Good Teisho: Tim Minchin's 9 Life Lessons

"Arts degrees are awesome. They help you find meaning where there is none. And let me assure you, there is none."

So says Tim Minchin, yet another on that long list of my personal heroes, at the top of a brilliant 2013 keynote speech to his alma mater.

And it stays that good. Every line of this 12-minute teisho (the last six being his honorary doctorate ceremony) is Zen-grade insight. Meditate on them. I hope in particular that some will consider his musings on the relative value of science in human striving. (Spoiler: it's not sovereign.)

Props to the University of Western Australia for displaying bold vision and impeccable taste in its conferral of honours.

And also to me, for having the discipline to avoid posting every sentence of Tim's brief comments, and so demonstrating the faith and generosity to let you discover them for yourself.

WW: Beaver mandible

(The dogs found this up on the summit above the beaver ponds. It's impressive; larger than a man's fist, with industrial entheses, and those big yellow incisors are 3 inches long. So I guess this proves what was already evident: that the forest here is ideal cougar habitat.)

Meade's Conundrum

In my university days I T.A.'d for a professor whose insights would have an enduring effect on my understanding of the Path. (Shout-out to Dr. Robert D. Meade, professor – and now sadly, human being – emeritus, who parlayed his position as ostensible psychology instructor into a successful conspiracy to overclock young minds.)

Among his many maxims – always delivered straight-faced – the following was a favourite with his gung-ho squad of student teaching assistants:

"Half of what I'm telling you is lies, but you don't know which half."

I think this is a foundational koan for Zen students, one we should hold in mindfulness. It comes into play whenever the old Zen centre vs. free range practice question is broached, or when I'm asked to discuss Zen with interested others, or when conflicts within the Great Sangha overspill their partitions.

I do believe you can't practice Zen effectively without accepting and practicing this teaching.

By the way, when transmitting Meade's Conundrum to my own students, I always appended Henderson's Corollary:

"…and neither do I."

I'm certain Dr. Meade would applaud.

My very best to the very best: those who are determined to do their very best.


(Photo of the hallowed halls courtesy of Andrew Kvalheim and Wikimedia Commons.)

WW: Window casualty

(Happened upon this young grouse on the deck in front of a small uninhabited cabin well back in the woods. It must have smacked into the large windows. Window glass takes out a crushing number of birds. Doesn't seem much to be done about it.)

Advaya Kyôsaku

"You’re just another version of me. That’s why I can’t take you that seriously."

Brad Warner


(Bairei Kōno's take on 鴉烏 courtesy of Rawpixel.com.)

WW: Find the great blue heron

(Ardea herodias.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

Good Video: Waterwalker

Here's a fabulous old NFB film from 1984 that has nothing immediately to say about Zen – though it does evoke eremitical monasticism. And if you don't care about that (which is likely), it's just incredibly engaging documentation of a long walkabout – paddle-about, really – through a howling Canadian wilderness that hasn't changed much since.

How many places can say that?

Though none of his projects were commercial, filmmaker Bill Mason remains a Canadian icon. Most outside the country will know him for Paddle to the Sea (aka Vogue à la mer), played and replayed to past generations in primary schools the world over.

I also strongly recommend Mason's 1969 short subject Blake, which is best left to your discovery rather than any failed attempt to describe it here. But know this: it's a documentary. Blake really existed, was a close friend of Mason's, and that's actually him in the movie. All depicted events are historically accurate, though some had to be re-enacted for the camera, as will be understandable on viewing.

But Waterwalker is widely regarded as Mason's chef d'œuvre. And with good reason; not only does it bottle the quintessential Canadian epic – a canoe trek across the Laurentian Shield – the movie itself represents a Herculean pre-selfie stick semi-solo travelogue.

Figure this: both Mason and his (invisible) cameraman had to ferry – and portage! – a hundred pounds a-piece of equipment and film through this entire odyssey. They had to set it all up and take it all down for each shot, and keep everything safe from light and elements clear to the end of the expedition.

Trekking's hard enough all by itself. Just keeping yourself alive and healthy and moving forward is more than enough pressure for me. The notion of spending the time and energy to document it all on analog technology is breathtaking.

So give Waterwalker a watch and see if you don't agree. "When you travel alone," says Mason, "you spend a lot of time thinking, and you see things you would never notice when you're with other people." Any hermit can vouch for that.

And here, for an hour and a half, anybody can experience it.