Mandela is Gone

My sister sent me the text. In my mind I was rattling through a bullet-point list of assignments to complete and emails to send out. As I rushed up the steps of Juilliard to use the computer lab, I paused to look at my buzzing phone. I read her message, took it in for a moment, and continued climbing the stairs.

A few months ago I decided to join a new project: a musical about Mandela and de Klerk. The musical has the booming bass of their older selves along with the rock operatic rage of a younger and fiery Mandela and a racist de Klerk. Every week we meet on Thursday to go over new pages, new songs, outlining scenes. The collaborative team of director, composer, lyricist, and I have a strong first act and we're on pace for finishing the book by the end of the year. Some of the songs are so epic and sweeping that it's become a 'can you match me game.' I try to write the next scene so that it crackles with the humor, subtext, and strategy that I imagine these two men must have had during the close negotiations to end apartheid. The music team comes back with these colorful, rich African songs inspired by the region and the prison choruses of the men who were wrongfully jailed during apartheid.

This Thursday evening was different. I didn't have any pages, they didn't have any songs. We just sat with the news. We went around the room and talked about what makes a man great, what made Mandela a part of a movement necessary in this world: forgiveness.

We each spoke about the ingredients of greatness. Love, vision, courage, a sense of fatherhood or motherhood for others. One of the elements that's underestimated about civil rights icons and inspirational leaders is strategy. Crowds just see the Dalai Lama smiling, Gandhi waving, Mother Teresa blessing the poor, Malcolm X kneeling at Mecca, and Martin Luther King standing in front of thousands of people talking about his dream and a nation's hope. These succinct snapshots become the short-hand for humility, love, grace, greatness. What doesn't come across is the strategist and tactician. These great figures were amazing organizers of large throngs of people and knew how to use them effectively, and for clear goals. In the Dalai Lama's case he remains a supreme balance of spiritual leader and thoughtful tactician maneuvering against a hostile Chinese government with only his words and carefully selected ambassadors.

Mandela ranks up there with the greatest civil rights strategists and thinkers. He would have his apostles fan out across the world to media centers like London, Paris, and New York City. They would carry the message of anti-apartheid in their own unique way crafted for their particular audience. This didn't go on for months, but decades. From this consistent and insistent message arose boycotts, international pressure, and diplomatic animosity toward apartheid.

What was put before South Africa's racist government wasn't a gun, but something much worse: a mirror. That was the only thing Mandela could arm himself with and give to his followers. Their words made the South African government see what their policies had done. It had turned them into the very monsters they thought they were shielded against with apartheid. The putrid ugliness of a system rooted in a lie and supported by a gun could no longer be denied. Once the ugliness can be traced back to an irrational hatred then that institution is finished. When the monster is forced to look at themselves, they turn back into the scared children of Cain who -in a desperate search for security- re-enact the same crime done by man against their own kind since the beginning. No system, however cleverly designed and brutally enforced, can overcome a spirit in despair or a society blinded by its hypocrisy.

The message of the mirror is undeniable when delivered from a loving heart. These inherent truths are in the gospels of the Bible and the sutras of Buddha. The conscience of an awakened populace is not only more powerful than a bomb; it is the bomb that ends the world in order to bring about the new.

Mandela was one of the few in the 20th century who ushered in a new way of life by lifting the mirror.  We ended the meeting in the African tradition of joining hands in a circle. We each had a moment to speak a eulogy to him. It was our moment to bring the spirit of Mandela into our circle. As we raised the mirror up to our faces, I saw his light in our simple words of gratitude. Thank you, Father Mandela. You can rest now.

Notes After a Summer Retreat

On the evening I finished the meditation retreat the weather shifted to cool gray skies.  The rain started in the evening and continued through the night.

AFTER RETREAT

-On the first day out, it's raining. A lot. I love the rain and it's great to come out to a nice, fine cool downpour.

-I went down into the basement of the main house and grabbed my cell phone. After weeks of silence and wondering, I would now confirm my worst fears or highest hopes. I read my emails and texts like a starved child eats gruel.

-Turns out I didn't miss anything. 

-I talked to Retreat Master about "A Course in Miracles," nonviolent communication, and Charlotte Joko Beck's "Everyday Zen."

-Retreat Master went into town to visit the chiropractor. Her daughter drove and I went along for the ride. I to get out of the house. Surrounding land was covered in lush green grass, weeds, and wild flowers. The farm fields were high with a waving sea of summer corn. There were also a lot of grazing buffalo.

-After doctor office, we stopped at Butterfly World. The butterfly house wasn't open. The rain had driven all the butterflies to the stop of the ceiling net. Instead we walked around the garden and looked at the different plants and stone fountains

-The rain stopped the following day. I grabbed a canoe, paddle, life preserver and went out on the lake.  After a few minutes, I got back my stroke back and cut across the pristine water. I spotted a giant aluminum boat that had been abandoned on land with its front pointing into the sky. The people at Tree of Life main house told me that they've found canoes that are hundreds of years old that some times float up. The natives would sink them as a way to preserve their quality. They said after cold winter when the lake was frozen over, two canoes bob'ed to the surface after the initial thaw. Both boats were given to museums because they were over 400 years old when analyzed.  

- I gave the Retreat Master a book of Buddhist poetry as a gift of thanks. She handed the book over to little girl who lives in the house. Apparently, she communes with spirits and can 'see' into books. I'm skeptical but open-minded to the idea.  

-The little girl went into a trance or what I would assume was some sort of altered state (I'm no expert). She began gesturing, rolling her head around, closing and opening her eyes while holding the book. Her head started nodding. No sound came out of her mouth. In trance, she drew a picture of a ovoid circle with light rays beaming off of it. She handed picture to me. The circle looked like it could be an eye, or the heart chakra, or the universe, all three, or absolutely nothing. 

-Still in a trance, the little girl ran off and came back with a porcupine needle. She spoke for the first time saying 'be very careful. It's a porcupine needle.' I roll the needle around in my hand and then hand it back to her. 

-Still in a trance, the little girl ran off and came back with a sea shell. She handed it to me. I try not to over-think this 'symbol' but to just accept it as something lovely. In reality, the sea shell is actually very significant to me. 

-Still in a trance, the little girl ran off and came back with a pink crystal in the shape of a ring. She grabbed the book of poetry and opens it to an exact page. She put the shell and ring on two separate pages. I look down and see that the page is open to the only poem in the entire book that I've used in my work. Not only that but she has put the shell and pink crystal exactly on the two verses that I've quoted in my writing. I looked up from the verses and she's nodding her and pointing at me. I nod back at her. 

-When the little girl returns to her 'usual' state, there isn't much to say. I don't wish to intrude upon what just happened. I thank her. She wandered off to go play with something. 

-I cleaned the zen rock labyrinth. This took days of work. Some of the weeds are waist high, many are growing on top of a layer of dead weeds. I had no idea how or where to start. So I put a small rug down on the northeast corner, got down on my knees, found the smallest daisy weed there was, and I plucked it. I flicked the uprooted plant into a white gardening cart. 

-I surrendered to this garden process. What was just plucking a few weeds, turned into an obsession. Sweat is pouring down my shirt and sweat pants. I'm moving around the, dipping down, spinning around. I realize it must look like I'm dancing or a whirling dervish with both covered in dirt and filled with daisies. Weeds are flying out of the ground and into the cart. I have no idea what's going on. Hours pass. I lose myself in the process. I understand why people can fall in love with gardening and pulling weeds. 

-Someone stopped by the garden and gasped, 'WHOA!' I stepped back and looked. Nearly half the garden has been plucked clean of weeds. I didn't intend on doing that. I don't know what I intended by besides plucking a few weeds. I have experienced similar situations when working out, or playing my violin or writing. There is a submersion and the 'I' evaporates. It's just the action happening. 

-The weeds fly into the cart. I take several carts overstuffed with weeds and dump them by the lake in the recycling/compost area for gardening. A small mountain of green weeds accumulated. 

- The garden was 2/3 done. There was the southeast corner, which was untouched. It scared me for some reason. The weeds were different in that corner with purple flowers low to the ground and vines. I attack the over corners and areas of the rock garden. 

-The Little Girl stopped by the rock labyrinth eating a bag of chips. For some reasons I'm hearing the words 'about time you did something.' She sat on top of one of the main stone markers and watched. After a few moments she said, 'about time you did some work around here.'

-Little Girl pointed out the Southeast corner (the area I've avoided). "That's going to be really difficult." I nod, dreading that area as I continue working around it. She pointed up at the sky, "LOOK." I looked up and it's a morning dove serenely watching from a power line.

-I recalled at the beginning of this retreat, the black snake that slithered across my path and disappeared. Now a morning dove. 

-The cats from the house started to come out and lay in the rock garden now. The nuzzled their chins against the grey stones and nap for a few minutes in the space as it cleared up. 

-The next day, I'm discouraged and aching from hours of weeding. The southeast corner is hopeless. I'm feeling depressed. It occurred to me that I can just get on the ground and pick one purple flower. I slowly laid on the ground and pulled up a purple flower. It came up easily. I picked another and another. The vines have spider webs intertwined in them. I ripped them up from the earth and tossed them in the white cart. 

-The zen rock labyrinth is finally cleared. It has been done!!! There's still weeds and some vines, but it's possible to walk the entire path now. The entrance was at the southeast corner, where all the purple flowers I dreaded were. I walked through the entrance and took the path curving around in beautiful loops from the East, to the North, to the South, and finally West. The labyrinth's path grows more pristine as it moves to the center. I walked to the heart of the labyrinth. At the heart of everything was a large red stone with 4 crystal donated from the Dalai Lama. 

-I can now see the labyrinth in all its beauty and simplicity. Traveling from the four points to the center of the universe. For a moment a path has been opened.

-Lightning storms put on a fireworks display at night.

-Last night at Tree of Life, we all had dinner at the table. Quinoa burgers and salad. Someone decided that champagne was appropriate. Then for dessert they cut up strawberries, diced chunks of waffles, and melted raw cacao and chocolate. We drank champagne while eating strawberries and waffles with dipping chocolate.

- On the way back to New York we got lost. I woke up and our car was rising over the Hudson River Valley. We were in New York state. Usually you enter New York City through New Jersey. Unwilling to go back, we trudged forward. I said there must be a reason for us to take another route. We ended up driving down the Palisades Parkway. It's beautiful. Maybe that was our reason.

-Stench of sewage plant hits our noses as we crossed into the city. But we're home so it was fine. 

-

Notes Before a Summer Retreat

I arrived back in New York City this afternoon at rush hour.  It's been 25 days since I had seen the city. I was away in the woods of Pennsylvania on a meditation retreat. Surprisingly I wasn't frazzled or overwhelmed. But my eyes were constantly jumping around at all the shiny, sweaty, yelling, vibrant people bustling down the streets.

I was fortunate enough to finish another month-long retreat this summer. In my particular Buddhist tradition, there is no talking about the meditation experiences -whether they be amazing or mundane- that happen during the actual retreat. This is difficult for me because I write as a way of processing and remembering. The past two summers I've had to keep a private journal for my own thoughts and experiences in retreat.

There is, however, nothing wrong with talking about what happens before and after the actual retreat. Here are some notes on the before and after.

BEFORE RETREAT
-I passed by a Zen rock maze overgrown with weeds that was in front of my cabin. It bothered me that this was/is a holy labyrinth blessed by Dalai Lama and his monks and now it has been taken over by wild weeds and daisies. It felt like it was calling me to do something. But there was no time.

-On the way to the cabin a black snake slithered across my path. It appeared out of nowhere and seemed to disappear just as quickly. Afterward I asked the Retreat Master about snakes. She said they mean growth and power of some sort. I never saw that snake or any snake again.

-I get sick the first night there. I'm anxious and very nervous. My mind was racing with all the possible catastrophes that could happen. Coughing, sore throat, congestion, wheezing in my lungs. The wheezing would disappear and re-appear throughout, some times dependent on time of day or emotional state. I've decided not to take any medicine for the time being, although I've brought along aspirin. Not trying to be a hero, but interested in exploring further. If it gets too bad, I'll take medicine.

-The cabin has an unusual vibration/frequency thing going on in the air. I think I might be imagining this but I'm not sure. I go outside to check the electrical lines. Nothing appears out of sorts.

- I decided and then un-decided on where the altar was going to be, where my meditation seat was going to be, and where my bed was going to be in the cabin. I switched around the room a couple of times before settling on what seemed like something reasonable.

-I noticed that the cabin was surrounded by wild blueberries, black berries, and raspberry bushes. I've never seen so many berries growing naturally in such close vicinity.

-Ducks live and sleep in the grove beyond the trees. They sleep there at night. Apparently ducks snore and do some sort of quack-babble in their sleep (perhaps in duck REM sleep reliving some trauma or happy days).  A snoring duck sounds exactly like you think they would.

-I'm trying to catch a fly with a drinking glass. I accidentally chop it in half and feel sad. I set the glass down on a table and clean up. The frequency/vibration things intensifies in the air for a moment and then the drinking glass explodes. There was nothing in it, it was not on a hot surface, and all the other items surrounding the glass remain undisturbed. The empty, perfectly sculpted glass just exploded into a thousand different shards. And then my bed breaks! I apologized and purified for the 'fly chopping incident. Then I cleaned up the glass, replaced the bed with just two mattresses stacked on top of each other, and continued cleaning. I catch a few more flying insects and spiders that day. I am very careful and nothing gets chopped in half. The bed doesn't break again and no more glasses explode for the rest of the retreat.

-I have one last dinner with the retreat family in the  main house and then say goodbye to everyone. No more talking, sitting, or being with them until the end of the retreat.

- I went down to the lake and looked at all the lotus flowers blossoming along the muddy shores. I took two pictures and sent to my facebook.

-I can technically check my email and phone but can't even muster the effort on the last day before going in. I was also afraid of getting that 'one last email' about something that would haunt me into the retreat. Turned off the phone and put it in suitcase in the basement of the main house. Feel relieved.