Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Around the Missouri killing and subsequent events there has been little right speech evident.  It appears that everyone quickly, perhaps too quickly, takes a side, then pontificates.  In the silent center of all this chaos and rhetoric and violence is a young man, still a child, now dead.  He stands for a lot of African American teenagers, lost, trapped in cultural archetypes, symbolizing these youth with little or no future, no options, facing a terrifying future.  It breaks my heart.

I don't "follow" the news about this tragedy because I would hear people using his death.  I would hear righteousness and blame and all the speech that sets people against each other.  And I would hear the media, fanning the flames, keeping the anger alive by besieging the people of Fergeson, using hyperbole and exaggeration and breathless voices to keep all the wounds as alive as possible.

I am so sorry for his parents and family and friends.  I wish this incident could activate programs and plans that would help these lost boys.  I wish police had to face true accountability.  I wish all these people could be constructive instead of destructive, courageous instead of afraid, humane instead of combative.  I won't say, maybe something good will come of out of this, because we've seen this play out again and again without any creative ideas to help these kids and be responsible for giving them a future.  But I wish.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm really thankful for the writing group I belong to, as they practice such beautiful right speech.  They highlight positive qualities of a person's writing, encourage the writer, and don't nitpick.  Last night we problem solved a member's reluctance to write, and she felt better and so did we.  And I've experienced so many similar situations, where something I thought was below par I came out of the group feeling I could really work with this piece to make it better, and the suggestions were helpful and doable.

We want to write or we wouldn't be there.  Our lives are busy and we are distracted.  Yet we make the time for the group.  Our relaxation about attending, or having writing to share makes the group pressure free.  That is, we realize the pressure comes from ourselves, and examining that can be interesting.  I love that there is no competition, no judgment, and no envy.  We really are thrilled when another member writes something brilliant.

One of the reasons the group works so well is that we've known each other for decades, are friends in our regular lives, and we've gotten through all the stuff that sets us against each other.  We are FOR each other, deep down.  And in our own ways, we practice right speech, not necessarily from the official Buddhist point of view, but out of a shared belief in not intentionally harming others.  We are carefully respectful, and the tuning fork has been pitched to all our hearts.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

All weekend I practiced right speech by not cursing and getting angry at my phone company, which couldn't get my phone line fixed and somehow screwed up my internet connection on my computer.  Hence, no blogging etc.  I spent the weekend waiting for repairpeople who did not show up, and my nerves frazzled to a fine point.  By today, when the guy came to deal with my computer, I was in tears and ended up telling him about my brother's death.  All my boundaries dissolved in broken strings around my ankles.

He was kind, and listened and made me feel better, even though he's a young guy, and I guess I'm just going to forgive myself for falling apart.  My speech was grief.  He got that. 

Now that I got out of the house today and will have my writing group tonight, I'll get myself back up on the balance beam and hopefully will not fall again anytime soon.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I love Craig Johnson's Walt Longmire mysteries, which have been also made into an A & E TV series.  Set in Wyoming, they feature best friends Sheriff Longmire and Henry Standing Bear.  Henry calls Thanksgiving Thankstaking, and though he cooks a mean turkey is grumpy for reasons of indigenous rightousness.  I love that play on words, and it's right speech in that it corrects history and sets the record straight.  Who fed who?  Who was starving?  Who knew how to grown an abundance of crops?

A little humor in right speech takes the edge off anger and replaces it with irony.  Indians have been doing this for a few thousand years.  They play with speech, naming people and things and generally enjoy speech as an inside joke.  We like to tell a tall tale, but everyone is in on the joke.  And the butt of the joke is usually the teller, or a cousin who has a great sense of humor.  That's how we survive.

So I'm thinking, yeah, I like the meal, the whole nine yards, but I like remembering the REAL story as well.  And if they changed their minds after the first Thanksgiving and decided we were in the way, well, the joke is on them.  We're doing just fine, thank you very much.  Happy Thankstaking everyone.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just finished trying to clear up a misunderstanding with a friend.  Even with the best of intentions, these things happen.  And right before, I was on the phone with my brother's insurance person, trying to understand clearly what repairs were going to be paid, and the deductible and all the convoluted ins and outs of the estate.  And, though headache producing, nothing can really be done until I have a court order declaring me next of kin and the death certificate.

The ray of light is the kindness and sensitivity of this claims person, who has been helpful, patient, and supportive.  He really seems to be on my side, and trying to make everything as smooth and stress free as possible.  He acts like a friend.  So there are these glimmers of Buddha nature showing up and officials and others who would not have to take so much care to do their jobs, but are choosing to work with the utmost sensitivity.  Wow.  There are Buddhas everywhere.

I, in turn, am attempting to call up my own Buddha nature, and be patient, kind and appreciative for all the hard work, and thankless, often, that they do with the public.  The tone of voice is so crucial, especially to me right now, when I'm very fragile, and I'm blessed with these encounters which could so easily be upsetting, but are instead comforting.  I am comforted by strangers, and blessed by their kindnesses.  Tennessee Williams rules!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

How do you handle phone solicitors in a kindly manner?  It's a dilemma, especially when I don't feel kindly, but exasperated.  But I don't want to kill the messenger.  Yet I definitely don't want to listen to a spiel.  What to do?  Yes, I have call waiting but it often doesn't identify enough for me to know it's a business.  It may say private caller, out of area, all kinds of misdirections.  Right now I'm dealing with my brother's estate and so unfamiliar numbers are the norm.

I have stock phrases I say quickly and then hang up:  "I'm sorry but I'm unable to give at this time", "I'm sorry but I can't talk right now", "This is not a good time.  Good luck", and "No, she's not in right now".  This last is a lie, but a kind one.  Metaphysically, I'm not in, because I don't choose to be.

Why bother over such a little issue?  Because it happens every day, and learning not to allow a reactive flareup of anger is good training.  So is showing compassion for the poor saps who have to make these calls.  They'd do something else if they could, and at least they are struggling to support themselves.  It's the little things.

Of course, I'll continue to attempt to screen my calls, but you've got to kind of admire the sheer deviousness of these phone IDs.  Entreprenership at it's capitalistic finest.  And the quick hang up still works beautifully, if you are fresh out of compassion or equanimity.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday I went to the quilting group.  It was soothing to talk about fabric and patterns.  The four of us could do it until the cows come home.  During the conversation, I thought perhaps my friend hadn't told the others about my brother's death, but after a couple of hours, when we were planning the next meeting, I said it was good unless I had to go to a hearing about his estate.  Then I realized everyone knew, but had kept to our topics and waited to see if I wished to bring it up.  Now that is right speech.  They held in their curiousity to wait for my signal.

Quilting has always been about women supporting women, talking about their joys and worries, gaining strength from each other.  So I had the relief of focusing on beauty and planning:  a baby quilt for one, a granddaughter's quilt for another, backing two beautiful quilts made many years ago, and just playing with patterns.  One person showed us how to do the pinwheel pattern, and there was a kind of magic in it that we all adored.  We talk about our fears that we won't finish a project we have begun, we admire fabric choices, we encourage each other to enjoy the process and not worry about the result.  Scraps not used in one quilt become part of another.  Fabric bought without any idea what to do with it years later becomes the piece de resistance in a new idea.  Nothing is wasted, and each quilt becomes a history of the quilter.

Is it any surprise that right speech flourishes in such an atmosphere?