No, Virginia, there is no Ted Lasso.

Comedians and the Buddha have something in common, they both can talk about a subject in such accurate and devastating terms that they can alter your views on that subject forever. I heard a comedian tell a joke about ‘The Andy Griffith Show’, one of my favorite television programs of all time. The bit was about the absence of black people, and that if there’s a small town in North Carolina with no black people, ” then something happened to those black People!” It was hilarious! And since I heard that joke I have not been able to watch a single episode Andy Griffith, not even the one about Aunt Bea’s pickles.

And it’s not about me being offended by the absence of black people on a TV show from the 60’s, it’s that I never realized their absence until a black comic mentioned it. I’ve spent decades watching that show, and Mr. Liberal Theater guy here never once picked up on the lack of black. I’ve called out Podcasts for misinterpreting 17th Century English political history, but for a TV show set in the State my Father was born in, I completely missed the removal of an entire population. I just didn’t see it. Welcome to white bias. But, that bias ain’t just white.

Cut to my wife and I happily watching Ted Lasso one more time. And after the episode, my wife remarked how nice it was to see something that was a positive take on men, that the show was a relief from male toxicity. With those words, three clicks of realizations came together, and I will never be able to watch Ted Lasso again.

There are no black people in Mayberry. There is no real male toxicity in Ted Lasso. There is no Ted Lasso.

Ted Lasso is a cartoon about men written for women. It’s not even a fantasy, or a parody. It is a list of stuff women would like to see men do. That’s all. It also happens to be a superior work of art, in every aspect. And Sudekis and his Team did not set out to do anything malicious or ill intentioned. They simply did their job. In fact I can see Sudekis and his team erupt with outrage at the idea they eschew, glamourize or obfuscate Male toxicity. They will point to scenes and plot points which address the sources of male toxicity, and those scenes exist and are clearly written with that exact purpose in mind. They also prove my point, for in every other scene all evidence of male toxicity are invisible. And for every scene with Jaimie Tartt confronting his Dad, there are six scenes of the Professionally Angry and violent Roy Kent being a sweetheart to a little girl or a similarly deliberate Male stereotype-busting scene. And those scenes are funny, endearing and delightful to watch, until you hear your wife describe the cumulative experience it as a ‘relief’ and a comfort.

To quote Roy Kent, “Bollocks”.

There is never any relief, respite or comfort given from the energies and troubles The Televised Collective has entitled ‘Toxic Masculinity’. These energies have been the source of oppression for more than half the population, and the scary truth of it isn’t a place of Big Muscles and Warmongers flinging missiles, it’s the quiet man who walks his dog every night, a dog he would never mistreat, who then later rapes a woman in the subway. There’s a lot going on there, and average men like me would like to understand more by talking about it, but we can’t, because you very well may not be our friends anymore if we do. It’s a sticky place were sex and violence meet, a place where a person becomes sexually aroused when they don’t want to be, and often doesn’t understand why. Most men who do express their feelings on this stuff are teased and mocked by all sides.

On that issue, the characters on Ted Lasso may be said to model good behavior and positive choices, but how is that possible? Every character on the show is a sports millionaire, with servants and assistants ( that we rarely see). All the working class characters are walking two-dimensional one-liners. Millionaire professional athletes cannot model behavior for anyone, except other professional athletes.

But even for them, there ain’t any black people in Mayberry. Right now, there are thousands of groups of men being paid to play sports for your amusement. They will never have a break from their own toxic masculinity, a toxicity that is funded by every ticket sold and even shoe deal brokered by a Mother who loves them. They will be crippled by 50 years of age, if they live that long. Often their dedication and discipline will have resulted in the destruction of their minds, not only from performance enhancing drugs and repeated physical trauma, but from being forced to adhere to the False Double Standard of Maleness of the Dumb Safe Dad or Strong and Dangerous Fucktoy; a poisonous standard I do not have to Mansplain to any woman out there.

And as women’s sports continue to grow in popularity, those athletes will find themselves folded in to the mix of what is called Male Toxicity, and they will discover that it never had anything to do with what’s between your legs, but with how much of you can be sold.

As we buy every ticket and lace up every shoe.

We easily forget that the revolution will not be televised, and that intoxication comes in many forms. Sometimes I take a hit of weed, sometimes I take a hit of Ted Lasso. Both keep problems far away. Neither offer any real solutions. Ted Lasso is excellent art. It is well crafted, well acted, well written and it makes you feel great about the world and everyone in it. I’m not going to ask you to not watch it. But you are not allowed to create any standards for male behavior based on Ted Lasso, unless I can do the same with Charlie’s Angels.

Barbecue Sauce.

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Can you show me your license, registration and Intentions please?

It’s been a while since I’ve brought up the Eightfold Path which is kinda like the Ten Commandments of Buddhism, even though it’s not. There’s fewer of them, but they are far more annoying. Here’s a good basic graphic….

Screenshot

That Wheel up there is a far better symbol for Buddhism than any other. It has eight spokes, one for each of the Eightfold Noble Path, and as a wheel’s purpose is to turn, so too must the Eightfold Path’s wheel be turned constantly as each of the Eight Rights informs and instructs all the others.

I’m on Right Intention. I’ve been trying to write a post about it for weeks. During this period I’ve fallen into a deep depression, perhaps inspired by my contemplation about Right Intention. I am a depressive, but even with a lifetime of Oscar worthy Misery, this bout of depression has been a bad one. Lately when I wake up and see the dawn, I sneer at it’s boring predictability, and the more beautiful the sun and sky is, the more I see it as a deliberate lie told by Nature to fool me into thinking everything’s going to be okay when Nature is actually just going to hit me in the face with a new version of Covid as soon as I open the door. And Trump. It goes downhill from there as the day continues.

Intentions have been at the core of my Camino de Santiago experience lately. And because that experience was online, mostly on Facebook, one’s intentions must be called into consideration. Hell, one’s existence must be called into consideration after I found out about 30% of the Participants who were commenting and running Camino de Santiago group pages didn’t exist; they were either false profiles or AI editing programs. https://www.mcafee.com/blogs/family-safety/spot-fake-facebook-account/ Another healthy percentage were only selling books and hiking gear.

So, close to half of the Camino de Santiago community had no intention of actually sharing a community with me. Those lying bastards’ sole intention was to sell me something.

Just like me.

What was my Intention of being on these Group pages? Was I there to be a passive and sharing listener about Camino experiences? Nope. If I didn’t have this Blog and a desperate desire not to return to the food service industry, I wouldn’t spend a single minute on those sites.

This dovetails perfectly into my Intentions for walking the Camino de Santiago. I did not go on the Camino as a pilgrim, as a hiker or even as a fun and cheap vacation. I am not even a Christian. My intention was to make sure my wife would be safe while she went on an actual Intentional Pilgrimage. I talk more about that here https://buddha-meets-jesus.com/2024/09/11/st-jean-pied-de-port-the-camino-begins/.

Buddhist teachers have have a lot of fun when teaching Right Intention. The most direct explanation I’ve found says Right Intention requires Renunciation, Non-ill will, and Harmlessness. Translated into Generation X lingo, you have to make a real and out-loud choice to stop doing bad shit, then spend time thinking good shit, and then make sure you aren’t doing any bad shit to others. All you gotta do is figure out your shit.

The word Shit can be very Zen.

At the moment, I am not living by Right Intention. I am actively pursuing harmful paths that keep me from finding peace of mind. I also have the need to hurt the feelings, and livelihood, of the online Camino de Santiago Community. I want revenge- I want them to feel pain for profiting from their lies and the support of known liars: I want them to suffer. Textbook Anti-Buddha.

And I can see my mistakes, my incorrect thinking, my failures. And I can feel the pain of my failures, and I clearly see how this pain is of my own doing, and I can see even more clearly how The Eightfold Path is a way out of this self-imposed and self-created suffering.

But I’m stuck. And I’m told old to fool myself anymore with rationalizations or excuses. It’s me. It’s all about me. Right Intention takes that Nature’s Mirror Shakespeare talked about and polishes it up nice and bright. Too bright. You’d think with as many selfies as we take that the last thing we need is another mirror, but a picture ain’t you. You are not a picture. And this is not a pipe.

Screenshot

However, my suffering is my suffering. And I suffer as it is my Intention to suffer. I can’t blame anyone for it: not the evil Fake AI Profiles online, not the Catholic Fascists and not even myself.

On the Camino, you get too tired to suffer. I miss that.

Buen Camino.

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Heroes of The Camino: Scene One.

(The setting is the Orreaga Albergue, nestled in the Pyrennees mountains. Three extremely healthy, tanned and white-toothed men see each other from across the outdoor seating area)

Jean-Sean McCorker, is that you?

Sean-Jean duCrackois! As I live and breathe,

John-Ohmigawd, Sean and Jean, you remember your old American buddy, John Cracker, I hope!

Jean-Alors! How could one forget the most American man in all the Americas!

John-Oh, that’s easy. You forget that by using tons of fentynal and Ozempic. Here, have some!

(JOHN pulls out a huge sack, from which he tosses handfuls of pills and Ozempic syringes at everyone in the area)

Jean-Ah, it will be good to sit and talk with others who truly know the wonder, the glory, the spiritual magnificence of the Camino De Santiago.

Sean-Ah, ’tis a true thing you do say. So few people who walk the Camino really get to know it like we do.

John-You know pal, you hit the nail on the head there. Knowing the Camino, respecting the Camino, being true to it’s Heritage, that’s what it’s all about.

Sean-I can’t believe there are people out there who just do it once.

John-You read my mind, pal! The Camino is like beer, why have just one? So you’re walking the Camino Frances one more time, eh Sean?

Sean-Indeed, indeed I am. It will be my, oh, seventh time I’ve walked the Camino De Santiago.

Jean-Nine for me.

John-Not bad, not bad, this will my twenty-eighth time walking the ole’ Camino.

Sean-Of course the last time I walked it I set the new speed record for completing the Camino Frances.

John-Really? My fastest is 28 days.

Jean-18 days for me.

Sean-Not bad, not bad, I did it it 7.

John-Well, that was on the Camino France, of course. Walking the Camino del Norte was more rewarding.

Jean-I preferred the Camino le Puy, but the Camino De Portugese Central is also a wonderful route.

Sean-I’d say it’s the Camino De La Plata for food, The Camino de Primitiveo for the natural environment, the Camino diFrancesco for the best albergues, camino Camino Morzarebe for a truly, authentic, natural, real understanding of the Camino De Santiago.

John-But you have to admit, when you walk the Camino Frances route all the way from Paris, now, that’s a real Trek.

Jean-Ah, Paree. Oui, naturally, this is a good stretch of the legs. But I found that the Camino route which begins in Istanbul to be a real test of a man.

Sean-Istanbul?

Jean-Yes, the Camino Istanbul.

Sean-I’ll have to try that out after I recooperate from walking the Camino Hong Kong. Twice.

John-Not bad, not bad. Of course to truly know the Camino, you should do it naturally, in the old way.

Sean-I couldn’t agree more. That’s why on my last Camino I went without walking poles and just used a stick I found in someone’s yard.

Jean-You don’t say? I also tossed the poles but I used a wooden spoon someone left in a Hostel’s kitchen.

John-Me? Fifteen pieces of dry spaghetti. Man, you really get to know the Camino when you walk it with just fifteen pieces of dry spaghetti in your hands. . . and no hiking shoes, just plain old cheap sneakers.

Jean-I just had slippers.

Sean-I had no shoes at all, just two banana peels duct taped to my feet. You reallllly get to know the Camino when you walk it with two banana peels duct taped to your feet.

John-Oh Hey, speaking of long bouts of obvious and avoidable suffering, did you catch the re-release of Martin Sheen’s the The Way?

Sean-Are you kidding? I took my whole family to see it ten times….of course they’re not talking to me anymore.

Jean-Alors! Such a movie! I think is it not just a film, but a guide about how to truly appreciate the Camino! It is hard to believe that some people don’t like the movie.

John-Pfft. Any guy who doesn’t like ‘The Way’ is an asshole in my book. And my book has one page, and that page says “The Way”.

Sean-’tis a true thing you do say, John. You realllly get to know the Camino after watching one movie about it fifteen times.

John-Have you seen the other movies about the Camino?

Jean-Which one?

John-The one about a wealthy ethnically Western European person who starts the Camino with doubts but has his mind opened to the spiritual beauty of the Camino.

(The other two men are silent)

Sean-Can you be more specific?

John-How about the one where the lead character travels with a just-hot-enough blonde and a couple people with funny accents who help him see the truth.

(the other two men are silent)

Jean-Can you be more specific?

John-Its the one that ignores the History of crimes of the Catholic Church and the fascist government it aggressively supported.

(The other two men are silent)

Jean-Can you be more specific?

John. No.

Sean-Well, enough chatting, we should hit the trail. Do you two think you can keep up with me this time?

John-Hey, just watch us! Let’s get our Camino on!

Jean-Pardon, my friends, but that building up there, do you recognize it?

Sean-A building? Why are we wasting time looking at things? We have a Camino to finish!

John-Hold on, maybe they have some tasty Pilgrim meals to dish out!

Jean-I’m not paying more than 6 Euroes, no matter how good the bolognese.

John-Hm. The sign on the building says “Church”.

Sean-Oh, those places have the worst pilgrims meals. A tiny piece of stale bread and a thimble full of wine. I avoid them.

John-Phew, that was a close one. We’d better walk faster, or we might start seeing even more buildings!

Jean-We cannot have that! Let us walk at Camino Hero Speed!

Sean-Faster and Faster, my friends! The faster we go, the more Camino we get!

John-See? I knew you European guys would come around to the American way of thinking! If you go fast enough, you stay happy because reality can’t catch up with you!

ALL MEN-Long live the Heroes of The Camino!

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Communion at the Everflowing Fountain. Not My Camino, Chp 18.

These are photos taken on the road from Estella-Lizarra to Vianna.

One of the most famous attractions on The Camino is the ever flowing fountain of wine in Ayegui, Navarre Province. There is a lot written about it already, so it sure as hell doesn’t need my help. Go look it up yourself, I’m not even giving you a link!

But here’s me when it comes to Wine….

Meanwhile, back in Spain….

Stacy had some very significant experiences with the concept of Communion, but that’s Her Camino to tell or to keep to herself. And remember that–you have the option to keep all of your Camino experiences to yourself.

And that goes for me, too. There’s three things that I haven’t told you about already, and rest assured they were juicy, emotional and weird! But some stuff needs to stay just My Camino.

During the journey, I did witness Stacy experience her faith on a level that was awe inspiring, and therefore, literally Awesome. She’s been an Episcopal priest for twenty years. Church after church we entered, sometimes together, sometimes she went in alone. There may have been one or two that I saw which didn’t, but only because she was already in a church. She asked me to write down her experiences for her in the places which moved her. So, in a sense I became her Chronicler, which was very grounding for me.

Stacy and I are very similar, and then suddenly we will be very different. On matters such as faith and religion, I struggle where she has a clarity of purpose that shines like a beacon. Of course, Buddhism is better than Christianity, so I’m right and she’s wrong and that evens things out.

I’m kidding.

This a short one, in honor of Not Talking about The Usual. Can you dig it?

Place Your Camino Here:

Buen Camino.

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Estella and Lucid Dreaming. Chp 17. Not my Camino.

I don’t know you at all. And with our very limited interaction the only deductions I may conclude is that you are a carbon based life form and you own a computing device, either hand or lap. So you might hate the town of Estella-Lizarra, and it’s okay if you do. I just want to be clear I’m not selling you on the town, only describing my experience with it.

Stacy had taken a car ahead to Estella, which was a blissfully easy thing to do. It’s one of the safety catches of the Camino. If you get tired or hurt, call a cab. A whole lot of people do luggage transport, that is send their bags ahead by Taxi/Van to their next albergue; the modern version of having the Iconic Medieval Camino Donkey carrying your pack. After the bags are dropped, there are a lot of Tax/Vans with time on their hands. The few times we used the service we had no trouble getting a car—But, LEARN YOUR SPANISH!

Being an insecure male with no real accomplishments other than self-committed long bouts of repetitive and strenuous activity, I walked ahead alone, singing my ass off when I found myself in a place where i could Hippocraticaly harm no-one. But I had a burr up my butt this day and wanted not just to walk 20k, but to walk it so fast Stacy would be shocked when I arrived. That was the actual picture in my mind I was trying to achieve: a wide-eyed-open-jawed Stacy. I think I was feeling competitive towards the Camino Power Hikers. These groovy cats get up at 3am, walk 30k every day and they all look like a Healthier version of Chris Hemsworth or a Happier version of Scarlett Johansson. And as I was still dumb enough to be living under the illusion that I was young, I figured I could power walk a 20k. Hell yeah!

I’m not young. I’m old. I walked my ass off and it hurt.

Also, this was the day of my one Camino regret. As I was powering down the trail there was a small area by an ancient bridge where several Caministos I knew from up the road were lounging and rinsing their feet in the cool water of the river. I wanted to stop, but I decided to stick to my resolution and power on! I wish I had stopped. The shade looked nice.

That was the last time I made a decision based on goals. No, Mrs. Picayune, food and shelter aren’t goals– those are life. A Goal is nothing but Now trying to look like Forever. It isn’t. Neither are we.

Can you dig it?

The town of Estrella-Lizarra was wonderful to my eyes! It was a perfect blend of familiar and foreign, old and new. It’s a Camino town with lots of alburgues, hostels and apartments. With only 14,000 people, it still boasted four amazing churches, a royal palace museum and the Ega river running right through the town. A real river, not like the somewhat fabricated canal in my Step-Hometown of San Antonio (The Riverwalk is absolutely gorgeous, a Must see). Stacy was able to find an apartment in a 500 year old building with huge wooden beams that had a balcony which opened up to this beautiful river peacefully gurgling by our windows. Bliss.

The city was tucked in along a winding series of roads through the hillsides, resembling the type of old European cityscape Tom Cruise would use for a motorcycle chase. The Medieval heritage was fiercely preserved here, but nothing I saw was quaint, forced or gussied up into a Pantomime of the past. Estella Lizarra was a 900 year living town and I loved it.

And, because we are different, you might hate it.

After crashing hard, we got up and had a rest day, lounging about and devouring our first Spanish tomato, purchased ripe from the farmer’s market. Ohmigawd! There is a thing that happens when you walk your butt off everyday and have no access to the processed food of your Native Tongue. Actual food starts to taste amazing! Granted, this was high-quality produce grown right next door by talented people, so it was undoubtably a fantastic tomato, but anything even moderately good is going to taste great after a Camino kind of day. This is called the Eddie Murphy Cracker Principle…

….Don’t worry, there’s no swearing!

The takeaway is that the local Farmer’s markets were the best source for tasty, fresh food which your body will be craving. Seek them out!

Another thing that happens on the Camino, well, it happened to me…are the dreams.

So we are all extra different on this one, with tons of perspectives and experiences with and about dreams. For me, the longer I was on the Camino and the more I stayed away from TV screens and their ilk, the bigger and brighter my dreams got. And in Estella, I actually had a lucid dream.

Ever had one of those?

I was dreaming, and I knew I was dreaming. So, I flew. I did this by flapping my arms and filling my hands with air, thereby pushing me off the ground, more and more, bit by bit, higher and higher.

The next morning I got cross at Stacy for something, and remembered the dream, in particular being able to create my entire reality in the dream. Suddenly, I was able to make up my mind not to be cross. And I wasn’t.

Those were pretty good tomatoes.

Buen Camino.

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I learn about the word ‘Hot’. Not my Camino, Chp 16

Our day had ended with two wonderful meals. One with another American couple who somehow made taking photos of their Navarre Aspargus not ridiculous, and then an Albergue meal with twelve people from everywhere and all over with every reason under the sun for walking the Camino . . .

But’s that’s not why I called you here today. Today I want to tell about a word. The word is “hot”.

Webster’s defines a person who uses definitions from Webster’s in their writings as a Word Wienie. And when it comes to what ‘Hot’ means, context is everything.

As I’ve said before and will say again because it makes me happy to say it, I was raised in South Texas, so when it comes to hot weather, I know what I’m talking about. It’s my Jam. That’s my home turf. Like the back of my hand. I have a considerably accurate frame of reference. I know hot like you know great blogs. Been there, done that, bought the shirt, sweat my ass off in it, and then went tubing in the Guadelupe river with a tube full of beer towed behind me. Yup. I’ve been hot a lot. And hold it right there, you nay-sayer, my Helios Knowledge is not America Cenrtered, oh no! When it comes to other forms of Hot climates and weather, I have been to the Panama Rain forest, the Jungles of Cambodia, the deserts of California and Texas and consider my frequent visits to New Orleans my best memories.

You wanna talk about snow, ask a Chicagoan. But if you want to bring the heat, you come to ole’ Mr. Poole. Well, that is make an appointment between m-f, 5-10 pm, you bring the bourbon.

But the Camino de Santiago has a knack of giving you new superlatives in ways you never wanted to be bested. World’s Biggest Blister. World’s Smelliest Socks. World’s Loudest Snore. Yeah, thanks, but I got those covered. How about, just once, we could have a World’s Biggest Free Albergue Room Upgrade? But character is not built with comfort and ease. It’s built with pain, suffering, French Cyclists, poor ventilation, bad timing and weird windows: essential elements for my Hottest Sleepless Night ever.

That evening, after the Les Miserable hike, Alto el Perdon, Fascist mass graves markers, Californians filming asparagus and a United Nations After-dinner, I was on the top bunk in our 14 person room, ready to try to get myself to sleep.

For people who hate to be noticed when they don’t want to be noticed, bunk beds on the Camino can be a nightmare. Because I am a gentleman, I usually took the top bunk. Or because Stacy told me to, I took the top bunk. These things get hazy in a marriage. Either way, there wasn’t a fight about it. The bunk beds from albergue to albergue were rarely the same, and each seemed to delight in hiding the place you should put your foot to mount the top. It feels just like mounting a horse, except the horse has hidden the stirrups up in it’s ass. There is always noise as you mount your Bed-Steed, rarely is there but a little. Sometimes a Symphonic cacophony of squeaks and groans careen forth, filling the silent room with a sound only eclipsed by Jean-Claude’s snoring.

No, I did not know if the Frenchman’s name was actually Jean-Claude. But 1 in 6 Anglo Frenchmen are named Jean- Claude. Also 1 in 6 white guys in America are named Steve/Mike. And before you accuse me of profiling, I’m a John, so it’s okay for me to say all this.

So, the scene is a large room with 14 sleeping people, all French Cyclists save me and Stacy, with a closed door on one end and two tall firmly shuttered windows on the other. We are bunked on the far wall, near the windows, and I am on the top bunk, having happily adroitly climbed up the ‘Steed with almost no noise, and also achieving for the first time the accomplishment of having everything I needed in my bunk on the first trip! Morning clothes, earplugs, phone, plugged in phone charger, and all other stuff stowed away properly! Hell to the Yeah, I’m a Camino Boss!

Then I felt the heat on my face. It only took about thirty seconds for it the settle in. As it did, I knew I was in big trouble. This heat that buried my face and body was the result of trapped warm air enclosed in a space with no room for it to escape. It was a Death bubble born of sweaty French cyclists and a dayfull of Spanish sun, and maintained in it’s position over my bunk by the happenstance of the room’s construction.

It was intolerable. I dropped to the ground to confirm that the air was indeed cooler on the floor level, by at least 11 degrees, and there was a small current of air down there as well. As I staggered as quietly as I could through the darkened room, I saw that it was the large wooden beams on the ceiling that kept the air from circulating over my bunk, and by a trick of the room’s geography, only my bunk. Everyone else was fine, sleeping away. Adjusting the room’s door was not a solution, and to even attempt to mess with the windows I would have to reach across the bed of one of the French cyclists with the snoring French Cyclist in it: not happening ( also the next morning I saw the windows were cemented in position, so it would have been feckless to try).

Albergues have rules about sleeping in the common areas, so it wasn’t just a case of moving out to the courtyard and crashing on a picnic table. Also, I knew they were sold out with any extra beds available so…what do I do?

There’s guys out there reading this going, “Dude, screw that room, Bro! Go crash anywhere, and if they give you shit, tell ’em they owe you a Decent room! There’s no way they don’t know about that room , Bro!”

Then there’s the sensible Wife version of the Bro Voice’s message: “If you don’t like it, go see if they can change it for you. There’s no harm in checking.”

Also, of course, there’s Siddhartha sitting in a thorn bush with the ascetics saying, “Life is suffering, be where you are, if you are meant to sweat like Jabba The Hut all night long, then seek the Dharma in it.”

And Because Buddhism hates me, there’s also the Buddha himself saying, “Being hot for no reason is dumb. Go get comfortable, sitting in a thorn bush sucks and the only thing it teaches you is that sitting in a thorn bush feels just like sitting in a damn thorn bush.”

At the moment, all those voices and more were suggesting possible options, and none of them were coming from within. My decision would be a performance for all those voices, and I would choose one of them to please, the voice I wanted to please the most or be the most. This is a place I live in constantly. It used to be my job. It’s a very unhealthy place to be when you are not on stage.

After about an hour of all that, I climbed back up into my bunk, and settled in to the heat.

Stultifying. I decided that ‘stultifying’ was the best adjective for it. I lay there, and wallowed in the horrible air, and worked through every mental coping mechanism I could come up with, from Buddha to Batman. In Texas you learn to not fight the heat; it’s hot, get over it. But they also believe in not tolerating something that’s wrong, proprieties be damned. There’s Nature, and there’s assholes. Both cause problems. But sometimes, problems come from a place between Nature and assholes, and that was the problem I unslept with the entire night.

I wonder if I would qualify as Nature, or Asshole? Flip a coin.

Buen Camino.

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Pamplona and Alto de Perdon. Chp 15 Not my Camino

PAMPLONA, BEYOND,

One of the biggest fears in travel is “I’m going to miss it”. The awful anxiety that eats away at your Fun Time which Insists that for one reason or another you are going to not see the one thing everyone else saw and that it was the best thing ever! Relax, unclench and breathe. One of the best things about the Camino de Santiago is that won’t happen. The only one possible best thing ever is Compestella ( not really ), all the rest is Your Camino, and therein there is no wrong rout, incorrect choice, No Shouldas, No Wouldas, No Couldas. Everywhere you go, is where you should be. And there are so many little towns, small detours, and cool family alburgues outside the bigger towns and destinations, you’d be a fool not to try the Road less Followed a few times.

Case in point, we walked right through Pamplona. Yup. A huge, beautiful castle town that all the Camino Saints insist must be enjoyed for a whole day or maybe even two! And they are right. But we didn’t, and we did not regret one bit.

Pamplona was fabulous! One of the best castle walls I have seen, and the city preserved it’s History in an accessible and fun way. We had blown through Pamplona on the way to St Jean as nervous travelers wondering what the hell was going on with this weird-ass bus station. And now we were experienced Pilgrims traipsing the streets like veteran Caministas!

The bread shops had become out first target upon arriving in any large town, and Pamplona’s bakeries were top notch; always a place to take a chance on a new food. We did stop for breakfast, and had an amazing meal with a smiling cashier and server. The place was full of pilgrims, and we saw some old friends from the trail. And, I have to say, we had a larger quantity meal and a better quality than the meal in Roncevalles, and it cost less.

And no, I’m not ‘just sayin’. Roncevalles should be skipped. Take a picture of it, move on to somewhere that cares.

Yeah, I’m so brave, taking on the Camino Industry while Trump fiddles.

Anyway, we walked out of Pamplona and into the countryside and onto one of the best walks I ever had! Though I mentioned in the past I was worried about Stacy’s general pace, and that her slowness might drive me crazy, things were actually going okay. She was getting stronger everyday, and by every mile I was finding a slower pace far more enjoyable than before. Despite that, on this day Stacy cut me loose, and let me power ahead to walk alone.

Wow. The totality of Stacy’s incredible coolness just hit me. A lot of folks would have trouble with that, letting your partner just walk on ahead. But I knew to stop at major points to wait for her, and though my overall pace was not faster, I still got to walk hard and fast and get myself all sweaty and tired and deliciously exhausted! Drained with good, solid effort for Unstupid reasons! And once I was alone enough, with no one else to hear me, I started singing out loud. Les Mis. Les Miserables, my favorite musical. The whole thing, Original London recording, of course. The American version tries too hard. There’s a picture of a haystack up Top in the Slideshow that just screamed of Jean Val Jean walking to Paris hand in hand with Cosette. I know it’s Spain and not France, but cut me some slack, it’s a feeling, not a truth. I popped it on and strode like an out-of-tune crazy person, it was wonderful! And when it was all done, I sat in silence under the shade of an almond tree, and waited for the woman I loved to come up the road.

And she did. It’s a gift to learn how to be alone together, and I’m greatfull she gives me that space.

Ot perhaps she was just getting sick of me and needed a break. Probably a little of both. Which is cool to be okay with, and that’s also due to her.

After Les Mis left me and Stacy joined me we made it Alto Al Pardon, The Hill of Forgiveness. It was a major point along the way, and there was a crowd of pilgrims there to talk and commune with. The main sight was a metal cut out mural of the history of pilgrim on the Camino which was placed near the edge of the cliff, so the spectacular view of Navarre was a background and as such it presented the perfect photo opportunity for all of us.

Too perfect. I was raised in San Antonio, where tourism is the number one industry, and this felt a little like The Alamo at it’s worst. I kind of wanted to just hold my hands up and say, “Okay, okay, just back off, I already know I’m on the Camino. I don’t need Blacksmithery Art Murals to remind me.” I’m being a little pissy here, as it was a great spot, and we had a great time talking to crowd up there. Mark, the school principal from Canada, gave us some great perspectives. But all in all, the view and the spot would not have been worse without the mural.

And then, about a hundred feet away was another monument which proved my point to myself. On a sloping side of the Alto were two rings of seven foot tall stones placed in circles, and a stone plaque dedication. The stones were carved in a Stonehenge like manner, severe and stark. (see above Slideshow) The rings had been built in 2017 to commemorate massacres of hundreds of people by the Fascist Regime, who were then buried in a mass grave, here, at Altro De Perdon, on the Hill of Forgiveness.

There was nothing about these stones that made you want to pose in front of them and smile.

To say the Fascist history of Spain is troubling is the only thing you can say, out loud, while in Spain. You see, it’s not History, it’s a living issue. That monument was built in 2017 to call out a regime that had left power only in 1975. The bodies are still being counted and loyalties have been passed down through the bloodlines, if they survived. The monument at Alto de Pardon told us that all the men from from a suspected Communist or Republican family would be taken away in the night and killed by the Fascist authorities, and the plaque listed the Family names of the dead on the Hill. The scars of the Civil War are everywhere, once you understand what you are seeing. It was terrifying to see how nicks in walls, little round concrete houses and large fresh mounds of dirt can Not look like bullet holes, pillboxes and mass graves. All of which we saw in our walk, and all of which The Spanish Jacobean Council does not want you to see.

Look up Alto de Pardon online. Notice the dearth of references to this Fascist death squad monument? But lots of stuff about the pretty, perky Mural. How do you visit Alto de Pardon and not mention it in your blog? Is there something I’m missing about the concept of Christian forgiveness here on The Hill of Forgiveness?

Forgiveness is not forgetting. And in case you didn’t know, or forgot, The Catholic Church supported Franco and the Facists wholeheartedly. I’m not giving you any links, go look it up yourself. It’s not disputed, just swept away behind Murals and replanted trees.

Forgiveness is automatic for God, Stacy can tell you all about it; the Grace of God is Free and waiting for you, if you want it. Hiding your past is not wanting it. Paying other people to hide your past is not wanting it. Agreeing to be paid, is not wanting it. Ponting towards Heaven with bloodied hands, is not wanting it.

I’m gonna leave you here with this…

Buen Camino.

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Nothing tastes better than the Hand that Feeds You! Not My Camino Chp 14.

There’s a movie about the Camino de Santiago called ‘The Way’ starring Martin Sheen. I hate it. It’s a plodding and predictable piece of propaganda which celebrates the obvious and considers subtlety a sin.

And right now, about 90% of the Camino De Santiago groupies are yelling at me. They all Loooooove that movie, apparently. If they actually exist…more on that down the page…

Now, though “The Way” is a textbook course about how to turn any incredible experience into a boring stereotype, it does serve one other purpose. It’s the perfect Banner for the sub-genus of Human we must call The Camino Saint.

There’s a certain character that arises after you scan the Camino Santiago Facebook pages for about, oh let’s say, 45 seconds: The Camino Saint. They are brave, and tanned, and smile with the brightness of Colgate Toothpaste and All star Quarterbacks. They did not just walk the camino, they Communed! They immersed! They connected! They become one with the surroundings! They began to understand what was really important about the world! And they want to charge you 15.95 to tell you about it in 360-page detail. Ot just a couple bucks to download a PDF. Or 10 bucks to catch the new movie/docudrama/pilgrim-mentary they’re showing at the local Catholic Church. The attitude amongst these Saints is of absolute positivity. No mention of any bad experience or negative attitude about the Camino is tolerated. And the shape of your journey to Compestella must fit the Martin Sheen paradigm, or it is rejected outright.

But under this Persona lies yet another Camino Character! Well, that is to say, the absence of another. The Camino de Santiago pages are filled with fake profiles.

I have been researching fake profiles for a while, ever since the news about possible Russian/Chinese/North Korean influence on social media. It’s propaganda, and I love the history of propaganda! Here’s an example of some propaganda posters from World War Two:

As I shamelessly sought to sell my blog, just like the Angels I cursed before me, I discovered that the plethora of Facebook pages About The Camino De Santiago were rife with fake profiles. Even several of the the Administrators were fake. One was Administered by an AI chatbot. I contacted FB and several admins in the rooms. There was no response. At All.

Were there many people who real? Yes, but in some cases less than half of the profiles I checked. Were some pages more real others? Yes. Yes my research exhaustive? No, just exhausting.

I have tried to make my experience on the Camino de Santiago about understanding, compassion and growth. Sadly, I have come to learn I was wrong to expect that from others. Even in the smallest ways, the Proffiteers of the Camino De Santiago seek to deceive, obfuscate and enforce a narrative that prevents spiritual growth–for money. They sell their Faith just like every other Object on the internet.

I gotta admit, my heart’s a little broken here, which is why I haven’t posted in a while. Yeah, I hear myself being childishly naive. Dishonest people on the internet?? Big Shock. Religious people lied? No kidding!! The thing is, I’m new to broken heartedness, so it still stings. As a younger person, I never fully gave myself to anyone or anything. Now, as I have started wanting to give myself fully, I find it hard to work past the disappointments.

Also, as I feel this kind of hurt, I understand better the pain I’ve caused in others. I haven’t liked it much. The Dharma teaches us that understanding is wonderful, but it also burns. It sears. It crushes, and it illuminates the worst along with the best, making both extremes mere twisted mirrors of each other.

hooray. nirvana.

I’m not trying to piss off the Camino Saints, but I have to come clean and say that I’m bored Shitless just perusing the titles of all the journals, testimonials, novels and yes, Blog Posts about the Camino. And I understand that people on the Camino went through a life changing journey that should be respected….maybe. Remember, half the people on there were Salesmen or Fakes. The other half seemed to be fine with their ‘sacred life changing journey’ being Sold like a Medieval indulgence. I don’t think I want to be that kind of pilgrim.

So, though I did the Camino, I am not a pilgrim. I am not an angel. I am not a Christian and I am not even a good person. But I’m trying, Bhudda, I’m trying real hard…

This is not your Camino.

Buen Camino.

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Music on the road! Chp 13, Not My Camino.

This is a cheesy thing to say, but the greatest comfort I had on the Camino wasn’t my fancy shoes or the high-tech Hiking pants we wore (who knew pants could be high tech?). It was music.

There were a few days when Stacy (my wife who was walking the trail with me, for all you late-comers) would let me plow ahead at top speed to tire me out, and so I would be walking alone for a while. And then, I would sing. Loudly. On purpose. You see, I was an army brat as a kid, and when we lived on the premises of Fort Sam Houston, we would watch the troops marching and running on KP, singing their cadence songs to help keep them in step, which sounded so cool. In the Boy Scouts we learned that singing while hiking was a great way to not think about your aching feet. And whaddya know? It works on the Camino Santiago as well.

Of course, when it comes to Army rules and regulations, even the Cadence, I need to be true to my calling as Professional Smart Ass….

You might be surprised at what makes a good Camino Cadence song. I found that a lot of the music I enjoyed back in the world wasn’t working for me on the road. The Misfits, Sex Pistols, The Detroit Cobras: they all felt wrong when I tried to get my usual lift from their thrashing energy. However there was a certain stretch of road lined with rolling green hills and haystacks that made me want to sing the entire score of the musical “Les Miserables”, (original London Cast recording, of course).

MY CAMINO PLAYLIST

Leon Redbone
Old Crow Medicine Show
Cat Stevens
The Beatles ( especially Abbey Road)
Jim Croce

Willie Nelson
Beethoven

And despite my access to every song every made in the History of Mankind, there were also entire days when I never desired to hear anything but the world around me; the wind off of Alto De Pardon, the sounds of grape harvesters yelling at each other, eagles screaming in the sky . . . more than enough to fill my senses. And sometimes, silence is the best sound.

I am an aficionado of silence. As much as I like music, I respect silence more. It was a rare commodity when I was a kid and it’s even rarer now. And it’s not fair that we all share playlists of Music, but never lists of Silences. So…..

MY FAVORITE SILENCES PLAYLIST

An empty Stage in a dark, empty theater.
Your house three seconds after all your guests have just left.
A wooden church in the countryside.
Walking a gravel road in August in the middle of the Texas Hill Country.
A Winter sunrise at Promontory Point in Chicago, Illinois.
A full audience that is so moved by a performance they are even holding their breath.
The split second right before the delivery of the perfect punchline.

Do you have a favorite silence? Please share it. And if you don’t…..

Hey there all you Pilgrims! In honor of the Buddhist Holiday celebrating the Bodhishattva Kaufmann and his 1000 Mirrors Of Absurd Truths, I give all you a CAMINO SONG, written in my Native Language, American

Not English, American. There’s a difference. Bless ’em both.

The song is based on ‘Polly Wolly Doodle’, a folk tune from the Southern Unites States that is quite silly. Here’s my favorite version…..

Fun, eh? It’s an easy tune to sing and play on a guitar or ukulele and it’s incredibly adaptable, so I wrote a version for all you Pilgrims out there to sing while pilgriming along the pilgrim way. . .as Pilgrims….

So here’s my lyrics for anyone walking the Camino:

WALKING EL CAMINO ALL THE DAY ( THE THE TUNE OF POLLY WOLLY DOODLE)

CHORUS:
Fare thee Well,
Fare Thee Well,
Fare thee well on the Pilgrim Way.
For I’m goin’ to Compestella cuz I am a groovy fella ( or Bella )
Walking El Camino all the day.

VERSES!

I ain’t washed my clothes in 15 days,
Walking El Camino all the day
I smell so bad even flies stay away.
Walking El Camino all the day

My feet fell off as the Spanish people Gaped
Walking El Camino all the day
I replaced them with stacks of olives and grapes
Walking El Camino all the day

I opened my mouth just to say hello
Walking El Camino all the day
Twenty flies flew in and then out my nose.
Walking El Camino all the day

Well I went into a church and then I went into a church
Walking El Camino all the day
Then I went into a church and I went into a church.
Walking El Camino all the day

They wanted ten euros just to wash my socks
Walking El Camino all the day
So I washed ’em in wine and asparagus stalks.
Walking El Camino all the day

There wasn’t a single room to be seen
Walking El Camino all the day
Until I told them that I was Martin Sheen.
Walking El Camino all the day

The tortillas are blander than a plywood box
Walking El Camino all the day
I asked for salt they gave me rocks.
Walking El Camino all the day

I got so hungry I ate my own face
Walking El Camino all the day
My wife didn’t notice it was a disgrace.
Walking El Camino all the day

And you know what? This is a folk song, so everybody owns it! If you can think of a verse, please add it in, and sing it loud and proud as you walk to Compestella.

Buen Camino.

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A Bad Walk. Not My Camino Chp. 12.

(FROM LINTZOAIN TO BURLADA )

Going through my notes from our Camino, I’ve noticed there were certain days that were packed with so many amazing sights, sounds and people that one single, measly post simply cannot contain it all!!

This wasn’t one of them.

The main source of our troubles on this day were the downward sloping trails consisting of Sharpened Shale rocks jutting upwards thirsting for Pilgrim blood that I had mentioned before. And now, these Rocky Knives of Doom were slick and glistening from last night’s storm, and they were thirsting for us to stumble just a little bit so they could laugh at our pain. Well, those were Stacy’s main source of exhaustion. Mine was Klaus.

Klaus latched on to us at the top of the day when we were asking around about Ibuprofen. In Spain, painkillers only come in small doses, so travelers with extra amounts of ‘The Good Stuff” were in high demand up and down the pain-causing-Camino. In the process of asking any smiling face we saw if they were drug dealers, we met Klaus. Klaus was 72 and had walked the Camino several times. He had visited or lived in 60 countries while working for charity organizations, helping people to learn how to grow food for themselves. So in short, Klaus was a capable and knowledgeable fellow who had lots to share about his long eventful life.

And I wanted to get the hell away from him as soon as possible.

Klaus liked to talk, and in general, I like to listen. But after a while I found that focusing on all the stuff Klaus was talking about was taking away from my Camino. Granted, mostly I wanted to just bliss out on all the nature bursting with life around me. The previous night of rolling thunder and the dreams it gave had put me in a place of active seeing, active listening, active feeling. Add to that the relief from First World Sensory Overload that walking through quiet villages gives one, and suddenly there was room in my psyche for things like peace of mind and God and stuff, and I was in the mood for some ‘Paul on the road to Rome’ action. Billy Batson and the Shazam! The Blues Brothers at James Brown’s church!

But instead I got ole Klaus talking about buying sorghum in Iceland for twenty minutes and I can’t get a Spiritual thought in edgewise.

“Will you please shut the hell up so I can focus on being a better person!?”

I didn’t say that, of course. That would be wrong. Wrong speech, to be precise. And when you flip that Dharma coin, you come up with one of the Eightfold Noble Path, Right Speech.

Screenshot

A lot of what the Buddha taught about Right Speech is pretty obvious, like don’t lie. But Buddha, being the Karmaic nitpicker he was, takes the time to split all the hairs on the Universe’s Coiffured Head in the hope of leaving your Bad Karma no wiggle room to grow into a ponytail of Suffering.

That analogy was a little extreme. But unirregardless…

The four main precepts of Right Speech are:

1. Abstaining from False Speech
2. Abstaining from Slanderous speech
3. Abstaining from harsh speech
4. Abstaining from idle chatter.

To put it in the vernacular, don’t lie, don’t say mean stuff even if it’s true, don’t say stuff in a Shitty way, and don’t stand around and bullshit all day.

Another guide to Talkin’ Righteous are these five precepts of Right Speech, oft paraphrased and originating from the earliest teachings of the Buddha. Right Speech is….

“It is spoken at the right time. It is spoken in truth. It is spoken affectionately. It is spoken beneficially. It is spoken with a mind of good-will.

Is it True, Helpful and Kind. YouTube is chock full of videos from All the Religions, Influencers, life coaches, spiritual guides, Gurus and former lead-singers-who-are-now-sober who all espouse on THK as the way to go! It’s a big deal!

So, just saying “shut up and go away” isn’t gonna cut it. Spiritually, that is. It would be funny, in an Sam Kinison/Howard Stern kind of way. But easy. And life is too short for easy, cheap laughs.

I lied. Life is never too short for a cheap laugh. You have to stop and smell the Mel Brooks every now and then.

But cheap laughs are often cruel laughs. It’s a shame how often being funny is the same as being mean. A life in comedy is the opposite of a life in diplomacy. Also while listening to Klaus, I can remember others shirking my Mother’s company because she was difficult to be around, and I sure didn’t want to make anyone else feel that way, especially an amiable guy like Klaus. And, of course, I have read all the myths about God wandering around on Earth disguised as a mortal, testing the hospitality of the faithful! This could be a trick! Klaus could be Buddha! He’s not, because Buddha’s more gone that gone. But still, Zeus might be real! If Beyonce is real, anything is possible.

The answer to my annoyance was as easy as making an excuse to take a left when Klaus when went right, no trouble at all. No yelling, no anxiety. And we saw Klaus a couple times down the road, and all was cool and groovy. But the hypocritical annoyance I felt on The Camino Santiago hung with me, and I let the feeling hang out and hover so I could figure out where it was coming from.

Amidst it all, like a Bat signal in the night, came the words of the Boy Scout Law.

A Scout Is:
Trustworthy.
Loyal
Helpful
Friendly
Courteous
Kind
Obediant
Cheerful
Thrifty
Brave
Clean
and Reverent.

Great list of stuff to be, right? All these ideas are the basic building blocks of being a Kick Ass Human that we find in all the good Oaths, Laws, Promises and Sacred Cleavings throughout History. With one exception.

Cheerful.

What the hell? Cheerful!? Whaddya mean ‘Cheerful’? I made fun of that one when I was a young Scout. You see, you got Big Huge Bravery! You got Lovely Loyal! Righteously Reverent! and then goofy, dumb, old, boring Cheerful plodding around like a clown in a children’s cancer ward. But I realized that it may be the most important one. Being brave and loyal and righteous and clean is hard work, very hard. Often times nigh impossible. And if you are walking around being a jerk and saying angry stuff all time, it makes it even harder. Every aspect of our lives are made better by the attempt to be Cheerful, not just acquiescent to troubles, but to smile at them, and to share that smile with others.

Here’s how the Boy Scouts themselves define the Law of Cheerful:

CHEERFUL. Look for the bright side of life. Cheerfully do tasks that come your way. Try to help others be happy.

Frankly, I’d rather just be brave. Is that okay? I’ll charge the enemy and fight the monster, but trying to make all the people I meet be happy sounds bloody exhausting. Have you met the people? I have. They liked Pauly Shore and invented bell bottomed corduroy jeans.

For us Buddhists, the key to being a Cheerful Boy Scout is something called Interbeing, a concept made popular by Thich Naht Hanh which teaches that everything exists in relationship to each other. I am only John because Klaus is Klaus. If Klaus was not Klaus, then I would not be John. Moreover, there is a lot of stuff I have, that Klaus has too. When the differences are weighed with what is shared, the scale clunks hard over to Interbeing; the only things that separate us are delusions . . .

….and the fact Klaus smells like sauerkraut and keeps telling me about the first time he saw a Pontiac Firebird in Dusseldorff which he loved even more than the Masseratti. And I hate cars: A lot.

I am not a good Buddhist, and I have not been a good person. But I was with Klaus that day as I walked the Camino, and so on that day, Klaus was my Camino. Soon, Stacy will get so exhausted that she will call a cab to our next albergue, where I will sit and think about Klaus, and why I did not have good will towards him without effort. I’m still thinking about it right now as I write this post. If I had been a better person, would I be nicer? Or if I was nicer would I be a better person? Buddha smiles and points to the place before that choice existed.

These posts about the Camino aren’t about my answer to the problems of the Soul, The Universe and God. It’s about the questions. Tomorrow Stacy and I have to go to Pamplona and walk with a shitload more Klauses, and those poor bastards have to walk with me. I will try to be Cheerful while wishing I didn’t have to try.

Buen Camino.

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