit with my brother and his wife in Mexico.  However, I rationalize the relative paucity of photos by arguing that I was more interested in being “in the moment” than in recording it for posterity.  That may be partially true, too.  At any rate, here is a one-minute beach walk video and a few additional photos from our Mexican trip.

A burro on the beach at Yves, a restaurant/bar on the Ajijic lakefront. The owner of Yves feeds the burro, which had been abandoned, and cares for it.
The sign for Tabarka, a wonderful little restaurant on the Carretera, just a few blocks from Clay’s and Joan’s place. Fantastic seafood and a wonderful tapas dinner special on Friday evenings.
View from Clay’s and Joan’s balcony.
A photo cannot do justice to the waves…and their incredible power!
Chile en Nogada from Los Telares, a restaurant in Ajijic. They were incredible!
Janine, Clay, and Joan at a beachside restaurant in Manzanillo.
Clay and Joan on the beach in Manzanillo
Statue of Neptune in front of Juanito’s, a beachside restaurant in Manzanillo.
Janine, Joan, and Clay at Jolanda’s, a restaurant on the beach in La Manzanilla.
Clay at Eureka, a very rustic beachside restaurant in Manzanillo. I LOVED this place!
Clay’s calamondin tree, poolside. The fruit is delicious.
A view looking west on the Ajijic Malecón.

Posted in Mexico | 6 Comments

Motion?

Posted on October 13, 2012 by John Swinburn

So, now, we’re really back home in Dallas.  Competing emotions are everywhere.  The home you’ve built has enormous attraction, but the adventure of powerlessness has its appeal.

Let me think on it. Maybe I’ll have a perspective, one day.

Posted in Housiing | Leave a comment

Back home in Ajijic

Posted on October 11, 2012 by John Swinburn

Four-plus hours after we started the journey from Manzanillo back to Ajijic, we arrived.  After a quick bite at a wonderful open-air restaurant (best grilled octopus I’ve ever had), we’re unwinding at my brother’s and sister-in-law’s place.  Here are a few photos from paradise.

Looking down at pool from main level terrace.

Janine siiting inside, taken from the main level terrace.

View from garage end of terrace toward bar. Main living area to the right.

Stairs from main terrace level leading to master suite.

Tonight, it’s off to dinner just a few blocks off the malecon at a steakhouse. What, more food?! Well, yes, I believe I will.

Posted in Family, Mexico | 2 Comments

Questions, always questions

Posted on October 10, 2012 by John Swinburn

Rain and thunder awakened me for the second day in a row. Before daybreak, the volume and intensity  of the rain confirmed another very heavy downpour, but like yesterday the weather changed quickly to a hazy, humid, overcast day, followed by clearing.

I cannot get over how lush and beautiful it is here.  The accompanying photos do not begin to do it justice, but at least I can share a bit of the luscious greenery .

Another walk on the beach for the four of us this morning…I, alone, trekked just over 1.5 miles on the beach toward city center and then back, while the others turned back after just over three-quarters of a mile.  When I am alone on the beach my thoughts wander.  How would I get along living down here, staying in primitive but affordable housing and forcing myself to learn Spanish? I don’t answer the question for fear of wounding my ego.

After showering to rinse the salt and sand and beach aroma from my body, I joined the others to discuss plans for the day.  Manzanillo proper is not a gorgeous spot for sightseers.  Two days earlier we had driven to Las Hadas, a high-end hotel/resort development area on the beach (high on a cliff, though) near central Manzanillo. The area was beautiful, but there’s just so much extravagance and opulence one can take, so we opted today to drive about a little and see real-world Manzanilla. So, we drifted down Lic. Miguel de la Madrid Hurtado, the main road along the beach (drifting inland at times).  There are hundreds of shops and stores along the way, ranging from Sam’s Club and grocery giant Soriana to tiny taquerias and copy/fax stations, with ample numbers of fruit stands and artisan shops interspersed between them.

We opted to have lunch at Juanito’s, a restaurant near, but not on, the beach.  My sister-in-law found recommendations on Travel Advisor, so that was our target.  Aside from being easy to find, it had easy and ample off-street parking, a real plus.  I ordered a Dos Equis and a torta ahogada, the latter of which was excellent!  The beer was a disappointment (Dos Equis is, so I cannot explain why I ordered it), so my next one was a Pacifico, much better. I would have had a Bohemia, but they did not carry it.  And no good dark beer, as one would expect. At any rate, it was a good lunch.

Following lunch, we stopped at a beachfront building that houses dozens of tiny shops selling everything from candy to clothes to jewelry and dishes.  I bought a t-shirt as a Manzanillo memorial and others bought coconut candy and such, also THE stuff to get here.  From there, a quick stop at a tiny market nearby for snacks and beer, then home to our apartment.

The others are reading or napping, while I write this and drink my beer. I only brought one book, Zeiton, which I finished on day two…I recommend it highly. (It’s the true story of a Syrian American who stays behind in New Orleans for Katrina and helps many people after the catastrophe, only to be swept up in a frenzy of insanity as a suspected terrorist several days into the storm’s aftermath.  I owe Kathy Withcats for recommending it to me.)

We’ll head back to Ajijic and Chapala tomorrow…more fun AND cooler temperatures!

But the questions remain…what about this place?  What about any challenging and enchanting place? What about me?

Posted in Food, Mexico | 2 Comments

Beach life

Posted on October 9, 2012 by John Swinburn

Last night or early this morning the skies over Manzanillo ruptured. Before daylight the sound of rain pelting the tile roof and windows was deafening.  Thunder rattled the building and flashes of lightning lit the entire apartment.  A short while after all of us were awake and talking in the kitchen, a brilliant flash of lightning, accompanied instantaneously by a bone-jarring clap of thunder punctuated the message being delivered by the weather…this is powerful stuff, so don’t bother going outdoors.

Despite the message and my assumption the day would be wet and dark, the rain soon stopped and the day brightened a bit beneath a dull grey sky.  We decided to take a walk along the beach, which we did.  My brother and his wife walked a bit, then left us to wander alone.  We walked a mile and a half up the beach, my wife skirting the water and me slogging through the wash of waves as they pounded the beach.  Before long, though, her tennis shoes were soaked; I had taken off my flip-flops and was happily barefoot in the surf.  My enthusiasm for the waves got the better of me from time to time; waves surged toward me faster than I expected and higher than expected, soaking my walking shorts with sand and salt water.

By the time we got back to the apartment, the weather was clearing so we decided to drive past Barre de Navidad to La Manzanilla, a tiny coastal village a few miles up the beach.  We had lunch at Jolanda’s, a primitive little open-air restaurant on the beach.  It being off-season, there were few people on the streets, fewer still non-Mexicans.  This restaurant was no exception.  The only people there were the owners, a husband and wife team who moved to La Manzanilla ten years ago after a two year stint motor-biking through Asia.  I think they are from Belgium. The menu was a mixed bag of Asian, European, and Mexican fare; not particularly good, but adequate.  We sat under the palapa watching people in canoes and kayaks cavort in the surf.  There were fishermen, too, both with nets and with poles, after their day’s catch. Of more interest to me were the pelicans drifting silently over the waves, then diving at high speed into the surf to catch their lunch.

From La Manzanilla we drove a little ways to Melaque, another coastal town.  We drove around the village, just to have a look, before making our way back.  Melaque is a larger village than the others and not as attractive, in my view. After a quick stop in Barra de Navidad to get 3000 pesos from the ATM to replenish our dwindling cash supply, we’re back.  Soon, we’ll talk about what to do for dinner on this day, my brother’s birthday.

Photos may follow in hours, days, or weeks.

Posted in Mexico, Water | 3 Comments

Barra de Navidad

Posted on October 7, 2012 by John Swinburn

Got up late this morning, again.  Lolled about on the patio, playing Words with Friends, then I make a quick breakfast of tocino de pavo y juevos.

Barra de Navidad as seen from Grand Bay.

The four of us then drove toward Barra de Navidad, a seacoast town of about 4500.  As we neared the town, we veered off and drove down winding roads to Isla Navidad, where there is a huge and lavish resort, Grand Bay.  We stopped and had coffee in the hotel restaurant, sitting on a terrace overlooking the water and the village of barra de Navidad, a short ferry ride away.  We had a car though, so after marveling at the opulence and speculating whether the funds to build the massive resort and its huge golf course on what must be well over 1000 acres may have come from illicit activities, we drove back down the winding roads and to the highway and on into the village.

This is the off-season, so there are few tourists on the narrow cobblestone streets.  We arrived before 10:30.  We parked on a dusty street just a few blocks from the usually tourist-laden waterfront, where in-season there would be dozens of street vendors selling trinkets, hats, fresh oysters in the shell, fruits, and any number of other treasures.  Today, though, there were only a few.

My wife and I walked out onto the jetty that juts into the ocean, taking in the views and the salt air, while my brother and his wife relaxed on a bench by the waterfront.  During the walk from the car to the jetty, the few vendors who were out and about offered us their goods.  A very gregarious man and his colleague who run ferries and fishing tours tried to persuade us that today was perfect for a run the the Grand Bay resort or some dorado fishing; had we been staying overnight in the village, I might have been more inclined to do a bit of fishing, but today we declined.

As we walked back on the jetty toward a stretch of tiny restaurants and markets, we were approached by a woman selling hats.  Earlier, I had rejected the idea of wearing a hat, but the strong sun and rapidly rising temperatures convinced me otherwise.  I bought a wide-brimmed hat with lots of ventilation for 130 Mexican pesos, about $11.  It was a wise buy. Actually, my brother bought it; I agreed to buy lunch in return.

After wondering a bit more, we stopped in a little restaurant with a nice open deck overlooking the water.  Umbrellas offered some protection, but my new hat saved my head from being scorched by the sun.

Lunch started with guacamole, totopos with various salsas, and Pacifico beer for my brother and me, while the women opted for limonadas.  I chose tacos de pescado, while the others dined on various other small-meal dishes.  The place was almost empty except for four guys who appeared to be in the midst of a photo shoot on the deck. They were taking pictures of a fancy red umbrella drink against the backdrop of waves and water.  I thought I heard one of them speaking Portuguese but my brother thought he heard them speaking French.  We speculated about what they were up to, but did not ask.

After an easy drive back to Manzanillo, I alone opted not ta take a nap, deciding, instead, to memorialize today’s experiences.

Later, I will add photos to this post…maybe in an hour, maybe in a week.

Posted in Mexico | 2 Comments

Observation

Posted on October 5, 2012 by John Swinburn

The sounds of Pacific Ocean waves pounding against the shore are extraordinary.  Massive crashing thuds remove any misconception that humans control this planet.  We are powerless.  We can only sit and observe in righteous awe.

Posted in Mexico, Philosophy | 2 Comments

Another life, another time

Posted on October 5, 2012 by John Swinburn

Walking along the the Lake Chapala waterfront in Ajijic, Jalisco, I cannot help but wonder if the “good old days” in the USA might once have been like this.  There are couples strolling along the malecón and families gathered around large concrete picnic tables, feasting on the barbeque that has just come off the grill.  Music can be heard, some from boom boxes and some from open windows and doorways on the streets just north of the malecón.

This Mexico is different from the Mexico one reads about in the newspaper.  This is a gentle, peaceful Mexico. Certainly, there are criminals and drug lords but they represent a tiny fraction of the people.  What I see here are common people, most of them poor, whose greatest joys in life involve doing simple things with their families…walking along the malecón, watching the boats on the lake or perhaps playing games with friends.

The weather in Ajijic is wonderful.  Clear blue skies, cool nights and just barely warm days.  The view of the lake from where I’m sitting is lovely.  I feel like I’ve  drifted back in time to a simpler life with simpler people.

There is evidence of the invasion of crass commercialism that promises to alter the attitudes and appeal of this idyllic place, but I will ignore what I cannot change and will simply enjoy my brief time in another century.

Posted in Mexico, Philosophy, Wisdom | 5 Comments