Christmas is for Christ and Buddha and Allah and Vishnu and...



"God is too big to fit into one religion"
~Unknown~

Last weekend, in a vain attempt to avoid anything stressful (hahaha I'm so deluded!), I turned to a fashion magazine as an avenue of escape.
The only time I read fashion magazines, tabloids, or as I like to refer to those genres, "smut", is when I'm having my pedicures. Let me digress from the heavy subject of this blog for a moment;

I maintain regular pedicures for two reason; first of all, the thought of having ugly, rough feet makes me weep, and it's pretty much the only time someone touches me without needing me to give them something back. God bless aestheticians! Amen and hallelujah! Rejoice!

Bi-weekly I settle into the giant massage chair with my tootsies soaking in a nice warm pedi-spa and lose myself in literary 'trash'.  Last weekend it was Elle magazine, (forgive me, I can't recall whether it was the Canadian or the American edition).

Yet I digress further;

Let me explain the phenomenon of the pedi-massage chair.  When I tried the third and most recent edition to my regular aesthetics watering hole, I was delighted to try the new seating.

I mean, what could possibly be better than getting a back massage and a pedicure at the same time?!  Pure indulgence.  "Worth every penny," I whispered to myself as I justified the additional ten bucks for the new and improved atmosphere.

For those of you not versed in the finer etiquette of Girldom, spas and all places aesthetics-like have an unwritten code of empress-like conduct.  It is as follows;

1)     Thou shalt not make unnecessary eye contact with other empresses.
2)     Thou shalt not speak unnecessarily unless it involves shoes, handbags, jewelry or man-issues.
3)     Thou shalt turn off thy cellular phone, or at least all sound, vibrating or other irritating options (note -silent texting is allowed).
4)     Thou shalt compliment all neighbouring empresses on their choice of polish colour regardless of how unflattering, tacky and atrociously trashy.
5)     No children beyond the waiting area, no politics, religion, work or other nonsense.

As my lady-of -McDishy's-own-four-foot-square section of Girldom handed me my trash magazine and cup of green tea, I gave the royal nod to her when she asked to turn on the chair.

A little side note here - When someone asks whether or not you'd like the furniture turned on, give consent only after demanding a training session and demonstration of what exactly the furniture will do when "turned on".

Enthusiastically, I nodded my head...oh yes!  Yes! Turn on my miracle massaging chair! Weeee! What a delight!

It began with some sort of mechanical readjustment, thumping and tapping once up, and then down the length of my back. "Just resetting, " I thought as I snugged deeper into the leather seat. And then there was stillness. Oh yah...feet soaking, green tea at my side and a great, light read. Bliss!

Then something went wrong.  Terribly wrong. A huge lump of something rather persistent slowly, but with great machine-like pressure arose under my tailbone and came to rest right there in that space between your thighs that only your lover and gynaecologist know about.  My eyes widened, "What on earth is wrong with this chair?" I thought silently to myself.

Wide eyed, I abruptly looked up to see if anyone was watching me.  Nope. The "little man in the chair" so to speak, then started to thump my back. I was bouncing around in that chair and suddenly wishing I'd worn my sports bra for the occasion. I had never experience turbulence in a pedi-chair before. Any second I expected an oxygen mask to drop from the ceiling. Forget the green tea, I would have scalded myself to death.

The button on the control pad looked straightforward enough, but slightly outside of what I consider to be a comfortable reach.  As I bounced forward, stretching my fingertips toward the controller, the lump between my thighs started massaging (quite nicely by the way) between my thighs. 

My fingers strained to reach the power button as my thighs were squeezed by what only can be described as side air bags. Squeezed so tightly together, my outer thighs were borderline painful as my inner thighs were saying a breathless "Hello" to Julio the massage lump.

I looked up again to see if anyone was witnessing my "massage" chair molestation.  This was getting embarrassing.  My back, neck and shoulders were being kneaded and knocked as my thighs were pinned in the seat and being massaged just above my knee to my butt cheeks - back and forth, back and forth.

Forget the reading. I had all but forgotten about what was going on with my feet.  Feet!?  I was worried I was either going to get trapped in the damn chair or have a giant orgasm.  It was a complete toss up between fear and a breathlessly gasped, "Oh-gawd!".

More than being upset that that flipping anomaly of  technological dimwittedness had ruined my very expensive pedicure, I was shocked at all of the other women shaking and wobbling and not-so-secretly getting their soft spots massaged en masse.

It felt a little dirty.  I felt a little deceived.  Although, in retrospect, I suppose I should have some gratitude for now knowing where to go should my normally vibrant sex life suddenly dry up and go the way of Toni perms.

So, last weekend when my lady-in-Girldom asked if she could turn on my chair, I politely declined and began to read my precious bi-weekly load of trash.

The article that drew my attention was not one about over-the-knee boots, or who was dating the hunk of the moment, or which stud-star of the moment has the best pecs, but  one exploring the recent, "Spiritual But Not Religious" (SBNR) phenomenon.

It is a well known, well documented, thoroughly explored trend that in lean economic times there is a swell in the number of people who turn toward their spirituality for meaning. I mean when things are booming, when the bills are paid, cupboards full, and children well-clothed and over-fed, who needs deeper meaning?

Through the ages plebs and scholars alike have delved into the black hole spiritual dilemma of what it means to be human. Since the swinging 60's it has become more common for people to explore religions other than their own traditions to find what 'works' for them - the individual. 

Increasingly religious institutions are on the decline while the number of individuals incorporating elements from diverse religious practice is climbing.  You could say economic hardship is a boon to introspection, existentialism; who am I if I'm not my profession, what does this mean to me, why am I here now, what is my greatest purpose, if God/Allah/Jehovah/The World is good, why am I suffering.....?????

Reading the Globe and Mail the day following my ritual pedicure, I was sidelined by another article on the decline of "religion" and trends in attendance at traditional religious institutions.

Recently my friends and colleagues have questioned my attendance in Dharma classes at my local Mahayana Buddhist temple. Was I searching for another faith, why did I need to do it, was I straying from my own faith, how can I introduce my son to other religious traditions when he's not solidly grounded in the history and stories of Christianity? Wow.

First of all, as a student of religious studies, and being raised in a protestant Christian family, I have a very strong belief (that I can intelligently argue), that exposure to other faith traditions can strengthen your own.  Not questioning one's own faith is not human nature. It's ok to questions god's(in my case) greatness when great suffering occurs.  If god is good, why are things so bad? When people of strong faith suffer loss, whether it be through death, divorce, job loss, or loss of self, they struggle more with their own spirituatlity than those who have not explored their faith, practice and traditions. After all, if you do the right thing, shouldn't you be rewarded instead of punished with suffering?

In my own experience, the concepts of the Four Noble Truths, the Noble Eightfold Path, and the Three Dharma Seals are concepts that helped me more deeply understand the concept of the trinity, the heart of
Christ, and "Love Thy Neighbour".  Meditation and mindfulness are wonderful practices that can only add to one's ability to function day to day in a more compassionate way.

Not everyone has studied religions. Not everyone understands or can sort out the differences between faith, spirituality and religion. But we all can be better people, and I think that's what's behind the drive of the ebb and flow of the SBNR trend.  We are all compassionate beings just trying to find our way.

The great freedom in debating religion, faith, love, and friendships is that they are all based in emotion and not logic. Yes, an inclusive study of history can answer a lot of questions about religions, but nothing about faith itself. That is the beauty of secular politics - logic. That is why we, as North Americans cannot comprehend issues in areas of the world where politics are faith based.  Faith equals emotion and emotion can't be argued logically. It can only be felt, believed and lived.

So, as I read my trashy magazines, and short articles on such intricate subjects of SBNR let me say that I balk at pop-culture, pandering to the here and now self-absorbed-self-help-pseudo-Oprah-spirituality that seems to have taken my generation by storm. 

I encourage everyone to go back to the source. Go to a temple, church, synagogue, mosque - discover the wisdom in our great traditions. Study. Question. Learn. Question. Practice. Question. Love.









This Buddhism is Very Serious Stuff

"Love is an attachment to another self.
Humour is a form of self-detachment;
 a way of looking at one's existence, 
one's misfortune, or one's discomfort. 
If you really love,
if you really know how to laugh,
the result is the same:
you forget yourself."

~Author Unkown~

Please sit down before you read this. I have something to write that will surprise, if not shock you into feeling disappointed, and possibly disillusioned. No. Really. Make sure you're sitting down before you read any further.

I have not yet attained enlightenment.  Are you ok!? Still with me?

As a matter of fact, today I think the only thing I attained was a cup of coffee at Starbucks and a copy of weekend edition of the Globe and Mail. Wait. Maybe that's obtained. Oh boy.

Earlier this year I decided that the conditions would be right for me to attend Dharma classes at my local Buddhist temple.  I've always wanted to have the time to do this, but what with working and parenting, I never seemed to have the time to really commit.  This was my chance. 

One morning each week, I trundle off to temple with my books, clipboard, bottle of water and a little bit of trepidation.   You see, I know I'm a long way from Nirvana.  Every time I "bite the hook", and become engaged in an argument, or lose my temper, or say something harsh, or in a harsh way (or, the triple gem of screwing up - doing all three at the same time), I know I've got a long, long, long way to go.  Boy, do I have a long way to go.

Hope lies in the teaching I'm receiving from Shifo, my teacher. She has the most pure, beautiful smile, all the while teaching the Dharma to an idiot like myself. I've never loved, feared, admired or wondered about a short, bald, puce-robe wearing woman so much in my life.

I've got the five precepts down I think...I can get by without killing, stealing, lying, sexual misconduct and even taking intoxicants (in a pinch). Does a glass of wine, half a beer or the occasional bottle of bubbly really count after all? This sexual misconduct thing....is it ok if it's two consenting monogamous adults? I mean, I'm just saying....

After my traditional coffee and newspaper outing....

Ok, I have an aside here folks. What the heck is it about people thinking that my newspaper is free game?! I mean, if I had my tattered copy of the The Great Gatsby sitting on the table next to my coffee, would someone assume it was for public perusal? Or, for that matter that my coffee was for randomly shared public consumption? Today a couple grabbed my paper and was just going to take it ( the very copy of the Globe that took me three stops to find yesterday). That is, until my fearlessness (one of the Buddhist three kinds of gifts - NOT this kind of fearlessness I'm assuming) got the better of me, and I let them know that that copy of the paper was spoken for.  They were offended that I actually wanted to read that paper. Perhaps I should have let them take it AND offered them  a taste of my coffee. Yum, yum, yum! Perhaps they should have at least asked if I'd mind if they read it. Which I would have minded since I read it and re-read it and refer back to it, but I would have let them share  anyway 'cause sometimes I'm nice like that.

Where was I? Oh yah, my Dharma classes, and what I got up to after my coffee stop.  I decided to study for my upcoming exam. It's stressing me out a bit. In the best way possible of course, because it's motivating me to study and learn.  I have always taken classes and earned degrees, diplomas, certificates and the like. The reason I'm taking this "course" is much different.  I like the principles involved, and how they apply to my every-day-living-working-parenting-friending-being-impatient-life.  

Learning the Dharma of Buddha in a community like the temple is a rich, life-changing, thought-changing experience. Learning about Buddhism in university, and afterward brought me to a much deeper and meaningful understanding of the Christian faith that I was raised in.  The conversations my classmates and I share after class while eating our lunch are deep, and funny. We talk and laugh a lot.

As much as I need to learn patience, mindfulness and even kindness, I believe humour is an important element in my own life that has served me well. Is humour joy? Joyfulness???  One of the quotes I studied today while preparing for my exam, "Happiness grows when shared. Affinity grows when discrimination vanishes." This idea is at the heart of the concepts of interdependence and interconnectedness of all beings.    My goodness, what on earth will I find funny now? I guess I will continue laughing at myself, and try to laugh with others.

I'll tell you what I found funny today....the way I looked in this sequined tunic today while I was shopping for a little somthin' somthin' to wear out to a few holiday parties.  Yet again aliens abducted me, and they held me against my will in a women's department store changing room! Can you believe it?  I absolutely cannot believe that I'm the only woman I know that this happens to. Then these shopping aliens brought in this sexy sequined tunic, and when I put it on (gasp!), I looked like a 5'8" snake with hips. The horror!  Thank goodness a saleslady heard my giggling cries for help, or I may never have escaped. Or worse, I escaped with only that hippy snakeskin and a pair of tights on...Run McDishy! Run!

Studying today I had a moment of pause thinking I'd have to give up laughing, what with this practice and serious study of the Dharma.  That moment passed. 

Book Burning, Gender Studies & Canadian Politics

Tommy Douglas
~Two races share today the soil of Canada.
These people had not always been friends.
But I hasten to say it. There is no longer
any family here but the human family.
 It matters not the language people speak,
or the altars at which they kneel.~


Wilfrid Laurier

First things first. You need to know, dear reader, that I have a lot to say in this blog entry. If you get confused, or my writing is too passionate to understand, let me summarize;

1) - Book Burning can be ignorant and inspiring all at the same time

2) - Some people should either be given space to write a properly thought out column in the Globe and Mail, or not be  published at all

3) - Canadians need to get off their bacon-fat, maple-syrupy rumps and vote not for the status quo, but for what is right (you know right - located precisely deep down in that hollow space somewhere between your stomach and transverse colon).

I have this terrible habit of having conversations with my colleague's while leaning on their door frames, my arms and legs casually crossed.  As annoying as my posture must be, when I'm standing like that, often with a cup of tea in hand, I'm paying that colleague a great compliment. My body language is saying, "Tell me more."

Monday morning I had one such conversation with the chaplain who is fortunate enough to have her office located just next to my own. I'm sure you can imagine her unbridled joy at my constant, verbal run-off. We had a great conversation about our weekends (ok, my weekend), baking, films, art, and finally, the hot topic of the week, especially for students of religious studies; the proposed Koran burning in Florida. 

Florida says it all folks. In my opinion the iconic state of overindulgence, consumerism and all things lacking significant thought. Please note the overwhelming presence there of men sporting white pants and white loafers. Ignorant arrogance flaunted in it's highest form. Enough said.

Our Monday morning conversation, and the conversations that I shared during the weekend evolved into conversations about what it means to be Canadian.  The conversations were not so much about Terry Jones the book burning nutso, but what ding-dongs like him can inspire in us - the democratic voting public. I believe if we separate the emotion of religion from the logic of politics, our political conversations can be inspiring and dare I say futuristically ground breaking. 

Historically our great country is in that awkward stage akin to puberty. We've been around long enough to have our own ideas, but we're hesitant to give up the safety of our tested and true politics. Thats exactly what we need to do in order to break away enough to craft the political future of our dreams. It's often the zealots like Jones who say out loud what the bubba's of our nation are silently thinking. In this case it has inspired anyone with a stitch of logical thought to speak up and out. Sometimes we need the Terry Jones's to irritate our apathetic selves into action.

Since I've been old enough to vote, our politicians have done a great job of just pushing the envelope enough to cheese us off, but not enough for our courteous and apathetic nation of voters to protest. No wonder the number of people inspired to come out of their nice cozy-wozy over-priced, over-sized, over-mortgaged homes is plummeting like a paper plane in detention room.  Canada has always been blah blue or retisent red. Liberal or Conservative - go ahead, live on the edge, flip a coin.  Face it -we're stuck.

Currently Canada is poised on the global high diving board with an opportunity to either dazzle everyone, or make a big, humiliating splash.

You all know by now that I love my Saturday Globe and Mail. I start light in the Life Style section and work my way into the heavier, more thought provoking Cover and Focus sections.  One column that I generally skip is Leah McLaren's.  This week her column, "Man, don't feel like a womyn", held my attention until the very end.

I, like McLaren also attended university when women's studies were not just trendy, but a mandatory part of most liberal arts credits.  In the end, McLaren gives a piece of advice that students should, "Steer clear of trendy men's studies courses and stick with the classics. You'll learn more about men and women in one Shakespearean sonnet than you will in a whole feminist-theory program put together." 

Upon graduation I vowed I would never again use the phrase "patriarchal society", but I also carried with me a vision for the future that included considering all points of view. 

Skip to F3....Drew Hayden Taylor's column, "If you really must torch scriptures, why not start with the Bible?", and Stephen Marche's, "When words go up in flames".  Both writers comment about the proposed Koran burning which was inspired by the proposal to build a mosque near ground zero in New York city. 

Skip McLaren and Hayden. Unless the Globe gives McLaren more space to expound on why we don't need men's studies (like for instance we've been studying history written by men for the last, oh, say, 3 000 years), it's not worth the read. This subject deserves way more discussion, and even that snarky little bit I just put in parenthesis can be argued based on the effect of the women's movement during the past century.

And pul-eaze,  Tayor's further example of taking two religions and pitting them against one another like Ali and Foreman takes us back to the Kindergarten of our existence as a civilization here in the western world. Note here that this is not a comment on the state of aboriginal affairs - it's a statement saying we're in way deeper than figuring out how to separate two bullies on the schoolyard. We have a brawl here people. We need more sophisticated systems for peaceable, equal living. Burying our heads in the classics as McLaren suggests or pitting two out of countless viewpoints against another are poorly thought out solutions to any problem.

Pitting one thing against another, in this case Christianity and Islam, or Christianity and Native Spirituality only inflates the ego of the other.  What I'm suggesting is a more inclusive discussion about how,as Canadians we are going to maintain the political stability of secular politics as our population changes to include more and more new citizens from politically less stable countries.

What I suggest as a first step is that in a very un-Canadian way we wallow in the pride we've worked hard for. Don't get me wrong, I'm not waving a flag in pride over the Japanese interment, the horror of our history for Native Americans, or the type of what I like to call, "cock-rubbing" politics we've allowed our parliament to fall into (watch any debate in our legislatures).  I'm talking about taking pride in being able to speak freely, build a church or mosque, or temple, or sweat lodge without fear someone's going to take our lives for our faith. We need to take a more obvious pride in the health care provision that's quietly being taken away from us like a toddler being weened from their blankie and give a big yank back on that blankie.

Listening to City of Toronto mayoral candidate Rocco Rossi talk about his tunnel/traffic idea, I have a feeling we're in for a big disappointment during the next set of elections.  It's our opportunity. We either dream big now, beyond the centuries old automobile and tunnels to an effective, green-clean-mass-transit-future or get gobbled up in the big compost pile of global, "cock-rubbing", wag-the-dog, Charlie-Wilson's-War, you-scratch-my-back-I'll-scratch-yours politics. 

We don't need liberals or conservatives, bloc-quebecois, or even the I-went-out-of-date-in-the-eighties, waffling NDP party.  We need Gandhi's and Mandela's, and maybe even a great Canadian Tommy Douglas again. Stand up. Be proud, and whatever you do, don't fall for this fear-mongering "throw-your-vote-away" crap.  Vote like you're in your grade 12 social issues class. Vote from that space deep down just between your stomach and your transverse colon.