Countless Disappointments

I'm prepping for a new course I'm teaching called Buddhist American Literature. I'm reading African American Buddhist Charles Johnson. His work is incredible salve during these hard times. I'm also watching a lot of movies during this Covid time. I saw Ma Rainey's Black Bottom based on the play by August Wilson.  

After reading Johnson's story Night Hawks, I see they were friends. There was something magical about discovering this happenstance. Here is what Johnson wrote of Wilson in Night Hawks:

"How many times had his heart been broken? He could not remember the countless disappointments. Like so many writers and artists I've known, his art was anchored in lacerations and a latticework of scar tissue."

Let our sadness be a spark in the night time.

A Lit Path, 2017

Thriving While Sad

Artist at Rest, 2020

It is a new year, and I'm terribly sad. Over 350,000 people have died of Covid and the Capitol had been attacked. I am angry, sad and frustrated. A New Year is always a good way to start new things, so I'm going to sit with these feelings of malcontent. As a Buddhist, I know I can feel all of this Moment but not allow it to control me, force me to do something I may regret later. 

It's been months since I'd posted. I, like so many others, got caught up in the business of surviving. This year, I want to do more than merely survive. I want to thrive, which means, I think, leading my best life while all appears to be dismal. 

Let's try this experiment.