One of the great joys in working to restore the Fischer Farm is in witnessing how many visitors come by to enjoy the Farm each week. It’s not just the regular volunteers, or the groups taking wedding photos, or the attendees of the many events that are scheduled there. It’s not just the birthday parties, the 4H getting crafty or the ROTC or the Boy Scouts parading around. Most importantly it’s the casual visitors, some of whom have just discovered the Farm for the very first time, and others who come back every year.
As I was out walking the fields the other morning (on my birthday no less), I spotted a couple of strangers picking dandelions. You may not yet know, but I am a big fan of dandelions, and I can and will go on at length about their many benefits, both to soil and soul. I approached the nearer of the two strangers and met a wonderfully punk teen who reminded me just a bit of myself at his age. I asked him what he was doing, making it clear that he was welcome to as many dandelions as he could help himself to, and he told me that he was picking them for his mom. So I wandered a bit further afield and met a radiant woman closer to my own age, with glowing red hair and a pleasing accent. She told me that she was gathering the dandelions to brew a home remedy passed down from her father, and I asked her if she might share the recipe. She obliged, and I am glad to share that remedy with you here. It’s a general purpose winter remedy or immune booster, and will keep you in good health for a long time to come.
Gather 500 dandelion flowers, and let them sit out for some time for the ants to disperse. Simmer in one liter water for one hour, let sit for twelve hours and then drain the flowers, making sure to squeeze out any remaining liquid. Add 1 kg sugar and the juice from two lemons. Cook again, slowly, for another hour. Pour into a jar with a tight sealing lid, and turn upside down while the mixture cools to room temperature. Keep the jar in a cool, dark cupboard and it should keep for a few years. Take a few teaspoons of this remedy at the first sign of any sore throat, or throughout the winter as a general immune booster.
Thank you Agnies for sharing this bit of your family’s heritage. You are welcome on the Farm any time!
As I was walking over to the Garfield Park Conservatory the other afternoon, I spotted a furry creature nosing around outside the Monet Garden. It certainly wasn’t a dog, and it was too big and too grey to be a fox. I wondered if it might be a coyote, but it was sleek and beautiful. The last time I spotted a coyote was in the Rockies, where everything is a bit rugged. I was whistling as I walked over, and the creature paused for just a moment to look at me, curiously, before it trotted off. I ran up toward the fence surrounding the Monet Garden and I could have hopped over, but my furry friend had already slipped away.
Instead I made my way through the Conservatory and back out into the Monet Garden, where a few kids were gathered – none of them older than ten years old if I had to guess. I asked them if they had just seen some kind of crazy dog or fox or something, and I was quite excited about it. A young girl, who was probably the oldest of the three, told me “It was a baby coyote.” The tone in her voice was the best part of the whole story. I got the impression that she has seen at least a dozen baby coyotes just this week, and that she was absolutely tired to death of having to explain such things to ridiculous and patronizing grown-ups.
I’ve lived in this general area of the city for most of the time I’ve been in Chicago – close to twenty years now. I’ve heard of coyotes in Lincoln Park, and I once saw one in Winnetka, but I’ve never heard of a coyote in Garfield Park. It’s about time! I know a few folks around here who keep chickens and other livestock, and I’ll have to let them know that there’s reason to keep an eye out, but I’m glad to see some more wildlife around these parts. I’m not sure how much one coyote is going to do to keep the rat population in check, but I’m sure there are other benefits to be had. Begin the trophic cascade!
Today I had the opportunity to help a corporate office in Chicago get set up with a composting operation. I’m not going to name names (I signed an NDA) but it’s an internet company that everyone has heard of, and the office was replete with ping pong and shuffleboard tables, Skittles and granola by the hopper full, even Goose Island on tap. It was surreal to say the least. I’m sure it’s a great place to work, and I applaud them for stepping up their game and getting on board with a real composting program. They provide a catered breakfast and lunch for their employees, and there’s a lot of potential in all those salad scrapings and paper plates. Check out The Ground Rules to see where those eggshells and coffee grounds are going to end up. It’s the sort of project that gives me hope for the planet, and hope is hard to come by these days.
By way of contrast, I spent last weekend in Cicero with a bunch of Tibetan buddhists, reciting long prayers in an odd language and going nearly two full days without food or liquid of any sort. As difficult and challenging an experience as that was, I learned that I can get by on a lot less than I am used to (which can be not all that much). I once heard someone very wise remark that the thing about suffering is, “the more you have suffered, the more you realize how much more everyone else has suffered than you.” That stuck with me. It was pretty rotten starving myself all weekend and kneeling on a wooden floor, but it could have been a lot worse. It isn’t anything I’d just do on a whim, but there are plenty of people out there who had a tougher weekend than I did.
And back to Chicago, where if you’re lucky, you can get a job in a nice office with all the Starbucks coffee you can drink and banana smoothies and whatever else you can scrounge up from the snack bar. Or maybe you’re not so lucky. I noted a number of panhandlers and homeless folk on my way to the office this morning, and before I left I jammed my pockets full of Snickers and KIND bars. I also stuffed an empty potato chip bag full of salad greens for the pet rabbit that I left home alone the whole weekend I was in Cicero, and held onto a bar of bison jerky for myself. Nobody even glanced at me as I was pilfering the corporate stash. It seems like there’s enough to go around.
It wasn’t half a block before I encountered my first panhandler. I struggled to get the Snickers bar out of my back pocket, and it didn’t seem like it was appreciated. It was 91 degrees outside, and I was standing there with a bottle of pilfered Vita Coco handing out a smashed up, already half melted Snickers bar. I thought about handing out the coconut water, but I was also thinking that I’ve got a quarter acre to get planted tomorrow and not much to bring with me in the way of lunch. Work is picking up again, but it’s been slow for too long. That bison jerky is gonna be my lunch tomorrow. I had two more KIND bars in my pocket, but I figured I’d run into another panhandler before I reached the el. I didn’t.
Nothing about that exchange felt comforting, but I also didn’t notice anyone else doing a damn thing. I’m still unsure how I feel about the whole encounter. There is a big hazy area in between generosity and selfishness. If I don’t take care of myself, I won’t be of any use to anyone. At the same time, token generosity just so I can feel better about things is worthless. I should have given away the coco water, and all the KIND bars. I can drink tap water tomorrow, and it’s probably better to make a big gesture for one person than a lot of meaningless gestures for several people. One thing is certain, nothing is easy, and just because my intentions are good, that doesn’t mean that they’re well thought out. More lessons learned, or to ponder anyway.
I’m not sure that this post is really finished, but I’m tired, and I’ve got a lot on my plate tomorrow. I’m finally going to get planted, and then maybe I can start blogging about farming. I think that’s why I started this thing in the first place.
“Although I wallow in the slime and muck of the dark age,
Still I aspire to see his face.
Although I stumble in the thick black fog of materialism,
Still I aspire to see his face.”
Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, The Sadhana of Mahamudra
How can I even begin?
In the past week, His Holiness the 17th Gyalwang Karmapa, Ogyen Trinley Dorje, visited Karma Thegsum Choling in Cicero, IL. For the unfamiliar, that’s an awful lot of consonants jumbled up against one another. I will do my best to explain.
The Karmapa is the spiritual head of the Karma Kagyu lineage in Tibet. The Kagyu lineage dates back 900 years and is one of the four major lineages in Tibet. As best I can gather, it’s also the lineage that I was sworn into, although my vows were administered in Tibetan, and, well, frankly it gets a little complicated. For the past decade and a half I’ve been doing my best to make sense of things, hashing out my own liturgy as best I can, based on hearsay and observation. I have met some truly wonderful and inspiring individuals along the way, and I have also met with my share of deceit and betrayal. It’s been a bumpy ride, but the best intel I’ve been able to gather suggests that the Karmapa is the real deal, and for some time now I have hoped I might be able to make my own assessment of that situation. On Monday, I was granted that opportunity.
Given the extraordinary nature of international politics, the Karmapa is rarely free to leave his monastery in Dharamsala, India. For most of his two-month tour here in the United States, His Holiness has been visiting universities, packing auditoriums to capacity. Tickets vanished within minutes whenever they were made available. Karma Thegsum Choling is a modest Buddhist center, hardly an auditorium. As a carpenter, I even had to make some modifications to the building exits just so we’d safely be able to meet our expected capacity (of less than 100). The event was deliberately not publicized, and tickets were given out by invite only, just to ensure that things remained manageable. In short, it’s incredibly fortunate for those involved that His Holiness decided to visit us at all.
And it almost didn’t happen. The day before he was due to arrive, the Karmapa apparently became ill. His visit was quickly rescheduled for the following week. Not long after that announcement went out via email, an earthquake struck Nepal, on the very same date that His Holiness was originally due to visit Cicero. Certainly no one would have been offended if the Karmapa deemed it necessary to cancel his remaining itinerary and head back home. Several of us expected that he would do so. And yet he stuck with the revised schedule, despite the inconvenience it certainly posed.
The actual ceremony, the pomp and circumstance, the incredible tension and release, that I cannot attempt to explain. The majesty and grace that His Holiness presented will sound like horse hockey if I try and describe it here, but I had the experience of being near some sort of quantum distortion field, as if his presence were larger than anything else in the room, or in the entire universe. All of that was undercut by his incredible humility. Browse through the webcasts posted on kagyuoffice.org or on the Karmapa’s YouTube channel and you can get a sense of this quality. In person, it was overwhelming.
At the request of Lama Sean, center director at KTC, His Holiness offered some instruction for us that day on the practice of Chenrezik, or visualization of the bodhisattva of compassion. This is one of the main practices, or sadhanas, undertaken at Karma Thegsum Choling. While commenting on the 1,000 armed form of Avoliketeshvara, His Holiness related that he could personally empathize with the desire to manifest 1,000 arms, as he would need that many arms to fulfill all of the requests for help he receives each day from countless beings. Was there a hint of sadness in his voice as he said this? Was it resignation? Was he simply still feeling ill?
“His Holiness wants to see you. .”
After the ceremony had concluded, I waited to see if there was anything else I might help with. The room was filled with electricity. Some folks had already headed downstairs, but many were hanging around the main shrine room, chatting excitedly. As I stood there not knowing my place, a head poked out of the crowd. “Rob! His Holiness wants to see you.”
I was not expecting that the moment would become any more surreal. I suddenly felt like I had swallowed a ball of molten iron. I wasn’t sure what to do next, but I made my way through the crowd as quickly as I could and headed downstairs to the apartment where His Holiness was waiting. What was this feeling I was experiencing? Panic? Bliss? Terror?
I entered the room and bowed, completely unsure of what to do next. Should I approach him? Keep a respectful distance? Time was an abstract. Seconds were frozen, and at the same time they raced by. It was as if the room were on fire. Here I stood face to face with the Karmapa, and still I could not gauge his presence. Was he seven feet tall? One hundred? Up close, it was apparent that whatever illness had plagued His Holiness was lingering with him. He appeared a bit fatigued, a little sweaty, and yet he stood larger than life. I’ve met Presidents who didn’t have as commanding a presence. The Karmapa extended his hand and I approached. We shook hands. “Thank you,” he said. Apparently Lama Sean had related that I was essential in preparing the center for the Karmapa’s vist . “Thank you!” I gushed in return. I did not know what else to say. “Rob is a carpenter,” Lama Sean repeated for His Holiness. “Let’s build a stupa!” I exclaimed, stupidly. A stupa is a traditional buddhist monument of sorts, and plans had been announced earlier that day for a stupa in Zion, IL, the site of the 16th Karmapa’s passing. His Holiness had explained that this was, in fact, the main reason for his visit to the region, that he might recall his previous experience here. Suddenly I was embarrassed. I had spoken half a dozen words and I felt I had overstayed my welcome. “Yes, stupa,” the Karmapa repeated in his halting English. The next visitor was already on his way in, carrying a small child.
I left hurriedly, unsure whether or not I was going to pass out, fall over, or wake up. In the days that have passed since, I have tried to make sense of all that happened, and I am at a loss. At first it was as if I was in some sort of post-karmic depression. Not so much a feeling of sadness, but a sense of the weight of the world, of everything that the Karmapa must bear on a daily basis. Despite his limitless burdens and obligations, he not only went out of his way to visit our little dharma center in Cicero, IL, but he took the time to thank me personally for installing some door hardware and laying some carpet. Who knows how many thousands are praying for him this very moment to relieve their very real suffering, and I installed some carpet. The dude rolls with Secret Service escort, and he took the time to thank me. I have worked harder for guys who drive cargo vans, and they have not so much as said “nice job!”
As I reflect upon it, I realize that even my exclamation about the stupa was in a sense, selfish. Certainly I would like to see a stupa in Zion, and certainly it would bring joy to many others, but currently, I am without a full-time job, and if there were some work to do to prepare the stupa, I might have something to do for a little while, and then I could feel useful. It isn’t for the sake of all beings that I want to see a stupa. It’s just so that I might gain some personal satisfaction, or perhaps deepen my own spiritual practice and connection in some way. After the Karmapa left, Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche answered some questions from those who had stayed behind, and he spoke about the benefits that a stupa could bestow. Many who visit a stupa wish that they might gain material satisfaction, win the lottery, or some such thing, and that is the wrong approach. If one instead visits a stupa and makes a sincere aspiration to be of benefit to others, the stupa will speedily grant that wish.
If there is an overriding theme to the Karmapa’s many public comments and teachings on this tour, it is the importance of developing compassion. When he spoke to the crowd at KTC on the practice of Chenrezik, he told us that if we want to know if our practice is truly deepening, we need simply look at our own compassion, and see how it is developing. The proof is in the pudding, as they say. As I think back on the few seconds I had to share with His Holiness, I regret that I didn’t simply ask him, “how are you?” or wish him a speedy recovery from his illness. I am sure that he took no offense, and admittedly I was overwhelmed and more than a little off guard, but it remains a valuable lesson nonetheless. How many times have I walked into a room and been too distracted or hung-up on my own agenda to acknowledge that anyone else was present? This being human business takes constant practice, but it is an opportunity worth perfecting. Some years from now I may be able to judge what effect meeting the Karmapa had upon me. In the meantime, I will be paying more attention to how I pay attention to others. That may be the greatest teaching he could grant me. For now, it is what I will be working on. It’s a start, anyway.
Some edits for clarity and factual correctness.
UPDATE: Karmapa’s visit to Chicago KTC can now be seen here:
All the karmic thought, speech, and action ever committed by me since time immemorial, and in the present and future..
Arising from beginingless ignorance, arising from craven greed, arising from misguided anger, arising from endless delusion..
Born of this impermanent body, born of this impetuous mouth, born of this clinging mind..
I now openly acknowledge, I now confess with humility, I now repent wholeheartedly and accept all consequence with equanimity..
I have been wondering what to do now that I have a blog. I’ve pondered my “brand” and “message” and doodled upon scratch pads trying to come up with a “mission statement”. I’ve also woken up every morning for how long I cannot recall and recited the above lines, and repeated them again most evenings. It seems to me my mission couldn’t be any clearer — deal with each day as it arises, without prejudice or preconception, relying upon my own experience and my best judgment to guide me forward. Surely there will be mistakes, and there will just as likely be situations which I cannot anticipate, or which are beyond my control. There will also be many things which I cannot change. When I encounter these setbacks or obstacles I have to include these in my experience, again without judgment or prejudice, but with the confidence that I will have learned something from the experience, and that in the future I will be that much wiser.
That may not have much to do with blogging — or maybe it does. It feels worth while to set it all down, to set a tone of honest inquiry and accountability for this blog. Karma isn’t as straightforward as a math equation. It’s more like David Tennant’s ball of timey-wimey stuff. The circumstances that I have to deal with every day are largely of my own creation, but countless other sentient beings played their part. Entire galaxies had to form and collide before I could sit down and write this very paragraph. Where does that leave me? Right here, with this laptop, trying to sort it all out with the best understanding that my human intelligence can apply to the situation. Occasionally I’m going to get my facts wrong, or misremember how that episode of Heroes played out. It’s likely that my favorite barbeque recipe will change over time, or that I may even start spelling it “barbecue”. It’s still up to me to put in the due diligence, to report both the truth and my own experience as clearly and accurately as I am able, and to correct my fuck-ups as they arise. Let this be my blogger’s creed.
Originally published the first time I tried to launch this blog, which was not that long ago.
Well, this is a little embarrassing, but I finally managed to get a blog posted to teh internetz! Embarrassing because it took me this long, but now that this baby is online, look out! I’m gonna have plenty to spew! Now if I can just figure out how to post cat photos..
Rocky Mountain High! 8,200 ft.
Hey! That’s one cool cat!
Originally published like a month ago before I took my blog down and put it back up again for technical reasons which are still evading my grasp..
One of the great joys in working to restore the Fischer Farm is in witnessing how many visitors come by to enjoy the Farm each week. It’s not just the regular volunteers, or the groups taking wedding photos, or the attendees of the many events that are scheduled there. It’s not just the birthday parties, the 4H getting crafty or the ROTC or the Boy Scouts parading around. Most importantly it’s the casual visitors, some of whom have just discovered the Farm for the very first time, and others who come back every year.