The Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune

Sometimes I go for any number of days with nothing much to say.

Sometimes I go for any number of days with too much to say. This leads to a big post. So, don't say I didn't warn ya!

Thursday was the first sighting of a robin. Always an auspicious occasion that tends to inspire a haiku.

Sitting on a rock
outside of jail, first robin,
free bird, of springtime.

Friday evening, a package was delivered to our house. A package for me. What was it, you ask? Well, gosh! Pipe down and I'll tell you. Geez. It was a bow. You know, like a bow and arrow. It came with two arrows. I didn't shoot it that evening cuz it was already getting dark by the time it arrived and you need to set up a safe place to shoot it with a target and all.

So Saturday afternoon, Don set up the target for me on the box it came in and showed me how to shoot it. And I shot it. It's a small bow, meant for a kid, but even for me, I think my arms are too short and it'll have to be adjusted. It's a compound bow which means once you have it pulled, it stays pulled until you're ready to release.

The first few times I missed the box completely, but eventually I was able to aim better. I still haven't actually hit the target, but I was getting some strength and my arrows were going all the way through the box.

So...you're probably scratching your head right now and saying, "What the....?"

I got a bow and arrow because...I don't really know why. Something inside me just wanted to learn how to shoot one. I've never used any kind of weapon before in my life. I even made Don leave his gun at his brother's house when we got married. When I figure it out, you'll be the first to know.

Saturday night, Don and I had a date. We dumped Lila at Josie's house. We did some shopping at Target first. Don needed a new calculator, I needed some socks, and we bought a gift card for a family in the neighborhood whose house burnt down last week.

Then we went to see "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, Abridged" Again, you're probably saying, "What the....?" Yes, I know I just saw it last weekend, but when I came home and told Don about it, he decided he wanted to see it, too. So we went again! It was funny the second time around, I'm glad I got to see it twice. And Don enjoyed it very much. Who are we kidding? He laughed his fool head off, too.

This play was at the Fine Arts Center. Also this weekend at the Fine Arts Center were the monks from the Drepung Loseling monastery creating a mandala sand painting. If you ever have the chance to see this, don't pass it up! The monks come for a few days, sometimes for a week, and create a sand painting. I just can't describe the focus and presence they have when they are doing it. Don and I arrived early for the play and were able to see part of the opening ceremony. They have those big horns that rest on the ground, some shorter trumpet-like horns, a drum, large and small cymbals and...the chanting. Have you ever heard Tibetan monks chant? They produce this incredibly deep rumbling. It doesn't even sound human. They all stand around the table where the sand painting will be made, they bless the materials and there's a small shrine with incense, fruit, rice, water, flowers, and a photo of His Holiness, the Dalai Lama, with that child-like smile he has and his big dorky glasses, all draped in a white silk scarf.

They start by drawing a grid with a chalk snap line. When they get to the smaller, more intricate parts, they switch to a ruler and a white pencil. They use a very big compass to get the proportions correct. It's called Sacred Geometry. Why didn't I get to learn sacred geometry in high school? I might not have failed if they taught me this kind of stuff. Anywho, once the grid is done, they start with the sand. It's brightly colored sand, dispensed through a metal funnel with an extremely fine opening at the end by rubbing the outside of the funnel. The outside of the funnel has a line of small bumps on it. When you rub another funnel or another small rod of metal along the bumps, the vibration makes the sand come out, practically one grain at a time. The detail is they achieve with this raspy, washboard sound and movement is just incredible. The sands are built up in layers to get shading. The monks are not distracted by the audience. Sometimes they will look up at you and smile, especially to the children watching, but you can tell they must remain focused. They wear dark wine colored robes with a sleeveless t-shirt underneath. They all wear old-school brown leather lace-up shoes. One had on Nike socks with his shoes. Their brown arms were smooth and muscular, their heads all bowed over the painting with buzz cuts. They all worked together, moving out of each others' way as needed.

There still another event at the Fine Arts Center last night. It was a Peter Max exhibit and party. Peter Max was actually there. So it was rather surreal to be in an exhibit hall with all these bright, 60's and 70's style pop art works with a bunch a hoity-toity rich folks in their tuxedos and gowns and glasses of champagne standing around these humble monks performing a sacred ritual. But the monks created their own sacred space quite well. I admire them for that.

I wasn't expecting to see that much of them last night and we had already planned to go down today with Lila and Josie to see them. So we went again today. It's fascinating to watch them. I was surprised how much the girls enjoyed it. We watched them for at least an hour.

The closing ceremony is on Tuesday. They perform another ritual. The culmination of the closing ceremony is to destroy the sand painting. This represents the impermanence of life. The sand painting is so delicate to begin with. One bump, one sneeze could ruin or destroy it. And then to purposefully destroy something so beautiful, so carefully created, it's just seems wrong. Blasphemous, even. But if you understand the basics of Buddhism, it makes perfect sense.