(In honour of Thanksgiving.)
that I was a child before helmets and helicopters
Internet radio
brown rice
pinto beans
cats
dogs
all the music
that this world happened after I had twenty years of enlightenment practice under my belt
this beautiful, teeming, engrossing, unknowable planet
dancing Muppets
(Photo courtesy of Samuel Stone and Pixabay.com.)
Since many readers of this blog are engaged in creative endeavours, on this day of American Thanksgiving, I'd like to share a Canadian thing for which I'm grateful.
I've listened to Terry O'Reilly, a Canadian adman who's made several excellent CBC Radio One series on the art and history of marketing, for just short of 20 years. When his current project debuted simultaneously as a podcast, it proved so successful that he and his family (in a classic Canadian turn, Terry's production team contains more O'Reillys than the Dublin phone book) launched their own podcast production company to produce other worthy projects as well.
One of which Terry flacked (admen are born, not made) on his own podcast. So I gave it a spin.
It was great.
It was fresh.
It was life-changing.
We Regret To Inform You: The Rejection Podcast is required listening for anyone involved in a creative venture. In each episode, Sidney O'Reilly (daughter) unspools the tale of an iconic creator – writer, painter, filmmaker, athlete, actor, musician, anyone shopping his or her heart – and reveals how conventional wisdom treated them before they were famous.
Like Jesus Christ Superstar's 40 years in the desert, searching for a producer, any producer, to take on this massive cultural epiphany of the 70s.
Or the Temple of Doom that the guys who finally gave us Bat Out of Hell – Meatloaf's epic genre-busting rock-opera of an album – had to negotiate, and renegotiate, and abandon, and reconfront, and assault again, to get one of pop music's most thunderous masterworks into listeners' hands.
Or the 15-year odyssey, complete with Cyclops and sea monsters, that the gods sent Mad Men on before they'd (grudgingly) allow it to become a landmark of modern television.
All beloved household names, all gold standards in their domains now. Every last one sneered down, dismissed as sophomoric, laughable, unsaleable, boring, tragically lame.
Over and over and over.
Till the day they redefined art.
As a writer, Regret populates my solitude and refuels my soul. The main movement of each episode, in which Sidney recounts in full numbing splendour all the obstacles these people had to overcome to reach the summit, is skeletal support for those of us in the foothills. When we've relived this ordeal, and are basking vicariously in the subject's earned glory, Terry steps in to deliver a pithy, potent epilogue, summing up what we've learned, and ending on the show's simple – but in that moment, roaring – catch phrase:
"Never – ever – give up."
I've teared up more than once.
Finally, as the theme music rises, we get an envoi: a synthesised voice lists the winding litany of triumphs, awards, firsts, and fortunes amassed by this pathetic geek whom no-one is ever going to take seriously.
The whole experience leaves me restored, replenished, and ready to horse up again. If you too are an artist – or just a fan – I suspect it'll do the same for you.
You can hear We Regret To Inform You: The Rejection Podcast on its own website, or download it to your favourite device from iTunes/Apple Podcast or wherever fine podcasts are downloaded.
Best of luck to everyone who's building today, in this dictatorship of yesterday.
(Photo of Australian painter Tom Roberts' Rejected, in which the artist contemplates a rejected work, courtesy of the ABC and Wikimedia Commons.)
"Gratitude to squelch my anger, and tenacity to overcome the obstacles."
Henry Winkler's recipe for success. Note that the first one is bodhisattva awareness.
(Photo of Yorkshire coble "Gratitude" ["There's Gratitude for you!"] courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and a generous photographer.)
Gratitude is power.
(Photo courtesy of Shivam Kumar and Unsplash.com.)
Planes, Trains and Automobiles (that's a sic on that missing Oxford comma, good buddy) has been an underground holiday favourite since its 1987 release, owing to the high profile of its two protagonists (the supernaturally-gifted John Candy and Steve Martin) and their electric performance of a brilliant script. But often uncommented is the fact that it's also a classic work of Zen cinema.
Bear with me, here.
To begin with, Planes is about people travelling together, and since we invented the road movie, that all by itself makes it to some degree ours.
But it's not just that; this particular road movie really is a Zen teaching, for those who are present to it.
If you've yet to see Planes – and why the hell are you reading this, go watch it right now! – the premise is as straightforward as any old Ch'an tale: two guys battle their way upstream against the holiday crush, striving to make it home for Thanksgiving.
We've all been there. But with any good luck, the crush we dealt with was less… crushing… than theirs.
What unfolds next is both superbly funny and positively Bashōesque. The film's title encapsulates the spectrum of means and methods they're obliged to attempt, if not (at all) its full breadth. I'd expect such an odyssey to burn off at least 5,000 lives of karma if it happened in real life.
With due diligence on spoilers, as the plot twists and turns, director John Hughes takes our heroes closer and closer to earth, while with each drop they cover less and less ground. And if you watch closely, you'll note that the lower and slower they go – the less "progress" they make – the happier they become.
And that's just the obvious part. Other critics have pointed out how Hughes carefully balanced the two main characters so they'd remain comedic archetypes without becoming cartoon characters. They do dumb things, but they're not idiots. They do selfish things, but they're not jerks. They do deceptive things, but they're not con artists. In short, they're ordinary human beings, if somewhat stereotypical ones, facing an ordinary conundrum.
This too reminds me of our ancient teaching literature, in which villains are seldom encountered. Zenners tend to prefer insight and concordance to overpowering and overcoming. And when we apply our training faithfully, we tend to find ourselves in our adversaries.
I can't describe the climactic scene without letting the cat out of the bag, but when you see it, or see it again, note how the active figure in that moment travels, and how fast. When satori hits, how does he respond, physically?
In sum, Planes, Trains and Automobiles is essentially Enlightenment Guaranteed before the fact, if a little less on the nose and a little more Christmas-friendly. It's also a classic Hollywood comedy the whole family can enjoy.
So if you (or your family) prefer, you can keep all the Zen crap to yourself.
Happy holidays to all and sundry, and good watching.
"All you single people who think you'd be happy if you were married, ask a married person.
"All you married people who think you'd be happy if you were single, ask a single person."
Ajahn Brahm
("Korean thanksgiving day night [Fractal art]" courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and a generous photographer.)
Here we are at the holidays again, for some reason, which means that many of us will soon confront daunting quantities of leftover turkey. (Not so fast, vegans. Keep reading.)
You know who the all-time leftover turkey champions are? The Aztecs. Which is no great surprise when you figure they invented turkeys.
So this year I thought I'd share one of my favourite recipes. Its lineage goes straight back to the First Nations of Mexico, and uncoincidentally it's one of the best leftover turkey dishes ever devised. This stew is in fact so good you may find yourself unenthusiastically masticating that first-run serving, unfavourably comparing its drab, insipid presentation to the feast you will soon make from its scraps.
And the awesomeness of Mexican Hominy Stew doesn't stop there. Because this is mom's-kitchen fare, you can make it with just about any meat, or even (here it comes, vegans) no meat at all. (See after-recipe comments for Quick and Deadly Vegan Hack.) In fact, most ingredients can be swapped and subbed as necessary, resulting in full-spectrum dining dominance for this delicious comfort food.
MEXICAN HOMINY STEW
For 6:
2 rashers of bacon
1 good nopal, sliced (substitutes: chopped green bell pepper or cabbage; whole green beans; sliced celery; cubed pumpkin)
1 medium-sized yellow onion, sliced in wedges
1 fresh or jarred jalapeño, chopped well
2 cloves of garlic, crushed
two 16-ounce cans of diced tomatoes, or equivalent fresh, chopped
1 16-ounce can of hominy, drained (substitute: sweet corn or diced potatoes)
1 quart of chicken or vegetable stock
2 teaspoons of ground cumin
1 drop of liquid smoke, optional
1/2 teaspoon of thyme
1 large bay leaf
1 dried pepper, roasted (substitutes: 1 tablespoon smoked paprika, or ordinary paprika, toasted)
tomato juice or water
2 cups of roasted turkey, shredded (substitutes: cooked chicken, pork, beef, lamb, mutton, goat, sausage, hamburger; raw meaty white fish or shellfish; cooked beans)
lime juice
1/3 cup culantro, chopped (substitutes: cilantro, Italian parsley, celery leaves)
optional: queso Cotija, crumbled
1. Toast the dried pepper over medium heat in a dry skillet, turning frequently, till dark and crisp. Remove it from the pan and set it aside to cool. (Pepper will crisp even more as it cools.)
2. Medium-fry the bacon in a Dutch oven or similar. Remove, chop coarsely, and set aside. Pour the fat out of the pan.
3. In the residual fat left in the bottom of the pan, toss the onion wedges, crushed garlic, jalapeño, nopal, and cumin until the onion begins to turn translucent, about 5 minutes.
4. Add the thyme, bay leaf, tomatoes, hominy, liquid smoke, and stock. If adding soaked but uncooked beans, add them here as well.
5. Crush the roasted pepper as thoroughly as possible and add. (Shake out seeds first if desired.)
6. Add enough tomato juice or water to achieve stew-friendly liquidity.
7. Cover, bring to a boil, and reduce to simmer. Cook until the vegetables (and any soaked beans) become tender, about 30-40 minutes.
8. Add the turkey, bacon, and cilantro and cook till just heated through.
9. Sprinkle with lime juice, ladle into bowls, and crumble queso Cotija on top if desired.
Serve with hermit bread or sourdough corn bread (recipe pending).
NOTES:
- Quick and Deadly Vegan Hack: 1) sauté onion and nopalitos in a film of olive oil; 2) use vegetable stock instead of chicken; 3) replace meat with beans (black are especially good). So conventionally delicious you can serve it to meat-eaters and they'll never know it's vegan.
- If you let this stew sit for a day or two in the refrigerator before reheating and serving, it tastes even better. (Gives the flavours more time to mingle.)
- Don't overcook the meat after adding it; bacon in particular quickly turns to tofu if simmered too long.
- The recipe above is to my taste, which means it's pretty lively. I back off on the peppers when serving guests. In any case, know your dried peppers; some are hotter than others. Back off a bit when adding fish or shellfish, too; too much vegetable fire overwhelms seafood.
- Toast paprika by tossing it in a hot, dry skillet till dark.
- Cilantro is a chemically complex herb that tastes like soap to some DNA profiles. Unless you know that guests are in a non-soap population, it's best to avoid serving cilantro.
- Omit the cumin, thyme, liquid smoke, lime, and cheese – the peripherals, what – and you got the exact same recipe the Aztecs ate. Tell me that ain't awesome.
Roasting the pepper
I collect Authentic Christian Pop artists, that is, devout Christians whose lyrics centre on practical application of Christ's values, rather than skin-deep commercials. They're damn thin (so to speak) on the ground, but every one I've found so far is brilliant. Inspired by fundamental truth, their work has universal appeal, and practitioners of this tiny genre work mindfully to keep it that way. Is it an effective strategy? Well, Zen Buddhist hermits love their stuff. So you tell me.
Jon Troast is a great example. Check out, by way of appropriate Thanksgiving meditation, his Was It Ever Really Mine:
This charming footage was shot at one of Jon's famous living room concerts. (He travels the US, Bashō-like, and performs for any private citizen who comes up with the pittance he charges. Yes, I'm serious: book him here.) The sound quality suffers from impromptu technology, but the album cut is crystal-clear and professionally mixed and can be streamed in the "Launch Music" device in the upper left corner of his website. Alternatively, you can GET THE ENTIRE ALBUM FREE simply by joining Jon's email list. (A $10 US value, by the way.) I have no idea how this guy stays in business, or why he's not on the charts, but perhaps we can contribute to both.
One way or another, it's one more thing to be thankful for.
WAS IT EVER REALLY MINE
By Jon Troast
I brought a dollar to the store today
Wanted to buy something new
I put the dollar in my front pocket
And brought it back home to you
‘Cause I don’t want to buy what I don’t need
And I don’t want to own what I can’t keep
And if I’m gonna have to leave it all behind
Was it ever really mine?
I made a dollar at my job today
I show up every week
I guess I really didn’t make it
They gave it to me
‘Cause I don’t want to buy what I don’t need
And I don’t want to own what I can’t keep
And if I’m gonna have to leave it all behind
Was it ever really mine?
There are mansions waiting in the sky
Where the rivers run but never run dry
There are highways of gold, room for this soul
I don’t think Jesus would lie
I put a dollar in the mail today
I hope it gets there in time
They look so hungry on my TV
I hope they’ll be alright
‘Cause the store’s full of things that I don’t need
And the world’s full of mouths that I can’t feed
And if I’m gonna have to leave it all behind
Was it ever really mine?
And I don’t want to buy what I don’t need
And I don’t want to own what I can’t keep
And if I’m gonna have to leave it all behind
Was it ever really mine?
This week I'm seconding a motion by The Oatmeal's Matthew Inman to see Columbus Day repurposed as Bartolomé de las Casas Day. Las Casas, originally a conquistador, repented of his horrific sins, became a Dominican friar, and evangelised Mesoamerican First Nations during the period of contact. Unfortunately for Power, he turned out to be a Christian Claude Anshin Thomas, decrying the mind-numbing brutality and utter lack of respect for human life that characterised the European invasion of the Americas. Worse yet he documented them, first in Brevísima relación de la destrucción de las Indias (also available in English) and then the more comprehensive Historia de Las Indias.
In the sordid history of colonialism, Las Casas stands out as one of the few Christians who practiced what he preached. (Literally.) He's a favourite of mine because he experienced (and again, documented) personal spiritual growth over his lifetime; convictions he adopted early on – such as supporting the African slave trade by way of avoiding the enslavement of his own flock – he soundly and publicly rejected after further meditation. I've found that this capacity to delve and change, even if it means admitting transgression, is the highest morality, and those who practice it are the most trustworthy of people.
Rather than repeat Matthew's case here, I'll just link to his own excellent and highly readable proposition. As a history nerd I can tell you that his characterisations of Christopher Columbus, the other conquistadores, and the good friar himself are historically accurate, as is his description of how Columbus Day became a thing in the United States and many Latin American countries. (Thanksgiving immunised us against it in Canada; one of the things I give thanks for on this day.)
Therefore, in emulation of Seattle and Minneapolis (though I don't much care for "Indigenous Peoples Day"; Las Casas Day is short, inclusive, and to the point), I encourage all jurisdictions to convert this holiday into a tribute to the courage and conviction of a man who stood against the tide and practiced his true religion in the face of overwhelming opposition.
May we follow in his footsteps.
(Photo of Fray Bartolomé de las Casas, by Felix Parra, courtesy of Alejandro Linares Garcia and the Museo Nacional de Arte, Mexico City.)
From too much hope of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
(Photo of a work-weary Columbia shuffling past the Astoria bridge to the Pacific, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons, Gene Daniels, and the US Environmental Protection Agency.)
