Can a Buddhist be a fisherman?

I pondered this question as I visited Mays Lake with my brand new fishing rod and reel (Abu Garcia 2500), a birthday gift. As long as you don't catch anything, sure, no problem-- but what about catch and release? Well, sure, why not, as long as the fish is not harmed. Because I am not a skilled fisherman whose interest in the activity has been recently rekindled after a 35 year hiatus, I can say that my Karma is as yet in tact-- no fish caught, killed or thrown back. Even so, I bought some Canadian Night crawlers and as I threaded one of them onto the hook, it was evident that the poor worm did not like this-- it noticeably flinched when I poked it. Ryder seems not to be in the least concerned with this, happy to skewer worms onto hooks, and anxious to catch fish to eat. I tell him its called fishing, not catching and the whole idea is to thrown in your line and watch the bobber, reel it in, cast again.... the Zen of it all. Zen-- there you go, it is a very meditative activity. But to purposefully take the life of another living being is strictly against the Buddha's Dharma. So, if I pursue this as a hobby to foster this interaction with my son, then does that mean I can not be a Buddhist? Only if I start catching fish then eating them, eh? So far there appears to be no danger of that happening! Much to Ryder's constranation. He expected that we would cast and catch. The whole concept of "fishing" is beyond him. My NIH grant was panned once with the damning criticism-- it was a fishing expedition. Perhaps to hasten my fall from grace and to encourage Ryder's interest, we should visit a stocked pond where he can cast and catch. If I were to just watch, and help him clean and eat the fish, would I not still be in state of grace? No, too late for that. I killed a giant cockroach in lab today.

Fearless

I drove my car to work today, only the third time since Saint Patty's day I believe. It was weird, strange and tense. Yesterday I rode home in the rain which was just fine! I really pumped hard as I was in between huge downpours and made it home wet but no worse for the wear. I wiped my bike down and felt happy to have braved the storm. 750 miles for the year commuting. I canceled my parking privileges as it felt criminal to pay for parking I don't use just to preserve my place in the structure. But with a few days still left before my privileges end, I took the path of greater resistance, today, and drove. Errands and appointments scheduled for this afternoon prompted this departure from my usual blissfully routine. It did afford me the chance to visit the Buzz Cafe and get a coffee for the drive. Whoopee.

Ryder is fearless. On Sunday at the pool, he was waiting in line to go down the water slide and two big African American teenagers, part of a big group of boys, butted in front of him in line to join their friends who were ahead of him. Ryder stepped up to the boys, who not only towered over him and were quite rowdy, but were on the steps above him, and told them not to butt in front of him, to take their proper place in line. Unflinchingly, without fear, he faced them down, and they laughed and were outraged at his courage, but then left the line to him! What a stud! Ironically, one of their friends who had been in line in front of Ryder, and who stayed, ended up needing rescuing by the lifeguard after he slid in to the water. He just panicked evidently and got disoriented, but the young teen guard leapt into the water and shoved her float under his arms. He was more embarrassed than anything, and the boys whom Ryder chased out of line really yucked it up at his expense. Ryder was completely unaffected by this and continued to enjoy his new found thrill of falling 10 feet through the air into the water. That's my boy!

Oak Paradise

After being on the road for two weeks in the wide open west, we returned to Oak Park to find it much cooler and greener than where we'd been. And the houses are far more interesting. It seems that there is one style of new house being built out there in America, the style which could be referred to as "the same." From the suburbs of Omaha, Denver, Fort Collins, Des Moines, Aurora, Schaumburg, Napperville-- all the same! The terrain is varied, as is the climate, but the houses all look the same. Beige. ugh. When we pulled up in front of our 1913 mini-Victorian (or so they say its called) with the slate gray body and red trim, I was struck by how lovely it was, and how nice all the houses on our block, in our village are. Gardens verdant and in bloom. While we were away it was cool and rainy, my fears of dessicated doom were not born out. Instead I have 9 inches of lawn to mow with my self-propelled reel mower this weekend. Such bliss. In Fort Robinson it was 105 degrees, and dry. In Yellowstone it was 75 in the bright, bright, sunshine in the day, dipping in the 30's at night, and dry. The elevation makes you just that much closer to the sun. And in Fort Collins and Denver it was in the 90s and low 100s, and dry. A crispy tinderbox out there in the west and by all reports it is getting worse. We had a wonderful vacation, and vacation it was. I read a great book, fished, toured the thermal features, cooked great meals at the campsite, and really enjoyed being with my son and wife all day and all night for so many days. Fleeting worries about work passed my eyelids in the middle of the night-- in Fort Rob we were on the 3rd floor of the 1909 officer's barracks, no A/C, hot! hard to sleep, worries about Cooper who I missed so much, and the perpetual anxieties about funding the lab were soon replaced by the absence of sound in our tent in Yellowstone. I lay there listening to the quiet. no cars. no sounds of people. the rustle of the breeze, the sound of small animals in the trees, the sounds of silence. At 2 AM we were awakened by a chorus of howling wolves. Blood curdling, as though they were right outside our tent. They howled in rounds, loudly, mournfully, then in 10 minutes, quiet. wow. Full moon rising, in the west we saw Venus and Saturn, in the East before the moon crested the horizon, Jupiter. Clear, clear nights. The moon so bright it obscured the stars. My western soul mourned me not living there, I was so happy to be visiting, so sad that I was just visiting. Moving home to the west remains on the top of my wish list still after all these years. yet returning to Oak Paradise was indeed a pleasure. Greeted by Cooper, Mirabel, Althea, Delilah, and soon Columbus showed up, sans collar-- the only causality of our trip. What a great time it was. How nice to be home-- home is where the cats are. Back in the saddle and back to work. So glad its a short week.