Bedlam Farm Blog Journal by Jon Katz

I figured out a few year ago that most of my worrying was about the future, not the present or the past. I was so afraid of what might happen, it sent me into one panic after another. What if I had no work? No money? No success?

I zeroes in on this fear in my daily meditation.

I began studying radical acceptance and also began meditating regularly, and one of the central ideas of meditation is to help the mind live in the present,  in the now. That is the peaceful place where the mind can find quiet and peace.

Meditation and spirituality teach the idea of a Gentle Mind, a softer mind.

Be kind to yourself, was the lesson this morning from my meditation teacher, be kind to yourself, he said, so that you may learn  how to be kind to others.

I’ve been working on this idea of the gentle mind for sometime, and also the idea of being in the moment. In meditation, when my mind wanders, I have learned to focus on my breathing, to get grounded again. We are told over and over again to plan and worry about the future, not to celebrate the present.

There is nothing more antithetical to spirituality and peace of mind than that idea.

We are taught, wrote Paul Tillich in his book The Eternal Now, to expect an endless future, in this world and beyond, one in which we may achieve or possess what we have failed to get in our present lives.

Our culture teaches us to deny an end, to hide from the fact that we shall all end. We refuse to accept, wrote Tillich, “that we are all creatures, that we come f rom the eternal ground of time and return to the eternal ground of time and have received a limited span of time as our time.”

A very limited time in the scheme of things. That idea spawns perspective. How do I wish to use my time? Not in worry, for sure.

I saw in my meditation that I didn’t wish to spend my life in fear of what my happen. Living in the present sheds so much of the fear and worry that followed me around for much of my life.

Last week, a woman wrote me a message saying it wasn’t my business, but she lived in a small town in upstate New York and read on my blog that I was thinking of going to visit my granddaughter, and she thought I ought to know that it was dangerous to write this on my blog, because she knew for a fact that there were people who would break into my house if they knew I was away and steal everything of value that I had.

She knew it was none of her business, she said, but she thought I ought to be warned. There is a rare day in my life when someone is not warning me of one thing or another, from shoveling snow to feeding rawhide to my dogs to eating certain vegetables.

Living a life of warnings to me is just another way of living in fear. I won’t do it. The Warning Makers, I call them, have supernatural instincts which lead them to fearful people, upon which they feast. If you listen to one, there will soon be a swarm of Warning Makers, they move quickly, like ants on a fallen sugar cone.

I wrote back and told her the  farmhouse would not be empty, and was never left empty, and yes, I said, it was not her business, thanks for the concern. We are aware of safety precautions. I don’t care to be warned about my life, and I won’t live in fear.

She was quite indignant of course, and huffed off in a snit, as happens with people to tell me they know I hate advice, but here is some anyway. It never ends well, and they will never stop.

In meditation, I thought of Tillich’s observation: “We go towards something that is not yet, and we come from something that is no more.” The more I thought about that, the more the message sunk in.  I remembered that I did fear the past, especially my mistakes, I was full of regrets, and it made me fearful and anxious to think of them.

If I made so many grievous mistakes in the past, and called them up all the time for regret, why shouldn’t I fear the future? Couldn’t it just be more of the same?

The past held great power over me. But in spite of the power of the past, I felt I could separate myself from it, keep it out of the present and leave it where it belonged.  I did that, I was successful. Solitude is essential to this kind of work, I believe. The Quiet Mind can do great things.

We are not inescapably victims of the past, I decided.

Repentance is not the feeling of sorrow about past mistakes, it is the act of the person who separates himself from elements of his own being, sending them, discarding into the past as something that no longer has any power over the present.

I liked that idea very much, it worked for me. I don’t think of the past much any longer. The past doesn’t matter, neither does the future. Only the present matters, the life that I am in today, right now, at this hour, this moment.

Tillich calls the present The Eternal Now, I like the term.

That is where I went in my meditation this morning. My meditation teacher says the point of being kind to me, is so I can learn to be kind to others.

This reminded me of something I once wrote about dogs. I love my dogs because they have taught me how to love people, not because they are a substitute for people.

Think what I could do with kindness.

The Friday Night Bingo Game at the Mansion turned raucous last night when Jean, one of the Bingo winners, went to the prize cart and chose some bling. Dorlisa, one of the fun-loving Mansion aides, challenged her to a game of “Slinky-Blingy Bingo” to see who could say it quickly.

All the men in the game fled, but most of the women stayed behind to play the game, I couldn’t say it quickly but we laughed long and hard trying.

Come and see.

“What s a dog anyway? Simply an antidote for our inferiority complex.”

-W.C. Fields

This week, I’ve started re-reading one of the classic studies of the relationship between people and animals, a book by James Serpell, my favorite dog and animal writer. It’s called “In The Company Of Animals: A Study of Human-Animal Relationships.”

This is one of the most fascinating and rarely explored subjects in our world.

Serpell, who wrote “Domestic Dogs,” one of the most thorough and useful books on dogs ever published, has a genius for stepping back and examining the complex and contradictory relationship human beings have with the animals on our planet.

Just look at dogs, the most loved animals on the earth, and the most abused, misunderstood, abandoned, exploited creatures ever to come near people.

Pet owners have only recently become a majority in Western cultures, writes Serpell, and pets are being emotionalized in historic and unprecedented ways.

Strong affection for animal companions did not become widespread in Europe until the nineteenth century. American veterinarians have noticed a dramatic increase in the level of human-animal attachments in the last twenty to thirty years.

The great mystery surrounding the pet revolution in America is that there have been very few serious attempts to explain either why pet keeping has become so important – and expensive – and what purpose, if any, it services.

According to the American Veterinary Animal Association, Americans now spend about $70 billion a year on health care for their pets. Why are we so willing to spend this kind of money on animals where tens of millions of Americans, including many children, have no health care at all?

Standards of medicare for pets are fast approaching those used on people. Veterinary procedures now include magnetic resonance imaging (MRI), hip replacements, transplantation surgery, radiation and chemotherapy.

In a Darwinian sense, it makes no sense, yet it tells us how important pets have become to us, I would argue in many cases, they have become more important than people. Every time I am in the company of dog lovers,  one or more will proudly tell me that they love their dogs much more than the people in their lives, as if this were a noble thing to brag about.

Sociologists generally agree that if every one of the 75 million dogs who now live in America vanished, life would continue pretty much as normal. We may love these animals, but do we really need them to survive. We are brutal to almost every species we don’t need; even more so those we do need.

We are mostly content to sit by as half of the animal species in the world disappear, mostly at the hands of human greed and arrogance. Yet dogs and cats get into beds with us, have human names, have excellent health care and nutritious and expensive food,  and are believed to give us the unconditional love people say they can’t find from people.

(I would have to argue yes, I think we have come to need dogs and other pets in many important ways, first and foremost for being surrogates for people, from whom we are becoming relentlessly disconnected. They might be necessary, but is it healthy to need surrogates for our own species? Could that be a good thing? Is it really okay?)

Serpell points out that the view of pet-keeping as some kind of gratuitous perversion of natural and normal behavior has been repeated and re-iterated through history and is even now the subject of much caricature and ridicule. A lot of people have pets, a lot of people don’t.

I’ve often fantasized about Labs hanging out in the U.S. Capitol or the White House. It would be a different world.

As the psychiatrist Aaron Katcher points out, “we are taught to despise the sentimental, to think of it as banal or as a cover for darker hidden emotions.”

Some articles have claimed pet owners are socially inadequate, that they use pets as artificial and ultimately unhealthy substitutes for reality. “A certain amount of grief or remorse when pets die is only natural,” writes Serpell.  But often, it is something much more unnatural.

When I wrote “Going Home: Finding Peace When Pets Die,” any number of psychologists and psychiatrists told me that mourning over the death of animals can become pathological, several even called it a public health hazard that needed more attention. I believe there is some truth to that alarm.

Just look at the pet grieving on Facebook every day.

The shrinks I talked to reported what Serpell also found, that excessive grieving over a pet is sometimes the inevitable outcome of pathological over-dependency. Are animals a substitute for people? Sometimes, sure. Can we love them too much?  Are we depending on them much for emotional, even spiritual, support? Absolutely. I think we all know this is sometimes true.

But it is not the whole story.

I am always aware of keeping perspective in my love with dogs they have always brought me to people, they have not taken me away from them. My dogs taught me how to love. But they are not children to me, they are not better than people. I don’t seek unconditional love. I want love to be conditional, I have to deserve it and earn it. Unconditional love seems creepy to me, almost fascistic.

I want a dog (or a human) to love me because I  treat them well and thoughtfully, not because I exist.

Serpell has studied the case against dogs and domestic pets for years,  he finds some truth is some these stereotypes and alarms, but in  general finds them false and unsupported.

“I have argued,” he writes in his book, ” that popular beliefs about why people keep pets are often erroneous, they should be replaced with the notion that personifying animals is a normal and natural human characteristic, and one that can be emotionally fulfilling.”

These harsh beliefs about pet ownership and human-animal relations were spawned, he wrote, when moral reservations about our ruthless exploitation of animals were out-of-place and frowned upon.

To me, the danger in the pet revolution, at least in our country, is more ephemeral.

I see a culture that is losing trust and affection for humans, and loving pets more and more. Pets are filling that enormous and disturbing gap with the emotionalizing – perhaps “over-loving” of animals.

We are turning pets into demi-Gods, people into villains.

I do not believe pets like dogs can ultimately carry the weight of human relationships with other people. It puts too much pressure on them. This is one reason why nearly 400,000 dogs in America are now on Prozac. A couple of generations ago, no dogs were on anti-depressants or anti-anxiety medications.

We are making them crazy, just like us.

I am happy there are dogs in the world, they have enriched and nourished my life in many critical ways. They are not like us, but neither are we superior to them.

I respect James Serpell for many reasons, one is that he never loses perspective:

“For when we elevate companion animals to the status of persons,” Serpell writes, “when we empathize with them and acknowledge their resemblance to ourselves , it becomes obvious that the notion of human moral superiority is a phantom: a dangerous, egotistical myth that threatens our survival. Ironically, as the forerunner of animal domestication, pet-keeping led us into our present, destructive phase of history. Perhaps, by making us more aware of our biological affinities with animals and the natural world, it will help to lead us out again.”

I want to offer the Army Of Good an update of sorts, one of my perennial reports on the too-many-to-count  small acts of great kindness we have undertaken over the past few years.

We have fulfilled our promise to do good rather than argue about what good is, and for me, it is just the beginning.

My focus has changed, I have learned a great deal about sharing and giving, I have grasped the real value of stepping outside of myself and becoming more aware of the needs that exist in others, especially those I can help alleviate.

I am understanding what my life is about, thanks to you.

I am asking for less money, and spending less money on our projects of good,  yet doing more good than ever. I feel my work is more focused, more efficient, more thoughtful. I’ve shifted gears in ways that are obvious to many, but need to be explained, honestly and openly.

You deserve that.

For some time, people were coming to me for help and I was writing a lot of big checks, It was exciting, dramatic, and we did quite a bit of good. When the Mansion residents need us during their long evacuation last month, we were there, every day.

But I realized over time that while I was asking for a lot of money and spending a lot of money on behalf of the refugees, it wasn’t having the effect I sought, it wasn’t lasting help. This couldn’t be just about money, the needs are so great, our resources too small.  It was just never enough.

In this world, money is radioactive. I was uncomfortable asking for much so often, it wasn’t all about money, there is not enough money in my world to meet those needs.

Money is an explosive and volatile and difficult issue in the refugee world, and I can’t blame them. They need everything, and are under siege in every way. I don’t blame them for wanting and needing more than I could give.

I ultimately chose to abandon working with RISSE, the refugee and immigrant center in Albany, they care and do wonderful work and are worthy of support, but I could not overcome the bureaucratic hostility there towards me, and the paranoia and suspicion that swirls around anything to do with money there.

I didn’t write about this earlier  because I hope people will continue to contribute to them and support them, I didn’t wish to discourage that, and I still don’t. They help people in very direct ways when no one else is. They don’t have to like me to be worthy.

The refugees and their children are in desperate need, RISSE is one of the very few institutions that offers real and urgent assistance every day. The  hostility to me and the way I work was just not something I could overcome or had ever encountered – I am committed to transparency, and I have promised that the people who send me money will always get to see – in words and photos – where the money is going and what for.

That became impossible there, I simply couldn’t accept  their xenophobic views of fund-raising, and their unrelenting suspicion of me.  I am fortunate to have been trusted wherever I have worked, so this was a new thing for me.

They could not accept my independence or ideas about openness, despite the fact we raised tens of thousands of dollars for them.

I don’t wish to go into any further detail, I’ve let go and moved on.  But I’m not quitting on the refugees.

I mention this all not because I relish an argument, but because you do have a right to know. You made all of this good work possible, and your money did do a lot of good, and still does.

Transparency is not simple or easy, but I am committed to it.

My relationship and beautiful friendship with Ali did not survive either, a painful thing for me, and I imagine, for  him.  I thought of him as a brother. The refugee children deserve better all around. Adults should do better, but this is difficult ground to navigate.

Money will always be a difficult issue in a community that has so little and needs so much.

You can always support the children at RISSE by supporting their Amazon Wish List. which I suggested to them. I will continue to support it,  even thought the director of RISSE will not permit me to take photographs there, so I can’t show you where your money is going.

As a result, I am continuing this work on my own, mostly by starting a program to get full scholarships for gifted refugee children. I am off to a great start, after many fits and starts and more  phone calls than I can count. I do work better alone, I need the freedom.

I’m talking to several private schools who want to participate in this program, and have found several public school teachers willing and eager to help me fight prospective students for these scholarships.

We have already paid the tuition shortfall for one student, Sakler Moo, for two years.  We’ve also paid for his meals all year. And a second student, the gifted Eh K Pru, who spent a decade in a refugee camp, is talking to the Albany Academy about going there on a full scholarship.

If it works out, she might need some help.

But this program is carefully designed to shift the brunt of the fund-raising onto the school, not to you good people. If you wish to help, there will be opportunities to do that. Those envelopes with $5 and $10 and those life-saving checks make this world go around.

I hope this refugee student scholarship program can continue year after, that is what I am working towards.

The Mansion work has been glorious from the beginning, so affirming to me.

From the first, I have been trusted, granted freedom to write about life there, and supported in every, just what I hoped would happen with the refugee work. But you have to take life as it comes, not as you would like it.

I have learned a lot in the past few years about how to really help the extreme elderly, not just talk about it. I am getting there, with your help.

The Mansion work has only deepened and also become more focused. I make four visits a week to the Mansion. I read stories to them on Tuesdays. I run a new Mediation Class on Thursdays, Maria and I run a Bingo game on Fridays.

Most of the things I do are free, they cost nothing. I do seek to fill the holes in the residents lives. This is a Medicaid facility, it does not attract wealthy people. They often need real help, not just hugs and dogs. The staff are mostly a bunch of angels, working grueling hours for little money. They are great.

One afternoon a week Red and I make the rounds and visit the residents who would like some private time with him or me. As I have come to know the Mansion residents and staff and win their trust, they come to me for help when they need it. Their requests are simple and necessary, I never (only once) feel taken advantage of.

This week, I am buying bras, socks, a new wristwatch, large print books, puzzles and art supplies, two pairs of sneakers and some Spring pajamas. I’ve also bought two computer games and four DVDs, and distributed some notecards and stamps.

We have brightened their world and brought them comfort and support at a landmark time in their lives.

I think the Mansion work is going beautifully, my love for the place has only grown and I am always looking for new ways to be helpful in a rational, emotional and material way. I mix the real with the spiritual, I feel good about it. Rather than suspicion, I am welcomed with open arms.

Again, thanks for your support. Donations trickle in, thank you.

While I am asking for less money and spending less, I do need some help and continue to ask for your financial support, from my precious $5 donations to the checks that mean so much to this work. We are heading into Spring, and the residents will need some help, some new clothes and shoes, some outings into the world, maybe a $500 boat ride on Lake George in June.

I’ve started saving for that.

You can donate via Paypal, [email protected] or by check, Jon Katz, The Mansion Fund, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

Thanks, it was time for an update, I hope it is helpful. If you have any questions, feel free to e-mail me at [email protected]. And thanks for sharing this extraordinary experience with me, there is great love passing between us and out into the world.

This is about lowering my head and plowing in. I will never stop.

As the Kabbalah teaches, I can accept now that the mistakes and confusion and  pain I suffered early in life was the price of positive change and fulfillment. This – not anger or pain – is my true destiny.

Transformation is not easy, nor is it supposed to be easy. But it is wonderful.

In my morning meditation, the teacher, a Buddhist monk for many years, said that awareness cannot be anything other than non-judgmental, free from bias, free from commentary.

It is a daunting thing to do that in our world, but I knew right away what he was talking about, even though it is very hard for me to do.

I told the Mansion residents in our First Meditation Class this morning that the task in our meditation was not to judge ourselves or anyone else, but to observe our minds and the world around us without any kind of bias or agenda.

There is no right or wrong here, I told them, there is only right now, right where we are. They were, to a one, astonished at the thought. That is not, said one, what I learned in church.

No, I said, I am sure it is not.

Awareness, I replied,  is being aware of now, of your own breath and body.

My went went back to my reporting days, my mentors, tough old Irish reporters, told me I was there to observe, not to judge. I had to interview a lot of people I could not like and wanted to judge, I learned to not do that in my work, I was there to explain, not condemn.

This lesson helped me many times in my life, and is helping me to let go and focus on what is important. Reading to the residents, meditating with them, I thought this is where I want to be, this is my calling, this is important.

I have less and less time for foolish and drama.

When I began to fill up my life with good things, the poison and judgement and anger in my head began to fade away, there was no longer room in my consciousness for them.

In meditation, it is an extraordinary goal be fully non-judgmental, free from bias and commentary. It is a goal, a place to get to, even if I can never  be there for too long.

“The Meaning of life is found in openness to being and “being present” in full awareness,”  wrote Thomas Merton, his writing prepared me for today’s meditation. Sometimes – rarely – in my meditation, I do reach this state of pure awareness, I am living completely in the moment.

That is the most peaceful place I have ever gone to, there is no regret of the past, no anger at friends who are not friends, no worry about the future, no re-working of the news.

That, I think, is awareness at its core. The ability to live in the eternal now. To give thanks for joy, truth, compassion and honesty.

Life was pure and eternal in the moment, I could purge my mind of all its turbulence and be free and feel pure. I’ve done it a few times, or at least come close enough to feel it brush against my cheeks.

Anxiety is the mark of spiritual insecurity, I am learning. Fear accomplishes nothing, goes nowhere, it not even real, it is simply a space to cross, like an empty baseball field There is nothing to stop me from getting to the other side. The spiritual life is about moving away from fear, turning instead to hope. It is, after all, up to me.

I don’t have time to spent my life on argument, rationales, vengeance or setting a record straight. I don’t need to be right.

My life is too important to waste on that.

“You are more than you think you are,” wrote Merton. “There are dimensions of your being and a potential for realization and consciousness that are not included in your concept of yourself. Your life is much deeper and broader than you conceive it to be here. What you are living is but a fractional inkling of what is really within you, what gives you life, breadth, and depth.”

This is worth knowing about myself, this is how I wish to spend my time. I am beginning to see how much time I have wasted, how many petty and foolish and vengeful things took up so much of the space in my head and soul.

But Merton is right, I believe, the meaning of life is awareness, the state or condition of being aware,  of having knowledge, of consciousness.

Finally this is where my work on awareness is taking me.

I am coming to the conclusion that my highest ambition is to be what I already am. That I will never fulfill my obligation to be better unless I first accept myself. And if I accept and love  myself fully in the right way, I will already be better.

This is what I saw and felt and learned about awareness in my meditation today.