I think I am a collector of stories as they go out there in the wild  (of the net). This is probably how one becomes an addict. I have trained my eye to spot texts and people and ideas that resonates with whatever I am looking for these days even though most of the times I find out (what I am looking for) only after I find them.

Another great discovery with this guy

Here is how he presents himself:

I hike, I garden, I write, I edit. Sometimes I practice martial arts. I was raised by a Shingon Buddhist mother and a wedding-and-funeral Episcopalian father.

I grew confused, but it’s all clear now.

The half-ironic conclusion got my respect and interest to read on.

So, a little taster:

When I was in my twenties, I felt a strong calling from the conservative, Anglican wing of the church. I thought for a while that I might even become a priest. All the while, I practiced Buddhist meditation, too. I even went to and was deeply satisfied by ecumenical meditation retreats with Anglican Franciscans, of whom I remain quite fond. However, I eventually realized that it was not for me. I couldn’t accept the Nicene Creed, and that is what I needed to do if I were to live as a Christian. I believed in personal karma and redemption, but not in inherited original sin and redemption. I believed that Buddha, Jesus, and maybe others pointed the way, but I didn’t believe that Jesus was the only way. In addition, I haven’t been able to wrap my mind around the concept of “worship” since I was a kid. So I drifted through my thirties, forties, and fifties. Now, a few months shy of my 60th birthday, I’m taking stock of my beliefs. Perhaps I’m getting ready for the end of my life, which inevitably becomes more real to me each day, though I plan to hang on for a few decades more. Maybe I’ll stop my spiritual drifting, too.

At any rate, I’ve decided that I can’t be other than what I am, whatever that is. I think it might be that I’m Buddhish, rather than Buddhist. I’m a Buddhish American.

And a piece of wonderful literary quality in this short story:

Last night, September 4th, a cold front pushed its way up from Pennsylvania and swept out the last remnants of Hurricane Earl. With it came cool air and a clear sky. Just a day ago it had been hot and muggy.

The night crawlers were caught by surprise. (If night crawlers can be surprised by such things.) This morning, as I was walking our dog Hannah and her house guest, Porkchop, we found hundreds of the earthworms barely moving, sluggish on the trail. When they had set out on their nightly business, it was warm and life was on

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One Response to gardenjudo

  1. Camix says:

    I enjoyed the half-ironic conclusion from the beginning.
    In his shoes, I would like – at a certain age – the “all” part to refer to “all important things” and end the same way as his sentence does; but not be ironical.

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