One evening in Queens I was hit by a car. I was crossing the street in the crosswalk when I heard a vehicle approaching quickly behind me. I glanced back to see a car speeding through a left turn into me. I tried to jump away and he slammed on his breaks, but he still hit me in the right hip, knocking me back a few feet. I somehow managed to stay on my feet and it was actually my right wrist that was hurt more than anything else because I had thrown my arms out in front of me and they had absorbed much of the impact.

It was one of those deluxe black cabs that don't actually have a "taxi" sign on the roof and the driver jumped out, apologizing profusely. I checked myself over and decided that I wasn't really injured, so I just asked him to drive more carefully and bid him good night. It only took a couple of days for my wrist to get back to normal.

So now I've had the full Big City experience---my original begging bowl and hat were stolen and now I've been hit by a car. And yet, of course, I realize how generous this city has been to me, especially the new friends I have made here.

For example, I remain ever grateful to the amazing volunteers at the Church of the Holy Apostles. Their free lunch program is usually very delicious and quite nutritious, and they manage to serve it up for a few hundred people every weekday. We  even had ice cream back on Labor Day. They also offer free reiki treatments on Wednesdays and chiropractic adjustments on Thursdays. (I've indulged in both and was tempted to suggest acupuncture on Mondays and massages on Tuesdays....)

The New York Insight Meditation Center gave away free copies of Jack Kornfield's Buddhist classic A Path with Heart. The section where he describes returning to America from Thailand as a monk and awkwardly making his way around Manhattan naturally struck a chord with me. I'm also reading Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion. There's a thread there somewhere....

One afternoon I secretly watched the other guy who sweeps and cleans up around the city for free. (I mentioned him earlier in my blog here.) He happily cleaned up a park and chatted to the squirrels and pigeons as he fed them. Made me think of St. Francis of Assisi....or some crazy homeless guy. Saint or lunatic? Same thing?

These past few weeks I've been focused on a couple of different art openings. First was Young's show "taDA tiDA" in Sukran's gallery in Poughkeepsie. The installation was a multimedia assortment of large paintings, fabric "octopi" (quadrapi, actually) stretched across the gallery from the corners, and a couple of sculptures involving stove pipes and bandaged heads.



Young arranged for a charter bus to bring people up from New York City and the opening was well attended by friends, other artists, the mayor of Poughkeepsie....and some of my homeless friends that I invited in---Marty, Jeff, and Chris. Jeff was last seen heading out the door with half of the chicken drumstick platter.

Then came Cigdem's art show at the famous Chelsea Hotel. It was a large multi-artist event called "Art Attack" with various artists displaying their work in rooms scattered all over the hotel. Cigdem's work was titled "Sliced" and involved a large fabric "sausage" stuffed with all sorts of colorful materials and then sliced into circular sections with an electric saw. These circular sections were displayed across the bed as a video of the slicing process played behind them.  Also, draped across and down the wall was "Art by the Yard", a long multimedia piece involving all sorts of eclectic items sewn to a piece of fabric. The overall effect on the room was quite beautiful---a colorful flight of fantasy. I was hoping to post pictures of both shows, but I haven't received photos from Cigdem yet.

Two nights ago we finally finished with the de-installation of Young's show, repainting much of the gallery. Throughout this whole process, they have been feeding me exceedingly well and Young even took me to  the musical "Wicked". (The show was great, even if it was quite different from the book, a story rife with powerful symbolism and ambiguity.)

This next part is a bit difficult to write, but it has colored so much of my experience these past few weeks that I feel it's important to include. One of the people I have been interacting a lot with lately (not the artists) is extremely confrontational, even verbally abusive. (I feel that it is also important to point out that she has been very generous to me too. Besides helping me out directly, she also introduced me to my new friends here in New York City.) For the most part, I have been attempting to remain calm and peaceful in the face of her attacks, but one day when I went to help her clean up her house she heaped so much screaming criticism and abuse on me that I finally reached my limit and exploded back at her and then walked off.

It was all so very humbling to realize that my emotional reaction was so un-monk-like and that I was so far from my ideal of a free person who calmly lets abuse wash over him, unfazed by it all. Of course, there's the attending question of how to balance in "skillful means", for it does not really serve her to continually bow down to her abuse like everyone else around her. Of course, to point out her inappropriate behavior in a compassionate and graceful way is the crux of the matter.

All spiritual traditions address the liberating possibilities inherent in interactions with abusive people. The Buddha was once approached by a detractor who sought to unnerve him by hurling insults at him. The Buddha calmly responded, "Your insults are like gifts that I can choose not to unwrap." (Perhaps I am remembering this slightly incorrectly---I'm not sure they wrapped gifts in the Buddha's time. He might have said "...that I can choose to leave by the door.")

In his book A Path with Heart, Jack Kornfield relates this story:
The Christian Desert Fathers tell of a new student who was commanded by his master that for three years he must give money to everyone who insulted him. When this period of trial was over, the master said, "Now you can go to Alexandria and truly learn wisdom." When the student entered Alexandria, he met a certain wise man whose way of teaching was to sit at the city gate insulting everyone who came and went. He naturally insulted the student also, who immediately burst out laughing.
"Why do you laugh when I insult you?" asked the wise man.
"Because," replied the student, "for years I've been paying for this kind of thing, and now you give it to me for free!"
"Enter the city," said the wise man. "It is all yours."

There is a story that is often told about the mystic G.I. Gurdjieff and a particularly difficult man who was staying at one of Gurdjieff's communities of students. This fellow apparently caused so many problems and conflicts with the other students that they eventually drove him out of the community. Realizing the great potential for his students to learn from these conflicts, Gurdjieff went after the man and offered to pay him to come back and continue living at the community.

Or perhaps Pastor Rick said it simplest back in my Gospel of Louie blog entry: “Contentment happens when you no longer have any buttons for anyone to push.”

So it is well into October now and I'm reveling in these gorgeous sunny cool days of Fall. The foliage along the Taconic State Parkway (our well-used route up to Poughkeepsie) is gradually changing into beautiful yellow, orange, and red Autumn apparel. It's starting to get colder and I'll need to get warmer clothes too. My robes are a bit faded and worn, but they're holding up okay.

I have had a wonderful time here in the Big Apple, especially with my new friends, but it's time to be moving on. The road beckons and New Jersey looms on the horizon across the Hudson River. I'm not exactly sure yet how I'm gonna get there. We'll burn that bridge when we get to it.


"I'm really glad your parents made it to the show. I think your mother really understands me now."
---a female artist to her boyfriend, regarding her multimedia "exhibition" of work featuring her doing various extremely graphic sexual acts

I've actually been enjoying some wonderful R&R up in Massachusetts with a bunch of good friends---Rebecca, Cam, and Janey and Tim's family. (Yeah, I seem to have gotten my south and north mixed up.) I was planning on heading into New Jersey this weekend, but I called my mother and found out that my Aunt Rosie was extremely ill and in the hospital. Then, right when everyone thought she was getting better, she passed away. I will miss her. She was a real character---rough and gruff and sweet by turns.


The very same day that my Aunt died my mother's home was broken into and various things were stolen, including a couple of laptops and her small safe. My mother is a very strong and stable woman, but I have decided to head back to California to lend my support and say my goodbyes to my Aunt. I've borrowed some money and arranged a flight to LA in a few days. The funeral is this upcoming weekend.

So, I will need to put this psycho-social-spiritual experiment on hold indefinitely. It's a tough decision, but the right one. I have no idea when or how or if I will return to my robes and sweeping practice. I'm not even sure what, if anything, to tell my family.

I've been doing this walkabout for three months now, and while it feels like a long time in many ways, it also feels way too short to truly integrate any lessons I may have learned on the road. Over the next couple of weeks I'll try to reflect on my experiences and write another entry on these issues.

Until then, thank you sincerely for your interest and support.

Be well, breathe deep, laugh, love.

Zum


"The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley." [often go awry]
---from Robert Burns' poem "To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough"

Okay, I've been letting things sink in for a few days and I've finally come up with a plan of sorts. I've decided to visit with my family, friends, and relatives all over California through the holidays (Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years), then begin my Walkabout again in January. This time I plan to start here on the West Coast and see what happens.

I still haven't told my family about my Walkabout, and I don't plan to just yet. I'm not really comfortable with this decision, but I still feel it's the right thing to do since my mother would worry endlessly. Most of my friends don't really understand what the heck the Walkabout is all about, which makes sense, I guess, when I realize that I often can't remember either. (If you're as confused as the rest of us, check my entry "(F) all of the above".)

I hope to occasionally sweep up around here in Southern California so that I don't get too rusty. And perhaps I'll even dress up as a monk for Halloween.....

Meanwhile...

My Aunt Rosie's funeral went well. And, of course, it felt a bit strange not having her there with all the other relatives at the reception at my mother's house after the funeral. For me, her passing was definitely an end of an era. She was such a commanding presence at any family gathering as many of us took turns attending to her needs, especially me. As I said before, I will miss her special mix of gruffness and sweetness.

Quite a few friends and relatives had to evacuate their homes because of the fires here in Southern California. Luckily, everyone I know has been able to return to their undamaged homes. Unfortunately, at least 1300 other homes weren't so lucky, and even now some houses are still threatened by the continuing fires. I'll soon be heading down to San Diego where most of the fire damage occured.

So, to recap my plans so far:

Plan A: Visit with family, friends, and relatives through the holidays, then begin my Walkabout again in January.

Plan B: Realize that my Monkabout was just some fever-induced dream or a temporary bout of insanity and get a "real job" and a "real life".

And the always-reliable backup Plan C: Fail at everything. Laugh anyways.