8:36 AM - Transcript: Rev Kany Okamoto, Buddhist Priest at Tri-State Denver Buddhist Temple
Category: Writing and Poetry

Transcript: Personal Interview with Rev. Kanya Okamoto, 2 May, 2008

Conducted by Patrick Pace

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Q: Can you tell me a bit your background, where you grew up, how long you've been practicing, and how long you been teaching?

A: Since I was 10, I am 64.  My father came in 1917 to ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />California as an immigrant.  My mother was born in Stockton California, she's 2^nd generation Japanese American.

Q: How long have you been with this temple?

A: I was assigned here in 1975.

Q: Tell me a bit about the type of Buddhism you practice here?

A: We practice Mahayana Buddhism.

Q: Tell me about some of the common misconceptions that you deal with?

A: That people think this is the "Pure" Buddhism that they're getting.  Anytime you translate from one language to another what you are doing is transforming.  For example, Karma: how is that translated? Cause and effect. It means action.  Karma within Indian society it means action, within Buddhism it means action, but karma manifests itself in a human in 3 ways: thought speech and action.  This is how it manifests itself in a human being.  I asked my professor in Kyoto Japan, he was noted as an expert in karma. 

~He was studying karma for 50 years to understand why son had downs syndrome.

There are many kinds of karma. In Buddhism karma is any action that is beneficial for me to experience enlightenment, or any action that is detrimental for me to experience enlightenment, or any action that is [neutral] for me to experience enlightenment.  Personal karma: the actions that I do affect me.  Family karma; actions of my family affect me and I affect my family.  Community: actions of Denver affect me affect me and I affect my community and family.  National: actions in Washington DC affect my community which affect my family.  World: actions in Iraq, in North Korea, actions in Africa, affect our national karma, which affect community, family and me.  Universal karma: in our universe stars are forming and imploding and exploding. Our sun is a star.  Without the karma of our sun…no life here on earth.  We have to perceive things correctly.  Buddha put this down intentionally.  The first rule is that of Right View.  Then that is followed with Right thought. We must perceive them correctly, if I perceive the karma coming at me correctly, my thoughts will be correct and the third one, action, will be correct.

Karma is not a simple thing. My mother died in February, and I'm thinking, I've always asked my professors in grad school in Japan, when a person dies, in our tradition, as I mentioned in the pure land, what happens? What goes to the Pure Land?  It's Karma.

Q: Do you believe in reincarnation?

A: I don't believe in physical reincarnation. The Tibetans, they certainly do.  I'm thinking now that my professors were correct that what carries on is karma, action. The reason, as I said, my mother died, her karma, her action is playing itself out…the funeral…cleaning up everything she had left…I am thinking of everyone who lived before, for example George Washington…I don't know his personality, the sound of his voice…but what is written down is his karma, what he did

Q: How do you mean what is written down?

A: The history, what he did, president, the general of the army, but I don't know his personality, I really don't even know what he looked like unless I look at a dollar bill, but I know his actions.  I don't know anything else, but I know his actions. 

Q: Karma has to play out;  Does it have a goal, destination, resolution?

A: you push a toy boat out onto a lake it will eventually stop right?  That's what I mean.

Nirvana means "Extinguish through lack of fuel."  If I push this boat out onto that lake, the fuel, the energy, eventually stops. Nirvana is like: if I light a candle, the flame burns because of the fuel, the wax.  What happens to the flame when the wax is gone?  Energy cannot be created or destroyed, it goes somewhere.  Within you and me there is an energy level.  There comes a time in our life when no matter how much we eat the energy level goes out. Where does it go? It returns to the oneness that it came from.

Q: How does the growth of this temple in particular reflect the social values of its members?  Do they practice a detachment from material needs? 

A: When I came to this church in 1975, 99% of our members were Japanese or Japanese American.  Now our membership has changed.  Probably about 60% are Japanese American, the rest are American.  European, African, Hispanic Americans, we've got all kinds now.  And so that has changed the thought process of our membership.  My good friend Rabbi Foster, he is my good friend, but I don't agree with him for all things.  I will not use my position to tell people how to vote.  I'm using my authority, no, no, no. This is a secret ballot so I will not say anything about politics.  As a college student, I demonstrated against the war in Vietnam.  We sent a letter to President Bush, prior to the invasion of Iraq that we don't condone any kind of violence. 

Q: How does Buddhism approach materialism in America? 

A: That has hindered Buddhist priests.   Most of our monks now are American and they think that most monks, priests, and ministers…think they should live in poverty.  So I get paid nearly nothing, but Rabbi foster gets three times as much!  And the Jewish, they pay their Rabbi and that's good because they know they have to study and be prepared.  I do it too but I do not get paid very much. There is now a shortage of Buddhist priests in America.  The founder said that a good person can go to the pure land. How much more so can an evil person.   What he was saying is that a good person who thinks he is good is ego-tripping.  But someone who comes to the reality [of their own evil], that person is much closer to Pure Land.  In this country we measure a person's moral and spiritual status by how much money they have.  One of our leaders said that the greatness of a temple is not measured by its moral authority, it is measured by if one person reaches spiritual enlightenment.  Westerns don't look at it this way.  So I always hold that the greatness of a temple is if it helps one person awaken.  It doesn't matter the size, the number of members, that's irrelevant. It's that awakening to true reality that is important. 

How is materialism addressed?

A: It's not, it really doesn't matter.  How can you say it's not good?  But see we have a teaching called dana " it means selfless giving." Give with no strings attached, so in Buddhism there is no giver, there is no receiving, but something has been exchanged.  And that is what all Buddhists practice daily, selfless giving.   If you can remember an act of dana, then it wasn't dana, because your mind is still attached to that gift.   

Q: Nirvana, as I understand it from Snelling, he wrote a book titled The Buddhist Handbook, is to step outside of the world view, to be separated from the Wheel of Rebirth?
A: We have the teaching of Oneness; within this oneness, this totality we have is change, what happens is we have interdependence.  So Nirvana, or the pure land, cannot be outside of this oneness.  It has to be here right now.  So you cannot step outside. In Judeo-Christian tradition, god is outside of his creation, but this does not make sense to me, how can something be outside of this oneness.

Q: Christmas Humphreys said that Buddhism would inevitably create a Western Buddhism.  How do you see this coming about?

A: In India 2500 years ago, the teachings of the dharma were given.  The people of the India created a container for the teachings and the container looks Indian.  Into this they pour Buddhism.  The tradition moves to China.  The Chinese make a container for it looks Chinese and into this they pour Buddhism.  Vietnam, Tibet, Cambodia, each makes a container, and it looks different.  Each pours Buddhism into this.  It is an exciting time right now. We are making an American container.  What is this American container look like?  I have no idea.  Maybe a paper cup.

Q: I hope not!  Quite an expression of consumerism isn't it?
A: Disposable!  But that's okay.  We're taught not to become attached to containers.

The Jewish tradition made a beautiful container, the Muslims made a beautiful container.  They have the same water, the tradition of Abraham.  Why are they fighting?  Drink the water, it's the same!  In Ireland, Catholics made a beautiful container, the Protestants made a beautiful container.  The filled it with the same water: the teachings of Christianity.  And they are fighting.

Q: Is that a role of Buddhism then?  To transform to a water of a new vessel for each era.

A: How I judge a religion, is not how it changes, but how it changes me.  You cannot change a religion, it will change itself.

Q: One of the basic is not to become attached to the container.  This applies to all material things?  That they are temporary?

A: The body is a container, we should not become attached.  I try to take care of my container but I know this container will not last forever.  But though this life ends, true life continues.

Q: How do you mean by true life? I know it's a very general question.

A: No, no, it's a very important question. When I started Buddhism, I also practiced judo.  My teacher was a Zen Buddhist, he taught me to meditate.  He told me, count your breath, when you get to 10 without thinking of anything else, I will give you another lesson.  But what I learned about counting breaths is that because I breathe, I have life.  Simple.  It wasn't one of these "Oh!" kind of understandings, it was understanding.  So life, true life, is flowing in everything, plants, animals, everything that has life; I don't know where it comes from but you have it. I have it. And we don't have it for long, but that's okay because everything is changing anyway.  (He concentrates).   Death defines life, life defines death, and because we think, we use the subject-object dichotomy.  The Buddhists called it the name and form, within the 12 chain of causation we get attached to form,  We need to go beyond form.  A Buddhist philosopher around the 2^nd century CE explained this as a linguistic construction.  We have a name for everything, even for non things.  All these are linguistic construction…He reintroduces the terms the Buddha used, emptiness: that true reality is emptiness, why? Because everything is changing.  Therefore everything is empty…because it is all interdependent.  If you take a crystal and look at it, it looks void of color.  If you put a red rose next to the crystal the crystal appears red because of interdependence.  Ultimately it is devoid of color. 

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8:35 AM - Transcript: Interview with "Chick" Carol-Chick
Category: Writing and Poetry

Interview with "Chick" Carol-Chick by Patrick Pace, 25 April, 2008

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Q: Let's start with the basics.  When and where were you born?

A: I was born in 1922, in September.  I was born in a place called ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Edwardsville, PA, but I don't think it exists anymore.  It became a township I believe, some time ago.

Q: Tell me about your family.  How many brothers and sisters did you have?
A: There were 9 of us kids, six boys, three girls.  It worked out as a boy, boy, girl, boy, boy, girl, boy, boy girl kind of thing.  My brothers were George, Jack, Joe, Steve, Mike and the girls were Mary, Helen, and Katherine, she was the youngest.

Q: You grew up in the Great Depression.  Was this one of the reasons that you later joined the military?

A: Well, maybe some of it.  But I always wanted to join the service.  It'd pretty much been my plan all along.  My older brothers were in service, even Mike, who I think joined because the rest of the guys were already in.

Q: Did you always serve in the Air Force?
A: I started in the army but, yeah, I moved to the Air Force early on. 

Q: And I know you served in WWII, Korea too?  Did you see duty in Vietnam as well?

A: Yes, all of that.  I was in Vietnam, until about 66 or so.  Then back here in the states in the office.

Q: Jobs were tough when you were growing up.  Did your sisters work as well?

A: Oh well, Helen was a Powers model.  She did pretty good at that.  I think Mary was a telephone operator for a little bit.  Then this guy came into her life and she decided to get married around 1930.  That was kind of the way it was back then.  Women worked until they got married.  I don't think Katherine ever had a job so much.  But she was a wizard with finances.  She ended up owning five houses, which helped a lot because her husband died early.

Q: Was it common for women to work at that time?

A: No, no not at all.  When I got married I wouldn't let her work.  It was stupid of me, looking back, she was well qualified to work.  But a guy didn't get married unless he could support them both financially.  Women may have worked out of high school, but they generally stopped when they got married.

Q: I just read some of the guidelines for hiring women, this was published in Mass Transportation magazine half a century ago.  Does any of it sound about right?

A: That bit about older women, I'd say was true.  If she was a widow, you could hire her and get her to adapt.  I she was a divorcee she figured she was to start at the top!  She would act like the boss was her ex-husband.  Young girls, they would look to you as a father, or older brother, they would ask for guidance.  But a divorcee would come in and try to run things.  It didn't matter if another girl working there might have seven or eight years of experience.

Q: What would have been a typical job for a woman in the 50's.

A: Oh things like telephone operators, teachers for sure.  (Prompted for others) Cooking, decorating, sewing.  Older women were usually preferred.

Q: Did women expect to be paid equally for their work as the men?
A: The biggest deal was that guys were saying that men were the bread-winners so they needed to be paid more.  They didn't expect equal pay.  Well, they did complain but they weren't able to do anything about it.

Q: What about equal treatment? 

A: They weren't allowed in unions, that's one thing.  There weren't a lot of them [unions] but in some places it was clear.  The silk mills, those were the worst.  They didn't pay the women anything like they paid the men. 

Q: With World War II, were a lot of women treated equally in factories do you think?

A: Well, they worked there, but they had to be careful with them because they did not want them to get hurt!

Q: So it was a general norm that women would work, and then they'd get married?  Then they'd stop working?

A: Well, once they got married, they wouldn't have jobs anymore.

Q: They would be fired?
A: They only wanted single girls for work back then.  Teachers just weren't married and if they did marry, they'd be replaced.

Q: Why do you think that was?  Was sexual discrimination common in the workplace?

A: I saw it among individuals but it was not something handed down.  Jobs were pretty cut and dry.  You knew which jobs would be secretaries and which would be for men.  Of course the jobs for the guys, you still had to have a degree.

Q: Would a woman with a degree apply for one of these jobs for men?

A: No, they wouldn't even try.  I mean, when I had a job opening to hire for, I knew if we were going to hire a man for it or if it was for a woman.

Q: What social factors happened to change the stereotype, that women could work after they were married, or do men's jobs?

A: Well, I was away when a lot of this changed.  I was in Vietnam from 1962 until 1966.  When I came back, all of this had already taken place.  I got out of the service in 1969 and began to discover the people who were doing the hiring were women.

Q: Do you feel that there's a big difference in the way that people think today about women working?

A: I don't think it makes a difference anymore, but at that time it was how they were taught.  It really began to change in the 50's.  People didn't want to conform to what their family told them they ought to be doing.

Q: Did you personally have to adjust to this change in the workplace?

A: Yeah, I had a heck of a time adjusting.  The first thing that struck me was that my son Barry was working at Coors and part time at a gas station.  I went to visit him and he was standing behind the counter, we were talking and I saw my first hippie.  I said to him, "What the heck is that?"  I'd never seen anything like that before.

Q: Was it resented by men that women were becoming a part of the workforce?

A: Yes, many men would complain.  But the women were smart and would get the education and training.  They would apply for entry-level positions and look to move up when openings were created.

Q: How do you feel about today's attitudes for working women compared to the way it was when you were growing up?

A: I felt the world was better off in the old tradition.  People had an idea where they fit. Guys had role models.  Women's role models were the homemakers.

Q: Focusing specifically on gender roles, what do you think the workforce will look like in the next 20 years?
A: With the way it has changed in the last 20 years who knows?  Perhaps men will become subordinate.

Q: D you think so?
A: Not really.  Perhaps in 100 years if women begin to train them from an early age.  For example, men used to part their hair on the left. Women on the right.  My sister once combed me and parted my hair on the wrong side.  When my father saw this he went nuts!  Because that was what women did.  But I guess it all balances out.

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7:01 AM - This is how I wake
Current mood: lonely
Category: Writing and Poetry

From the darkness they come

Shadows solid and leering

They don't threaten

They speak not

But howl with mad laughter

And bring their ugly fists and booted feet

Squarely into my flesh,

That familiar sickly wet thunk

Within this circle of yellow light. 
This is a squirming room without walls

No boundaries here beyond

My ability to wrench myself free by will alone.

This is a halfway house for the almost damned.

Here we given crusty knives and told to torture our own flesh.

Some do.
I didn't.
I have beautiful skin

Every shade of green, blue, purple

Paintbrushes shaped like fingernails and violent heels

Layered one atop another

Until I am a walking abstract dream.

So much for the sanctuary of sleeping.

Even my dreams are turned against me

It takes me an hour to drag myself out of bed

I text you.

I want you to bless me

The last goddess who ever loved

A brief spasm to witness me.

Before turning away with the rest

This endless carnival parade stomping onward

Until the dust and mist of their passing

Leaves me obscured and scarred in the feverish wake

Of an empty bed in another empty room.

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6:28 PM - The wall (Pick a better title)
Category: Writing and Poetry

The vortex roils just beyond these boundaries
Some churning black spotted light in hues to faint to feel
Spitting up somber red and summer bleached white madness
Last year's light show gone mad to Mazzy Star and a steel guitar.
Your very presence is suspect,
Inside the construction of pale bones and the cement of thoughts
Spy closer at this wall and see the teeth marks gouged
Within the skulls of children who, unrealized,
Once fitfully danced within a thoughtful mind
Leaving dust within the deep footprints of memories.

And all this for great want of honest repair
It takes two thighs to close the gaps of carelessness
Anyone would view from this vantage the odd similarity
To a prideful dam in an ancient land.
One may excavate the remains of old reptiles like dead dreams
Ponder and philosophize their once dear purpose
Yet these too, dragged with brute force
Must go to the wall.

 
Still there remains this question of you
Traveler, tourist bearing two eyes, two lips
Heart thumping your way through the boundary.
The wine colored wisps of Beyond still cling countless
To the locks of your hair and pool where you press your feet
Again and again to a darker soil that never thought to know you.
You pass and leave a trail of moonlight softly breathing behind
A fading sigh as if things here would green and grow again.
So close, so close, you stretched your hand and sealed closed those glittering eyes.
We watched, breath held as if, by some unspoken principle
A prophecy was near fulfillment.
But even this case was denied proper exploration by the breadth of wanting.
And even you, a mystic light
Must go to the wall.

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1:15 PM - Quite like that
Category: Writing and Poetry

"It's a beautiful day"

She says it like it's never been said before

Like some naïve slander thrown against the brisk wind

Beneath an old wooden table top, slats rubbed smooth an age ago

I clench two tight fists and shift even while my toes curl within black leather shoes.

She shouldn't be as mundane as this

Half a tilt to her head, half a smile to tilt her lips

Half a thought to end her wits…

I stare directly at her cleavage

Skin so damn creamy that I could lighten a cup of black Turkish coffee

My tongue tingles and I chew on it

Somehow imagining her pinned wrists pinned beneath my hands

Against that dirty brick wall that's half in the sunshine and

Half frozen still in old snow heaps turned the color of peppercorns.

I watch her mouth move

Discard her sounds and watch her drag that cigarette like a lollipop.

These are damn dirty thoughts

Almost feeling the way my hand slides under her shirt

No bra to mess with, just a tight little nipple

And I grit my teeth as she tosses her hair

Non-chalant, completely unsuspecting that I've already

Stripped her down to a throbbing object for lust

Then she sighs, dropping her black lined eyes

To her painted fingertips and stops thoughtful.

"It's a beautiful day"

She says it like it's never been said before

I suspect that no one's ever said it

Quite like that.

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4:18 AM - Glass Houses
Category: Writing and Poetry

Would that I had killed it proper
The first time it beat stuticco to a lopsided grin
    of a red head in my childhood.
Even then
Not yet a dozen years of life yet
That extra pulse sent me tossing at night.
I remember
The glare of headlights rising like a submerged scream
    splashing against a wall in the template of venetian blinds
    rolling like empty thunder across a wall to the distrant roar
    of a neighbor's cadillac
I remember
The way the night rushed back in to reclaim a narrow room
    and the red outline of time passing by click, tick, tick
    like a rising tempature which edged to the climax of containment
    then flicked to zero - a frigid response

Should have killed it proper then;
Instead I placed the pulse in my eyes
Let it thrum through and expose vulnerability
No hard shell, me
This is a palace of crystal glass in a field of boulders
We're prone to earth quaking round here
And our strange gait proves it.
We see strait through
We are spied just the same.
Houses that gleam in the sun
Seem to wink out at midnight
Some leaning just a bit, lopsided foundations
Built on the childhood grin of a red headed girl.

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8:15 PM - The past
Category: Writing and Poetry

The Past

It's like it's falling but so are you
Half a hand's width away
From getting that slippery bitch under control
Stretched out, fingers disjointed from straining
Even your toes hurt
Chapters are flashing by
Looks of rage or strait sex seared to some
Neurotic synapse for life.
This much motion is confusing;
Absolute clarity
Blinded by sleep, dreams, long showers
Until the steam runs out
Never sure if the sun is up
Down or sideways when you wake up.
It's like getting in with
That appalachain imp
Who uses barbed wire for a stearing wheel
While checking his skulls for a rearview mirror.
He drives upside down drooling his useless banter
Looking at you when he laughs like
You should be laughing too.
Common sense whispers
Don't slap the driver
But you play out the drama in a daydream.
Waking up, check the blinds and stare into the mirror.
This studied reflection unfamiliar
Fades by the time footsteps shuffle the hall.
It's like stoned immaculate
Jim style, floating blank in the tub
It's a haywire clock in reverse
Twelve to one with hands going counter.
It ain't right but it is.
It's like the trunk of the tree of life
It's touching the wind and your ancestors all at once
Begging to Become
But all of it demands
A strange sort of acceptance
Which clearly incriminates the Self.
Ths is innerspace
The nebula of experience
Ready
At a word
To fade
Or become a star.

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8:27 AM - Descent
Category: Writing and Poetry

Singing in my mind
Echoing distant, she
Has only whispers for words
In another language.

Blurring only across my iris
Her face carved ivory
A blink: the gust that dissapates
Dispatching such sight to dust.

How gone?

Far gone.

Left in a different place
Casting down barriers, replaced
By black iron pendulums ticking
Shaking ego by the throat;
Huffing red steam in the aftermath.

Hands stop moving

How far?

Too far.

Stop?

Almost thirty seconds pass before
I forget when I wasn't falling.
Light more dim the deeper down you go
Everything begins to flash past
In shades of black and gray.
Then the grey begins to disappear.

Stop.

The frozen moment comes,
Six o'clock in inches
From rock's solid bottom.
The echoes of singing still in my mind.

It may be the last moment.

Savor it to survive.

Focus on her ancient chant
Summon rhythm from life inside you
Summon rhythm from life outside you
Blend synapse flash clashing
The chords of breathing
Into vibrating pitch,
Exhaling cymbal-
Universe in crescendo!

Six o'clock in inches
From rock's solid bottom
The echoes of singing
Still in my mind.

Unpause.

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12:06 PM - I am not
Category: Writing and Poetry

Another morning so close to death
Silent sitting, except for the keening of the past
The last dreams as untouchably gray
Long line of unrealized specters
Drifting in an alpine fog

White page, white walls
As unadorned as an unmoving
What? Me?
An hour on the floor
A study of carpet texture in beige
Wordless mouthful of dust
No more words.

 
Rewinding attempts to touch the light
To catch it, hold it between palms
To breathe the morning sun
Taste a midnight moon.
It passes through skin growing older.
Light sought to melt a glacial soul
Melts instead into a cold universe mostly empty.

 
The story of my life is eight hundred pages long.
With words on every fourth page
The rest left blank.
One must do to be
Therefore I am not.

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9:18 PM - Exhausted
Category: Writing and Poetry

Tired of fucking up the better things
Tired of trying to justify and validate my feelings.

Tired of being the bigger fool
Tired of fooling around like I'm supposed to know what to do.

Tired of falling flat on my face
Tired of running this goddamned rat race.

Tired getting with the girl
Tired of freaking out and fucking up my world.

Tired of this split personality
Tired of this confusion over who I'm supposed to be.

Tired of fantasizing about a bullet
Going strait through my brain and sticking in my stomach.

Tired of feeling pain where love used to be
Tired of driving everybody away from me.

Tired of leaving it all undone.
Tired of myself not being fun.
Tired of not owning a gun
Something to struggle with when the long day is done.

Tired of tryint to express myself to friends
Tired of being trapped in this headlong dead end.

Tired of watching the passing of the seasons.
Tied of feeling like I exist outside of reason
Tired of coming undone.
Tired of always being on the run.
Tired of this daily grind
It's driving me out of my mind.

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