{the view from our hotel room in waikiki}
My time with the zen master dude was interesting. After four hours of zenness, my head hurt. The first hour, Henry demonstrated his zen knowledge with zen master dude. The next two hours, zen master dude grilled me on my existence. Picture a circle. Now picture a squiggly circle around the other circle. The inner circle is me. The squiggly circle is the stuff around me, the stuff I'm attached to. Do I want to find out what's in the inner circle? . . . Now think of this: 0=∞. . . . Then zen master dude asked me "Why purple hair?" My thought bubble, "Because I like purple, Roshi." But I think I gave some fumbling lame reason which made Roshi just stare at me.
So then zen master dude wanted me to play a shakuhachi, which he told me is a flute. People from my Mifflintown years will bust a gut because they know how much I sucked at playing the flute. BUT despite my suckiness at being a flautist, I did it for, let me see, oh, five years. Anyway, the shakuhachi isn't the kind of flute you're thinking of. It looks more like a recorder, and it's used for meditation. It's fucking hard as fuck to play. I tried for an hour. My cheeks hurt. But another zen master dude said that I had a rare quality for a beginner to play such clear, strong notes with such purpose. Rock on! So there I was, in the training room, with zen master flute player, and this other dude who was practicing martial arts and was chanting sutras which sounded like a bullfrog and me blowing away, and Henry just sitting there. I totally felt like I was in an anime movie, and that we were all going to transform into forest creatures or earthly structures.
{me and H in leis made by our friends Hoku and Kaipo}
As funny as that all sounds, the zen master meeting has stuck with me. Of course, I think it's probably pretty common to think of existence questions when faced with life / death situations, but zen master dude number one kept asking me, what's stopping me from finding out about the now? Am I really that attached to my suffering and my past? These are questions as unanswerable as others right now.
Honestly though, today sucked ass. I feel so freakin' lame. For an hour, I shopped online for cool fabric so I could sew myself some head coverings. Then I decided that I didn't want to buy any fabric and sew head coverings, so then I was down on myself for wasting all this time.
But I can't help but notice the things that people have done. It makes me want to get out of my rut that I've dug myself in. For instance, Russell writing a poem for me today; Vicki sending me a bear and a bag from PA Dutch country (and frisbees for Chloe and Mylo); Hilary callling to ask when she could bring over frozen turkey soup she made; Betty bringing me head coverings from the cancer centre, and a lavendar eye pillow she made for me; Candace bringing over costumes for the kids and smoked salmon her husband caught and Chinese bbq pork; friends of friends who have offered their advice, help, and resources; my in-laws for helping with the kids; my parents for making plans to come out here to help; the lady from the Canadian Cancer Society who called today to help set me up with someone who's gone through a similar experience; CCHS for bringing me flowers; people who've emailed me on Myspace, 43things, Facebook, and here; Chris for watching the kids yesterday morning; Heidy and Greg for watching the kids last night; other people who have emailed to offer their help and company; my green towel for keeping purple dye off my pillow and for catching those random tears; Henry and the kids for bearing with me; and Victoria for organizing a team, "Brandy's Babes," for the Race for the Cure (http://ocraceforthecure.kintera.org/brandysbabes).
Yesterday, Henry and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary at Le Crocodile. We had a South African wine called Graceland (2004). The only reason I'm writing that here is so I'll remember what that wine was, cuz it was good!
{rowr! le crocodile}
So anyway, when I figure out what 0=∞ means, I'll be laughing (as my fiction prof Maureen would say), but until then, I'm just scratching my head.
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