Author Archives: Peter Sanford Kahrmann

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About Peter Sanford Kahrmann

Writer, disability rights advocate, civil rights advocate.

Thi

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Her name is Thi, pronounced tee. She is Vietnamese and Buddhist and her name means poem. It is a name that fits her well. Thi was the first person to teach me something about Buddhism, how Buddha believed that much of human suffering was and is rooted in our relationship with things. Things we have come to believe we should have, lamenting those things we don’t have, clinging to the things we do have, as if, and I imagine this was Buddha’s point, our very identities and worth were based on the presence or absence of these things in our lives. a

Thi was and is a truly beautiful and extraordinary person with remarkable depth of spirit and thought. Like anyone you genuinely like in life, when you are with them, talking with them, the joy of the moment is because of the person you are sharing time with, not because of what they are wearing or how much their watch or clothing cost. Right there is a reminder that real happiness in life doesn’t have a damned thing to do with things. For the life of me I can’t remember being in a conversation with someone and thinking, I’m having a wonderful time because, thank God, they’re wearing a Rolex and not a Timex!

Many who read this were, like me, raised in a culture that socializes (brainwashes) us into believing the acquisition of things is, whether we recognize this pattern or not, the driving force of our lives. And when I say things, I’m not just talking about material things like cars, fancy technology and such. I’m also talking about things like job titles, positions in society, of monetary wealth, of fame, of having the prettiest or handsomest mate and so forth. The word having being the dangerous word there, you don’t have anyone. No one is or ought to be a possession.

Life is a great teacher. I think the best teacher of all. There are times the lessons are not particularly pleasant, but they can become so if you have grown comfortable in your own skin and know that no challenge in life takes you away from you. If you stay in the warm light of that awareness, you are better able to digest the lesson, even if it doesn’t always taste good – at least not at first. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out happiness is not found in things, in our possession of things. Sometimes life offers us the chance to learn this, or, better put, discover this.

A case in point. I have recently gone back on disability and, save for a speaking engagement or two coming up, things are walnut tight on the economic front, and so I am streamlining things on the economic front. I was using a smart phone with all the bells and whistles. Realizing I could cut the cost of the phone in half by going back to a regular ol’ cell phone, I proceeded to do exactly that. And oh my, the upset I felt at having to put away the smart phone. You’d have thought I was having a limb removed, for Godsakes.

And then I thought of Thi, and Buddhism, and I realized I was in one of those moments that Buddha warned us about. Suddenly an experience that was giving me pain shifted and began giving me joy. The kind of exhilarating joy that one feels when they discover something wonderful in life.

Something for you to think about. I live in rural area. There are hills and streams and lakes and fields and farms all around me. There are birds and deer and rabbits and there is a big sky here. I don’t know where you live but the point I am about to make here still applies. How often have you been going to an appointment, the store, to see a friend, and on your way there you are so fixed on where you are going and what it is you want that you never notice the world you are traveling through?

It’s not all about things. Don’t miss your life. Stay open to it. Love it. Breathe it in. It is yours, and it’s wonder doesn’t have a damned thing to do with things.

When I am watching the beauty of a sunset, or watching birds on the feeder, a huge smile on my face at their antics, the last thing I am thinking about is what I am wearing or what I own or don’t own, I am too busy living. And isn’t that what it’s all about in the first place, living?
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Ex-Wives and Little Boy Biffy

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It has been a very, very long time since I have inflicted violence on anyone. However, there are times when people behave in such a way that I am inclined to think giving them a good hard crack upside their heads may, in fact, be the best move. The truth is I would not inflict violence on anyone anymore unless, of course, I was defending my life or someone else’s life; but it is, I am not embarrassed to admit, somewhat enjoyable to contemplate giving one or two people a good smack.



I recently wrote an e-mail to several people close to my ex-wife to see how she was doing. She is dealing with a rather formidable medical challenge and although it has been well over a decade since we have even seen each other, my concern and worry for her runs deep and true.



Having said that, there are a few in her, well, camp, if you will, that don’t know how to let go of the past and one, in particular, we will call him Little Boy Biffy, wrote back a pretty nasty e-mail to me. I can understand that because my e-mail inquiring about her health was certainly brutal. It read, and I quote:





Dear All,





Could someone please let me know how Paula is doing? We’d exchanged a few e-mails late last year and I last heard from her on Jan. 3. I am so deeply worried.





My prayers and best wishes and love are with her and with all of you.





Peter



Pretty rough language on my part, come to think of it. Then of course, Little Boy Biffy writes back something nasty to me which will go unquoted. Suffice it to say I invited him over in case Little Boy Biffy would like to, well, you know, tell me in person. I’d even make him a cup of coffee. I actually would. More often than not, tough guy bravado vanishes when face to face with someone, and perhaps Little Boy Biffy might learn a bit about me, and of course, I could learn about him.





But I’m not expecting any visitors. Cowards don’t respond well to invitations.

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The Freedom of You

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I remember songs.

Songs that moved my stride forward, lifted my head up. In the dark days of hunger and homelessness songs kept me warm, fed, loved, gave me air to breathe. Through all my life music carried me through Certain songs in certain times got me to the sunrise and let me rest my head in peace after sunsets drifted to deep blue, then black.

I don’t know what lifts your spirits, but I can tell you they deserve to be lifted. I don’t know what feeds your soul and fills your heart, but your soul deserves feeding and your heart has a right to be full.

Today I saw an old clip of Emerson, Lake and Palmer singing “Lucky Man,” one of those magic songs that wet my eyes and moved my heart. There were many, many others. For years Bob Dylan kept me going and for many years since it has been Bruce Springsteen.

Always Beethoven has mirrored my soul, jazz my mind, Steinbeck, Dickens, Tolstoy and others the thoughts that fill my mind.

Yet, when all is said and done, freedom seems to me to be the clarion call. Freedom for us all. Freedom to be who we are safely in the world we live in, unhindered by the bigotry and hatreds of others. Free of our histories, of the poisonous trappings of stereotypes.

Freedom to be you is what my heart and soul wishes for you.

And so, I can think of no better song then the one I place below. Paste it into your browser and enjoy. Take it with you through your days. Let it lift you, bring a smile to your face, maybe tears of joy and hope to your eyes, and fullness to your heart.

You are here to be you, it is your right to be you in freedom and peace, after all, you can’t have one without the other.

Go ahead now. Give it a listen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2o9WUCqQzS0
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Getting Free of Your History

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Seems to me if you’re going to be in a relationship you might want to make sure you are free of your history first; at least free enough so you don’t wind up, consciously or unconsciously, holding the other person accountable for wrongs that may have been inflicted on you along the way. Watch out for judgment too.


While none of us, this writer included, are free of judgment, we are wise to hone our self-awareness skills in the hopes of noticing when we are engaging in patterns of judgment. Judgment can and does muck up clarity and can, if we’re not careful, cause us to lose sight of the person we are with, and then, if we don’t get hold of it, cause us to lose the person.


No one wants to be treated as someone they are not, or have cookie-cutter definitions inflicted on them because of their gender, their nationality, their sexual orientation, their religion, their height, weight, skin color, or other components of their make up, their history.


The truly breathtaking wonder and glory of each person is their individuality.


Sentences that begin all men are, all women are, all gays are, all blacks are, all whites are, all fill-in-the-blanks are, sadden me. They doom the speaker and listener to the seeing a forest without seeing the trees, and the loss inherent in that event is tragic.


John Steinbeck more than once talked and wrote about the danger of mass thinking and mass production, and warned of a dangerous result, a diminishment of the individual.

In my life I have experienced homelessness, a bit of fame early on, violence, a brain injury from getting shot, loss of family and so forth. When I am with others who have had like experiences, we are not mirror images of each other, swearda God, man. Yes, we are joined in some common experiences, and, as a result, have a bond of sorts, but we are not identical.



If individuality is lost, whether through mass thinking or those still hamstrung by their histories, the results are all of sad and tragic.


Something else just dawned on me. If we inflict generalities on those around us, without realizing it, we are denying ourselves the very real chance of fully connecting with someone. Generalities can seem to be their own defense system; but that is an insidious falsehood if ever there was one. Because the very generalities designed, consciously or unconsciously, to protect you, will be the very things that rob you of ever being fully with another person in life. In that case, your history wins.

You are the one who deserves to win

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Murdoch and Sharpton make Great Bedfellows

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Rupert Murdoch’s “apology” for a blatantly racist cartoon in the New York Post has about as much sincerity as Dick Cheney has heart.

Before I get started here, let me say that I have no use for the anti-Semitic attention-whore Al Sharpton. Come to think of it, he and Murdoch have a lot in common. Both are greed-based. Murdoch for money, Sharpton for fame. Come to think of it, they’d make good bedfellows. My apologies for the frightening visual.

Murdoch’s “apology,” includes a phrase that makes it clear Murdoch is lying or is pretty much comatose (my guess is the former).

“I have had conversations with Post editors about the situation and I can assure you — without a doubt — that the only intent of that cartoon was to mock a badly written piece of legislation. It was not meant to be racist, but unfortunately, it was interpreted by many as such,” Murdoch said in part of his statement.

How anyone could interpret the image of two cops shooting killing a chimpanzee and not realize it is racist is beyond belief. Murdoch is flat out lying and his apology is driven solely by greed. Many advertisers were, and, I hope, still are, threatening to end their relationship with the Post.

If Murdoch wants to really do something that hints of sincerity, he can fire all those involved in the publication of the cartoon – and then resign.
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