time for me to stop making new entries to this blog. I will miss it.
And truth is, I'm not going so far as to deactivate my connected
Twitter acccount [@trailerpkkarma] or even my Facebook page --
so you might hear from
me every now and again.
I have plans that will take me farther away and for longer from these things that have both generated income to sustain and sapped a little life blood from my existence. At least for now. And that's all that can be said of anything we do, anyone we know, anywhere we go. At least, for now.
So bear with me while I ramble one last time...
I was reading one of Pema Chodron's latest in the Shambala Sun -- you probably did, too -- on our responses to chaos. And she reminded me of the mantra that has run through my veins for almost a year (over a year? makes no matter): cultivation.
It's been what this blog was (is?) about all along. It's not about trailer parks. It's not even about transient living. It's not about being poor or white trash. It's not even about Buddhism or cooking.
The idea for this blog came on an afternoon in a garage apartment in the East End, when The Editor's unusual assemblage of pantry items and the need to make edible meals from it kick-started a conversation about cooking and aversions and how nothing stays the same, ever.
It's not such a great thing that the Internet has given us all a place to pin ourselves down. Of course, we can't really say with complete assurance This Is Who I Am -- but we keep trying, and there are tons of spots in the ether that invite us to do that, to claim our territory in this universal experience. So funny.
Trailer Park Karma is just three words I used to describe my own journey, the result of the choices I've made, those thoughts and actions still to come, and the immeasurable ripple effects from this glob of atoms, spinning, on the rest. Over the years, something happened that I didn't expect from this blog. Readers reacted. Some responded, too, and that's groovy. It was the reactions I didn't see coming.
Like being told outright that I don't really talk "like this", meaning with the tone and vernacular that you hear in some of my posts.
Like being told that I'm actually smarter or more sophisticated than I sometimes portray here.
Like being told that by referring to myself as a Bodhisattva, I was being a self-righteous phony.
Like being asked why I was "hiding behind" another personality, a facade.
I had hoped to one day explain myself -- not defend, mind you, because there is nothing being attacked -- to use words to illuminate for others thoughts in my mind, about all of the above and more. I was always a too-serious child. Bless my heart.
But life -- that is, the incarnation in which I find myself now -- is getting even fuller and busier. And then one day or evening, I'll be gone. Really gone. Kirby the Burb Dawg will go, too. So will Lil Mayhem the Goat Dawg. And as much as it pains me to write, The Boy, The Editor, The Editor Too, and every single one of us and you will go, too.
So here's a shortcut to what I was trying to say all along:
Cultivate. Look it up. Ponder the meanings of that one word, really, for a long time. Never stop doing it. It is all there "is"...
And of equal importance (some might say of greater importance) always try to remember (which is to say, cultivate the thought in the direction of integration, so it comes to mind in a flash and on-call) that cultivating is all that anyone else can do and is doing.
Every a-ha moment will pass. Every pain will subside. It will all go and some will come again, only to leave in the end. If there's more to it beyond that, I'm comfortable saying that we buncha atoms haven't figured it out.
I "am" everything anyone has said I "am", if not in tangible action, then in the stories in their minds. Our mind. They are me, and I am everyone. And more. So it is with all of us globs o' atoms.