What Does the Buddha Know About Nothing?

     All things are emptiness because they don't possess a true essence or nature.  When I
     see something and believe it exists, the imagery comes from the dynamic spirit within me.
     This is the illusion.  We, humans, assume that objects and people have a particular nature,
     but we are really projecting our own essence.  
                                                    - a summary of readings from Thrangu Rinpoche

When I lived in Baton Rouge, Dim Sum turned me onto Tig Nataro.   (You can find her on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSwzYB545hY).   I imagined that if I lived in “a real city,” I could go see her perform.  Now, in Austin, I can; so, I will. 

The show is a few days away and I haven’t invited anyone.  I tried to entice Dim Sum, but she’s not booked an afternoon plane that I know of.  I thought a friend might buy the other ticket (since my size 4 pants are sliding off my hips and a return of cold cash would feed me for days), but I keep having this nagging reminder that I've met a few women this month. 

It doesn’t take a mathematician (or readers of this blog) to count the reasons why I need to ask a date to go with me to Tig Nataro, but my mind keeps making lists with friend’s names who could be delightful dates.  Am I avoiding?  You already know that I think about what I’m thinking about all of the time.  I can safely say that after an internal audit, the word or its synonyms haven’t passed through the ticker tape.  So, I walk with a cock’s confidence that I’m not avoiding dating since I REALLY, REALLY want to do whatever that looks like. Still, I’m not picking up the phone, and the words aren’t coming out of my mouth.  

I tell myself that it’s for the sake of ease.  It will be much more better if I ask a friend. It's on a school night. It would be rude to ask someone to endure that traffic.  Better, I’ll ask my couple friends if they want to buy both tickets and have a nice evening out.

“Hmmm.” I think. “It sounds like you’re a-v-o-i-d-i-n-g.”

“Or just lazy,” me echoes.

The truth is that if I go out on a date, so many terrible things could happen.  I won’t even list the dozen that quickly filled my brain between 4 and 5 today.  Instead, I’ll tell you a story.  Recently, I met a really nice woman.  We were having a delightful conversation when she offered to buy me a beer.  (This idea excited me because any carbs are welcomed for nourishment sake).  We return to the table and a few of her friends show up. I imagine my life with her (at least the next 10 summers and Thanksgivings), and I imagine sitting at the table with her friends, sharing meals year after year.  I imagine I'll be lucky to make it through the first one before the leader (every group has an alpha dog) realizes that I’m struggling.  Naturally, the pack will want to protect their friend before I prove to be a freeloader—, a good for nothing.

“Stop! You’re right.” 

“It’s worse—, I hadn’t even finished half of that beer. “

I looked at the remaining ounces and wanted to gulp them down, chasing my anxiety.  I know I’ve had it rough with all of the moves with #3, and I’m starting over in a town that is as familiar as foreign.  (Austin population was at 1M when I moved and is at 4M, now.)  But, I’ve got a lot to offer.  At least, that’s what people tell me, and they don’t even know about my extra Tig Nataro ticket. 

The truth is that I’ve got all kinds of nonsense rambling around.  It’s good to be introspective but not to the point where I’ve carved up my strengths and bagged them for the bin. Being single is tough because no one touches you in an intimate way, emotionally or physically.  I’m stuck in my head 24/7.  Sometimes,on some days, a rude interruption from a lover would be the best cure-all.

“It’s just me against the world.”

But, being single can be rewarding.   I’m way less co-dependent.   I’m way more resourceful.  I get to sleep on both sides of the bed.  I get to eat anything directly out of any carton.  The list could go on.  The difference between being with someone and being someone seems to be that I’m accountable for my happiness.  If it’s not happening, it’s because I’m looking too far outside of my heart or head, seeing emptiness in objects and not living in my essence.

Frieda Whales says, "Give Peas a Chance and Share the Rainbows"

I spent the last two weeks of September preparing for PRIDE. (And, I spent  the past two recovering from it!)  In Austin, they have the parade in late Sept because it will finally be only 95 degrees hot.  Someone got smart and changed the rules.

“These summer parades are ridiculous.”

And, everyone said “Amen, you can't take off enough clothes!”

So, I was scrambling for SWAG.  (It’s that stuff people put their logo on and drop in a bag at a festival, conference, etc).  I’ve only been in Sales for a few months—, all of this is new.  When I realized I had a week to get my name on something, I knew I was in trouble. 

“I need rainbows!”

But, the gays stole the rainbow. 95% of Americans stopped buying them; China stopped making them; now, it’s hard to find them. I thought that maybe I would go to the east side of Austin that has a big Hispanic population.

“Mexico still makes rainbows,” I thought. “I could buy 500 pieces of something and print my logo on it.”

And, so I drove to the east side around noon and realized it was hot. I forgot about rainbows and started looking for aqua fresca stands, and then I thought that I might need to eat some lunch and popped into Joe’s Mexican bakery because it’s one of the last establishments that’s still in place or hasn’t changed names since the condos and new fancy buildings have begun to encroach. 

I used to live on the East side.  It was after college and before the area became trendy.  A friend who inherited a house that his dad built in the '40s let me live there for $100/month.  I used to walk across the field and I’d pass Joe’s.  I included it in my favorite poem, A Walking.  It’s 4 pages long but here’s a bit of it:

                                                                . . .

i hope,

a foot for each rail,

i want…

   I want

both feet on a rail,

   but my Body can’t balance—

i hop off.

   when forward takes my Soles

my weight falls

outside of those tracks;

   when me jars my Mind,

   my Crossroad dilemma dissipates,

i look up

over the ditch and through the marsh

and to the snot-green house,

   I am on my Way;

but i can’t take my body

and legs won’t go

   to that Apparition;

ugly before and uglier now—

    I feel ugly near its Frame.

will my head move

   from this Apparatus—

with its termite-eaten, swollen boards above

its warped, termite boards below;

   will my mind tend to my Mission

and buy my times?

                                                                                            

i should get some news and sit on the lumber;

     should I get some and not sit?

When will i know

   when I am There—

if i am before

   that Mound to climb?

six hundred feet far,

ahead of my head is joe’s mexican bakery,

      and with my Body balancing on

my legs

i am walking

    thinking of yellow molettos y pumpkin empanadas,

para mi angelo, la marana, mi amor.

      WHO remembers:

   to find enough Change

   to buy some News

   to go to the Pile;

to pass freddy’s house

faster than anywhere else,

because he pelts me with peaches;

when they are green—

   whip by Unseen,

   ‘cause We know

they’re not summer soft ones.

i ‘member

how to dart between his pellets—

   fasten my Worries

   lighten my Limbs

   glance beyond his Hailstorm,

moving quick as a speeding bullet.

i cross tracks and run on a road,

into some mud and find

      Silence.

   I stand forward

   stare Up,

into a chasm of sun’s flowers.

                                 

i see

black-brown buttons holding

green stems

holding blonde hairs,

   above My head;

   I know

      THEY

   give Life

to gold-white rays.

   I am full-length stretching

my arms

   touching Highest tips,

   Now.

i feel

   Their Fibers

   welcome Peace

   to Our body.

. . .

All of these memories and that yummy food made me forget about rainbows.  I dashed off to my next appointment with homemade tortillas in my belly.

Before the week was over, an artist made me my very own rainbow and we had them printed on car coasters.  It was fun to ask straight people.  All seemed eager to help me celebrate my people’s festival.  

As the week progressed and more of the city put out their flags, I saw lots of rainbows.  There were celebrations at many businesses throughout the week, and I attended as many as possible in hopes that I could share mine.  

“Would you like a coaster?  It has a rainbow to make you happy on your way to and from work.” 

I assured the festival goers with each of the 150 that I handed out.  (Don’t do the math.  There’s a lot I’m not telling you about my distribution methods).

Since the theme of this year’s PRIDE festival was Oz-tin, every kind of rainbow added to the colors of the parade.  (Apple employees brought 3,500 people wearing one on each tee shirt!)  I loved being amidst so many of these symbols that used to tap open the hope button in my mind.  But, that was the ’70s and ’80s and before the gays stole it. 

“Can’t we share the rainbow?”

This concept reminds me of when my goddaughter was 3. She would sleep over once in a while.  My second girlfriend set up a toddler-sized lady bug dome tent and added a few layers of padding on the hardwoods.  She, me & #2 weren’t ready for her to sleep all the way down the hall, alone. 

In the morning, I’d fill her belly with syrup and bacon, and we’d drive her home.  On one particular morning, #2 found a bag of pretzels under the seat or in the door or somewhere.  She had a few, and I had a few.  From the back seat, we hear a peep.

“Share.” 

15 years later, I still hear her voice in my head. I say it to myself—with her innocence—when I’m offering or wanting something.  

So, this idea that gays stole the rainbow and hid it in clear sight makes me sad.  I don’t want the straights to be without this symbol of hope, but I can't force them to share.

P.S.

Here's a video of the crew I was with: https://www.flickr.com/photos/128255673@N06/15210261329/?fb_action_ids=1509145139324014&fb_action_types=flickr_photos%3Ashare&fb_ref=w