Hole in one.

I'm not 'a golfer,' but I've shot the links a time or two with my brothers, some of whom are. And I usually discover the Zen koan that the game presents: the harder you try to nail the shot, the more likely it is you'll slice it, hook it, or most embarrassingly, barely dribble it past the ladies' tee - sometimes not even that far. Of course, practice, technique, and equipment all help - at least I'm told they do, not that I've ever tried. But at bottom is the fundamentally counter-intuitive fact that letting go will tend to make for a better swing and shot. Well, letting go figuratively that is - you don't want to brain your fellow golfers (or yourself) by letting the club fly.

Now I don't remember where I heard this golfing story, but with some considerable embellishments, here it comes again:

One day a middle-aged Zen Buddhist monk - Master Bopshong Sunim, nicknamed Bob - was playing a Master's Tournament in Florida. He was very good at the 'letting go' thing, and well, his golf skills were pretty dang sweet. He was tall and well built, especially for a Japanese man. With shaved head, saffron robe, and bare feet - he cut quite the figure. His irons were all a bit rusty - not from lack of use, they were just that old. And his driver's were actually made of wood, some of the grips duct-taped to their shafts.

It was a gorgeous day, palm trees waving, and Bob - at two points behind front runner Phil Mikelson, and one behind Tiger Woods - manages to win with a hole in one on the 18th, a par four! Phil and Tiger, seeing this, break their drivers along the shaft over their knees, and storm off the course. Bob is awarded the prize money - $2,000,000.

"What will you do with the money?" a chirpy ESPN reporter asks Bob, with a sort of knowing grin. A grin that says, why on earth would you even want that kind of money? And how about sharin' the love? He smiles wide and says, "first I will buy new drivers for masters Phil and Tiger. Sometimes we act impulsively out of anger - but so too, we all need forgiveness." "It's $2 million. What about the rest?" Chirpy asks. "Our monastery could use some work, I think. Maybe new mattresses." He scratches the bed bug bites on his hips, bows to the camera, and walks off with two young novices (who had been his caddies, walking the course carrying his bags). The three of them walk through the crowd, headed to the parking lot.

As they climb into a rented Hyundai subcompact, a woman rushes up to them. Bleach blond, halter top, a tan dark as mud - with the blond hair, she almost looked like a photo negative - and bloodshot eyes, she'd flicked a burning cigarette in the gutter before she raced across the pavement. "Master Bob, that was an amazing shot!" she blurts out, holding the door open. Bob bows his head, and smiles, his face lighting up. "But Master, I have been crying my eyes out all morning." She wrings her hands. "You see, my son, my darling new baby son, he was born with spina bifida. We have no insurance, his father left me months ago. I don't know what to do."

The monks confer in Japanese, the word 'spina bifida' bandied back and forth. Bob asks, "what can be done for the child?" "Well, the doctors at the hospital say there is no cure, but they can perform an operation that will ease his pain and suffering." She takes a deep breath. "And he'll need long term physical therapy - his whole life maybe." She wipes away tears with her wrist. More conference among the monks, then Bob asks, "how much will this operation and therapy cost?" "$930,750 for the operation. And the long term therapy - probably millions, I don't know." Her face crumples and she begins to weep heavily. "I don't know," she whispers, barely sniffing out the words, "I just don't know what I'm gonna do."

This is followed by more monk talk as the older of the two novices pulls out a purse, and counts out the remaining travel money they have: $1,647, and some coins. The monk gestures for him to put it back. Then he takes the prize check out of his tunic. The younger novice hands him a fountain pen. "Tell me please your name," he says. He endorses the check, and hands it to Sharon Conner. She thanks Bob, gives him a fat juicy kiss on his bald head - leaving a smear of bright red lipstick - then rushes over and jumps in a car idling nearby. Which immediately screeches burned rubber and is gone. Bob and the novices smile, sending prayers of lovingkindness for the mother and baby, who, even with this operation and therapy, will have a difficult life ahead.

Bob closes the door, starts to back out, just as a golf pro races up. He pounds on the hood of the car. Bob stops, and rolls down the window. "I'm sorry Mr. Bob, it was so crazy over there in the crowd - I mean that shot was amazing, first ever on that hole - I didn't see you had already left. I wanted to warn you about that woman!" The monk and novices look puzzled. "You see, she has been here before. Please tell me you didn't sign the check over to her, please please tell me you didn't!" He looks almost as forlorn as the woman had. Bob asks, "what do you mean?" The pro says, "that woman is a fraud. I don't know what story she told you, but it is just a con!" The novices look worried. Bob asks, "you mean there is no baby with spina bifida?" The golf pro is almost shouting, "no, there is no baby with - with what? - there is no baby with anything, there is no baby." He checks himself, lowers his voice. "There is nothing, I told you she is a con!"

Bob smiles, nods, says thanks, and backs out of the parking space. "Thank goodness," he says in Japanese to the novices, "there isn't a little suffering baby!"

Free Tibet!

Yes, an old message this one.

But having read the recent article in the New Yorker (October 4 issue) about the Dalai Lama, it's one that I am feeling very passionate about. Not that the article intended to incite passion or engagement on the issue. In fact, even His Holiness has used terms like 'given up' on the Tibet issue: I find this most disturbing.

And the thing is, China really deserves an 'embarrassing' international movement to restore at least true limited autonomy for Tibet - and allow its leader and people to return (the Dalai Lama is considered a 'terrorist') - what with its bullying economic tactics of late (currency devaluation, etc.) I don't care if they want to keep with their Maoist capitalism, but when they crush ethnic 'minorities' in the sovereign nations they have annexed, I think it's time somebody stepped in. And that somebody is me. Now. Are you with me on this? (Perhaps not quite yet, but read on.) If the Dalai Lama has found a deep sense of peace with his peoples' refugee status, more power to him, he is a remarkable bodhisattva. But I'm not, and I don't think many of us are. 'In your face, China,' I want to shout!

How effective were the Buddhist monk's self-immolations in the lead up to the war in Vietnam? This is arguable. However, the effectiveness of Gandhi's popular non-violent passive resistance is beyond dispute in shaking off the colonial British yoke. And the effectiveness of Martin Luther King Jr.'s leadership of African Americans and 'whites' in non-violent struggle against racism in America is also a matter of historical fact.

I think the participation by Caucasion Americans (for want of a better term) in the Civil Rights movement helped to bring the issue to a visceral level for the established. It became less simply a 'negro movement' and more of a struggle for the dignity and rights of all people. White and black shot dead, or hand-cuffed and dragged to the paddy wagon, made clear the hideous face of Jim Crow for all to see. And I think if Westerners and others from around the world were to march arm in arm with Tibet, a non-violent movement could not be stopped.

I attended the 'Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear over the weekend. Were there hundreds of thousands? It felt like millions to me, pushing my walker in search of the ADA seating area. Then I got completely bogged down by the crowd. Never even found my girlfriend who was to join me there. My cell phone was useless: everybody, it seemed, trying to call and meet up. The energy of the crowd was full of goodwill, and once resigned to my place (well out of view and earshot of the stage or a videotron, even if I stood up), I sat on my walker for a little more than an hour next to a small girl in a stroller wearing a tiger halloween costume. Her mom, also dressed as a tiger, was attempting to reach the ADA area, as she was a sign language interpreter. The two of us had soldiered on together for a good half hour before giving up the push through the sardine packed crowd.

Later, watching the event at my sister's after party, on her DVR, I have to say I was a bit underwhelmed. The music was great, but Stephen and Jon just didn't seem nearly so powerful as they do on their shows. I cringed a bit with embarrassment at their Peace-Crazy-Love train shtick. The point was clear, but I think it was overly labored, and I felt sorry for the artists, though they no doubt knew it was coming, and had already signed on. However, I was glad to have attended. Did it help 'get out the vote'? I hope so. Did it take energy away from getting the vote out? I hope not. Sanity or fear: your pick. (Yesterday's election results kind of lean in the favor of fear....)

The New Yorker issue I mentioned above also had an article about the role of new media in politics and democracy today. "The truth about the Twitter Revolution," by Malcolm Gladwell. The article drew a stark contrast between the 'strong-ties' needed to get people out in harm's way to effect social change, and the 'weak-ties' of the new media. He starts with the segregated Woolworth lunch counter 'sit-ins' in Greensboro North Carolina in 1960, and moves on from there. The 'weak-ties' that can be facilitated through Twitter, Facebook, the 'blogosphere,' (dare I draw attention to the 'fourth wall' here?), etc., the author maintains, could never mount such profound social change as seen in the civil rights movement.

He goes on to explore the role of these media in the more recent protest movement following the purportedly stolen Iranian presidential election. He cites how the news media were happy to follow events on Twitter, but in actual fact, such 'new media' were at best helpful on the ground once the 'strong-tie' forces got people out in the streets. He also writes, "the people tweeting about the demonstrations were almost all in the West." He quotes Golnaz Esfandiari, who wrote on this topic in Foreign Policy that "'There was no Twitter Revolution inside Iran.'" He quotes further: "'Western journalists who couldn't reach - or didn't bother reaching? - people on the ground in Iran simply scrolled through the English language tweets post with tag #iranelection,' [Esfandiari] wrote. "Through it all, no one seemed to wonder why people trying to coordinate protests in Iran would be writing in any language other than Farsi.'"

This is a bit harsh, I feel, and the letters to the editor in subsequent issues took the author to task with some pertinent examples of powerful new media accomplishments. However, I think his basic premise is sound. Yet I think it obvious that both 'strong-ties' and the 'weak' ones can and will be necessary to tackle the bigger issues of the day. The Fear/Sanity rally I think did not rank as such an 'issue' -nor did it claim to - but I think it relied almost entirely on 'weak-ties' to get it going (notwithstanding the strong-ties that bind me to my siblings, other relatives in attendance at the rally, and my girlfriend). As you might guess, I think one issue in need of a full-on 'strong-tie' and 'weak-tie' engagement would be freeing occupied Tibet from its oppressive Chinese colonists. (Of course, you will be quick to point out, there are many other big issues in the world.)

This blog is at best a 'weak-tie' attempt at raising the issue that has been raised so many times before. I'm like a very tiny David, with his even tinier sling, facing a vast and growing Goliath, China. What will it take to get millions of Tibetans, along with Buddhists and human rights activists from around the world to march from Dharamsala to Lhasa? I feel like just one word from the Dalai Lama would do the trick: onward! Book me a flight, let's walk peacefully - with our digicams and 'blackberries' raised in defiance - directly into the spray of machine gun fire!

Mr. D. Lama, we await your call...