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Nondual Highlights Issue #1323 - Saturday, January 18, 2003
Editor note: having turned a corner where the stories of ordinary folks hold more vitality than scripture or words from pundits or sages, today's issue is simply a few... Life Stories. You are welcome to send me yours. Christiana
Kheyala
Adventures at Rasa Ranch #100
1/18/03 "The Big Numbo"
Yesterday we
took a family trip, an hour's drive down 
to the Office of
Social Security. In the lobby it was Ananda's opinion that
Zachary did not need a "numbo" and when we told her
that she had one too,
she asked if hers was five. She didn't have the faintest idea
about what the government was, or even the United States for that
matter.
We stepped up to the counter with Zack's application all filled out and with his crispy, new birth certificate in hand, but we were lacking another required form of I.D. for the little guy. "Don't you have a hospital record?" the clerk asked us. "How about an immunization or doctor's report?" We shook our heads. He seemed to freeze, looking at us for a moment, and then asked us to excuse him. When he returned he was accompanied by a very professional-looking woman who had been seated at a desk in the back.
"Maybe we can be exempt from these for our religious beliefs?" I asked her with my eyebrows up. She then informed us that a baptismal or church document would suffice. "We don't belong to a church," Jim said and I added, "We kind of do our own thing." She nodded and I could tell that, by then, the two of them were starting to get a kick out of us. I said, "We figured that if all this was for identification purposes we could just bring him in so you could see him." I held the baby up to the window and said, "This is Zack." "HI Zacky!!" Ananda suddenly burst forth and in such a joyous, high voice that the baby turned his head toward her and beamed like light rays shooting in every direction. We couldn't help it; Jim and I busted up in giggles.
"Well," the woman said, "This is against policy but I'm the supervisor and I'm just going to sign it off. Everybody's been crazy," she continued, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling and shaking her head, "since September 11th...but sometimes you've just got to think outside the box." "Woooo!" I cheered. "All right!" exclaimed Jim, "We like that!"
Finally, they told us that Zack would be receiving his card (with his "big numbo" on it) in about two weeks and we joked that we were sure he'd be waiting eagerly every day for it. There were smiles on everyone within earshot as we walked out, and even Mr. Serious, the security guard waved at us and said goodbye.
Two Livejournal.com entries
Ken High Country (username: kenhighcountry)
Squeak!
A and I
ate lunch today at our favorite local fish and
chips bistro. There was a gentleman seated at the
table behind me, who was eating alone. Since my
back was to him, and his to me, I didn’t really see
him, other than when we entered, and when he left.
But, as he was leaving, we overheard the hostess say
to him: Did you remember the squeaky Kitty?
And he went
back to the table he had been sitting at,
and we were able to observe him leaving, holding a
rubber squeaky kitty in his right hand.
I know there
are probably a few rational explanations
for this, but I don’t want to hear them.
You see, I
find it neither odd nor strange that a grown
man should choose to bring his squeaky kitty to lunch.
In fact, A
and I started discussing opening a
restaurant where bringing a squeaky toy would be
required. After all, some restaurants won’t admit
gentlemen who are not wearing ties. Why not refuse
to admit anyone not accompanied by a squeaky toy?
We could even have a few that we would loan to
patrons who forgot theirs. And the wait staff would
always be required to carry a squeaky toy with them,
to talk to the customer’s squeaky toys.
And the more
I think about it, the more I think it could 
catch on. After a while, Take Your Daughter To Work
Day could be replaced by Take A Squeaky Toy To
Work Day.
I suppose
that there could be some problems. At the
movies, for example, it would be annoying if people
squeaked them during the film. Though that would be
a lot less annoying than people talking during the film.
And then we would probably start to see the
inevitable Squeak If You Love Jesus bumper stickers.
And the annoying barroom braggadocio Oh yeah?
Want to step outside and say that to my squeaky
dog?
On the other
hand, I think it would make our
government kinder and gentler if all elected officials
were required to carry a squeaky toy with them. The
chair recognizes the squeaky bear from Indiana. Or
our accidental president on TV, saying I think
Saddam is lying. And so does Ducky. Don’t you
Ducky? Squeak, squeak.
Ok, scoff if
you want. But when it sweeps the world,
remember where it started.
Christiana (San Francisco Anti War Rally 1/18/03)
Reflections on what rallies
Yesterday,
while at work, I stood at a 
window on the fourth
floor of the San Francisco Main Library watching what may have
been 200,000 people
pouring like lava-flow into the Civic Center. Marchers having
walked several miles - for peace; against this war; and for
racial and political civility in our land and government - slowly
poured into the several block wide plaza spilling as well into
the 'ordinary' space of all the surrounding blocks.
Perched from
above we watched a blank canvas slowly paint itself with
multi-hues as Beings of intention. The day was clear and pleasant
to the senses and so it seemed was the ambiance of the
participators. As I walked amidst the crowd, listening to
celebrities (Martin Sheen) speak and two peace
divas (Joan Baez, Bonnie Raitt) sing, I was an
anonymous traveler amidst the diversity of our
species. And it was good.. both the anonymity and
the inclusivity.
Here amidst
the vibrant presentation of the spectrum
of individuality was also a more vibrant pulsation of
That which does not divide. The singularity of Love for
country, family, world beings, planetary environment,
and diversity was the touchstone grounding
awareness perceived. I wondered, what might it be
like if someone took the podium asking for a few
silent minutes beyond rhetoric, positions, intentions,
and emotions to notice the core pulsation of what
was unnamable yet palpably perceivable in that
moment as grace.
It seems
many who are attending such movements
are on the precipice of realizing that what is arising in
them is more than ideas and feelings. What would it
take to nudge a large collective over the perspective
edge of duality into the aperspectival empty-full
heart? That might be nondual activism.