OnLine With Zoe

Secrets I Long to Tell

Clearly I can keep a secret.  I was not clear on any other component though.  Oddly, what really threw me was the crew constantly asking me, “Are you prepared for her to be dead?”  At first it was shocking.  Why would we be doing all of this if she had passed?  Then it was annoying and I wanted to say, yes I hear you.  Yes, I am prepared.

The time it really threw me was when Ann Curry asked me.  The question must be real if Ann Curry is asking me on camera.  My answer to Ann was, I think you will understand more than the crew.  I am a Buddhist.  We are always aware of impermanence, of age, of death.  I do know she is a bit older than I am.  The fact was, I had no idea where she is or what she is doing. The shoot continued which could only mean that no matter the circumstances, it was not going to impede us. 

The question I kept asking was, Can I tell people?  OH NO.  No, you cannot share your photos.  You can not talk about this on social media.  You cannot say who you are looking for.  You cannot tell people if you find her.  Heck, most of the time they didn’t even tell me where we were going.  I got a text the night before.  (virgo, cap rising - steadfast, premeditated, strategic).  My mantra for all 14 days was ~ surrender.

When can I tell people?  The funny thing here is that everyone I asked, anyone I asked, had a very different answer.  The possibility of error was maddening.  The PBS USA office said, I could reveal anything five minutes after they did.  The sole caveat was that the photos I shared could not include the crew.  So that’s what I did.  Remember, I have not seen the show.  It was all like describing a gift before you open it.  In tiny increments, PBS USA revealed this and that.  I followed their lead.

Breathe.  Show and Tell.  I was hoping to meet Sonia Johnson again.  I had not seen her for 36 years.  We parted in the Springfield airport and neither of us was well.  Though I didn’t realize it at the time, I was not just saying goodbye to my sister fasters but also our standing guard.  AND goodbye to the ERA.

Finally, Day 14.  There she was.  – you will have to watch to get the whole story as I traveled to 5 states, recapitulated my summer of 1982, and met up with my Mentor.

PBS, We'll Meet Again
Tuesday, January, 8,  9/8c

Love Letter to Long Beach 2015

It was so alarming I could not take pictures. May 2, 2 P.M., 50 boxes were on the ground with nowhere to go. Two principle 6’ bookshelves had no wall space. No kitchen cupboards, no washer & dryer, no sofa. The sun was going down, a dozen people were trying to pile in whatever they could and an unrelenting inner voice kept whispering, “put it in the garage.” A bounding inner voice shouted, “there is no garage, there is no fence, there is no backyard.” The only smart stroke was that the gigantic poodle was overnight at her godmother’s house.

On the other column was that there were ten people organizing my new home. Before the moving truck arrived, one person had all of the technology up and running and two artists had delivered and arranged my mini-garden. Miracles began piling up in the form of things fitting within one inch or less; the desk, the Ikea shelves, the hangers, the shoes, the dishes, etc. Neighbors said hello as they walked up and down the street. Dogs and bikes. People speaking other than English and people who were not white. This was not the isolated island of xenophobes with Prop 8 lawn signs that was in my rearview mirror. This was Long Beach, this was Rose Park, this was the 2^nd most diverse city in the US.

In the course of a day, you might hear six disparate sirens. In the course of a month, you would meet 20+ people. In the month of July, you will hear 31 nights of fireworks. Locking doors is how it is done. Saying hello is the minimum. On a Saturday afternoon, you can hear 8 different music tracks reflecting the community. AND you can get the best Mexican food without crossing a street, right around the corner. As my friend Jean said, “This is truly urban living.”

Possibly the epitome happened in June. A man on a bike hollered into the house, “Hey can I buy one of your statues?” I stood on my porch and said no, they are not for sale. He said his mother liked them and wants one. I said, sorry, they are not for sale. The next day he came back and hollered in again. I went to see what’s what. He had a silver spray painted Buddha. He gave it to me explaining that he found it and thought I would like it. When I relayed this story to 2 local friends, they said, “That’s so Long Beach.” And now, after 8 months, I am accustomed to saying that to myself constantly, as friendliness rises up from the sidewalks, That is SO Long Beach. 

All new streets with the only familiar orientation being the ocean. The rising and setting sun assured me that I could not get too terribly lost. My GPS was my best friend. After a few google searches I noticed a pattern; nothing I wanted was more than 6 minutes away. The LGBTQ Center is 4.5 minutes. City Hall is 6 minutes. Vons and Ralphs are under 6 minutes and the master blaster was on a HOTTTT August day, there was a paleta shop 6 minutes from my house. Fifty flavors and no one spoke English. I got to stumble with my Buenos Dias, Muchos Gracias and Adios. It is no accident that the Museum of Latin American Art is 5.5 minutes, however the opening of the Frida Kahlo show was beyond an oyster’s pearl.

During Pride all of the statues wore rainbow leis. For the Dalai Lama’s birthday, I hung a Tibetan flag. Months later a woman introduced herself to me saying that she knew she wanted to know the woman in that house. You will find it hard to believe that she was saying it to a man who put up my flag pole and was my high school student in 1972. And just imagine, my letter carrier dressed as Dexter for Halloween delivery. The introductions began so fast and often that I had to admit I will never remember them all.

It’s a long, beautiful drive from Dana Rohrabacher to Alan Lowenthal. It’s a leap from posting support on facebook for $15 minimum wages to sitting at a city council meeting listening to workers stories of raising kids on $9 an hour. It is beyond my expectation that I know people running for City Council in my district and they know my name. I am bursting with national expectation over Hillary #45 but celebrating that now, for me, politics is local and I am engaged.

I did a couple of really interesting things in my new city and county. I went to a different church every week and I said yes to every meeting invitation for 5 months.

I have never had access to so many people who share many of the causes, ideas, and politics I hold. An organizer asked me to coffee which might have seemed normal to her but to me it was unheard of. I have stood in the lobby of the Renaissance Hotel in protest, I have been on the Bluffs on World AIDS Day, I prayed in front of the courthouse for gun control. I read a poem at an open mic and spoke of an activist longevity at the Grrrl Collective. I have been welcomed at a Black Lives Matter meeting and talked on a panel on the Whitewashing of Stonewall. I have argued vehemently that transwomen are women and discovered that my lifelong friend is a living hero here in Long Beach.

 

My journey through the churches was equally rich and surprising. After one service on integration, I suggested to a woman that they might offer a Sunday service in Spanish, to be told that no one in the area speaks Spanish and that is why people live there. After the shooting in South Carolina, I took flowers to a service at the Grant Chapel African Methodist Episcopal Church to experience song and community as I have never seen. 
Surreptitiously, even to myself, I was searching to see if there was a place to begin public ministry teaching Engaged Buddhism. Almost unbelievably, the perfect multi-faith church is on the next block where I walk the dog most days.

All of this leaves me with two big unknowns. My new friend Kenny and I talk about it often. There is so much going on, how can one choose and where is the greatest opportunity for service. We want to do them all.

Primarily, Long Beach needs affordable housing for Queers; seniors and the homeless. I want to be a part of that long-overdue ground breaking. Personally, I want to use my fifty years of activism to inspire and advise high-risk militant change-makers.

Finally, I want to remember the names of dozens of people who know mine. Just today, as I was walking my dog, a neighbor shouted from the back of her house, “Merry Christmas, Zoe.”
Merry Christmas, Dusty.
Merry Christmas, Long Beach. 

Earning Forgiveness

Today I read a very interesting post by Mark Surman, the Executive Director at Mozilla.  Actually, the comments were the most interesting.  I find it complicated to sort out the forces at play here.  And internet neutrality is in the mix too.  Mark both defended the mindful unity of the diverse Mozillians and the leadership of CEO Brendan Eich.  For those who don’t know, Eich donated 1K to the Yes on 8 campaign.  Mark wrote about something all of us know first hand, many times we are called to get along with people who do not agree with us.  The comments cover the whole pallet of options though I have to remark that it was, by and large, an articulate river – which is a real cut above most comment mudslides.

It has all set me thinking about forgiveness.  What does it look like and what is forgiven?  I have never been in a Hobby Lobby or Walmart.  I have never eaten at Chik-fil-a.  I love my iphone, RuPaul makes me laugh and I do not shop at American Apparel.  If I can afford it, I always chose union; even blew such a gasket that one organization I belong to changed their conference hotel.  The idea that I am boycotting Arizona is really an option as if there was a family funeral there I would be going.  Somehow I have developed an ornate mental system about what is approval, disapproval, deal breaker, assuager, fixer, etc. 

The question on my mind today is have I created a way for the offender to change teams?   Once the money was donated, the odious action occurred, the public statement was made, are they banished forever?  Can they ever cross over?  Now that Dan Cathy said his corp won’t make any more anti-LGBT donations, can I buy some waffle fries?  As profoundly upset as I have been with Obama about Marriage Equality, is all that over since he evolved, told the DOJ to implement the SCOTUS decision and welcomes same-sex couples to events?  But what about no EO over ENDA?  And another EO to stop the deportations.  Is he on my team now?  I think chances are pretty good that the CEO of most corporations is not on my team.  PUT DOWN THOSE BRAWNY TOWELS. 

It takes a lot of energy to discover, remember and sustain the list of offenders.  It would take a database to track who is right or wrong on every issue.  You would have to create a method to grade the level of offense and measure the scope of offenders.  So why do any of it?  I do it because it feels good to demonstrate my interior beliefs.  Even when no one is looking, there is something wholesome and conscious about managing my participation. 

But when I dig deep, I have to admit a few things:

• Most of this is luxury.  The fact that I have access to information, so many choices and optional actions is a first world privilege.
• Yes, Margaret Mead, one person can make a difference which is realized as the crowd collects around it’s wisdom.
• Have I structured this so the offender can reconsider, make amends, save face, and change their position?  What do I require of them to build my trust and create an agreement?  

This last one was one of Gandhi’s principle recommendations.  If you draw the line of what is right and what is wrong, you have to provide a two-way bridge.  I recommend a lot of signage and a welcoming committee on the side I am cheering for. 

UPDATE  April 3, 2014

Today Brendan Eich stepped down.  There was so much fury about this that I wonder about all the threads reaching out to businesses and society in general.  What was the lesson and who will listen?  I do believe there is a better way when the offender is surrounded with a diverse community, is at ease around those whom he fears.  I would prefer that he change.  I would prefer that change became attractive.  Thats a lesson we can all live with.  

As an equality activist, it seems to me that the real win here would have been for Brendan to change, to make amends and become a champion.  It would have been good for him, good for queers, good for straights and really good as an example of how to demnstrate change.  

Buddhism is Always Couture

Just before waking today, I had a dream.  I was working in a room with two friends, most likely for a demonstration for Gender Rights.  One of them told me that I needed to be public about a recent decision. Gossip had begun, maybe just speculation. A woman had mentioned to them that all of a sudden, out of nowhere, I showed up at an One Billion Rising event wearing a Buddhist robe.  Interesting….   This has been on my waking mind all week.  I have been wanting to write about it.  Seemed like a strong nudge.   

When I got to my desk, I saw that two posts on my newsfeed were in agreement.   The first, Overcoming Resistance Against Theravada Bhikkhuni Ordination. It was about Buddha teaching the equality of women and how his male students overturned it once their founder died.  The second one, by The Yogini Project was about the Fourteenth Precept.  “"The fourteenth root downfall is to have contempt for women, who have the nature of wisdom. It is said that to have contempt for Vajrayogini and other wisdom dakinis who transcend the world constitutes a root downfall in both the Yogatantra and the Anuttaratantra.”   

The fact is there are communities of women in most religions who are filled with passion, a vocation, an irresistible call to teach, to celebrate ritual and minister communities.  There are Catholic women in the US and Europe not waiting for the Pope and his Cardinals to get the heavenly memo to ordain women. Maybe it is the right time for women to name themselves.  For me it has been an exhausting struggle for twenty-five years.  January 24, 1989, I was formally initiated as Buddhist monk.  It was in the Vajrayana Tradition in Tarrytown, New York.

From The Passionate Heart ~

On this night, Rama had given us two initiations; Vadra and Dharma.  The Vadra initiation was the initiation of power.  It gave the initiate the ability to defeat any opponent.  This included breaking through conditioning and past life tendencies.  It was extremely important for the women in particular, who are trying to overcome centuries of repression, degradation, bondage, torture, and misery.  Finally, this initiation conferred the power to break through the ultimate opponent, thought. 

The second initiation, Dharma, imparted the gift to teach about the Holy Dharma and meditation.  Rama said that we were not ready to formally teach, but now our lives should be examples of the Dharma.  Now, we carry the imprint of this initiation and our lives should reflect the Holy Dharma.  Rama told us that when he dies, it will be our duty to carry on the Teachings of the American Buddhist Society.  While he is alive, we should talk about meditation to anyone who genuinely asks.

After that, I stayed for 4 years. I was catapulted out the door to practice in the world.  Twenty-two years revealed that I am actually meant to practice Engaged Buddhism, I am not standing in a male lineage and I am a monk.  I had to practice, as Gandhi would put it, I had to experiment.  But nothing could deter me from my vocation.  Possibly more like my teacher than I want to admit, he left his and I left mine.  He named himself and I invested myself.  To me this is as Buddhist as it gets: true Self-Discovery.    

As women all over the world, announce their ordination, I hope they remain self-initiated, self-ordained, self-defined.  Even if the various churches drop their bans, I hope the women decline the “laying on of hands.” Decline the principle transmission and stop the antiquated, patriarchcal tradition of succession.  Somewhere in time from their founder to this moment, essence has been lost, modified and, at worst, tailored to meet the conscience of the day.  (“I cannot and will not cut my conscience to fit this year's fashions.”  Lillian Hellman)  And so after waiting twenty-five years, certain it is right, I made my move.  Buddhist Couture.  Match the inside and the outside.

From The Engaged Heart  

My best guess is that there are more women in the West whose souls are bringing them to their moment of initiation but are reluctant to stand in their self-discovery.  We are attracted to the design of our incarnation while being repelled by patriarchal lineage…  We do not want to be ordained in a male lineage and we do not want to emulate male lineage at all.  There is no one to “lay on hands” or assign a name.  There is no one to bless us and give us a traditional robe.  There is nothing to reference – certainly not by looking backwards over centuries of male legacy.  This is without tradition. This is not a line. 

We are at the precipice of adventure, pioneers in Western Women’s self-discovery.  Our calling comes from the inside out.  Our knowing rises up from the heart.  It radiates.  It circulates.  This is not linear but circular.  It is not bestowed.  It cannot be requested as there is no one to ask.  It is dynamic and changing and unpredictable for there is no precedent.  By its very nature, only you can know that you are called to this service.  No one can tell you if you are right or wrong.  It is all your design.  So if you are hearing a song from deep within, hum the melody, write the lyrics and sing.  Wait for no one.