So, yesterday an article appeared on the front page of the Washington Post, elaborating on a worker-owned and operated dogwalking/petcare agency I launched five years ago with a friend (and left three years later, after it had grown enormously; another -- far more sordid -- story entirely). The first thing worth saying about this is that this very story was pitched to the Washington City Paper over three years ago by a local freelance journalist, and they punted it. I don't entirely dismiss their logic, there. Certainly, the perceived novelty of such a pairing of margin-dwellers as anarchists and dogwalkers inhibits (initially, anyway) conversation of any depth -- and it bares saying that the Style section's editors did a bangup job of ensuring just such a juvenile orgy (much to the chagrin of the rather earnest writer, I'm sure). To go to the trouble of publishing such a piece, above the fold of the front page, no less, only to present little more than fodder for half-witted knock-knock jokes seems a waste of everybody's time, even if it was devoured feverishly by readers.

As a supplement, I'll offer a few observations that folks can take or leave... Read more...

What I perhaps foreground least in my approach to the world is the influence I've drawn (for over half my life) from the Dhamma -- the teachings of the historical Buddha -- or what early western orientalists popularized as Buddhism.  It circulates in what seem obvious ways for me, but due to its rather shallow (and increasingly commodified) depiction in mainstream, western environments (due in no small part to the role of rather visible western practitioners), I suppose its impact on me is not always altogether apparent.  I'm not a Care Bear, I'm notoriously argumentative and critically-inclined, and demanding when it comes to principle -- all in ways that likely clash with the typical associations people have with the tradition.  And to be totally honest, often enough, they clash with what I know well to be a more skillful life, myself.  Hence, perhaps, the impulse to undertake this process in a rather visible medium, as a reminder to myself.

The Dhammapada is probably the most central and common collections of the Buddha's teachings.  The name translates as a compound of Dhamma and Pada, the former referring (depending on who you ask) to everything from "experience", to "the world as it is", to "the teaching", to "the law", and the latter referring to a footpath.  I personally like the idea of it referring to the path of what one learns from experience -- kind of a School of Hard Knocks handbook.

Why an anarchist reading of it? I don't terribly mind that my day to day practice is not altogether evident or visible, and I'm not undertaking this so as to assert my own identification with the tradition or stake my claim to what I think is its authentic "core".  Rather, I was sort of piqued by the Dharmacore blog's series on the Dhammapada, re-reading it and elaborating on its contemporary relevance.  Especially since, upon routine return to the text, I find it exceedingly pragmatic, and likely under-appreciated in its resonance with the liberatory praxis of my non-Dhamma peers.

Inversely, it seems a ripe opportunity to take some of the hot air out of the crude, establishment-liberal appropriation of what was always (to me) an evidently and thoroughly radical instruction.  Moreover, I feel increasingly that the anarchist milieu has fully lost its grip on reality in pretty striking and fundamental ways.  So, you know... Making paths by walking, and all that good stuff.  Also, during my portion of the Anarchist Economics panel at the NAASN a few months back, I alluded to certain relevant insights drawn from the Dhamma, in response to someone's mention of Giovanni Baldelli's use of an economic vocabulary of merit, in his book Social Anarchism.  It's occurred to me that the correlation (among others) is not so incidental, and perhaps warrants a more explicit exploration.

All of this said, I come at this with zero credentials or authority.  I'm just some dickhead who rides a bike, reads books, walks dogs, and thinks those who opt to exercise power over rather than exercising power with can take a flying fuck.  Thus, I suspect this'll draw fire from anarchists and buddhists, alike.  Both camps would benefit considerably from rigorous reconsideration of their respective ethical/intellectual/spiritual frameworks.  So, have at it, hoss.

A few things to keep in mind, for folks who aren't terribly familiar with the tradition:

1] The teachings the historical Buddha gave in his life were collected in what is called the Pali Canon (of which the Dhammapada is part).  Pali refers to the language in which they were codified, which is likely similar to, but not actually the language the historical Buddha is likely to have spoken.  Pali was/is a phonetic language, which is to say that it had/has no written form (when written, it's transliterated via the language of the writer).  Most people of the Buddha's time were illiterate, nothing novel here.  What is novel for the purposes of this exploration, and is in fact noted by Gayatri Spivak in the Who Sings the Nation-State? work with Judith Butler, is that Pali was a creole of Sanskrit, which was the language of the Brahmins (the ruling caste of the time).  In other words, the teachings were put to record in and more than likely given in a vernacular -- not altogether different from what one encounters in culturally distinct urban/rural environments the world over.  Which is to say: These were teachings from below, given as a challenge to the prevailing cosmology, theology, class system, etc.  Whatever dialect the historical Buddha spoke, the fact that his teachings were committed to memory in Pali is significant.

2] The teachings that comprise the Pali Canon were not written down until some 250 years after the Buddha died, prior to which they were compiled by his cousin/attendant and committed to memory by students (hence the repetition and frequent numerical organization).  It is thus commonly suggested that any reader take as granted that roughly 10% of what appears in the Pali Canon was not actually taught by the Buddha, and more likely reflects ideas inserted, manipulated, or warped over time.  This is often glossed over in the passive, as a sort of inevitability of transmission and human participation, and I've seen negligibly little attention given to what pieces of the teaching stand out as most curious or potentially inconsistent.  My experience has been, though, that a reasonable understanding of the core of the teachings (the Four Noble Truths, etc) draws into rather obvious relief a good deal of what's been tacked on since the Buddha's death.  Moreover, a realistic consideration of political and economic realities over the early history of the tradition offers considerable illumination, as well.  For instance, when a given king was more favorable to Hindu teachings, the Buddha's descendants would often incorporate Hindu teachings so as to retain financial and material patronage from the monarchy, etc.  Both Walpola Rahula and Trevor Ling have written rather interestingly on this topic (as well as others).

3] The Buddha was quite clear about the primacy of direct experience, what those of us of an antiauthoritarian orientation call self-determination. I'll likely go deeper with this, later.  But for now I think it's quite crucial to understand that he was effectively re-setting the discursive boundaries of the time, and rejecting outright the power wielded by clerics, etc. by way of opaque beliefs in things one could not independently confirm.  In fact, he actively encouraged people to abandon even his own teachings, if they did not prove liberatory.  A good primary source on this is the Kalama Sutta.  It's conspicuous that his final teachings (literally, from his deathbed) included an insistence on consensus democracy within the monastic order, and the instruction:  "Be islands unto yourselves, refuges unto yourselves, seeking no external refuge; with the Dhamma as your island, the Dhamma as your refuge, seeking no other refuge." (from the Paranibbana Sutta)  No gods, no masters.  FTW.

So, with that, I'll take the text a few verses at a time, and attempt to comment thoughtfully.  I'll try to do this weekly, but we'll see.  I should also be clear that I'm working from Gil Fronsdal's translation, primarily because he's regarded as something of a scholar in the Pali language, but also because he's gone to the trouble of contesting the gender biases that the text has been saddled with for much of its history.  Here goes nothin'.

I've often mocked people for moving to the Bay Area, "Where radicals go to die" usually being the tagline I've condescendingly (and affectionately) given it.  I can't lie:  Coming from the east coast, where both climates and mere day to day life seem far less forgiving, it's not terribly difficult to hurl declarations of humane-to-the-point-of-absurdity at things like "Acupuncture Happy Hour" -- which, in fact, happened within my first 24hrs on the ground last weekend (no, I didn't attend).  There's the sense -- admittedly totally misguided and hyperbolic -- that there's little to no transformative work left for anyone to do in such a place.  And the residuals of the myriad social movements anchored there over the years are certainly compelling enough.  Who doesn't dream of waking up to a world even modestly less soul-crushing?  None of it really changes the fact that the landscape has always seemed prohibitively unchallenging (or something), to me.  Probably cause I have no idea what I'm talking about.

But, if anyone reading this can stomach the rich hypocrisy, I can see why i would want to live there.  

For starters, the soyrizo and refried black bean burrito I stealthily stuffed into my face during my home-bound takeoff quite possibly ranks among the top ten things that've ever found their way into my mouth.  And the soy cappucino at Blue Bottle that I settled on after finding out the halogen syphon gets turned off at 3pm was far and away the best I've ever had.  The Mission's murals, the mix of old Victorian and old industrial, the overall scale, the wanton cultural cross-pollination -- it's all very sane-making.  Which is frankly something of a priority for me at the moment, regardless of my fluctuating attitudes toward organizing.  Not sure whether to chalk that up to age, and the fact that the resilience of both my body and psyche are not what they once were -- or simply that this year has kicked the living shit out of me.

And that was apparent in my performance at Saturday night's Institute for Anarchist Studies panel, rather sadly.  To those left scratching their heads at why I was, at best, curiously emphatic, I hope you can accept my apologies.  I've not yet had opportunity to review the video, but it's safe to say that I was channeling more than a useful helping of anger, much to my (now) embarrassment.  You win some, you lose some.  Between me and despair/frustration, I lost that one.  Life goes on.