Why I don't own a gun

The last time I fired a weapon was almost 40 years ago. My decision to not ever fire a weapon again since has been resolute. A blog post I wrote nearly four years ago explains why. But there's a more fundamental reason for me to not own a gun.

Owning a gun means I have formulated the intention to kill. I may never kill anyone or anything while owning a gun, but the intention would be there, for why else would anyone own a gun?

First, let me clarify something. I do not begrudge people who hunt, nor do I view them with any form of disdain, and nor will I attempt to take their opportunities to hunt away from them. Having said that, hunting involves killing, regardless of the purpose, or, more precisely, the intent. The Buddha teaches that nothing occurs without consequence - "when this is, that is ... when this isn't, that isn't" - and that all actions are preceded by an intention. This is the core of his teaching on kamma.

But while kamma has everything to do with cause and effect, it is not linear; rather, it's more like loops of feedback that occur in our lives because we always have the opportunity to eliminate our kamma with the creation of every new intention and subsequent action. The Buddha's teaching about The Salt Crystal is pertinent here. As the Buddha teaches, if you put a teaspoon of salt into a glass of water, the water will taste salty; but if you put a teaspoon of salt into the Ganges, the water will not taste salty. So a single act within the greater context of your lifetime - or multiple lifetimes - holds negligible consequence because of all the other actions you can take to "dilute" the salt's presence.

That's important to remember, that we can "dilute" our actions, but we can never eliminate what has already happened; the salt does not disappear, it just cannot be tasted.

Hunting, to me, is like the teaspoon of salt in a river, but even that depends on the reasons behind why a person hunts. A person who hunts to provide food for his or her family creates kamma different from the person who hunts for sport.

Killing another person? That's a tablespoon of salt in a glass of water. Even with saying that, however, all homicides are not equal and the kamma created will be as varied as the intention behind the act. The point is, no one is immune from the consequences of killing, regardless of intent.

Which is why I will not own a firearm. Particularly a handgun. There is no other purpose for a handgun other than to kill another human. Even if self-defense, owning a handgun is done with full knowledge that it may be used to kill another person. Anyone who thinks otherwise is deluding him or herself.

And this is why I believe that Michael Dunn is guilty of murder, plain and simple. I have seen some comments on Twitter following the jury's verdict wondering how difficult it will become in the future to prove intent behind premeditated murder when it comes to self-defense. For me it's quite simple. Michael Dunn had formed the intention to kill someone long ago, and I suspect his intention was to specifically kill a black youth. All Dunn was waiting for was the right opportunity.

That is why I will not own a firearm of any kind.

A person unknowing:

the actions performed by him,

born of greed, born of aversion,

& born of delusion,

whether many or few,

are experienced right here:

               no other ground is found.

So a monk, knowing,

               sheds

greed, aversion, & delusion;

giving rise to clear knowledge, he

               sheds

all bad destinations.

Nidana Sutta

40 years after Roe

Forty years ago we got Roe v Wade. And the battle has waged ever since. Forgive the length of this post, but I want to share my thoughts on this divisive topic. And while my thoughts are not necessarily "Buddhist" in construction, how I feel about this topic is guided by my Buddhist understanding of how the world works.

First, I must clearly state that personally I believe that taking another person's life, including that of an unborn person, is simply wrong in any and all circumstances -- even in self-defense. I believe that way because killing another person represents an outcome one has hurled him or herself toward through a series of extraordinarily poor decisions that could have been interrupted just about anywhere along the way.

Having said that, should I find myself in a situation that defending my own life means taking another's, I suspect I will fight to the death. But if I should emerge from such a fray victorious, there will be consequences for my actions. Even if I am found legally innocent of any criminal act, I will nonetheless face the karmic consequences of my actions, consequences that may manifest themselves in any number of ways, not the least of which will be an unsettled mind that will on a daily basis struggle with what I did and how I might have avoided it.

I cannot foresee every situation, but I can take steps right now to avoid potential situations that may put me in a position of behaving in a manner contrary to the way I believe. And on occasion, despite my intentions, I do act unskillfully and find myself in awkward situations.

But I got there because of the choices I made, even when I thought the choices I was making were good ones.

Which is a long, round-about way of explaining why, despite my personal belief that taking someone's life, including that of the unborn, is always wrong and never without consequence, I will fight to ensure that abortion is kept legal and easily accessed.

To impose my personal belief on another person about whom I know nothing, about whose life challenges I know nothing, strikes me as a supreme form of righteousness that frankly makes me sick. Yes, perhaps that person made a series of poor decisions, but they were his or her decisions and to suggest that I know what consequences he or she should suffer and how these consequences out to be delivered when my own life is far from perfect - well, I'm not a Christian, but it seems to me that Jesus said something about fretting over the speck of dust in another person's eye while ignoring the rock in my own.

The Buddha taught us also that all our actions have consequence and that we cannot always predict the outcomes of our actions. Besides, there are some things, the Buddha taught, that we really don't need to know. Despite that he gave us tips, such as his guidance to his son Rahula, to avoid making unskillful choices, and with the simile of the salt crystal he explains that we have the ability to mitigate future consequences via our current actions. The Buddha is also quite clear with the story of Angulimala that while we have the option to renounce our past completely and pick up a new, more virtuous life - sort of like being 'born again' - we can never escape our past and the consequences we have set in motion.

Believing this, I know that anyone facing the ominous decision of abortion has been through a series of events leading her to that choice and that she will experience consequences unknown to me - and frankly none of my business - that she may or may not be able to resolve in her current life.

Even if you don't believe as I do, there are societal benefits to having legal access to abortion, and one of these benefits is not always part of the public discussion: The impact legal abortion has on crime.

What raised this connection was a 2001 study that is highly cited within the scientific literature and at the time of its release got a fair bit of attention in the popular press. But since then it has oddly disappeared from the primary discourse. The study notes that crime rates in the U.S. began a decline roughly 18 years after Roe v. Wade, and in states where abortion was already legal and widely available as early as 1970, crimes rights there began a similar decline much earlier than the rest.

While purely correlative, it does strongly suggest a causative relationship when you consider certain key facts about crime: who commits the most crime, and what environmental circumstances are more likely to lead a person to crime than others. Let's start with the last and work backwards.

For starters, it's pretty well established that low income areas have higher crime rates than more affluent neighborhoods; that low-income households produce more members who commit crime; that substance abuse is strongly connected with crime. In my journalism career I've worked with many police chiefs and sheriffs who repeatedly said that if we, as a society, could get a handle on substance abuse, crime would drop out of sight - especially alcohol abuse. While things like meth and crack and other harder drugs certainly are connected with crime, the law enforcement folk I worked with universally said alcohol abuse is the number one problem.

It is also pretty well established that those who regularly commit crime are individuals with a number of behavioral and character flaws. Often these flaws develop in childhood while being raised in highly stressed households, either economically or emotionally. For about 15 years I worked with delinquent and emotionally disturbed children and not a single one of them was unable to sense on some level that their parents just really didn't want them. As one boy told me, "My mother had a choice to keep me or the dog. She kept the dog."

Growing up in that type of environment frequently leads to substance abuse, which law enforcement will universally will say is the sin quo non of most crime. Substance abuse impairs one's decision making skills, and criminal activity is the result of flawed decisions.

Next, who commits the most crime? Crime statistics year after year report the same thing: most crime is committed by young men between the ages of 18 and about 26. In fact, it is mostly young men of color.

Maybe it's starting to become clear how abortion plays into this. Because a reasonable hypothesis to make based on the above information is that there ought to be a decline in the population most likely to commit a crime roughly 18 years after abortion becomes legal, which in turn should result in a decline in the number of crimes committed.

And that's exactly what this country saw. Just take some time and look at this chart. Starting in 1960, the data shows crime continuing to rise along with population. But low and behold, beginning in 1991, we see that trend reversing! And when we look at the specific types of crimes more likely to be committed by a young male - property crimes, robbery, and vehicle theft - the reversal in trend is even more pronounced despite a few stutters between 1991-93. There's even a reversal in murders committed started in 1993.

Granted, this does not on its own suggest a causative relationship, but it's nonetheless worth noting and worth further study. It's quite reasonable to conclude - and Occam's razor would suggest this as well - that with abortion legal and widely available, you have fewer unwanted children born and being raised in highly-stressed conditions that are very closely associated with anti-social behavior such as substance abuse and criminal activity.

In Buddhism, virtually all unskillful behavior arises out of either greed, hatred, or delusion. As a man, let alone a gay man, imposing on women this notion that they must carry to birth all pregnancies no matter how conceived is far more evil than terminating an unwanted pregnancy.

Any woman who faces that choice is facing a terrible decision, and not all of them do so with caprice. In fact, I firmly believe that most do not look at such a choice without it weighing heavy on their hearts and minds.

It is their choice and should remain so.

How Sigala avoided a honey of a boo boo

Buddhism, in part, is about asking questions to determine how things really are. But to truly see the truth, you have to ask the right questions. And the question on my mind at the moment is whether Honey Boo Boo is foreshadowing the decline of civilization.

Homo say what? Honey Boo Boo?

A friend and former colleague examined this question in a recent column he wrote for The Morning Sun, a newspaper in Mount Pleasant, Mich., and one I worked for in the past. Please take the time to read it, as it is excellent. And don't feign ignorance with me; I know all you moes out there know about Honey Boo Boo, because she is exactly the archetype and stereotype of breeder culture that we love to throw so much shade over that it becomes a black hole. And I bet many of you watched this train wreck of humanity more than once.

Come to the light, children, there is still hope for you.

While I may sound a bit holier-than-though when I say this, it is true: I have not, nor will I, watch Honey Boo Boo. I did watch an online trailer for the show prior to its indecorous debut and that was enough. I wanted to cleanse my eyes with Comet after that. I saw enough, however, to know instantly that civilization was perched upon a perilous precipice, over which it could tumble into oblivion at any moment.

My friend clearly points out in his column that we, in a collective sense, have only ourselves to blame for this type of programming dreck. He writes:

"You can blame the network all you want, but the people who run the network have a very simple mission: Make money. They do that by reducing costs and maximizing viewers. Quality costs money and doesn’t bring the right number of viewers to make it the most profitable way to do business. So, we get Honey Boo Boo.”

And to add insult to injury, the folks in TV land have created elaborate methods to convince you that the programming available is, in fact, high quality backed by tons of creative minds. It's done through the annual awards show that lavishes praise on the most popular programs with idols of pseudo-excellence, which is why programs like "Glee" churn out episode after episode creating new nadirs for every conceivable sexual, racial, and ethnic stereotype out there and cleverly confuses you into thinking that it's really a ground-breaking and inclusive show portraying gays and others in a positive, albeit humorous, light.

It's all a diversion designed to lull you into a false sense of happiness so that you will more readily accept the commercial content that batters your psyche with often better production quality than the programs it sponsors. Its intent is to stupify you in a manner Bob Dylan eloquently described in his song, "It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)".

Advertising signs they con

You into thinking you’re the one

That can do what’s never been done

That can win what’s never been won

Meantime life outside goes on

All around you

This is precisely why the Buddha advised a young fellow named Sigala to avoid theatrical shows.

o_O

Patience my pretties. I think that a reason why many practitioners do not read Dhamma is quite similar why other folk do not read the Bible or whatever holy book guides their religion, and this is the language in these texts is archaic and not easily understood. For that reason, it can be easily viewed as irrelevant to today's culture.

For example, in the Sigalovada Sutta, the Buddha includes "watching theatrical shows" as an item in a list of activities that lead to the loss of wealth. And then he enumerates the reasons why and how watching theatrical shows result in this:

"There are, young householder, these six evil consequences in frequenting theatrical shows. He is ever thinking:

(i) where is there dancing?

(ii) where is there singing?

(iii) where is there music?

(iv) where is there recitation?

(v) where is there playing with cymbals?

(vi) where is there pot-blowing?

Pot-blowing? What the hell is that? And what's wrong with singing and dancing?

This is what I'm talking about. People look at this and think that Buddhism has no relevance for them. The problem, however, is not that Buddhism lacks relevance; the problem is the question - we aren't asking the right questions.

No, there is nothing wrong with singing, or dancing, or even pot-blowing, provided we don't get too carried away. Remember that the Buddha described his path as the middle way. He tried the extremes and found them lacking. The path to spiritual bliss is neither followed by extreme pleasure or by extreme deprivation. And while we follow the way in the middle, we must be honest in evaluating our emotions.

Remember what the First Noble Truth is? For many people, life is more than just unsatisfactory, it can really suck, and too many of us queer folk know this all too well. But for most people life is how Henry David Thoreau described it when he said, “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”

Believe it or not, shows like Honey Boo Boo are tapping into a collective sense of dismay and dissatisfaction that permeates our lives. It presents an opportunity, albeit a false one, for us to watch someone else's life self-destruct and gives us a sense that things can't be all that bad, "thank god I'm not in Honey Boo Boo's family!"

But like the theatrical shows the Buddha warned Sigala about, this is a distraction that keeps us in our self-dug hole of dissatisfaction. Shows like Honey Boo Boo aren't designed to uplift us, to inspire us; they're designed to keep us in a rut of meaningless existence, to set us up for the next string of commercials that will entice us to spend money on goods and services we don't need and which, if we took just a few seconds to think about it, we don't want.

There are a lot of unhappy people in the world. We can't help them all. But are you at least trying to help a few of them?

I know that I am not. And that needs to change.

Selfishness disguised as compassion, or kamma can suck

For the past several days I’ve been struggling over what to do with my cat, Symba. He’s been sniffling and sneezing and losing weight, which I largely attributed to some type of severe allergy or sinus infection. However, there was a key symptom I wasn’t paying attention to: Symba’s breath was awful smelling, like rot. Everything else was beguilingly normal; all his other body functions were operating, shall we say, unimpeded. And he was especially perky whenever I fed him and Tazz, my other cat, soft food.

When I finally took Symba in to see the vet, the news was dire. It wasn’t merely nasal congestion or some allergy going on. It was an infection, but it was in his mouth. He had already lost several teeth, his breath smelled rotten because of all the pus building in his gums and even the roof of his mouth, which was starting to look like maggot-ridden hamburger. The swelling from the pus on his right cheek was so intense it was ready to burst through the outside of his cheek; the vet showed me the spot where hair was starting to disappear. That’s why he was constantly rubbing and grooming that side of his head with a paw. And that’s why he showed excitement when I brought out the soft food, because his mouth hurt so much to eat dry food.

I was overwhelmed with sadness, but it wasn’t for Symba – it was all about me. I hadn’t recognized it fully, however, at that moment. Oh, I knew I felt guilt for not paying closer attention to Symba’s symptoms. And I felt guilt over not listening to a vet 8 years ago who told me that Symba was developing gum disease that ought to be taken care of. But when he told me that it would cost $150 to clean his teeth when I hadn’t gone to a dentist in years to take care of my own teeth, I said no. Now I was looking at major surgery for Symba to the tune of at least $900, potentially more.

There was the possibility, the vet told me, that Symba’s problems were entirely restricted to this awful – and I mean AWFUL – mouth infection. She said there was a possibility he may have bone cancer in the jaw as well. If that were the case, she recommended putting him down. But there was a catch. She would need to begin the surgery on his mouth before she could see and determine if cancer were present. And even then, it may not be immediately obvious, which would then necessitate a biopsy. Biopsy results could take a couple days, meaning the mouth surgery would be completed and a few days after his return home, the biopsy result would be available.

This all meant that I could end up spending more than $900 only to learn later that Symba’s days were over. That bugged me. Really bugged me. But a voice inside reminded me had I listened to that vet 8 years ago and paid the $150 then, I wouldn’t be faced with $900 now.

This was all on Thursday. The vet told me she couldn’t do the surgery until Monday. If all went well, Symba could be home that evening. If it were just the mouth infection, she said his prognosis was actually excellent. Symba wouldn’t have any teeth, but should fully recover. They had a plan, also, that would allow me to pay for the surgery over time, interest free. I qualified, so I agreed to schedule the surgery for Monday with the knowledge that I still had the weekend to think things over.

That evening I had dinner over at a friend’s house. He gave me very practical feedback. I don’t have $900, this would add to my debt load, even if only temporarily, he told me. Symba was 15 years old, he’s lived a good life. I gave him an excellent home, took care of him and loved him. I shouldn’t feel guilty over not addressing the gum disease issue in the past. I also had my own life situation to consider. My cat food costs would like go up after this because I would need to buy soft food more frequently, so long term my expenses would rise. I needed to think about myself in this situation as well.

It was all very persuasive. My friend made excellent and valid points. I didn’t have any money, no savings at all, and Symba was 15 years old, at the high end of a cat’s normal life span. Even if the surgery was successful and there was no cancer, how many more years would I be giving to Symba?

Friday I worked at home, although frankly, I was not very productive. I struggled with my decision. I couldn’t ignore the cost and the impact that would have on me.

Symba seemed to sense something was troubling me. He came out of his corner where he’s been spending his days, the lower shelf on a small case where I keep grocery bags, and came into my home office. He looked at me, meowed loudly (I think he’s deaf now, and that may be the result of the infection as well), then jumped into my lap. I reclined back into my chair and he laid his frail body against me and began to purr. I understood now why his fur was so ratty looking; he wasn’t grooming himself because of the mouth infection. I knew why he had lost weight; because it hurt his mouth to eat the dry food. I was overwhelmed with sadness and guilt. I apologized to him. I did this to him. I had failed. And the decision to have him put down was beginning to take shape.

But it was still all about me.

I was ready to take him to the animal hospital that moment and have it done. But there was somebody else I wanted to talk to first. Benny. So I left a message for Benny to give me a call. While waiting for Benny’s call, I drove to Whole Foods to pick up some items with the idea that I would park my car on the street when I got back, making it easier to bring Symba down to the car to take him to the vet. But when I returned from Whole Foods, there were no street parking spaces, so I drove back to the alley to my garage.

Back inside, I tried to do a little work, responded to some emails, and then Benny called. We chatted for a bit and he said something that surprised me. Benny’s known about my Buddhist practice, I even tried to teach him meditation but he didn’t stick with it. He said that my dilemma sounded like something I should meditate on.

Duh. When was the last time I meditated? My practice had really gone to shit. It must have been weeks, perhaps months, since I last mediated. What was up with that? After my call with Benny, that’s exactly what I did, I went to the cushion.

It was a struggle. My mind was all over the place. Rather than attempt to “think” about anything, my decision or whatever, I just brought my mind back to my breath. Over and over it would run wild into this or that thought, and I would each time bring it back to the breath. By then end of the session, I had achieved some semblance of mental calm. I then began my normal routine of chanting some Pali verses after the silent sit. Needless to say I got a bit choked up when I said out loud, “May all beings be free from suffering.” But what really got to me was reciting the Five Recollections.

“I am of the nature to grow old, I have not got beyond aging.
“I am of the nature to be sick, I have not got beyond disease.
“I am of the nature to die, I have not got beyond death.
“All that is mine, beloved, and pleasing, changes and vanishes.
“I am the owner of my kamma, the creator of my kamma, born of my kamma, related to my kamma, abide supported in my kamma; whatever kamma I create – skillful or unskillful, light or dark – to that I fall heir.”

My voice trembled as I recited this, but something was coming up. Something was rising.

I went back to my computer and began a search with the terms “euthanizing pets Buddhism.” The discussion was all over the place, but I began to see a common thread. And in particular, it was discussion on how our sense of compassion may not really be compassion at all, but a mask to cover up selfish intentions. We tell ourselves that our beloved pet is suffering and so we seek to end that suffering. At the other extreme is the notion we should never euthanize our pets because they have their own kamma to work through and by euthanizing them we’re interfering with that. I found that argument to be bullshit, largely because it presumes that we “know” what kamma the animal has and must deal with. Now that is ego to the extreme. Plus, such a position logically leads us never to intervene when anyone is sick because we might be interfering with their kamma. That’s just crazy.

But the notion that the option of euthanizing an animal was merely a smoke-screen covering up our own discomfort with disease and death was resonating with me. The more I began to re-evaluate Symba’s symptoms, the more I began to see that the likelihood he also had cancer was extremely low. I’ve had pets that were on death’s door because of either feline leukemia or another terminal illness. It was clear that they were close to death because they weren’t eating, some couldn’t even lift up their head and they could barely respond to any type of affection.

Beyond the fact that he had a horrible mouth, Symba was still Symba. He remained affectionate and even playful, particularly if he knew I was preparing soft food for him.

We all get sick. Sometimes really, really sick. But we don’t die from every illness. Not every illness is fatal. In fact, we recover from really major illnesses all the time.

And so do animals.

I do have responsibility for Symba’s illness. After all, I cannot ignore the fact that I did not heed the advice of that vet 8 years ago. Symba’s and my kamma are connected. And this got me thinking of the simile of the salt crystal. I can’t erase my negligence and selfishness entirely all in one sweep, but I do have an opportunity to remedy this and eliminate not just my kamma but Symba’s as well. And when I came to that realization, this burden I had been feeling was completely lifted. I felt light and at ease, like a shadow that never leaves.

So I will be bringing Symba in on Monday morning, but it will be for the surgery. Certainly there is the possibility that he has cancer and in that case, we’ll put him down. But I truly believe that is a slim chance. Despite that, I am comfortable with my decision. Symba doesn’t want to die and he doesn’t need to now. For me to think I would be doing him a favor by euthanizing him was delusion.

This time the decision was about Symba.

I am a hunter

Just before waking this morning, I had funny dream that caused me to chuckle when I opened my eyes. There was this many-legged arachnid-like creature on the floor in my apartment. It had numerous flailing arms with menacing pinchers like a scorpion’s, but the many legs reaching out from the central body was more like a daddy longlegs on steroids. There was even a resemblance with one of those giant crabs they catch in the deep waters near Alaska. Topping off this creature's comical look was an expressive face that was probably pulled from my subconscious recollections of a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

Anyway, this “spider” would swing several of its arms madly about while jumping upward to spin like a demonic kung fu fighter. I, in the dream, was intent on staying just far enough away from this thing so it wouldn’t jump on me to bite or sting or whatever this beast would do. I managed to back it into a corner potted plant where I then began stabbing and crushing this creature with a vacuum cleaner extension tube. Go figure.

As I said, when I awoke, I chuckled at the silliness of this dream. I sensed that my creature was some kind of conglomerate of many things built upon the theme of the jumping spider that resides around my desk in my office at work. This little bugger has taken up residence in my office and I have allowed it to share my space. But shortly after this dream, I began to feel remorse. Did I really need to kill that kooky creature in my dream? Why am I afraid of spiders in general? I really don’t like spiders much; my initial reaction upon seeing one is to squash the thing. And yet, I am fascinated by these bugs.

I’m not sure if one creates kamma in their dreams, but I’m fairly certain that dreams are mixed-up representations of the kamma we create in our waking life. All of this brought once again to the surface some thoughts I’ve been having about the First Precept – to refrain from killing living creatures – and its connection to how we treat animals in general.

There is a story in the Udana that tells of the Buddha observing a group of boys beating a snake with a stick. From this vignette we have the Buddha saying this:

“Whoever takes a stick
to beings desiring ease,
when he himself is looking for ease,
will meet with no ease after death.

Whoever doesn't take a stick
to beings desiring ease,
when he himself is looking for ease,
will meet with ease after death.”

There have been a few recent stories out of the Toledo, Ohio, area about folks shooting dogs and the dogs surviving despite some critical injuries. They are heart-wrenching to some degree, like this one in which a couple go out of their way to kidnap a neighbor’s dog before they shoot it several times, the dog later crawling back to its home where it collapses.

And there is the story about the two men who allegedly shoot a caged German shepherd, one time through the head; the dog survived.

Reading comments attached to these stories we see a common reaction: that there must be a special place in hell for people who treat animals like this. It is a fairly universal reaction among humans. It is also fairly common for folks to decry the sentences following conviction of people who do things like this to animals as being too lenient; animal abuse – even horrific animal abuse – is often a misdemeanor offense that carries little to no jail time and insignificant fines.

Yet, the Buddha recognized that if a person cannot respect other animals, even if a person kills animals to feed his or her family, such a person will not respect other humans. Perhaps it is no coincidence that many serial killers have past histories of killing and torturing animals. That’s not to say that every person who kills or tortures an animal will become a serial killer, but it is a fact that almost all serial killers began with animals before moving on to people.

I had a moment of clarity about this subject when I was 16. I had been a hunter of sorts in my teens, although a very unsuccessful one. I had gone bird and rabbit hunting before equipped with a shotgun. It’s hard to miss with a shotgun, but I often did. I also had a .22-caliber rifle, a single-shot with a scope. One August afternoon, I had walked to a sand pit where I set up some paper targets to practice my shooting and adjust the scope on the rifle. It was kind of boring, I suppose, and I was distracted by the repetitive chattering of a nuthatch in a tree nearby. Nuthatches are small birds – no more than 4 inches or so from beak to tail – with a quirky behavior of walking upside down on a tree, or climbing down head-first; they are the only bird I am aware of that does this.

I took aim at this bird, got its head in the crosshairs of the scope, and squeezed off a shot. The bird fell from the branch to the ground. I walked over to the bird to see where I had shot it; I wanted to know if my scope was sighted properly. The nuthatch was still alive, my shot had cut across its breast just enough to sever its breast muscles so it couldn’t fly, but not enough to damage any internal organs or kill it. I looked at it on the ground in the leaves rapidly breathing; for a brief second, I felt as though the bird and I had made eye contact. It made no sound. I crushed its head with the butt of my rifle.

I returned to my spot where I lay prone to shoot at the paper targets in the sand pit. While taking aim, a chipmunk was darting back and forth near the target. I guess I hadn’t enough yet, because I aimed at the chipmunk and fired a shot. Again, I failed to make a good kill shot; the chipmunk began screeching loudly and was flipping up and down frantically. Fuck, I thought to myself, missed again. I rushed up to the screeching animal to see that I had shot its lower jaw off. It also lay still briefly to look at me before I put the barrel of the rifle against its head to squeeze off the fatal shot.

It was very quiet all around me. No birds chirping, not even the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. I looked up at a bright blue sky and the few clouds that floated by indifferent to this drama. I picked up my targets and walked back home where I cleaned my rifle and then slipped it into its case, placing it into the closet where it stayed, never to be taken out again. I later gave it to someone who showed interest in it.

While that incident marked the end of my hunting days, I continued to fish for many more years. That, too, however, eventually stopped. Even before I found the Buddha’s teaching, I realized that while I like to eat fish, I wasn’t fishing to eat. After a while, it gets tiring to be releasing one-eyed fish back into the water.

I’m not hostile toward hunters or those who fish, even if they do it for “sport.” I have my own issues to deal with. I’m on the hunt now for understanding and compassion, which is not always an easy task. And so I tolerate this little black-and-white jumping spider that lives in my office. I’ve resisted giving it a name; that would be pretty lame. I still squash bugs in my apartment from time to time, but other times I capture them and release them outdoors. I have roach traps in my apartment too, and you better believe I will kill a roach if I see one and can capture it.

So when I read about these folks who shoot dogs or mistreat animals, I find myself feeling just as much pity for the poor deluded soul committing this violence as I do for the suffering animal. It takes a twisted mind to commit such acts. I’m just thankful that I have found a way to untwist my own.

Postscript: The photo of the tarantula I took while hiking many years ago in the Bandelier National Monument near Sante Fe, N.M. It was just slowly walking along and I watched it for a bit. I then decided to blow a puff of air against it, not sure why. But when I did, the spider jumped up in the air about two feet and then ran fucking freaking fast in a direction away from me. It nearly made my heart stop, I was so happy the freaking thing didn't jump on me! I never knew a tarantula could move that fast!

Second postscript: There was another time I took my rifle out. I was a cabin counselor in the New Mexico mountains at a private boarding school. We had problems with skunks getting underneath the cabin, making all kinds of caterwauling and stinking up the place. I would take a squeeze bottle of bleach, shoot some bleach into a hole in the floor, which would chase the skunk out. I then waited by the hole where the skunks got in and shot it as it attempted to escape. I didn't miss that time, because I knew if I did, the skunk would likely spray me. It was shortly after that I gave away my rifle. Memory is a funny thing.

Can we ever fully understand war?

I just finished watching an extraordinary movie. I bought a copy of Tae Guk Gi (The Brotherhood of War) probably two months ago at Reckless Records in Chicago, but I never felt ready to watch it. But tonight I said, what the hell, let’s take a look.

I am exhausted.

A Korean movie set during the Korean conflict, it has perhaps even more gut-wrenching intensity than Saving Private Ryan. Really, this movie took everything I had emotionally, and then wanted more. Now that I’ve had a moment to reflect on the film, some Buddhist concepts come to mind.

The story line is of two brothers: one who is bright (Jin-seok), and one who is not so bright but who is the anchor of the family (Jin-tae). They are both swept up into the Korean War, ripped away from their widowed mother and the woman Jin-tae wants to marry. Jin-tae vows to do whatever he can to send his younger brother home because he is the hope for the family; Jin-seok has a chance to go to college. But along the way, everything goes wrong. Jin-seok comes to resent what his brother is doing, and Jin-tae gets caught up in the delusion of nationalism and war.

Jin-seok, however, is not immune from change. There is a scene when the South Koreans are in bitter hand-to-hand combat with North Koreans. Jin-seok has a soldier beneath his bayonet and is about to kill him, but the North Korean pleads for his life, saying he is just 15 years old and was forced to join the army. Doubt rises in Jin-seok's mind and he relents, letting the boy live. But the North Korean lad immediately takes up the rifle with the bayonet and attacks Jin-seok, ready to kill him. Jin-seok struggles to grab a nearby knife and succeeds; he takes the blade and will kill the teen, but another soldier comes by and kills the boy first.

The First Precept tells us to not kill. It instructs us to respect all life and living sentient beings. But the Buddha also acknowledged that countries and kings have armies and they are wont to wage war. And that sweeps up common people into these schemes. Jin-seok recognized that he needn’t kill just because it was war. But when the ungrateful teen turned on him and was about to kill him, Jin-seok did what any of us would have done: defend his own life to the point of taking another’s.

Jin-tae becomes overwhelmed by the war. He begins with a good intention – he wants to do something to win a medal so Jin-seok can be sent home – but the war changes him. He no longer sees humans, no longer sees people; instead he sees symbols. When their platoon captures some communists, among them is a friend of theirs from back home. Jin-tae is ready to kill him because, as he says, all he sees are commies. Even with a good intention at the start, Jin-tae is easily corrupted by the violence and chaos of war. He initially believes the promises made to him, but eventually realizes that there are no promises, there are no guarantees. And so he sinks into chaos as he sees everything that is dear to him taken away.

God, this movie drained me of everything I had. I am an easy weeper, I will cry at just about anything; but this movie had me sobbing like no other. There were times during the movie I was beginning to wonder, “How much more can I take?” It’s still making me weep to think about it.

But one thing I certainly take from this movie: It’s not enough to have a good intention. In fact, sometimes a good intention is utterly meaningless. What matters is skillful action.

Is there meat in that bowl?

One of the first questions I am frequently asked when I identify myself as Buddhist is, “You’re a vegetarian then too, right?” And I reply, “No, I’m not.” This sometimes elicits the question, “But aren’t Buddhists supposed to be vegetarian?” And I reply, “No, we’re not. Many are, but it’s not a requirement of the faith.”

Whoop! Whoop! Danger! Danger! Someone has breached the code! Lockdown sequence has been activated!

Yes, I am sure that is how some of my Buddhist compatriots would respond to such heresy, as many Buddhists cannot differentiate between Dhamma and being a vegetarian. For some Buddhists, one must be vegetarian or one cannot be a Buddhist. I find such categorical statements preposterous. To really determine whether Buddhists ought to be vegetarians as well, one has to be sure to be asking the right question. Because the Buddha taught that if you ask an unskillful question, then you will get an unskillful answer, and unskillful answers do not help you along the path.

Unsurprisingly, there’s a wide variety of opinion on the topic. Take a look at this post at Sweep the Dust, Push the Dirt, where blogger John asked people to share their perspective on the First Precept and whether it demands a Buddhist to be vegetarian. The responses there run the gamut, most leaning toward vegetarianism as either an outright requirement or as an ideal to strive for.

But when it comes to the attraction of Buddhism, I don’t want potential new followers to get hung up on the vegetarian thing. I don’t want someone to decide to not explore the Buddha’s teachings because they like their hamburgers rare and they may even – Oh My Freaking God! – like veal (probably the most cruelly produced meat product out there).

Before I go on, I provide this disclaimer: I eat meat. This morning for breakfast I had bacon and organic free-range eggs fried in bacon grease, plopped on pancakes smothered with real butter. I eat meat almost daily, mostly pork and chicken, sometimes fish, and occasionally beef. I like my beef thick, juicy and rare (I prefer my men more like chicken).

The issue of vegetarianism is mostly concerned with what the First Precept means, which directs practitioners to avoid the deliberate killing of living creatures. This obviously means, some say, that we should not eat meat or other animal products because this leads to killing living creatures, not to forget the often inhumane treatment animals go through in husbandry.

By logical extension then, I should also not drive, nor ask anyone to drive for me because such activity could lead to the death of an animal; I should oppose driving and the use of all public transportation by anyone because such activity does, on a daily basis, result in the death of animals (humans too). By virtue of this information, the mere fact of my using any form of motorized transportation knowing that it may result in the death of an animal an intentional act. So if I used a motorized method of transportation and that use resulted in the death of an animal, I intended that animal to die; hence, I have violated the First Precept.

An oh, by the way, I should oppose electricity also because the number one cause of power outages is squirrels; squirrels gnaw on the insulation around power lines, leading to the squirrel’s electrocution and loss of power to the area served by that power line. Therefore, my use of electricity frequently leads to the death of animals, so I should become Amish if I want to faithfully follow the First Precept. Except, well, hmm, I don’t know any vegetarian Amish.

In my view, the above logical extension is absurd.

There’s a discussion on Access to Insight that addresses the question, “Are Buddhists vegetarian?”

“Although the first of the five precepts, the basic code of ethical conduct for all practicing Buddhists, calls upon followers to refrain from intentional acts of killing, it does not address the consumption of flesh from animals that are already dead.”

Some may say this is a rationalization, and I don’t deny that. But even the Vinaya is cautious about how monks should act when someone drops meat into their alms bowl. And it’s clear too in this explanation in the Vinaya that the Buddha acknowledges that lay Buddhists eat meat. They had to eat meat to survive.

This, of course, raises another line of reasoning. Today, is it reasonable for people to presume that personal survival requires the consumption of meat? The obvious answer to that is no. It is much easier now to be a vegetarian than it was years ago, and it is certainly easier to be vegetarian by choice in a developed nation than in an undeveloped nation. But does that mean the First Precept requires one to have a vegetarian diet?

When I go to the supermarket, all the packages of meat I see there are going to be there whether I am a meat-eater or vegetarian. I was not personally responsible for the killing of these animals. Again, some may argue that this is a convenient rationalization. If fewer people ate meat, then less meat would be available, leading to fewer animals being raised solely for meat consumption. This leads to less suffering.

Or does it? What happens to the people employed by the meat processing industry? Will there be enough jobs for them if the one they have disappears? How does the loss of their job relieve suffering for them? What happens to the economic structure when all the ancillary businesses involved in meat production have to shut down because everyone decided that eating animals is bad? And what of the animals that were bred solely for meat production purposes? Is their suffering really alleviated when their primary protector is not longer concerned with their well-being? They have no natural defenses against predators. Many couldn’t feed themselves on their own because they are completely dependent on the food the farmer gives them. And even if the farmer, or someone, continues to feed and care for them, what economic benefit comes out of that to the farmer? How does one afford to feed all these animals? Without someone continuing to feed and protect these animals, they would continue to suffer; perhaps even more so as many would simply die of starvation.

Not so simple is it? Of course, the above scenario simply isn’t going to happen. The world isn’t going to become vegetarian. We can, as individuals, make that choice. And for many, it’s the right and good choice. For others, striving toward a completely vegetarian diet as an eventuality is the right and good choice. But to assert that vegetarianism is a sin quo non of being a Buddhist is just as much an unskillful attachment to a fabrication as is my attachment to a perfectly cooked beef tenderloin.

Spiders with boots?

I know I may be splitting hairs when I assert that morality is conditional rather than relative, but I prefer the term “conditional” because I believe it forces me to be realistic in my evaluation of whatever circumstances I am in at the moment.

That’s the key – the circumstances I am in at the moment, not what might happen or could happen. What is happening right now. Because how I act right now – either via speech, action, or thought – is going to create consequences that will influence events in my future. Worrying about what might happen is a waste of time. I need to pay attention to what is happening right now to exert positive influence on what might happen later.

Yet, I encounter these “what if” scenarios in Buddhist groups all the time. For example, with the First Precept, to refrain from killing living creatures, someone always has to come up with some hypothetical situation to begin a discussion on whether there is such a thing as a justifiable killing.

A common scenario is one in which your mother is being attacked by a knife-wielding man and you have the opportunity to intervene because you’re carrying a gun. So if you shoot this man, would your kamma be “excused” because you were acting out of a desire to preserve life, not take life?

When I hear this blather, I’m like, “Whoa, where did all this come from? Why are you reaching to the very top of the tree to pull down leaves we don’t need to be concerned with at all?”

There are so many things wrong with discussions like these, but here’s just a few.

For one, in such a scenario, there appears to be a presumption that shooting and killing the attacker is the only solution. I’ve yet to encounter someone who offers the possibility that you could talk the attacker out of committing violence.

For another, the scenario presumes that I would ever be in that type of situation to begin with. The whole point of living skillfully is to avoid such encounters by associating with the right people, by paying attention to your surroundings, and not going into places where you shouldn’t be.

We think such discussions are valid and meaningful, but it’s just a trick by our deluded mind, a mind that would rather contemplate meaningless scenarios rather than contemplating something of value, such as, “How do I cause my suffering? And how can I stop doing that?”

Sometimes I respond to such hypothetical scenarios by describing one of my own.

“What if spiders wore boots?”

You can imagine the responses I get to a question like that. And the sad thing is that when I ask this question, people think I’m the weird one.

In case you didn’t get the allusion I was making above regarding reaching to the tops of the trees, I suggest you read the Simsapa Sutta: The Simsapa Leaves (SN 56.31).