I watched a documentary tonight that I read an article about. The whole suicide debate out there is just so tired, there's little about it I find compelling anymore.

This documentary was particularly uncompelling. There wasn't anything about Bob Stern that was inspiring, nor was there anything to be particularly sympathetic about. Compassionate about his illness, yes, sympathetic towards his family, yes, but everyone ages, and illness is not an uncommon part of the aging process.

He didn't overcome overwhelming odds, he didn't fight valiantly to make his decision, he just made a cold, hard, calculated decision. He didn't show any emotion, nor much sympathy or consideration to the people who would be affected. I didn't see how his story advances any understanding about suicide.

I think he was selfish, but he had the right to be because we all do, and we all are – anyone who condemns him for being selfish is being selfish. I'm not faulting him for that. I just fail to understand why the coldness of his decision warrants giving his story a public spotlight.

His suicide wasn't riding any right to die platform, that was just a tributary undercurrent to his own personal decision. I love the quote from the article: "In my 30 years of research, I've never seen a rational suicide," said Dr. Donna Cohen, newly elected president of the American Association of Suicidology. Maybe you really can't see what you don't believe exists.

I can't believe they made an American Association of "suicidology". I can't believe they made up the word "suicidology".

The bottom line for me is that people commit suicide, get over it and move on already. If you did all you could to prevent one, good for you, by definition there was nothing else that you could have done. If you didn't do all you could have done, then, I dunno, think about it. Meditate on it. Become a Buddhist, what the fuck ever, just stop being stupid about it and shut up already.

Dinosaur Room on Vimeo.

The dinosaur room at the American Museum of Natural History. I found this exhibit fascinating. I used to come here when I was a kid when scientists believed that T-Rex stood upright on its powerful hind legs. In the past recent years, though, they have come to believe that T-Rex walked more parallel to the ground because musculo-skeletal physics doesn't support that it walked upright. Evidence of T-Rex tracks also gives no indication that its tail dragged on the ground behind it like Godzilla in the upright model. So they re-constructed the bones to reflect the more recent understanding of the way T-Rex moved. Viscerally and aesthetically, I found this posture more appealing and credible.

I'm working on getting angry at my parents again. For almost 9 years, I've described my relationship with my parents as cordial. No more animosity. I said I stopped hating them after a revelation that they had no more control over me or my life.

Now, I'm watching my mind more closely and recognizing the anger and the hate for what it is. I don't know if it is serving its purpose, because it's not a visceral hate, the kind that wells up and makes us lash out emotionally.

Even though I'm feeling the emotion, the recognition is still intellectual and I don't lash out or act or react out of anger. But what am I saying? I have to lash out and do or say something stupid to make the anger real and have "purpose"?

No, no, no, backpedal. This is serving its purpose. The purpose is to feel, and not act or react or say or do something stupid. Anger is natural, how we deal with it delineates what is mature and healthy or immature and unhealthy. Or not. Those are judgments I eschew, and I'm not trying to convince anyone I'm mature and healthy anyway.

This could end up badly, but I'm learning how to be angry at my parents again. Maybe not learning how to hate them again, since maybe I've always hated them. Even though with much chagrin, I'd intellectually admit on some twisted, subconscious level I'm sure I love them. Bleah *wipes off keyboard with anti-bacterial wipe*.

I'm in denial. Waves surge on rocky shores, and I'm there again. Nagasaki? I'm still telling myself I'm going to Nagasaki? Not that I'm moving forward on any plans, not that I feel the need to. I probably will soon. Denial.

I don't know what my karma is or what it might lead to, but it feels like walking alone through endless desert, following mirage after mirage to oasis after oasis. Never taking root, never finding home.

I got rejected from the monastery. No, I didn't get rejected from the monastery. Right before I left, a monk, albeit a novice monk, stated, speaking on behalf of the community, that I should go out and do what I need to do, but stay out for the shortest time possible, and come back and complete my Jedi training.

But again, for me that came too late. The wheels of my karma had turned, and I am back in the desert. Happily, mind you. And there is nothing left to do but drown.

Brother's wedding this Saturday. Other brother's son is walking now. Madoka sent me links to look into for Nagasaki. Nobuko is travelling through Mexico. The Jersey Shore is right there, and August 17 may be two years late, but it's still August 17.

Northern Exposure Quote of the Day: I tell her we'd never work out because we have nothing in common, because I hate everything that she likes. And in return for my forthrightness and honesty, I get, at best, if ever, her grudging respect, when like Jules what I really want is to lick her naked body from head to foot like a postage stamp. - Joel

I'm gonna smack the next person who advises people with wireless routers to secure their connections. In January, there was no wireless seeping into my parents' house. In March, I found a connection in my brother's old room and in the dining room. Now I've got one in my old room, but only when I'm sitting at one spot on my bed. And shit is fast! If I ever get a wireless connection, I will not secure it. Power to the people, man.

Guess what I finally won off eBay:




I won an entry level model shakuhachi in March from this guy who makes them in New York. It was made only for meditation purposes and I knew it wasn't in perfect tune, but then I found that I could tell it wasn't in tune, and I wanted one that was. Mind you, it is an excellent flute and serves its purpose well as a meditation flute.

This red shakuhachi is made by the same guy and is in tune, and knowing the quality of his flutes, I know I won't be disappointed. Unfortunately, he's out of town for the week, and I won't be able to ride into the city to pick it up until after my brother's wedding next Saturday.

At least that gives me time to get comfortable on a bike before taking on New York City streets.

Back in New Jersey, I forgot how underrated numbness is.

The problem with taking a red-eye flight is that I'm basically waiting all day for my flight.

Actually, according to my original plan, the one in which I take a series of four buses to the airport, I would need to be leaving right about now, having begged one of the brothers to drive me off the mountain to the nearest bus stop, three miles away.

Instead, when one of the monks – my former mentor, actually – heard last night that I was planning to take the bus to the airport, he insisted on driving me, a superbly nice gesture that wowed even me. So now I'm waiting into the evening to leave. Two or three monks are taking me.

Last Night:
Apparently I missed my farewell party last night. I brought my Baby Taylor guitar and a shakuhachi with me to dinner, and right after I washed my dishes, I headed up the mountain to watch one last Southern California sunset.

Only after I returned was I informed of my farewell party, and that all the senior monks showed up. That certainly raised my eyebrows. For weeks, I felt that I had been put out to pasture. The biggest problem I've had here has been about communication. Even if it wasn't definite, how hard would it have been for someone to mention to me that there might be something for me that evening?

Apparently, I have the monks' full support to go to the root monastery after my time out in the material world. If they had communicated that to me three weeks ago, that would be my plan. Instead my mindset is so turned outward, that this new information is just a footnote to remind me that I'm welcome back if nothing else pans out out there. Instead of being my first choice, it's my last.

But I bitch.

Really, I recognize their support and it's not completely out of the question that I'll come back. If you like someone, it doesn't hurt every now and then to let them know it or feel it.

Well, what are you waiting for?

Northern Exposure Quote of the Day:
Maggie: She's suffered an appalling tragedy and in her despair and her darkest hour of life, she comes to you, knowing how much resistance she's going to meet, knowing that in all likelihood she's going to have to bear the brunt of your suppressed rage. Still she comes to see you, Joel Fleischman, that's how important you are to her. She's reaching out, Fleischman, for a familiar shoulder for compassion. Just let her know she still has a friend. Be a mansch.
Joel: I believe the word you're looking for is "mensch".

It’s still sinking in that I got rejected from the one monastic system that simply does not reject people from becoming aspirants unless they are clearly unfit for it. In general, if someone asks to be an aspirant and demonstrates an ability to live in harmony with the community, they’re in. But I didn’t ask to be an aspirant in my letter.

In retrospect, it occurs to me how incredibly clever my letter was to perpetuate my own karma. My letter was the paper embodiment of how I live my life. I don’t make decisions about my life. I put indirect factors in motion and then let fate decide the main issue. If that doesn’t work, I wait until the last moment and flip a coin.

I cleverly worded my letter so that it was up to the monks to decide whether I was an aspirant or not. I made it a matter of interpretation. Although in principle the monks will never make that decision – it has to come from the aspirant – they could have read the letter and seen that I clearly considered myself an aspirant. They could have said they weren’t making a decision for me, it’s on the face of the letter that I see myself as an aspirant . . . man, I’m fucking brilliant.

And I was ambivalent when I wrote the letter, I remember writing it and being ambivalent. What’s so fucking genius about the letter is that I can go back to the letter now and be outraged that they rejected it when clearly it could have been interpreted that I wanted to be an aspirant.

It’s not just the letter, though. Their lack of communication and the role of my so-called mentor also contributed. He did not act as an effective liaison between me and the community. He didn’t try to get me to my true heart and expression of it, so he couldn’t understand me or my position and communicate it to the community.

He also did a poor job at communicating to me the thoughts, feelings, and reservations of the community, or offer any guidance of any sort so that any issues could be resolved with mutual understanding.

It’s all my karma. It’s perfect. Incredible. I take full responsibility for it, and nothing that happens to me hereafter should be attributed to what the monks did or didn’t do. Psychologically speaking, it has nothing to do with karma, and I manipulated all the conditions to have a high probability of turning out this way.

Dear Madoka,
Thank you so much for the links and putting time into it! It was much more than I could ask for, especially since you're busy again. I will peruse them more thoroughly after I get back to New Jersey when I have more unlimited internet time (provided the people across the street haven't secured their wireless connection). I move slowly with things concerning my life, so I imagine I'll be in New Jersey well into September.

I'm thinking I'm pretty much done with Deer Park and Plum Village. It was a surprise to realize my aspirancy letter was rejected, but also not so much of a surprise in retrospect. I did bait the possibility, and the monastics bit, and it's surprisingly consistent with my past karma and patterns in my life. It's almost exciting. Not even they know how uncanny it is, especially since what I'm interpreting as rejection was totally arbitrary. They could have just as easily accepted my letter. I'm not projecting on the future really, anything can happen including ending up in Plum Village, but the mindset I'm forming now is that I was rejected, now move on without looking back or mulling on it. I don't like taking control of my life and prefer to let outside factors occur and see how I react to them. People seem to have a hard time understanding that, but they are not my problem.

So I'm back to where I was before I first visited Deer Park. I'm an aspirant in general, no where specific. Deer Park just fell into the picture at an opportune moment, and I'm not going to go out and look for another monastery that fits my style and would accept someone as incomprehensible as me. That would be basically a crap shoot. I'd rather just wait to see what falls into my lap next, and until then I just continue to walk my karma.

I met an old Oberlin acquaintance at a retreat this past weekend. Her name is Pamila Lew and we were pretty good friends for a few months and then we started getting on each other's nerves. I didn't recognize her at all, but she was wearing an Oberlin sweatshirt, and after I indicated that I went there, too, she said, "Yea, I know you", but I didn't recognize her until she said her name. People really look different after 15 years!
much love,
koji

Northern Exposure Quote of the Day: Shelley, if there's anything I've learned in the past couple of days, it's that you're more to me than your feet - Holling 

One week left at the monastery before I leave. I think I’m done with this monastery. I won’t be back. I think my final analysis is right – this is my karma that I’m living out and unable to change. I got rejected from the one monastery where I couldn’t possibly be rejected! 

One monk told me that through observing me, each and every monk wanted to see me go to the root monastery as an aspirant, but that my aspirancy letter appeared ambivalent. I’m sorry they interpreted it that way, but that’s as good as it gets. They think I can do this, they think I can be good at this, it was their choice to make it easier for me or harder. They chose to make it harder, perhaps as a further test of my commitment. 

But you know what? They’re right. I am ambivalent, just as I’m ambivalent about everything else about my life. Just as I’m ambivalent about my life itself. They rejected me, “oh well. next." What they interpreted as ambivalence has nothing to do with the effort and commitment I would put in as a monastic. It's just my style.

My gut feeling is that I would have been a great monk. But they also failed my test to them, whether they’d give me breadth in my training, or if they expected me to toe the line while jumping through hoops. I won’t play their institutional games and if they reject me for that reason, I’m better off without them. 

In 3-5 months, when I’m still alive and desperate for what to do next, I don’t see why I wouldn’t just print out the exact same letter and send it to them. Either that or a one sentence letter, but if that would be less ambivalent, I’d be disappointed in them. 

But man, if they knew how well their decision plays into my idea of my own karma, I think even they would be impressed at their insight, how well they are plugged into the ether, whatever else is out there affecting our lives that we can't see or touch. This relentless push of my karma towards suicide or something like suicide. Something. Or a fight against it by pushing me towards it. But really, everything in my life has pushed towards it. Anyone want to commit suicide with me?

I guess it had to happen. I wondered if it might happen. But now that it's happened, there was no reason for me to believe it would happen. Nothing big, just that I met an old college acquaintance at a retreat here this weekend.

Tall Asian woman, typical long, straight black hair, typical white husband/partner. Two kids. I didn't think anything of her until I saw her wearing an Oberlin sweatshirt while I was standing on the breakfast line.

Totally going against my avoidant tendencies during retreats to praise be my alma mater, I asked her if she went to Oberlin, pointing at her sweatshirt. When she said, yes, I pointed at myself and said, and this is an idiotic college alumni ritual, "'92". She said, "I know you. Koji, right? It's Pamila." :/

Pronounced pa MEE la. No question about whether I remembered her or not. Of course I did. "Lew?". I would never have recognized her, though. The monk standing behind me in line busted out laughing.

As I recall, typical for me, we ended our friendship on a blah note. I vaguely remember us becoming good friends really quickly and hanging out a lot. She was wild and loud and a lot of fun. I was quiet, introspective, and maybe artsy. Something must have gotten old, and we stopped talking and then she graduated.

She didn't change my life like other people did, but she is definitely one I've remembered and thought about through the years. She was unique. I looked up to her. And meeting up with her now? Nothing.

She's lived up to her Oberlin ideals it seems, and although she went to law school and became an attorney, she's working for progressive causes. Otherwise, I imagine she's living a pretty ordinary life. I don't know if she is, but looking at her attorney husband, raising two children – a beautiful girl and little boy, and hearing that she's a lawyer in Los Angeles, I imagine that an "ordinary life" is something I would never want.

And there's no reason for me to believe it would be any different with anyone else from the past. I thought if any Oberlin people showed up here, it might be Diem or Luyen, who are Vietnamese. I was much closer to them, but no, it wouldn't be any different. We've grown up and grown old. Older than we once were, younger than we'll be, but that's not unusual.

Northern Exposure Quote of the Day: Let me just say that I have more important things on my mind than carnal, erotic pleasures. I do. Now granted Chris might be a stud, but I am not some cow in heat waiting to get poked by the lankiest bull in the pasture. - Maggie

The truly suicidal do not go out and buy the Third Season of Northern Exposure as soon as it comes out on DVD. I am just wallowing in the wonderment of this old TV series. It’s pretty sad, I must say, when your last refuge of feelings is in DVDs.

I realized yesterday that my feelings can't be verbalized. I can't talk about my feelings, no one can verbally fish for them and expect to get a picture anywhere near accurate. My feelings only come to me in bits and glimpses of images that pop into my mind. Tears can well up in my eyes, but they dry before they fall at the risk of me bashing myself in the eyes with a baseball bat.

I can point to a scene on a DVD, a movie, a TV show, and say, 'yea, that's the feeling. That's it'. Chris Stevens is giving off pheromones that allows him to have his pick of any woman in the small town of Cicely, Alaska, but he has eyes only for one woman – the itinerant eye doctor who isn't affected or attracted at all. The last scene, at night, the eye doctor is driving off in her RV for the next town. Chris, a DJ, sends his final musings over the airwaves as he watches her leave from the DJ booth. He steps out onto the front steps in the warm Alaskan summer night, and sits on the stoop with a beer in hand, the neon lights of the radio station softly glowing. Now that's what heaven feels like.

I can't believe how much I love this show.

Becoming an aspirant at this monastery is the easiest thing in the world. People have become aspirants with one sentence letters. No joke. Literally. I heard one sister wrote something to the extent of, "I would like to ordain as a nun". Easy. And my statement of aspirancy got rejected!

I told a monk that I considered the monks' reaction a rejection, even though I understood that they didn't mean it that way. He seemed genuinely upset that I felt that way. We boiled it down to misunderstanding and miscommunication, but it was my turn to see things in black and white. I submitted a letter of aspirancy. The letter itself was supposed to act as my letter of aspirancy, regardless of what it said or didn't say, and my so-called mentor received it with the understanding that it was my letter of aspirancy.

But no, the act of submitting the letter was not prima facie evidence that I wanted to be an aspirant. I could have written the letter in fucking semaphore, and as long as it said, "I want to be a monk", it would pass muster. But the three page letter I submitted, including background information that I wrote exclusively for the benefit of the monks at the root temple since they don't know me, said everything except those scant, few words. Rejected.

From my point of view, I submitted my letter of aspirancy, it didn't matter what technical form it took. They had the choice to accept it or reject it. They said it wasn't clear. I wasn't unclear about it. I was clear about it, that's why I submitted the letter. They could have read it for its intent, that even without the words, everything about it looked like an aspirancy letter.

OK, he's an aspirant. We send him to the root monastery after his brother's wedding. We inform him what we expect of him as an aspirant. If they said that, I'd be an aspirant, expecting to go to the root monastery in August, and abiding by whatever guidelines they set for me, on the road towards ordination.

In my opinion, the de facto rejection was totally arbitrary. And it's consistent with the patterns in my life. My karma. The monk I talked to reminded me that we all have the power to change our karma, too, but that's theory. Practice is very different. Sometimes the rolling tide of karma is an undertow.

I leave here in less than two weeks a monastic reject because it is the path I've chosen. Other factors could have changed that path, but I probably engineered it to be this way. I couldn't predict that the monks would reject my aspirancy, but from the way I worded the letter, I set in motion the possibility.

In the meantime, I'm getting myself back on track and enjoying my last two weeks here and tightening up my practice and attitude, and continuing to nourish as many positive seeds as possible, pebbles as they may be. Never mind thoughts of nothing special, nothing elaborate, a short train ride down to the Jersey Shore, no excuses, no note.

The blog is not the person. So much more goes on in inner and outer space that doesn’t end up here.

I feel like I’ve fallen out of the practice here. I’m feeling that I don’t want to become a monk. Here, at least. Let’s call it by its true name: they rejected my statement of aspirancy. They won’t say they rejected me. They say I haven’t even requested aspirancy, so they couldn’t reject me. I say I submitted a statement of aspirancy, although not a request, and they rejected it.

For a monastic system that prides itself on its looseness and non-adherence to convention and rules, I don’t know why it should matter so much whether I make a request or a statement. Either way they had a choice to accept or reject it.

What I’m concerned about now is losing the practice completely. Sitting has gotten really bad, very distracted and unfocused, even dozing. It got frustrating and I’m taking a two day break. Last night was a lazy evening and today is a lazy day, so to minimize the sessions missed, I just skipped yesterday morning’s session. Usually I sit on my own during lazy periods.

It has also become an effort to participate in community activities. Yesterday I walked out of a Dharma Talk because the Dharma Teacher, one of the senior monks here, is a terrible public speaker. There are no standards of public speaking to become a Dharma Teacher.

I started counting how many times he said “er…um”, what he was discussing made no logical connection between one point and another, he repeatedly said the dreaded words (a pet peeve of mine), “Our teacher says…”, and when he started recycling concepts formulated by TNH almost verbatim, I walked out.

I’m glad I did, too, as later reports said that he went on too long. He went on so long that the lunch crew sounded the lunch bell without waiting for him to finish, and he still went on for 10-15 minutes. I call it ‘killing the Dharma’.

But I’m trying re-tool my attitude towards the monks. They are just ordinary people, and they have their faults like the rest of us, and just because they are monks, it doesn’t mean that their practice is any better than anyone else’s. However, the difference is that they’ve taken the bodhisattva vows, and that makes all the difference in the world.

At least I’m intentionally impressing upon myself what a big deal it is to take the bodhisattva vows and cultivate a mind of enlightenment (bodhicitta) or mind of compassion, and to embark on the path. Cultivating this attitude in myself has even been inspiring to me to stay on the path, this one or otherwise.

I’m thinking of a hermit path, though, not a community path. My natural tendency is towards solitude, so if there is nothing to pull me onto a monastic community path, why should I go there?

There is still the suicide path. Nothing I have encountered has changed my philosophy on that or shown that it is inconsistent with my beliefs. As long as suicide is not based on anything temporary, such as immediate feelings or circumstances. In fact, death is constantly pointed to as a reason to not hold onto the meaningless fruits of ordinary human endeavor. Being philosophically suicidal constantly puts death and non-attachment to life at the forefront of my thoughts.

There is a warning for me to not be attached to death, but that’s another conundrum of how can you tell if you’re attached to death or life, or not attached to death or life. In practice, we strive to be non-attached to life, without becoming attached to death. But what is the standard? Is life the default just because we’re alive? Why can’t death be the default since we’re all going to die? Who can tell me to not be attached to death without me telling them not to be attached to suicide, the concept? I’d tell them to let it go, too.

I still feel that suicide is part of my path. It is a path that I’ve chosen. I’m even inclined to believe that it is in furtherance of my monastic aspirations over the course of many lifetimes, if you believe in that sort of thing. It’s possible that I’ve already ordained in previous lifetimes and this is a continuation of my exploration into life and existence, trying to really understand the entire circle.

Tibetan Buddhism stresses the preciousness of this human form and how difficult it is to obtain it in order to follow the path. I don’t think suicide for me violates that. Suicide is not nihilistic for me, and I’m trying to make it not negative. I’m trying to make my living not negative as well. It’s all a whole, it’s all the same thing.

Three weeks until I leave. One of the senior Vietnamese monks mentioned having tea with me before I leave. That’s nice. I’ve kinda been feeling like they’ve given up on me and they’re just waiting for me to leave. Which is totally wrong. They're not thinking about it one way or another. Zen monastery, remember?

I don't think the monks here have really gotten me. I don’t think they’ve really tried. That’s fine, it’s not their place to pry. It should have been my responsibility to be more forthcoming, but that’s just not my personality. But really, they didn’t try at all and communication has been terrible. They never let me know what they were thinking and they didn’t ask any questions or give me any guidance.

I think they think that I don't know if I want to become a monk or not, that there is something else that I want to do aside from becoming a monk and I’m not sure because of that. They don't understand that I do want to become a monk, that I can make that decision, but what I don't know is why I can't make the definite commitment in language they can accept that I want to become a monk. It's a deep "not knowing" that I don't know the source of. They don't understand that is where I needed guidance.

It is partly their lack of guidance that has led me to decide to leave. If they listened deeply to me to understand what the issue is, and told me that they think I should just stay on the path and continue my aspirant training, I would have. It is too late now, though. There's already too much momentum propelling me to leave. This is the way I run my life. I've already put other things into motion, and a recommendation now that I go to the root monastery would become my third or fourth option.

That would still be better than nothing. At this point I don’t know if I will come back at all, and if I do, it might be out of desperation and even more abject failure. I’m a little disappointed in them for not accepting me as an aspirant the way I stated it, and I’m questioning their compassion and insight as it pertains to my case. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve been an “aspirant” since college, and when I leave here, I will still be aspiring for something on this same path. They really had a chance to help me, but that’s not my karma. My karma is to have no help at all whatever I do. Which is how I like it anyway.

I wonder if it's suicide that I'm thinking I need to get out of my system before I can commit to the monastic path. In my mind, ordination necessarily means absolutely no more thoughts in that direction. If that's the case, good luck. It makes sense, though.

Maybe one more real attempt, fail, and then go to the root monastery satisfied that I did all I could. But I've been down this road before, and I know it doesn't work like that, so maybe I should change it to: one more real attempt, fail, and then go to the root monastery miserable, still not wanting to continue in this particular life. Bleah.

Thoughts of suicide make me happy, though. They make me feel solid. They lift my spirits up and make me dance the cha-cha. And I can be unself-conscious writing about it because we all know my suicides are fake.

So I go back to New Jersey in July. August comes and TNH's North American speaking tour begins in Massachussetts. I hop on a bus to New England, but instead of meeting up with the community (having no plans to meet up with them in the first place), I go directly to Cape Cod and implement the old San Francisco plan. No thought, just immediate execution as soon as I get there and night falls.

Sounds good, it's now officially an option.

I’ve booked my flight back to New Jersey. I leave here on July 12, about three weeks from now. What has made the past 12 months worth living? Entering a monastery would not deal with the fundamental issues that resolve that nothing, nada, in the past 12 months makes life worth living. By extension, the last 12 years, by extension, the past 36 years. There is some basic, wonderful truth somewhere in that.

Why look for worth? Why look for meaning? What is meaning? Why can’t I just go to the root monastery and get back on the path to ordination? Why can’t I just let go? As I type this on my laptop, listening to 209 David Bowie songs shuffled on my iPod. Go to the root monastery and let go of everything, everything that pretends that I have an individual self, an identity, desires, wants, cravings.

I’m leaving here in about three weeks. I don’t know what I will be doing after my brother’s wedding a week and a half after that. I just know I told the community that I won’t be going directly to the root monastery because something is preventing me from whole-heartedly requesting aspirancy to become a monastic. Something is still blocking me. Becoming a monastic would not somehow miraculously make life worth living, make me want to live.

Maybe I’ll go to San Francisco, I’m still waiting to hear back from a Tibetan place where I heard I can rent a small room. San Francisco = suicide.

Maybe I’ll go to Nagasaki. But I realize out of all the things I want to do, which includes learning Japanese, nothing is more boring than language study. Nagasaki = what the hell?

Maybe it will kick in that I should just request aspirancy and go to the root monastery. Aspirancy = giving up.

Momentum. Not going directly to the root monastery in August? It doesn’t seem real, but it’s happening. People are already talking like I know what I’m doing. Have the monastics seen this before, and are not expecting me back? Probably they really don’t care because people come and go all the time, and as non-committal as I’ve been, they haven’t put much energy into me. If I told them I was leaving and not coming back, it would be no loss to them.

I already feel like I’ve fallen off. My mind is already half out of here. This is supposed to be just a step to get me clear on the monastic path and back on it. Why do I feel like I’ve given up? Good riddance, no one is encouraging me to stay on the path, but the path is something I need to be on by my own will. I have my own will, but it’s not the kind that would keep me on the path.

All I had to do was request aspirancy. So simple, but something stopped me. I’ve been trying to get in touch with the feeling that stopped me; I’ve been trying to get in touch with the cause of the feeling, the root. I’ve gotten close, but it eludes me. Maybe something is chasing me, my demons. Or maybe I’m chasing after something, something to resolve, and not having resolved it, I would fail as a monk. I would always have this issue disturbing my practice. But something is pulling me. It stopped me from requesting aspirancy.

I’m trying to realize what my feelings are now. Monasticism has always been at the back of my mind as an ideal lifestyle. Then it became the only living alternative. Now I’m not able to step forward. How do I feel? There’s still nothing I want to do, no one I want to be with, no where I want to go. The 3-5 months are ostensibly to get clear about the monastic path and get back on it. It may also be a time to once more attempt the now euphemistic “plan A”. San Francisco still an option. Nagasaki is not not an option, but certain causes and conditions need to arise. And then Taiwan is only a last resort if Plan A fails again.

I'm not positive I'll take the time off from the monastery after my brother's wedding, but once an idea like that takes off and gains momentum, it's hard to stop it. Now I'm pretty convinced that I will take the time off, even if the community opines that it's a really bad idea. It is my decision to make, they'd be the first ones to remind me that.

I'm even excited about it, although I have to remind myself this isn't a debaucherous bender. The design will be solitary, but with much engagement into the drudgery of material life. It feels like several months of being free from the constrictions of monastic living, but it's also several months of leaving the carefree freedom of monastic living. Give and take.