Work

Staying centered at work
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    On the Road Paid Member

    Although we spend countless hours behind the wheel, we often overlook the excellent opportunity driving presents for the practice of mindfulness. Trucker Paul Conrad tells us how the road can be our teacher. Think about it. You’re hurtling down the highway inside a three-thousand-pound metal box, surrounded by other speeding metal boxes and immovable objects. Delay for a second or two in stepping on the brake, or let the steering wheel veer off by twenty degrees for as long as it takes to draw a breath. . . . Driving provides continual opportunities for us to wake up, to be mindful. There is no other daily activity for which moment-to-moment awareness is so important, or the consequences of inattention so immediate and potentially catastrophic. More »
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    Contributors Summer 2006 Paid Member

    Eliot Fintushel profiles Dr. Manfred Clynes for this issue in “The Merry Greis”. He writes: “Soldiering away at profitless things—that’s the life of the artist. Squint and tickle—maybe it’s something, and maybe it’s nothing—it hardly matters. The valuation is just a burden to be endured, plus or minus. So, now and then, when you meet a fellow from whose labors has issued, as it happens, something big and remarkable—you want to celebrate it.” More »
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    Growing Ground Paid Member

    IT BEGAN AS A FINE PLAN: replace the primitive outdoor toilets at our rural, monastic-style Zen Center. The head monk at the time was an idealistic German, and he made the final call to install composting toilets. CTs are based on a beautiful principle. It’s a principle with great metaphorical as well as practical value. The way the toilets work is, you crap down a long, narrow chute, and it accumulates in a large, plastic box. Once a week you shovel a bag of wood chips into the box. Eventually heaps of rich, earthy soil appear. This manure, or “humanure,” makes primo fertilizer for your gardens. What you took from the earth in food, you return to it as food. Beautiful, right? More »
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    The Money Mind Paid Member

    Talking about money can be as taboo as talking about sex. We all tend to maintain a certain secrecy about our relationship with money. We are likely to keep its darkest corners hidden even from ourselves. Nevertheless, money leaves a visible trail. As money flows in and out of our pockets, it follows the many patterns that make up our lives. Whether it’s small change or big paychecks, money mirrors back to us the most intimate knowledge of ourselves and those with whom we interact. More »
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    Vajra Gun Paid Member

    I have covered my badge with black tape so it will not reflect the light. The January midnight air is colder than the gun in my hand, a .357-caliber Magnum revolver, made of blued steel, so it won't reflect light. It has etched wooden handles so it won't slip. I am standing silently outside the basement window of a home on the San Francisco peninsula. I am focused completely on the three people inside, lying on the bed directly below the window. The window is partly open. The room is brightly lit. How can they sleep in that bright light? Are they asleep? The smallest one is only a month old. She lies between her father and mother, who are both fully clothed, both very young themselves. Far too young for the trouble they have brought upon themselves, and the threat they are now bringing to their child. More »
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    In the Land of the First Noble Truth Paid Member

    We had just opened our building in lower Manhattan when we saw smoke sliding out from under Rooster Vargas's door. My then supervisor, a sultry woman in her mid-twenties who did not know what she was getting into (and who soon became conveniently pregnant and left), pounded on Rooster's door. She got no response. She barged into his room with a fire extinguisher so shiny and immaculate it resembled a religious object. We found a chicken defrosting under a scalding shower. Rooster had gone shopping. Seven years have since past. Rooster's residence is without Rooster. After interminably shooting up, snorting, tormenting staff, inflicting on other residents his bug-laden cart that clung to him like a second body, Rooster was evicted. I am still a case manager at the forty-four-unit independent housing facility run by my agency for people who are mentally ill (there are also rooms for people who are handicapped, either physically or financially). More »