There's something comforting about rituals. Pasang Tsaga knows this very well. Every time she opens the Jewels of Buddha, she lifts the gate, lights the incense and turns on the meditative chanting music.
I have been called many things in my life, not all of them repeatable in polite company, which I am seldom in anyway. But the one I love to hear repeated is Poppie, which is what I am called by my 2-year-old granddaughter, Chloe.
I do windows. Unfortunately, I do them every couple of years, which gives the windows plenty of time to get dirty, and even then it is clear that I don't do them very well because I have always considered the job a pane in the glass.
While we certainly no longer live in traditional times, there are still those who identify as monastics who are walking the talk of humanity and providing profound examples of connection, compassion, and inter-connectivity.
I mean, what's all the hype around this place? I've been here for three weeks already and I can't wait to get back home. Nothing cool. It's all, look: old shitty buildings. Look: old shitty churches. Look: old shitty bridges built by Romans. Look: old shitty people with weird clothes.
Will de Blasio/Fariña schools be substantially different from Bloomberg/Klein/Walcott schools? As Randy Newman sings in the opening to every show in the Monk detective series, "I may be wrong now, but I don't think so!"