Mary Panttaja

I’ve been thinking about what’s interesting and compelling about spending 4 days of our vacation here at this event.

• First, the teaching from His Holiness the Dalai Lama
  • This is interesting because of the subject matter which comes in two components:
    • A philosophical study of the nature of reality; Buddhist philosophy is at core a way of understanding the nature of the evolving universe and how we participate in that evolution.
    • The method of training the mind in order that you may most effectively participate in the nature of the evolving universe. No where else have I seen a disciplined approach to training the mind in concentration and contemplation; much less one centered in a complete philosophy of the nature of reality. (I remember asking my philosophy reviewers of the arising world model (phd’s and masters in philosophy) how they were trained to do mental and analytical contemplation, and to a man/woman, they said that there was no such training in their universities.

The cultural nature of the trip is also fascinating:

• The religious tapestry is quite exotic to a westerner. A whole system of color and ceremony (which HHDL makes fun of regularly) surrounds the event: chanting, prayers, prostrations, bowing, gilded chairs, an enormous thangka (painting of Chenrezig) behind His Holiness, which you are constantly gazing at. This ceremonial content is an important component for the Tibetans who are in attendance; this is a key part of their investment to keep their culture alive.
• The audience is significantly filled with Tibetan exiles who have traveled from all over the world to be here with their families. Assortments of Tibetan costumes and a marketplace with Tibetan food and wares. There is the entire range of emigrants from western-raised teenagers in jeans and tshirts; middle aged couples who have made their way in the west and adopted a new way of life (the women wearing their fanciest Tibetan dresses–which are quite elegant); the seniors, smiling and nodding, who seem as if they are just off the plane, speaking no English, and feeling very vulnerable.
• Madison is also a revelation–a mix of Cambridge/Berkeley in the midwest. The city is very comfortable, well laid out, beautiful trails throughout on lakes and creeks, parks everywhere, the university is beautiful. It is, of course very quiet; school is out and the state government doesn’t seem busy. Lot’s of good restaurants and very easy to get around.

Most of all, it is amazing to be in a room with a couple of thousand people, young and old, listening carefully to a teaching on how to take responsibility for training their minds to enable them to live their lives more effectively. In our western culture, this kind of event is very rare.

Just some things of note on this quick trip to the midwest.

• Flew into Chicago on Saturday, and, after a short “lost” adventure, wended our way to Madison, Wisconsin.
• “Why Wisconsin?” everyone asks. It is a long, weird story, but the short version states that the name Madison is significant to us, and when it turned out that His Holiness the Dalai Lama would be here for a teaching, we assumed that we should come. We missed going together to the last one in NYC.
• Beautifully green and wet here. Lush prairie flowers along the paths just waiting to be mowed down. The only way to contain the verdancy of this prairie and forest is to mow it regularly.  Wild sunflowers over my head on the trails.
• Madison, the capital of Wisconsin, is perched between a bevy of lakes. Very cozy and comfortable.
• Of course, HHDL is here and it is wonderful to get to see him and the Tibetan community which has come to be with him. He sent a Buddhist monk here decades ago to start the first Tibetan monastery in America. He has been here 5 times.
• And, of course, Thubten Jinpa is here; one of my favorite people and unknowing mentor. HHDL’s English translator and the embodiment of the practice of surrender enacted by one with an extreme intelligence and capacity. I have spent so many hours (on video tapes and live) listening to his voice that it is, for me, the voice of the dharma (the teaching of Buddhism). I have never once heard him speak for himself; though I saw him speaking casually with a friend–so I know it happens.
• Jim called me over to an artist’s booth to see some thankas (paintings) and, low and behold, I found myself standing next to Jinpa buying a small painting. The artist lives and works in Oakland; we will go see him to have him help us frame the print we purchased from him. It is of Chenrezig  with both Blue Tara and White Tara.
• Sunday—breakfast, to the hall, lecture, try to find some lunch (chaos, lines, and amateur vendors), Starbucks Frapaccino,  a last minute momo becomes available, protestors (not Chinese, but Shugden followers), more lectures, back to hotel, quick nap, cycling for 2 hours, dinner outside an Irish pub, to the university for a Tibetan concert, ice cream at the student union with hundreds of people visiting and milling at the lake at sunset; back to watch the finish of the first Alp mountain stage on the tv. Couldn’t sleep.
• University wraps around one of the lakes; could be Boston/Somerville/Cambridge.
• Fabulous town for biking; rented bikes within an hour of landing and have been out several hours each day. Broad trails everywhere.
• Meadowlarks and blackbirds in the prairie fields—none of those in San Francisco these days. I miss them.
• Found a wonderful coffee shop that makes great waffles—went twice today—waffles only once.
• Sitting next to a family from Switzerland. The elegant  gentleman (with a beautiful young wife) escaped from Tibet at age of eleven in 1959, the year that His Holiness escaped. 6 years in India, 10 years in Belgium, now in Switzerland. Use to work in factories, then did training in cooking and worked in restaurants; now owns his own restaurant in a village outside of Zurich. Wanted to understand why we were there.
• Twice have eaten dinner at the capital square; beautiful clean capital building on a ridgeline between two of the lakes. Quite in the summer.

Maybe more later. Apologies for the terseness. LM

I might write more about this book later. It is a review of modern neurology research over the past 20 years and points to our power to affect our own neurology–and therefore, who we are in a primary way.

One fun thing for me is that the author, Jeffrey Schwartz, has worked with two of my favorite thinkers:

1. David Chalmers - philosopher at Australian National University (formerly at U of Arizona)
2. Henry Stapp - American physicist (Berkeley) specializing in quantum mechanics

If he should suddenly write that he also consults with Roger Penrose and Thubten Jinpa I would not be surprised.

We saw a production of “Our Town” by Thorton Wilder. Weirdly, it wasn’t until this morning that I really “got” what Wilder is pointing to—I must admit I am really slow about this realization. Even the structure and tenor of the play reflects the authors intentions. The whole thing produces a sense of disquiet (’I don’t get it’, sort of thing.)

It’s not that small town life is quaint and all the details are interesting—it’s that the people of that town weren’t really living or engaged in life but had somehow settled into their roles and minutia. No one was really looking. A few people noticed some things—the moon in all it’s glory one evening for example. They see a glimmer of life around them occasionally, but normally focus on the hard facts of their lives.

The play gets dismissed as being to quaint—but that is the point, they are living their idea of quaint. Of course, intellectually I could have told you that deceased Emily’s speech in the last act was the theme of the play—that they were not paying attention to their lives and they didn’t know it. But today I really get a sense of it. The thing that tripped me into this realization was that the characters aren’t engaged with each other in any real sense. They talk about the sorrows and troubles of the town drunk (played by Donohoe), but no one ever even speaks with him. Everyone talks about wanting to see what will happen to him naively assuming that they have no part in the evolution of the story. It’s not their role as written in the quaintness of their lives. And, of course, they are not bad sorts, just ignorant of the wealth of true possibilities. The subtlety of Wilder’s presentation is that we’re not quite sure why we are not very engaged with these characters for they seem of a normal sort. Just like us; maybe even less interesting than we are.
PS. Dan Danohoe played the town drunk with which he did wonderfully expressive things with the few scenes he was given. Anthony Heald was the Stage Manager and was equally wonderful—though the part is a little less interesting to me.

One of the challenging things about attending a “Shakespeare” Festival for over 20 years is that, well, you see a lot of Shakespeare productions. This is our 3rd Othello, though I only remember the last two. Both times the role of Iago, really the primary role of the play, was powered by one of two of my favorite actors at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival (OSH). Anthony Heald did the part last time as a small, wiry, irritable thing. Dan Donahoe, this year, was equally malevolent though he felt less damaged and more dangerous. Both actors have brilliant ranges from tragedy to the the lightest comedy (My earliest recolllections of Donahoe are of a shatteringly brilliant turn as the Waiter in “Rough Crossing”.)

When watching a familiar play (though familiarity for me is lessened by my traditional lack of good memory) I get caught up in performances and the leading roles last night were full of good craftsmanship. Iago, though, is the only deeply interesting role. Othello is tragically cursed; Desdemona is tragically innocent. They were played well, but are less interesting to watch evolve. But the role of Iago really gives an actor something to carve into, to sculpt, to embed with complexity.

Iago was frightening last night. Power embedded with evil going to the heart of real damage in the world—no accidental damage—everything is intentionally inflicted. Donahoe was quite thorough in showing all the ways an insightful person can construct destructive events. He was very aware of what Iago was doing and he showed us each spark of anger and pain that drove his intellectual commitment to destroying as many people as possible.

It’s always a joy to watch Donohoe work. It was interesting to see how his physicality has changed–partly an older body and face, partly a crafted look of tough bravado. Looking forward to seeing him in “Our Town” tonight—how different must that be? The company seems quite excited about their production of the Wilder play which has been produced in the outdoor Shakespearean theatre.

PS. Saw “Welcome Home, Jenny Sutter” this afternoon. A short play about a Marine coming home from Iraq and the broken self that she is reluctant to take home to her children. It was quite good—though we have some talking to do to come to our completed thoughts—the fun of watching a company and audience come to grips with a new play.

Goodness.

It’s been a long time since I have posted here. Where has the time gone?

Well, things have changed and we’ve been very busy: launching RebelVox, moving to SF, putting the Healdsburg house on the market for vacation rentals (Kokopelli Retreat), moving apartments (one last time), bicycling, studying sailing, and the usual keeping up. I have not been writing on either the novel or the book. But have been keeping some of that skill fresh writing patents (several dozens)—a total new venue for me.

We are taking a week of vacation finally—heading Monday to Ashland for our 9 plays in 5 days. A small group this time, only a dozen of us. All our kids are coming along. Erin and Tom, the theatre experts, get to really drown themselves. The rest of us just enjoy and explore our way through.

So we’ll see if I can manage to post some commentary about the plays this week. Hard to imagine—but maybe easier to do than I think. No promises.

On the reading theme—reading my daughter’s gift: The Open Road, The Global Journey of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama by an author she met in Boston, in preparation for our trip to Madison; and The Mind and the Brain (Schwartz, Begley) inspired by the story, book, and TED talk of Jill Bolte Taylor.

All is very very well.

Wednesday was a long day. Awake before dawn I laid on the futon and watch the moon set; I headed out into the dawn to watch the sun rise. Then I worked all day, though we got out into the sunshine for lunch. It was so beautiful after work that I could not stay in, so after a 40 minute weight session at the gym, I headed out into the arriving crowds. It was the last game of the season for the Giants and people were in a happy flurry everywhere. The moon rose over the bay, golden and full. Full circle in just a few hours. I walked over the to field to catch the ambiance of the game—quite a lot of fun. On the way back, paddling out of the dimness came a flotilla of kayaks into McCovey Cove.

Here are some of my snaps.

Awake early this morning and moved into the living room on the new futon—I’ve got it flat for a more “day bed” kind of feel. (Ordered some more matching pillows for it. And this way it doesn’t block the view.) So I’m in my favorite horizontal position but I can’t decide whether to face the setting moon or the rising sun. Quite a dilemma.

I just wanted to let everyone know that I am alive and well. Just not finding the where-withall to blog. I have not given  up on it, but only time will tell if I find a space in the week for it. Between full time work (newish for me), and the daily exercise, and keeping house, the day is pretty full.  As you all know, since you have all been working. I am trying to do a little thinking about Illumine and doing some editing in tiny corners of time. I am thinking that the work on Illumine is most important—and I’m playing with a few ideas about using SF in the next story.

(I flipped around to watch the moon set; it is down amongst the buildings, and golden.)

Work is proceding apace. By Monday we will have doubled our numbers, a little more actually. We’ll get to nine next week. Our first engineer arrived this week and I’m so glad to start to have someone to hand some of the design work to. Things should really start popping now.

It’s about time to head out—I’m going to walk today. We walked last week on a really windy day and discovered that our walking muscles had gotten a little lax, so the plan is to walk at least one day. And I play with a little jogging in my new running shoes. (I’ve got to keep going as cutting back from 10 hours a week to 6 hours a week has reversed the already very slow weight loss process. I guess I’ve found the line of demarcation.)

Moon is set. Out to see the sunrise.

I am finally getting a little bit settled into our new life—though I haven’t spent any time in Healdsburg in three weeks, so the “going back and forth” part isn’t practiced. I’m feeling a little bit out of control in Healdsburg, though I’m not there and the only thing that is likely out of control is the garden produce.

On our daily rides (though I’m foregoing one this morning for a bit of a sit) I am starting to recognize people—and some of them are recognizing me. An interesting community of sorts, those of us out on the bay just after dawn. A motley crew, I must say, all sizes and shapes and speeds.

Riding the Embarcadero and the Marina reminds a little bit of the challenges of driving in Kathmandu. But only a little—still much easier here. Walkers and runners of all speeds, cyclists going fast, bicyclers going randomly slowly (that’s me), people with dogs, people with two dogs (one on each side, of course), homeless people just waking up, commuters dashing off the ferry from Larkspur. And on Tuesday, the vendors for the farmer’s market traipse their bins across the path, suddenly turning and making a dash in front of you. And I haven’t mentioned the posts, poles, concrete benches, trees, street cleaners, buses, trolley cars (sometimes you are between a bus and a trolley car), trolley tracks, stop signs, and lights.

So riding is more a mental challenge here. You can’t go quite so fast, and you have to dodge all the time. A bit different than the Alexander Valley where we only have to dodge Casino traffic and trucks. (And the occasionally loopy wine taster.) I do miss the hills, a little up and down is good for the heart.

My good friends Sandeep and Sunita Giri (and young ones Ashwin and Priya) just returned from a trip to their families in Nepal. It seems it was a wonderful trip, and we are sorry to have missed it.

Sandeep reports that his good friend Mahabir Pun (they both attended university in Nebraska) has received a major award for this work bringing education, computers, and internet connectivity to remote villages outside of Beni and Pokhara. Mahabir has managed to inspire a whole region and has installed a complete wireless network where every part and computer has to be carried into the mountains. (Nangi Village in Myagdi, Nepal is a day’s walk from Beni Bazaar.) Here is a link to some great trekking photos of Sandeep’s travels to Nangi Village.

If you want information on how you can contribute to Mahabir’s work, check out his website on Nepal Wireless.

Also, Sandeep’s parents are now running a bed and breakfast just north of Kathmandu. I have stayed there and can attest to how wonderful they are and what a thrill it is to stay in a Nepalese home that also has all the comforts we are shamelessly used to. If you want to go and have any questions, feel free to contact me. I love to encourage people to head to Nepal, especially since things are much calmer there these days.