F.I.A.T., alone at the Majestic Cafe

Chapstick Chapstick Chapstick

I can't act like I really understand what a Zen koan is, but I do know it's a kind of riddle or story given to a student by a teacher. It seems nonsensical to begin with, but after meditating on it, it suddenly seems really super deep.

Example:

Hui Neng once approached a student who was sitting in meditation. "Why do you spend so much time sitting?" he asked. "Because I want to become a Buddha," the student replied.

At this, Hui Neng picked up a brick tile from the floor, and began rubbing it with his robe. "Why are you doing that?" asked the student. "Because I want to make a mirror," Hui Neng replied.

"But Master," said the student, "no amount of -- oh, wait, I get it! Very funny, very funny."

So, I bring it up because of two recent moments that made me think of Zen koans:

Third grade student: Did you watch the Superbowl last night?
Teacher: No. I watched a show about elephants.
28 third grade students: (laugh to point of tears)

They really got how funny it was, you know?

Second example:

Student: I found this Chapstick on the floor.
Teacher: That Chapstick? I threw that away yesterday, and the day before! Who keeps putting this Chapstick on the floor?
Student: It's haunting you!
Teacher: Put it in the garbage if no one is going to claim it.
Student: What if we find it again tomorrow?

OK, maybe that one isn't really like a Zen koan. I just like it. The cool inside joke in my classroom right now is that various things are haunting me, the teacher. Another cool thing going down at the moment is to combine "mad" and "sad" to make "smad." It seems like something I would teach them, but they just came up with it without me. I'm touched and proud.

Winter stories

Happy Groundhog Day! I totally forgot about it, which is unlike me. Apparently, there will be six more weeks of winter.

That's a little less daunting to me today than it was yesterday at this time, when I still had this apprehension hanging over my head. That apprehension reached its natural apex around 6:15 yesterday evening, near a dumpster behind the Berkley Front.

See, I take one major spill every winter. I can't predict how or when, but I always know it will come, usually in front of a bunch of people and/or while wearing a skirt. It's a lot of what-if to live with. Once it comes, though, the pressure is officially off, and I can be all nonchalant about snow and ice.

Last night was the night. One minute, chatting with Alice about how we both are wearing high heeled boots in the snow and ice, the next moment, on my ass in a giant, cold puddle of slush. I cut my finger and bruised my hip, but the worst part was the total soaking of my jeans. So Alice and I went into the bar and found Deborah and Tim, where we learned that Tim had also fallen into what sounds like the same puddle, getting his jeans similarly soaked.

This past week, I only worked two days. It went like this: Sick day, snow day, work, work, snow day. Winter is the time to be a teacher. Also, summer.