tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191082102024-03-07T03:19:27.472-05:00One foot in front of the otherGoing through life with the lens cap offMichaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.comBlogger651125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-11883476914273868332013-01-13T21:03:00.002-05:002013-01-18T12:29:59.381-05:00The Journey ContinuesWhile wondering how to mark the fifth anniversary of Michael's passing, I came upon this moving story written by a fellow student at the Budo Kai Karate Dojo. It is an immense comfort to those of us who love Michael to know that his spirit continues to inspire people.<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Kongō-zue
(Michael Thaler’s Walking Stick) </b></span></div>
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It is said that every journey begins with the first step.
A journey can manifest itself in a variety of ways. It can be long or short. It
can be strenuous or effortless. It can also be inconsequential or carry with it
great meaning. My friend Chris Brock and I recently had the unique and great
pleasure or embarking on a journey of significant meaning.</div>
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This honor was brought forth to us by our Sensei; Richard
Rohrman. Sensei Rohrman had a Karate Ka by the name of Michael Thaler that came
into possession of a wooden staff or walking stick. Unfortunately, Michael’s
life of peace and beauty prematurely ended due to a horrendous illness. Prior
to his demise, Michael told Sensei Rohrman that he would leave some items of
remembrance for him. After Michael passed, Sensei Rohrman went to Michael’s
home where he met Michael’s sister. Sensei happened to notice a walking stick
which Michael’s sister offered to Sensei. The stick had Kanji or Japanese
logographic writing down the length of its shaft on all four sides, which none
of us at the time understood. Sensei Rohrman believed the stick to carry great
symbolic weight and carry with it a tradition of going on or being part of a
journey. I remembered that I had planned to go climbing in the White Mountains
of New Hampshire in the near future and asked if taking the stick with me to
the top of the mountain would be a fitting way to further the continuance of
its journey? Sensei Rohrman agreed that it would. I invited Chris Brock to
accompany me on this climb and we set out to plan our trip.</div>
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Prior to the climb, we planned to stay at a motel near the
mountain and start the climb the next morning. I have used this same motel many
times in the past and was friendly with the owner; Miyoko Honda. We checked in
and it then occurred to me that being of Japanese descent, perhaps Miyoko could
translate the writing on the stick. We brought the stick into her office and
Miyoko began to read the writing. She said that the stick is a “Prayer stick”
that is used by Buddhist monks while traveling between temples. As such, it is
an item that should be shown great respect. Miyoko became very interested and
told us she would contact her friends in Japan to try to get additional
information. Chris and I were now piqued with interest and elated to be a part
of this. We offered our sincere thanks to Miyoko and turned in for the night.</div>
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The next day we set off for the mountain carrying our now
distinguished companion. We began the climb in what was good weather for
October. However, as we ascended the wind picked up significantly and the
temperature inversely fell precipitously. After many hours of climbing, we
arrived at the summit with our acclaimed guest still with us. The temperature
with the wind chill was approaching 20 below zero. However, we were warmed by
the notion that we had fulfilled our understanding of continuing the journey of
Michael’s walking stick.</div>
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On our return home, we were contacted by Miyoko who, after
contacting her friends in Japan,
sent us additional information. Here are her results:</div>
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Hi Bob & Chris! I found out more details from my
girlfriend in Japan.
According to her & her husband, it's called "金 (Kon=Gold) 剛
(Gou=Hard)杖 (Zue=stick), which is used for a journey visiting temple to temple
in Shikoku Island. Those characters in the lower
part is a prayer called "Hannya-shinkyou" and in the upper part old
letters of Buddhism (Bongo) can be seen. Under the white tape, it's written
"南無大師遍照金剛", which is Koubou-taishi (Buddha)'s precious word.
Under that it says "同行二人" which she translated that " I'm
visiting those temples together with Koubou-taishi praying for Buddha
and two of us together always". Does it make sense?</div>
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It is most regrettable that Michael Thaler could not have
come with us on this journey or even have endured long enough to know that it
was undertaken and the tradition of his walking stick was advanced once more.
For our part in this saga, Chris and I were profoundly privileged that Sensei
Rohrman perceived the meaning and tradition of Michael’s walking stick and
asked us to participate in the continuance of its tradition. During the all too
brief time we knew each other, Michael Thaler demonstrated a kindness and compassion
that touched me deeply. I hope this in some small way keeps the memory of
Michael alive. While Michael was still alive, he maintained a blog. The title
of this blog is truly the story of this walking stick; “One foot in front of
the other.” </div>
<div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: right;">
Bob Wilson<br />
Nidan<br />
Budo Kai; Traditional Karate and Fitness </div>
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<![endif]-->Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-24242798851169736022011-01-14T06:42:00.004-05:002011-01-15T07:31:09.423-05:00A Candle for Michael<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcr-ULuws1xb7_dW8Db8oQF-V7CHobGepMh-yqVATF1nV2X476G5a4IA17lt-vsN21gXnaHbGu9MBbil_z6Q6jqe0WFM8ju9JtqguhDTCJgrTRve_K3Rtg8FnKrUyN3YwDrt9yA/s1600/A_candle_for_Michael_for+blog.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 261px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcr-ULuws1xb7_dW8Db8oQF-V7CHobGepMh-yqVATF1nV2X476G5a4IA17lt-vsN21gXnaHbGu9MBbil_z6Q6jqe0WFM8ju9JtqguhDTCJgrTRve_K3Rtg8FnKrUyN3YwDrt9yA/s320/A_candle_for_Michael_for+blog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562006505720892434" border="0" /></a>In memoriam<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">March 23,1962-January 15, 2008<br /></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-70929932934837971232009-06-30T13:41:00.003-04:002013-01-18T11:05:17.104-05:00Poems Along the PathMichael originally published the poems and photographs in this collection in his blog, where they are scattered like jewels throughout the postings that chronicled the last two years of his life. Here, brought together and arranged by the themes into which they naturally fall, the poems tell the same story in a different, but equally powerful way.<br />
<br />
<p style=" margin: 12px auto 6px auto; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; -x-system-font: none; display: block;"> <a title="View Poems Along the Path on Scribd" href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/16887540/Poems-Along-the-Path" style="text-decoration: underline;" >Poems Along the Path</a> by <a title="View Henro1962's profile on Scribd" href="http://www.scribd.com/Henro1962" style="text-decoration: underline;" >Henro1962</a> </p><iframe class="scribd_iframe_embed" src="http://www.scribd.com/embeds/16887540/content?start_page=1&view_mode=slideshow&access_key=key-20l6kqnyp6zdlf2ii3mp" data-auto-height="false" data-aspect-ratio="null" scrolling="no" id="doc_81831" width="400" height="600" frameborder="0"></iframe>
For anyone who would like to have a real book to hold in their hands, <span style="font-style: italic;">Poems Along the Path</span> is available through Lulu. Here is the link to purchase a copy:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/poems-along-the-path/7075503">http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/poems-along-the-path/7075503</a>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-31493108779245699322009-06-28T11:36:00.004-04:002010-01-18T10:19:36.760-05:00Gone But Still HereOne of the recurring themes of Michael's photography and poetry is the felt presence of the spirits of the departed. Michael's spirit, which inspired so many people, is still very much alive in his work, nowhere more so than in his account of his <span style="font-style: italic;">Shikoku Pilgrimage</span> and in his photographic <span style="font-style: italic;">Slice of Japan.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-76629815316489610132009-06-28T11:32:00.002-04:002009-06-28T11:50:19.612-04:00Shikoku Pilgrimage<a title="View Shikoku Pilgrimage on Scribd" href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/16694273/Shikoku-Pilgrimage" style="margin: 12px auto 6px; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; display: block; text-decoration: underline;">Shikoku Pilgrimage</a> <object codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,0,0" id="doc_801374992486270" name="doc_801374992486270" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" rel="media:document" resource="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16694273&access_key=key-fx1qk8iv35i9hi3ihso&page=1&version=1&viewMode=" media="http://search.yahoo.com/searchmonkey/media/" dc="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" width="100%" align="middle" height="500"> <param name="movie" value="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16694273&access_key=key-fx1qk8iv35i9hi3ihso&page=1&version=1&viewMode="> <param name="quality" value="high"> <param name="play" value="true"> <param name="loop" value="true"> <param name="scale" value="showall"> <param name="wmode" value="opaque"> <param name="devicefont" value="false"> <param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff"> <param name="menu" value="true"> <param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"> <param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"> <param name="salign" value=""> <embed src="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16694273&access_key=key-fx1qk8iv35i9hi3ihso&page=1&version=1&viewMode=" quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" play="true" loop="true" scale="showall" wmode="opaque" devicefont="false" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="doc_801374992486270_object" menu="true" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" salign="" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%" align="middle" height="500"></embed> </object>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-29423136934731766752009-06-28T11:28:00.002-04:002009-06-28T11:50:04.455-04:00Slice of Japan Part I: Chiba Prefecture<a title="View Slice of Japan Part I: Chiba Prefecture on Scribd" href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/16773696/Slice-of-Japan-Part-I-Chiba-Prefecture" style="margin: 12px auto 6px; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; display: block; text-decoration: underline;">Slice of Japan Part I: Chiba Prefecture</a> <object codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,0,0" id="doc_303024080194237" name="doc_303024080194237" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" rel="media:document" resource="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16773696&access_key=key-2een2v16xp1jg2htyqq2&page=1&version=1&viewMode=" media="http://search.yahoo.com/searchmonkey/media/" dc="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" width="100%" align="middle" height="500"> <param name="movie" value="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16773696&access_key=key-2een2v16xp1jg2htyqq2&page=1&version=1&viewMode="> <param name="quality" value="high"> <param name="play" value="true"> <param name="loop" value="true"> <param name="scale" value="showall"> <param name="wmode" value="opaque"> <param name="devicefont" value="false"> <param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff"> <param name="menu" value="true"> <param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"> <param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"> <param name="salign" value=""> <embed src="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16773696&access_key=key-2een2v16xp1jg2htyqq2&page=1&version=1&viewMode=" quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" play="true" loop="true" scale="showall" wmode="opaque" devicefont="false" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="doc_303024080194237_object" menu="true" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" salign="" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%" align="middle" height="500"></embed> </object>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-41034697801100351892009-06-28T11:25:00.003-04:002009-06-28T11:49:28.836-04:00Slice of Japan Part II: Kyoto<a title="View Slice of Japan Part II: Kyoto on Scribd" href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/16773740/Slice-of-Japan-Part-II-Kyoto" style="margin: 12px auto 6px; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; display: block; text-decoration: underline;">Slice of Japan Part II: Kyoto</a> <object codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,0,0" id="doc_112761296843582" name="doc_112761296843582" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" rel="media:document" resource="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16773740&access_key=key-1aex0jc68m78j4cpo21u&page=1&version=1&viewMode=" media="http://search.yahoo.com/searchmonkey/media/" dc="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" width="100%" align="middle" height="500"> <param name="movie" value="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16773740&access_key=key-1aex0jc68m78j4cpo21u&page=1&version=1&viewMode="> <param name="quality" value="high"> <param name="play" value="true"> <param name="loop" value="true"> <param name="scale" value="showall"> <param name="wmode" value="opaque"> <param name="devicefont" value="false"> <param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff"> <param name="menu" value="true"> <param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"> <param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"> <param name="salign" value=""> <embed src="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16773740&access_key=key-1aex0jc68m78j4cpo21u&page=1&version=1&viewMode=" quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" play="true" loop="true" scale="showall" wmode="opaque" devicefont="false" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="doc_112761296843582_object" menu="true" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" salign="" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%" align="middle" height="500"></embed> </object>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-72186843423820194452009-06-28T11:22:00.002-04:002009-06-28T11:48:51.622-04:00Slice of Japan Part III: Tokyo, Kamakura, Nikko, and beyond<a title="View Slice of Japan Part III: Tokyo, Kamakura, Nikko, and beyond on Scribd" href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/16773543/Slice-of-Japan-Part-III-Tokyo-Kamakura-Nikko-and-beyond" style="margin: 12px auto 6px; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; display: block; text-decoration: underline;">Slice of Japan Part III: Tokyo, Kamakura, Nikko, and beyond</a> <object codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,0,0" id="doc_694280134737626" name="doc_694280134737626" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" rel="media:document" resource="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16773543&access_key=key-dlkbjroga1i21wxfvnl&page=1&version=1&viewMode=" media="http://search.yahoo.com/searchmonkey/media/" dc="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" width="100%" align="middle" height="500"> <param name="movie" value="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16773543&access_key=key-dlkbjroga1i21wxfvnl&page=1&version=1&viewMode="> <param name="quality" value="high"> <param name="play" value="true"> <param name="loop" value="true"> <param name="scale" value="showall"> <param name="wmode" value="opaque"> <param name="devicefont" value="false"> <param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff"> <param name="menu" value="true"> <param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"> <param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"> <param name="salign" value=""> <embed src="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16773543&access_key=key-dlkbjroga1i21wxfvnl&page=1&version=1&viewMode=" quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" play="true" loop="true" scale="showall" wmode="opaque" devicefont="false" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="doc_694280134737626_object" menu="true" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" salign="" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%" align="middle" height="500"></embed> </object>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-20543674901200503472009-06-28T11:15:00.001-04:002009-06-28T11:47:55.819-04:00Slice of Japan Part IV: A Final Look<a title="View Slice of Japan Part IV: A Final Look on Scribd" href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/16860986/Slice-of-Japan-Part-IV-A-Final-Look-" style="margin: 12px auto 6px; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; display: block; text-decoration: underline;">Slice of Japan Part IV: A Final Look </a> <object codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,0,0" id="doc_91902283727912" name="doc_91902283727912" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" rel="media:document" resource="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16860986&access_key=key-25dd4v8gvu0ho66z79h9&page=1&version=1&viewMode=" media="http://search.yahoo.com/searchmonkey/media/" dc="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" width="100%" align="middle" height="500"> <param name="movie" value="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16860986&access_key=key-25dd4v8gvu0ho66z79h9&page=1&version=1&viewMode="> <param name="quality" value="high"> <param name="play" value="true"> <param name="loop" value="true"> <param name="scale" value="showall"> <param name="wmode" value="opaque"> <param name="devicefont" value="false"> <param name="bgcolor" value="#ffffff"> <param name="menu" value="true"> <param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"> <param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"> <param name="salign" value=""> <embed src="http://d.scribd.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=16860986&access_key=key-25dd4v8gvu0ho66z79h9&page=1&version=1&viewMode=" quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" play="true" loop="true" scale="showall" wmode="opaque" devicefont="false" bgcolor="#ffffff" name="doc_91902283727912_object" menu="true" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" salign="" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%" align="middle" height="500"></embed> </object>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-23174119640092191982009-06-06T17:33:00.010-04:002009-06-06T18:45:06.281-04:00A Tribute to MichaelIn the summer of 2007, Michael was thrilled to be accepted as a member of the Soho Photo Gallery. He had planned to have an exhibit in the autumn of that year, but his illness made it impossible. We are happy to bring his plans to fruition. His show, East Village Portraits, will be on view at the gallery through July 4.<br /><br />Gallery hours are Wednesday thru Sunday, 1-6 p.m. Soho Photo is located at 15 White Street, New York, NY. That is 3 blocks south of Canal Street, between 6th Avenue and West Broadway. The gallery is close to several subway stops: the #1 line to Franklin Street or the A, C, E, N, R or #6 lines to Canal Street.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj72o2aMZpErMpzHOttgIGONyj-RJ4n64BEa768tVSm3NAELR950G7M2IcFdsjHcOagHfQKomZcJANKb7jkTeX62k6zCwSn-DQ2Zi4igf7_YZ-9KgB5iFBUbnpiqQBpcF5v3dcSPQ/s1600-h/Gallery1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 152px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj72o2aMZpErMpzHOttgIGONyj-RJ4n64BEa768tVSm3NAELR950G7M2IcFdsjHcOagHfQKomZcJANKb7jkTeX62k6zCwSn-DQ2Zi4igf7_YZ-9KgB5iFBUbnpiqQBpcF5v3dcSPQ/s320/Gallery1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344347728310228866" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Mounting the Exhibit</span></span><br /> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-30312615389270993522009-01-15T14:43:00.009-05:002011-01-14T06:52:26.083-05:00In Memoriam: March 23, 1962-January 15, 2008Though Michael passed away a year ago today, he continues to touch people deeply through his writing, his photography, and most of all, his example.<br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtuomcNbKr-o8WXDR-hlXX-VhAesPyFvMWDjKQ1IW0oCxp0MFxeHh92zLGzPYLUYlPWVrd7ltYdTYd0K31PyqxPtsLFmv8x96C0jUk8bvDXeT5BatDo75IFhB-VqvNqB3xyoXh8g/s1600-h/Pacific_Ocean.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtuomcNbKr-o8WXDR-hlXX-VhAesPyFvMWDjKQ1IW0oCxp0MFxeHh92zLGzPYLUYlPWVrd7ltYdTYd0K31PyqxPtsLFmv8x96C0jUk8bvDXeT5BatDo75IFhB-VqvNqB3xyoXh8g/s320/Pacific_Ocean.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291612013919731810" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">The Pacific Ocean off the coast of Hiwasa on Shikoku Island, Japan,<br />where we scattered Michael's ashes on April 8, 2008.</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJBv0X5RJkBX6XpWASFmhc5ReMqPA6omfUIJBBlUkKl_POklwDztKk_itg6KHgtc9z05Wxm-FVP5TrGqI5A9REJF0TLyM-vacJsyWqgu7f2UcF7bobWTpBjT21DsY7-ngdqJAiXQ/s1600-h/Hiwasa_view_of_ocean.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJBv0X5RJkBX6XpWASFmhc5ReMqPA6omfUIJBBlUkKl_POklwDztKk_itg6KHgtc9z05Wxm-FVP5TrGqI5A9REJF0TLyM-vacJsyWqgu7f2UcF7bobWTpBjT21DsY7-ngdqJAiXQ/s320/Hiwasa_view_of_ocean.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291611287376017330" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">The view of Hiwasa town and the ocean<br />from Temple 23 onthe 88-temple Shikoku pilgrimage.<br />Michael admired this view when he was here.<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZAoPyj2_kRqhhe0IS_yHc4v6RyxKh0vEoKAaCqHeuMh47GaL-XzP5TA_awrdAQUPD37yNfuXezmTzxZc1fBzGX2OT7Qifmd0tu2w2f1HkDlSTEwsIbOwN0uv2kWAArZ2jAtIrw/s1600-h/Michael_the_tiger.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZAoPyj2_kRqhhe0IS_yHc4v6RyxKh0vEoKAaCqHeuMh47GaL-XzP5TA_awrdAQUPD37yNfuXezmTzxZc1fBzGX2OT7Qifmd0tu2w2f1HkDlSTEwsIbOwN0uv2kWAArZ2jAtIrw/s320/Michael_the_tiger.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291610230475310818" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Michael was born in the Year of the Tiger.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">There was a tiger for him at Temple 23.</span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOefjC_C_a5U6e-s2Rf1d6A81jnOExNCzA9EubTMk8jQ4AfhftNqn8tHGr8MIOIMXQ4S8u2hJz3Hg_fsENl3MURfWNDKZr2TyNOhbXsn68u1NPfjO2-BR3yJqEMOYMjffsDsvX1w/s1600-h/The_staircase.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOefjC_C_a5U6e-s2Rf1d6A81jnOExNCzA9EubTMk8jQ4AfhftNqn8tHGr8MIOIMXQ4S8u2hJz3Hg_fsENl3MURfWNDKZr2TyNOhbXsn68u1NPfjO2-BR3yJqEMOYMjffsDsvX1w/s320/The_staircase.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291610082034714242" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">This is the same stairway as the one Michael photographed</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">on his 1997 visit to this temple as a pilgrim.</span><br /></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-25071763208024452712008-07-24T13:30:00.001-04:002008-07-24T13:35:10.925-04:00Message in a BottleIf you are reading this blog and would like to make a comment, please know that your comment will be read and posted.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-47189754908085549652008-02-28T12:16:00.002-05:002008-02-28T12:36:23.732-05:00Farewell<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMceKD3KkDiY60a20yx6r4TXANedLcZYjScISKzqFNO0nVleGyDoVm-3HX14YQz2gim3zyvotUXpBGZH-TnILKC_PRz-28TJFyG79uG7J3tKRvvFaVZGMLhf6i8kgCMayCS3Y1Tg/s1600-h/clip_image002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMceKD3KkDiY60a20yx6r4TXANedLcZYjScISKzqFNO0nVleGyDoVm-3HX14YQz2gim3zyvotUXpBGZH-TnILKC_PRz-28TJFyG79uG7J3tKRvvFaVZGMLhf6i8kgCMayCS3Y1Tg/s320/clip_image002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172082357381971906" border="0" /></a><br /><p class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><b><i><span style=";font-family:";font-size:10;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><b><i><span style=";font-family:";font-size:14;" >Going on a journey<br />leaving behind everything<br />even myself<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-11985173957650546692008-02-28T11:31:00.001-05:002008-02-28T12:32:15.525-05:00daiku<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /></span></b><b><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style=";font-family:";" >by <span style="color:black;">Lauren Singer</span><b><span style="color:black;"><u>*</u></span></b><br /><br />i am learning that you were stronger<br />than you ever told any of us.<br />that what you couldn't say with your sparing voice<br />you screamed with your fingers.<br />that you were wiser in your modesty,<br />in your hesitance, in your truths and muted angers.<br />that you touched people you never knew,<br />that you touched all of those you did,<br />and asked for nothing.<br /><br />i am learning that fear is braver than acceptance,<br />that saying nothing in earnest is more profound than empty offerings.<br />that healing doesn't mean getting used to it<br />and that moving on does not mean letting go.<br /><br />i am learning that grown men still play with toys,<br />and that you were no exception.<br />that six year old boys<br />would have been jealous of your action figure collections,<br />and that teapots and ceramic cats could mean more to me<br />than diamonds and new cars.<br /><br />i am learning that you were more perceptive than you let on,<br />and that you lived inside your head;<br />created a masterpiece there.<br />that your books were your life partners,<br />and your camera was your mistress.<br />that not all pictures speak a thousand words,<br />but that yours could break a thousand hearts.<br /><br />i am learning that you lived more than most of us will understand,<br />that you taught more than you could possibly have realized.<br />and that you spoke less than you acted.<br />that those who knew you as a good man,<br />now realize you were exceptional.<br /><br />i am learning that you loved beer as much as sake,<br />ground beef as much as miso soup.<br />that you inspired us to be forthcoming and adventurous with our ideas,<br />and judged no one based on their inhibitions.<br />that you were forgiving, humble, and tactful<br />as much as you were intent on speaking your mind.<br />that you are as much a part of me<br />as you are a part of the great sky.<br /><br />i am learning that you are never really gone<br />because you remain as you lived; everywhere in each of us.<br />that you are japan, st. marks, london, teaneck, freeport and philadelphia;<br />and every other place that you were moved, or moved someone else.<br />that winning the battle does not mean surviving,<br />but being survived with so much admiration.<br /><br />and i am learning what you taught me:<br />that if you go fishing<br />you catch fish.<br /><br />and you did, too.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:13;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText">*Michael’s niece</p>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-65762097190770525702008-02-28T11:09:00.002-05:002008-02-28T12:33:27.362-05:00Thinking about my brother<p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="">Thinking about my brother Michael’s life, I am reminded of the book, <i style="">Man’s Search for Meaning</i> by Viktor Frankl. Frankl, an <st1:place st="on"><span style="">Auschwitz</span></st1:place> survivor and psychotherapist, believed unconditionally in the meaning of life and he described three ways in which this meaning could be realized.</span><span style="font-family:Times;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="">The first way is by accomplishing or creating something. Michael’s creativity blossomed over the last two years of his life and stayed with him until his final days. His unique vision could turn a photograph of a washing machine into a work of art and a subject for poetry. Wherever he happened to be – in Japan, suburban New Jersey, or New York’s East Village – he paid attention to things most people would pass by and showed they were worthy of notice. Above all, he was in search of the authentic – in the world and in himself. In photographing people, Michael captured their essence. He approached his subjects humbly, without artifice, and they responded by revealing their inner natures. In his blog, Michael revealed himself in the same way and touched readers all over the world. Michael had to stop taking pictures when his cameras became too heavy for him, but he continued writing until the night before he moved to the hospice. His last blog entry was the moving poem “Fatigue” in which he said “I see the steady progress of death…But, blessing of blessings I can still feel the life spark.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="">The second way of finding meaning in life is by appreciating something – a work of nature or culture or a person. Back in 2005, Michael said, “<span style="color:black;">Sometimes, I look upon this disease as a blessing because it has forced me to appreciate things in my life I used to take for granted. Simple things. I still take these things – time, friends, the physical ability to pursue my livelihood, interests and hobbies – for granted. But now, I often catch myself in the act, slow down a bit, and appreciate more. I see the joy in just being able to enjoy a cup of tea. Or having an especially rewarding workout in karate class. Or not feeling guilty about doing absolutely nothing on a Saturday afternoon.” Toward the end of his life, Michael wasn’t taking anything for granted, but what he appreciated above all were love and compassion.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="">The third way of finding meaning in life is through suffering. Frankl says that when a person is confronted with a terrible fate that cannot be changed, just then, he is given a last chance to actualize the highest value, to fulfill the deepest meaning, the meaning of suffering. The way in which he accepts his fate, the courage he shows, the dignity he displays, is the measure of his human fulfillment. I was with Michael when his doctor told him there was no more that medical science could do for him. Afterwards we went to lunch in a favorite Japanese restaurant where Michael ordered his usual soba noodles. We didn’t talk much. We drank tea. That night, Michael wrote a powerful blog entry. He said, “I need to live this, and to know that I'm living it. I need to be aware. This is important.” The attitude Michael took towards his suffering – his acceptance, courage, and dignity – inspired everyone who came into contact with him. Even those who knew him only in his final days were stirred by his spirit.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="">Michael’s life was rich with meaning and in living his life the way he did, he taught us all a lot about the meaning of our own lives. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="">I’d like to close with one of Michael’s poems. It’s called “Reminder to myself.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><b><i><span style="">Living life to its fullest</span></i></b><span style=""> <b><i>isn't about<br />checking off thrills from a list;<br />It's about being fearless in following my dreams,<br />courageous in accepting<br />that some will go unfulfilled<br />and taking the time</i></b> <b><i>to savor</i></b> <b><i><br />something as</i></b> <b><i>simple</i></b> <b><i><br />as a cup</i></b><br /><b><i>of tea</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-74024159617883341892008-02-28T10:40:00.012-05:002008-02-28T12:45:28.054-05:00Beyond words<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBx5_i1JdrYB_wBY9cTcgkjKSG0Fe0BFsp8WRq7hnQ9ObCwDwvXtO_Aj9MkmGqwhgjR5axWH5EeFshoFvqZP-eXnY1WGqnpAiJWTHcbnNPEkKT7sPCoXfX0ZFG_LUJvML5oihVg/s1600-h/fromDSC_0358.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicBx5_i1JdrYB_wBY9cTcgkjKSG0Fe0BFsp8WRq7hnQ9ObCwDwvXtO_Aj9MkmGqwhgjR5axWH5EeFshoFvqZP-eXnY1WGqnpAiJWTHcbnNPEkKT7sPCoXfX0ZFG_LUJvML5oihVg/s320/fromDSC_0358.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172062918359990194" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9EjCNXAwO_MpeOT_ollqiu2gWy7FR8c-pLP-53YhKwRFXtzK5dImsviyBhlcX_HrIMBgqiWgGc4Zb31k8AM2Qycvn8JNqBlAi6UasDyaGL9iaQsSAvKtllC7u1-DWRC7ygkUoRQ/s1600-h/fromDSC_0382_1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9EjCNXAwO_MpeOT_ollqiu2gWy7FR8c-pLP-53YhKwRFXtzK5dImsviyBhlcX_HrIMBgqiWgGc4Zb31k8AM2Qycvn8JNqBlAi6UasDyaGL9iaQsSAvKtllC7u1-DWRC7ygkUoRQ/s320/fromDSC_0382_1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172062381489078178" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQ6sZmFUL3AoPL7r5lNvi2KG3YBDvAbnH-kPCMjhTcKeXrnAHB2qYWiiRa9RO83tnnFbGUzQb6xywdqYZD13zT_ImFKNlWjDhUsZCAYjhYVQSVGVmHcx8MZlce62WzE47eYLAdQ/s1600-h/fromDSC_0385.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQ6sZmFUL3AoPL7r5lNvi2KG3YBDvAbnH-kPCMjhTcKeXrnAHB2qYWiiRa9RO83tnnFbGUzQb6xywdqYZD13zT_ImFKNlWjDhUsZCAYjhYVQSVGVmHcx8MZlce62WzE47eYLAdQ/s320/fromDSC_0385.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172062158150778770" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-Ta4Xpq2M6CzNUya-fVZ3vtaL1Kr4pamHICHNRYPS1LaHE9_pfiJ-ndAWp7RpNjWkgfsRbgxl1e50kMX_IFh-P0OPpb1mqNHjjVfgtYjCNhUml8XBUpdiBl_DElgrRadop-yDQ/s1600-h/fromDSC_0421.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii-Ta4Xpq2M6CzNUya-fVZ3vtaL1Kr4pamHICHNRYPS1LaHE9_pfiJ-ndAWp7RpNjWkgfsRbgxl1e50kMX_IFh-P0OPpb1mqNHjjVfgtYjCNhUml8XBUpdiBl_DElgrRadop-yDQ/s320/fromDSC_0421.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172061956287315842" border="0" /></a>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-77086797566371069372008-02-28T10:33:00.004-05:002008-02-28T12:40:42.660-05:00Thank YouThank you to everyone who has sent messages of love and compassion for Michael and his family. Your thoughts have been a great comfort to us.<br /><br />On February 23 we held a memorial service for Michael to celebrate his life. Family, friends, and colleagues gathered to share their thoughts about Michael. Buddhist chants, music, photographs, and karate conveyed those things beyond words.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-51720689225256436722008-02-06T22:37:00.000-05:002008-02-06T22:39:15.792-05:00March 23, 1962-January 15, 2008<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwLGY06Mk46BqvZ8ZDzGwOfIMg3t6YFb8PPN61_duOX1P17NCpF_w-XYmirvbJ07iBAqljmGLr6a3Jq-Ecelrz4WU0heC7ls9-ctIQ1-aWt_F80DhTT8miVlr1O-a7lRlrU88RA/s1600-h/MRT.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwLGY06Mk46BqvZ8ZDzGwOfIMg3t6YFb8PPN61_duOX1P17NCpF_w-XYmirvbJ07iBAqljmGLr6a3Jq-Ecelrz4WU0heC7ls9-ctIQ1-aWt_F80DhTT8miVlr1O-a7lRlrU88RA/s320/MRT.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164077686930742098" border="0" /></a><br /> <p class="MsoBodyText">My brother Michael passed away on January 15, surrounded by his family. Though his decline after Thanksgiving was precipitous, his life spark glowed until his final moment. He continued to work until Christmas eve. Christmas day, which he spent with my husband, myself, and my husband’s family, was probably his last good day. We worked with him on making all sorts of necessary arrangements, including finding a good home for his two cats. One of the most harrowing days was December 31, when we struggled and finally succeeded in getting him a prescription for the painkiller he needed. Beginning on January 1 until the end, we were with him virtually 24 hours a day. On January 2, with immense effort, he went to the office of the newspaper where he had worked these past nine years. Confined to a wheelchair, he said goodbye to his awed colleagues. He had told us he couldn't just disappear without a word. We got him home hospice care in his apartment on January 3rd. That was the day Michael wrote the poem “Fatigue” and posted it to his blog.</p> <p class="MsoBodyText">By January 5, it was clear that Michael needed 24-hour care in a residential hospice. We moved him to the in-patient unit that night, but not before he had his Jukai ceremony, which had been planned for the coming Sunday. Jukai signifies a serious commitment to Zen Buddhism, to the main precepts of Buddhism and to the salvation of all beings. Michael could scarcely lift his head, but he was determined to fulfill this commitment. The priest, friends from his meditation group, and I crowded around his bed. Michael's Dharma name Daiku, which he was given that day, means Great Sky.</p> <p class="MsoBodyText">Michael wanted to be aware and in his "right mind" until the end. By an amazing force of will, he achieved that objective too. It was only in his last two days that the drugs got the better of him and he slipped into another reality. The hospice care was amazing and inspiring. Caring for Michael through his last days was one of the most profoundly meaningful experiences of my life. But I was far from the only one he touched. Literally hundreds of people were inspired by his spirit, including many who knew him only a brief while. </p> <p class="MsoBodyText">While he lay dying, the newspaper mounted an exhibit of Michael's photography. The last really happy moment he had was the Thursday before he died. My husband and I went to the opening reception for the exhibit. Along with the photos, there was a beautiful picture of Michael on a huge piece of paper where his colleagues wrote their comments about his work. We brought it back to Michael and he positively glowed when he read it.</p> <p class="MsoBodyText">It was Michael's wish to be cremated. My husband, I, and Michael's Buddhist priest participated in a simple and beautiful service at the cemetery before the cremation. The rest of the immediate family and many friends participated from their individual homes or wherever they happened to be. Sometime in the spring, my husband and I will be going to <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Japan</st1:country-region></st1:place> to scatter Michael’s ashes according to his wishes.</p>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-10881983788299341562008-02-06T22:34:00.000-05:002008-02-06T22:36:25.204-05:00Daiku<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVpr81OTQrBlBDMbQAhnNS8B6ZJMKGOYgUPZNCGO2PuDrWjk6kMYNtwNWrgnEhangXSY6oruEfrREO7NzL1MW6mnrnaiyKHL2ZWh83rv3kFlQev3BHX7ivh3h5g37-Z9bKTlbrQ/s1600-h/Daiku4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVpr81OTQrBlBDMbQAhnNS8B6ZJMKGOYgUPZNCGO2PuDrWjk6kMYNtwNWrgnEhangXSY6oruEfrREO7NzL1MW6mnrnaiyKHL2ZWh83rv3kFlQev3BHX7ivh3h5g37-Z9bKTlbrQ/s320/Daiku4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164076978261138242" border="0" /></a><br /> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="">At his Jukai ceremony, Michael’s Sensei gave him a card inscribed with his Dharma name, Daiku, and this poem: <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="">Do not cling to<br />This small mind,<br />This bag of skin.<br /><br />Open to the great sky<br />Where there is no birth<br />and there is no death.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">During the Jukai ceremony we all chanted the Gatha Of Atonement:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="">All evil karma ever committed by me since of old<br />On account of my beginningless greed, anger and ignorance<br />Born of my body, speech and consciousness<br />Now I atone for it all.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0.5in 0.0001pt 0.25in;"><span style="">We have now atoned for all evil we have ever done, ever spoken or everintended. Through atonement, we are at one with all that exists and we simultaneously forgive all those who have ever harmed us by action, by speechor by intention. We travel forth pure in body, speech and mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="">This chant carried great weight for Michael. And when he saw the pictures taken after the Jukai ceremony, he said, “Those pictures show every good and evil thing I have ever done in my life.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:10;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-45864206652180644412008-01-03T22:57:00.000-05:002008-01-03T23:07:44.939-05:00Fatigue<div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;">Looking in my bathroom mirror<br />I see the steady progress of death<br />as he moves like an eclipse<br />across my face<br /><br />My skin grows more taut<br />my beard is shot through with gray<br />my eyes are increasingly bloodshot<br />I can't recognize this person staring back at me --<br />in fact<br />this stranger is scaring me<br /><br />My physical weakness astounds me<br />my arms don't listen anymore<br />my sense of balance has forsaken me<br /><br />But, blessing of blessings<br />I can still feel the life spark<br />I can still feel the life spark<br /><br /><br /></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-73770042564595055662007-12-29T22:15:00.000-05:002007-12-29T22:29:51.265-05:00ProgressWhat an extremely difficult, draining night.<br /><br />I had a great chat with one of my bosses at a diner before he began his shift at the paper this afternoon. I had some Buddhist statuary and a few books I wanted to give him. I also wanted to express in person what a pleasure and privilege it has been to work with him for the better part of a decade.<br /><br />Then I stopped at the paper for a brief visit to say goodbye to colleagues who work irregular schedules or only on weekends. Toward the end of the visit I was overcome by weakness and lightheadedness. What made it scary was the complete sense of helplessness that coursed through me. I met a friend for pancakes and bacon, of which I ate practically nothing.<br /><br />When my father's 95-year-old sister lay dying a few years ago, her mental faculties were stunningly sharp. My mother remarked, though, that she seemed to be floating between worlds, that she was aware of but not absorbed in the circumstances of this one. She was waiting to let go.<br />And that's precisely how I felt tonight.<br /><br />My cats are being given a new home tomorrow.<br />Things are moving along.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-57932789146682352372007-12-28T23:46:00.000-05:002007-12-29T00:01:25.449-05:00The RajI dozed off this evening while watching a beautiful documentary on India on public television.<br />As the show delved deeper into India's enduring British legacy, my eyes began to grow heavy.<br /><br />As I lay floating between the dream world and the real one, India was turned into a metaphor for my life in the sort of magical transformation that can occur only while between those two worlds.<br />As long as I could keep from falling asleep, my dream narration told me, I would live forever, enjoying all the riches and pleasure deriving from this wonderful jewel in my metaphysical crown.<br /><br />My shock and disappointment were great when I discovered a few minutes ago that I had awoken from a dream.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-9135254710447999612007-12-28T13:31:00.000-05:002007-12-28T16:49:48.022-05:00Untitled<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">In younger days</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">I created </span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">a rite of passage --</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">a silver-dollar-size tattoo</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">on my left bicep</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">of the Chinese ideogram</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">for "double happiness"<br /><br />Done in reds and greens<br />it now looks like a rheumy eye<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">How silly it appears<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">on my toothpick arm</span></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-47605217919723593692007-12-28T12:42:00.000-05:002007-12-28T13:21:59.744-05:00LoveI had the best Christmas I've had in years thanks to the hospitality of my brother-in-law's cousin and his wife, two of the most compassionate and warmhearted people I've had the pleasure of knowing.<br /><br />About nine of us -- an assortment of siblings, extended family and their children, and friends -- gathered for a Christmas dinner that soothed the stomach and the soul.<br /><br />I cherished the long talk I had with the host. He's an emergency medical technician who has restored life and hope to people in the most desperate of situations. And as a result of his past health issues, he has come face to face with death on three life-changing occasions. We related to each other that evening in a way that transcended words.<br /><br />Life pretty much boils down to love, we concluded. Love, and compassion.<br /><br />***<br /><br />The Oxycodone I was prescribed is working with just mixed success now, and this after less than a week. Under a new strategy, it seems I'll soon be taking OxyContin twice a day, with Percocet interspersed as needed to deal with "breakthrough pain," as the nurse calls it.<br /><br />I feel myself getting weaker, but I'm trying to continue as many elements of my regular routine so as to keep my spirits up. A lot of the time, the simple task of sitting down at the computer to add to this blog seems insurmountable.<br />But then, I'm typing now, so ...<br /><br />I'm turning in my disability paperwork today, thus making pretty much official my decision to leave work -- not that this decision is a surprise to anyone. But turning in the forms is a big psychological step.<br /><br />I'm enjoying a cup of my favorite green tea as I type this. I haven't had this tea, one of my life's true simple pleasures, in a week or more.<br />I had forgotten just how good it is.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19108210.post-47905765502499611542007-12-25T11:23:00.000-05:002007-12-25T12:17:18.461-05:00Merry Christmas!Happy holidays to all of you who mark them!<br /><br />The Oxycodone pills allowed me to sleep last night, though they leave me a little unsteady on my feet. It was a gift, though, to be relatively pain free.<br /><br />I left work last night after just two hours, unable to find a comfortable sitting position. In the end, the discomfort in my legs won out.<br />I was supposed to work today, but I just don't feel up to it.<br />In calling in sick today, I told my supervisor of my doubts that I'll be able to return to work. He has been incredibly supportive of me during my health struggles, as has everyone at the newspaper, The Record of Hackensack, N.J.<br />I'm very proud and grateful to have spent nearly nine years of my life at that paper. I have learned much there and have grown immeasurably, personally and professionally. It has been the best job I've ever had, and the people I've worked with have made it thus.<br />Two of my best friends, who just happen to be Record colleagues, have eased my burden tremendously by offering to do my laundry and hiring someone to clean my apartment.<br /><br />My family and friends couldn't possibly be doing more for me, and this is so humbling that it's impossible for me to put into words. Any expression of gratitude on my part seems so inadequate.<br /><br />I'm the first to admit that I can be a very difficult person to deal with. I can be stubborn, sanctimonious, arrogant, unfairly critical and judgmental, hypocritical, and a host of other things. I've alienated people at work and in my personal life because of these traits. But, in spite of that, to still be the recipient of such kindness ...<br /><br />In a beautiful confluence of circumstances, all this is happening during the holidays. I can't think of anything that embodies the spirit of the season so purely and so well as this soothing stream of support that is washing over me.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15133620064728357184noreply@blogger.com11