bleuurrrgh so cute

I’ve always intended for this blog (and its previous incarnation) to have something to say about my ever-wavering practice as a Buddhist. The trouble, though, is that I’ve never really known what to say. I’ve finally started to figure out why.

Back when I began my dharma journey with the Soto Zen school, the whole idea of saying something about my practice would have been anathema. Transmission outside the scriptures makes it real hard to do much more than pair inspirational quotes with photos of lakes and shit. In the Soto school you sit down and shut up and try to let realization happen spontaneously. If I just stare at this wall long enough, if I just wash these dishes mindfully enough, if I just stop discursive thought once and for all I’ll finally throw that switch and get satori. There’s nothing to say. You just sit down and do it. Nothing to put on a blog except maybe occasional quotes from Dogen.

I got a little excited when I moved on (or scooted backwards, I guess) to the Theravada teachings that’ve gotten oddly popular lately. There was no stuff in Soto Zen. There was lots of stuff in Theravada. Crazy visions! Altered states of consciousness! Maps and charts and diagrams! Descriptions of states that look like this!

But what to blog about? I’ve tried doing the whole “man this commercial really makes me think about compassion, you know?” thing, and I can’t fake that tone very convincingly.  More than that, it feels kinda crass to write “hey I finally hit 3rd jhana today BIG UP” on a blog. I want a place where I can openly discuss this kind of stuff, but just farting it into the ether to be read by perhaps weirdly fascinated but otherwise disinterested parties doesn’t really do the trick. I need a place to put this stuff.

So: I’m trying to start a South Austin Vipassana Group. With all the free time I have.

Apparently there was an irregular group that used to meet a few years ago, but they’ve since disbanded and their organizer isn’t answering my e-mails. I’ve gotten in touch with a couple spaces on South Congress that might could maybe be willing to donate space for an hour a week. I’d love to do it like a reading group, maybe half an hour of sitting and half an hour of book discussion & chillaxing. Would young people show up? Would it be me and a bunch of old hippies?

We’ll see where it goes. Wish me luck. Or metta. Or whatever.

It’s all about “Limbs.” The 10 minute opener fades in with a pair of guitars kissing in rich feedback and dancing slowly in counterpoint. Then the chords roll in like a sudden spate of ice rain. The black metal band takes a few cues from post-rock (that’s “space music,” for those of you disinclined to enjoy the likes of Explosions in the Sky), deliberately unwinding memorable and sad melodies until the first vocals finally appear after almost 6 minutes. And what vocals.

Where most contemporary BM vocalists are content to disturb you with their best dying pterodactyl impression, John Haughm makes his rasp a part of the band’s foggy texture. Then we get an acoustic interlude that doesn’t overstay it’s welcome! Good God! Is that allowed? They unleash a whole other section of song on you in the last couple minutes, and maybe the most impressive feature of all is that “Limbs” never even considers getting boring. When it fades out and into followup “Falling Snow,” an equally impeccable elegiac rocker, you realize you’ve got something special on your hands.

Agalloch have gotten a lot more compositionally sophisticated since The Mantle, sure, but more importantly they’ve tapped an autumnal vein. With Ashes Against the Grain Agalloch managed to capture quicksilver loneliness in a bottle, and they did it so universally and archetypically that a music inspired by the desolate forests of the American Northwest can sound equally comforting on a cold city block. Maybe they know that a kindred cold spirit can be the best kind of solace.