“The Stones We Throw” Update

The project I have wanted to make since 2023 is about to begin production.

I will take my first trip to places from Jack’s service at the Western Front next month. I won’t say when exactly but it’s definitely next month unless something goes wrong.

Basically, I decided that I could wait forever, for the perfect conditions, or I could just go do it and put my lessons to good use.

However, I have decided to leave all overt references to rebirth claims out of the text. Instead I will be conveying the soundest Dharma I know, in free verse.

I talked about my claims before I knew the gravity of what I was claiming. I made the mistake of agreeing to make this as an art project and taking donations to do so; thus I am obligated morally to deliver SOMETHING but I’m not comfortable making an overt claim in a book meant for publication even though I don’t intend to keep any of the money from this.

I have one more set of studies at the lab, this one testing an old Agfa Box camera I found for €10 at a thrift store at the Commonwealth cemetery in Zollstock (I already tested the Zeiss there).

A photo taken with the box camera at Melaten Cemetery in Cologne during my second test of the camera after lubricating one of the rollers.

Furthermore, I would eventually like to do some photos in the UK as well but this would be harder as the UK is no longer part of the EU. There are additional issues which I won’t go into here but they are along the same lines as the reasons I won’t be visiting Texas, Saudi Arabia, or Russia any time soon.

As I now reside in Europe, this is probably not the last trip. I may go and reshoot anything that doesn’t turn out. I may also take some trips to places from Count William’s life in the future but not for this project.

It is enough to focus on the Western Front primarily. Though I do intend to go to Bouvines as well since that’s where this whole series of missteps really started in earnest (it’s not original cause but it is decidedly a fork in the road). But between Houplines, Armentieres, and Ypres I have enough fodder to use up most of the film I bought for this project.

I’m excited but also relieved. I can’t live in the past forever, but I can’t forget the lessons of that past either, or where those mistakes eventually led me. And now that I have resolved a central contradiction between my vision as an artist, my obligations as a layperson, and my obligations as a Dharma practitioner I can move forward without this project feeling like a burden any more.

Update

I am still in Germany, presently living in a converted basement in downtown Cologne although I hope to move to an apartment a little ways west of here as I’ve recently gotten a job offer and it looks like immigration may approve it.

If this job offer goes through, as it seems likely to do, I will be able to get my visa and then I will be able to travel to other Schengen countries.

This means that, 111 years after it all ended one humid night in July, I may finally go to Jack’s grave.

I kept my promise to myself to never forget the truth about Samsara now that I had it in my hand. I made a promise to myself to disarm and to live a life of peace in accordance with the Dharma. I’ll do this trip in remembrance of every time I inflicted suffering on myself and on others. Stand in those places I still remember (faintly, for the memory has begun to fade) and reaffirm my commitment to the way of the Bodhisattva.

I had thought I was done with Samsara and I just wanted to go non-returner. But I probably don’t have many lifetimes left to go. I refuse to speculate on how many I actually have, though by tradition, once you hit a certain point you’ve got no more than seven births to Nirvana. In Theravada this is called “Stream Entry” though that term is not as commonly used outside of Theravada schools.

Anyway, the Bodhisattva path means to delay full attainment of Nirvana for the benefit of all sentient beings. And I felt like the once-returner path was too selfish even if I tried to square that circle. By my very constitution I could choose no other path than the liberation of all even if it means I must suffer longer.

I don’t know for sure if there’s a Pure Land where Bodhisattvas are perfected, but I’ve seen a variety of realms. Why should I doubt there are higher planes than this world when I know there are lower ones? I’ll take that leap of faith. If I’m wrong I’ll just be back in the same shit I always knew and I’ll take it from there.

I have been attending dharma talks at a Tibetan Buddhist center. I still have a lot of misgivings about Tibetan Buddhism on an institutional level that I won’t get into here, and I don’t know if I will ever call myself a Tibetan Buddhist, but I think I am SOME flavor of Mahayana. Anyway the folks at this little Sangha are nice and the monk who runs the place really gets me. I’d be heartbroken if I found he’d fallen into the things I know of some Tibetan masters falling into. Such is the fate of the Dharma in the world; it diminishes quickly. But I feel like I’ve picked up on its glimmer, here and there, and while this particular small Sangha of the Gelugpa school in a German attic on the east side of Cologne remains a good vehicle for developing the compassion I need, I will ride.

Truth be told though I would consider myself largely a student of the big picture of the Dharma. I’ve listened to Mahayana, Vajrayana, and Theravada teachers and they all had something to teach me. I’ve grown because of all of them. Far from feeling confused, I’ve actually become more insightful because I’m a big picture thinker who synthesizes from broad patterns. The more information I take in, the more I have to synthesize from and the clearer that big picture becomes for me.

Finally, something amusing I noticed: Because I have been reading some Buddhist literature in German, I discovered that the Pure Land is called “Reines Land.” Which sounds a lot like “Rheinland.” And I start to think that maybe my coming here was fortunate indeed.

So gehe ich, nach Reines Land durch das Rheinland.

Crisis Delayed

Well well well… looks like we’re not going to get nuked today.

Still, a line has been crossed and if our so-called leaders don’t respond to it with severe consequences, they’re effectively complicit in that line being crossed.

Should The Worst Happen

As you may be aware, there is a very real possibility of nuclear war in the next few hours.

Thankfully I can still enter a Jhana state. I feel my bitterness and fear less acutely now after only 25 minutes of meditation.

Should the worst happen I will enter the deepest meditation I can manage and remain there til my last breath.

Unless I am spared, this is my last post. Love you all.

Attachment

I find I no longer have the attachment to past lives I once had.

The other day I walked into Cologne Southern Cemetery, a Commonwealth cemetery with graves from both world wars. It was my first time in a Commonwealth cemetery. I even found a WW1 grave of someone from Jack’s regiment.

Yet I felt unmoved by the experience. And I feel tired of clinging to things I can never have back.

It’s not that I stopped believing in rebirth or Samsara. Nothing could be further from the truth. It’s just that the more I interrogate my motives for turning back to those things the less sense it makes.

I don’t want to be reborn in this world. I don’t really seek rebirth at all. I am told by most conventional teachers of Dharma that I am nonetheless stuck in Samsara for some lifetimes to come, as someone for whom the monastic life is not an option. If I am “fortunate” I might make it to a higher existence in the Deva realm or in some heaven but I dread that. Those born in such realms can be corrupted by them so easily.

If I’m honest I no longer want to produce “The Stones We Throw.” I would much rather just move on from all that. If not for the fact that I took money to produce this and I bought several hundred dollars in film and equipment for that purpose, I wouldn’t bother.

Anyway it’s going to be a while yet. I’m currently still on a temporary residency card which means I legally can’t leave Germany for an indefinite period of time while I slog through a slow immigration bureaucracy.

I often said over the years that my visit to the Western Front will probably be my finale for this blog and as it stands, that feels about right.

But I don’t need this trip to “let go.” I’m already doing that. My mind is no longer on rebirth but on stilling the ripples from the stones I threw for so many lifetimes. I’m tired. I want this life to be my last one before Nirvana. The things of the realms of rebirth seem dim to me and I yearn only for the far shore.

The Aspen

An aspen grows far from the river. Its roots sense the river nearby, and the richness of its far shore. And it begins to lean toward that river, stretching as far as its trunk will bear. By and by a root touches water. Not the far shore of the river but the near shore of the stream that leads to the river.

And it leans along the river. More of its roots wash in the rushing stream.

But the aspen bough only lives so long. It will topple one day. But the root is not extinguished. Not yet.

A bough rises anew, where the crown of the old bough fell. And the bough grows, bending ever more toward the river. But this bough is struck by lightning. It falls in a horrible way.

Five more times a new bough grows, in the illusion of a new, different tree. And each time its crown falls nearer to the river.

Now the seventh bough leans over the river itself. The root system can no longer put out an eighth bough; it is spent, it is sated. The last bough falls into the river. Its crown at last touches the far shore.

This Is Why I Left

A person with bad ideas was killed by a person with bad intentions. I can’t bring myself to say anything more about the people involved.

And regardless of who or why, the political and media elites in my country have decided that the left is to blame.

I left the US because ultimately, the right has fanned the flames so much that violence is inevitable and I decided I wanted no blame in that, though it wasn’t an easy decision. The urgency for action was building in me to the point where old karma was starting to kick in. Always sticking my neck out, always fighting, always ready to run into the breach for the freedom of others…

…And I recognized the ego of that sentiment that “someone should do something, and I’m someone.” I recognized the pain it has caused me. I recognized that I was bad at picking when, where, and how to fight and when I did it only led to disaster. Lifetime after lifetime I’d inflicted this on myself.

And while I feel a burden of worry for friends and family (none of whom support Trump) I am free of the burden of feeling I have no choice but to throw my life away to make a point. I saw my karma for what it was and I said “no more.”

I do still see the far right as an existential threat to democracy. I am sure they are lying about the source and nature of political violence. Friends of mine have been victims of right wing violence though thankfully none of them killed or permanently injured (one got beaten up pretty bad, another one got maced in a drive-by attack). I will always oppose nationalism, theocracy, corruption, bigotry, and incitement to violence on unarmed opponents.

But I am now focused on trying to get a foothold so I can potentially help others escape like I did, and embracing the Bodhisattva path without the egotistical need to be “the one who did something.”

The lessons I learned from Jack’s life and death are carved deep into my heart now, and have changed the course of my present life.

I warn you, no matter what side you’re on, if you start killing you will only feed some of the most horrible karma you will ever have to deal with. And one day you will remember the fruit it bore. Defend yourself and others if you must but if you embrace offensive violence, prepare to be reborn in the lower realms. I was extremely fortunate to return to human form so quickly (perhaps by the intervention of a Bodhisattva); you will probably not be so fortunate.

Be blessed, and don’t buy the propaganda.

110 Years

It’s been 110 years since Jack took his last breath.

His mindstream, in me, is now back on the Continent living rather comfortably during a time of tenuous peace. It’s a strange time indeed. Rumors of a third world war loom large.

But you would never know it here in Lützenkirchen. The sky is brilliant blue stacked with heroic clouds. At the bakery across the street was a larger than usual crowd. My husband and I got some really wonderful cherry pastries with custard.

I don’t know what the future holds. But I must remember whatever happens, I chose peace for a reason. I chose to change my ways and not stumble over the same awful karma.

It is said in the sutras that if a killer appears again among humankind, his days are short. My last life was 53 years, long by historical example but short by modern standards.

Jack’s life was not the first life I had lived on the battlefield either. How many lives did I take? I may yet be struck down by a situation far beyond my control. The ripples from the stones I threw may not have settled yet. Even so, I can live however long I have left knowing I upheld the First Precept. I will not throw that stone again. The Dharma has entered my mindstream and changed me. And however many lifetimes it takes, I will not be broken on the wheel of Samsara.

110 years. The world hasn’t learned anything, but I have.

Still Here

Just a brief post to say, I am still in Germany and I now have my temporary residency certificate. Hopefully by this summer I will have my skilled worker opportunity card and I will be working toward a work permit in a professional position.

I’m extremely relieved that I finished my BA before I left Portland. After a decade thinking I had wasted my time, I now realize that my time was well spent. I was able to get away from an increasingly tyrannical government because I worked diligently to finish the degree it took me forever to get.

Recently I also visited a place I had probably been to in a prior life. Aachen is only an hour from Cologne. It was once the seat of the Holy Roman Emperors. And it was in this capacity I may have visited, some time in the 1210s, as an envoy for my brother John.

Of course, the place has changed a lot and I can’t say I recognized anything. But it’s interesting nonetheless to be able to easily travel to a place I had been to centuries ago.

As for any travel to Belgium or France to see the battlefields that have haunted me for so many years, it will be a little while yet. My Fiktionsbescheinigung (got to love those German bureaucratic compound words) only allows me to travel within Germany. But I at least have something of a foothold here, at long last.

Another Spring

Another spring has come and with it, that same peculiar melancholy that comes even if I’m not thinking about those times in an active, conscious way.

I’m currently living in the Lützenkirchen area of Leverkusen, which is right on the doorstep of the Wupper valley and that region known as the Bergisches Land. Just a kilometer or so from the boarding house my husband and I live in, you find yourself in the rolling countrysides of the northwest Rhinelands, the foothills of the Wesphalian Sauerlands.

And as I was walking yesterday down a narrow farm road amid rolling hills dotted with half-timbered cottages, the spires of centuries old churches in the distance, it started to hit just how much this place brings back bittersweet memories of my walks in the hills outside Hereford more than 110 years ago.

I chose well, to lay down my rifle and come here. Even if it comes with no small amount of melancholy for what it took to learn this lesson.

I love this place and I want to grow old here. But the memories of what I lost may haunt me for many lifetimes to come, whether or not I know why the birdsong, church bells, and blooming flowers bring me such a deep sense of loss and longing.