Hello fellow Earthlings, sorry I have been away so long. I've been in heavy meditation since the firing of Jon Gruden, the headcoach of the Las Vegas Raiders. You see, if I haven't told yo before, I have been a Raider's fan since I was in the Navy and got stationed in San Francisco -- Oakland to be more precise.
Upon arriving at the Oakland/Alameda Airport, I saw the Oakland Raiders helmet in a glass encasement at the airport. I didn't know then, but the feeling that came over me from seeing that helmet is the same feeling I got when I saw my first Buddha. It's a spiritual feeling that is hard to explain, but very similar to that feeling I got when I first looked into my daughter's eyes. Love? For sure; however, "destiny" undoubtedly. I have been an Raiders fan since.
Why did the firing of Coach Gruden throw me in a retreat state? Well, karma. That's right. If you don't know the Gruden/Raiders story, it goes like this: Around 1998 Gruden was given his first head-coach job with the Raiders. Al Davis -- ommmmm - (reverence hum that is) gave him a break, and Jon helped develop the Raiders into a Super Bowl contender. Problem is that in 2001 Gruden was traded to Tampa Bay and the next year, was coaching Tampa Bay in a Super Bowl against the Raiders, his old team.
Al Davis
Mark Davis - Al's Son and Owner of the LV Raiders
Obviously, Gruden won the Super Bowl. He knew every weakness of his old team and so beating his old team was his great accomplishment. Very sad.
After that Super Bowl, Gruden became a Sports Talking Head, a know-it-all in a field of dimwits. Even sadder: he was one of the dim-wits.
Fast forward to three years ago and Mark David, the son of Al Davis, gives Gruden the keys to the Raiders Team along with a new football stadium in Las Vegas, and 200 million dollars in his pocket to boot.
Things were starting to turn around then private emails of Gruden are released showing that he had homophobic, sexist, and slightly racist views on a lot of things no modern-day man should have. Mark Davis who grew up in the Bay Area and so slants a little to the left -- ommmmmm, be still my beating heart -- had to fire Gruden... a week later, our start running back wrecks his car and kills a woman and her dog, he was drunk and so fired the next week.
In the late 1800s, many Americans toiled
12 hours a day, seven days a week, often in physically demanding,
low-paying jobs. Children worked too, on farms and in factories and
mines. Conditions were often harsh and unsafe.
It
was in this context that American workers held the first Labor Day
parade, marching from New York’s City Hall to a giant picnic at an
uptown park on Sept. 5, 1882.
The America Labor movement had begun and over the next century we would see a minimum wage, 40 hour work week, child protection laws, etc..
So my fellow humans, on this Labor Day 2021 I say: Put labor back in Labor Day. I say this the same way some Christians say: Put Christ back in Christmas. And just as they want to see a return to the days when Christmas was a day to honor Christ -- something I can't find in any history books, but I understand their plea -- I say, put Labor back in Labor Day. Maybe I'm just as blind as the Christians on this one. Maybe "Labor" never was in Labor Day.
Thoughts for you on this Labor Day. Happy Labor Day.
And on a Nichiren Buddhist note let me remind you that Nichiren Daishonin was the founder of this faith that has changed my life in so many ways, none more notable than saving my life by giving me a pain in my chest when I chanted which turned out to be my early diagnosis of lung cancer which they got in time to remove. The doctors were all dumbfounded saying, "There is no way that that early stage of a cancer node caused you any pain."
Nichiren established the chanting of Nam-myoho-renge-kyo to the Gohonzon as the universal practice for attaining enlightenment. The name Nichiren means sun lotus, and Daishonin is an honorific title that means great sage.
Now you know.
Happy Labor Day boys and girls, good night, and fair wages for all.
In the Lotus Sutra, Bodhisattvas of the Earth are volunteers who have come to fulfill the mission to propagate the Mystic Law. I am a volunteer. This is my blog.
My name is Boogie, Doctor T V Boogie that is. I was born on a cold winter's day in an industrial city just north of Canada called Detroit Michigan. If you ever want to win a few dollars at a bar, just ask someone to name a major US city north of Canada that is not in Alaska. They can't. I just did.
I took religion serious from the beginning. I prayed to Jesus but somehow never felt anything other than one of those brain freezes that you get from drinking a cold drink too fast on a hot day. I can't tell you the first time I saw a Jesus cross, maybe because there were so many; I can, however, tell you the first Buddha statue I saw on Woodward Avenue and Nine Mile Road. It was outside a Chinese Restaurant that we past on our way to the Five and Dime Store -- for those too young to know, before there were Dollar Stores, there were Dime Stores, which begs the question: What's next, Twenty Dollar Store? Perhaps. But I don't want to talk about money, I want to talk about that Buddha I saw. I stopped and felt something. I asked my Grandmother, "Who is that?"
"It's a Chinese Big Boy Restaurant, stay away, they cook dog meat."
Yes, my grandparents were racially opposed to anyone who didn't have pinkish skin and round eyes, but then, they didn't like most white people either so I didn't think much of it until I got older and knew there had to be a better way, a Bodhisattva Way.
When I was about seven or eight, there was a hit television series called Kung Fu. All the kids loved it. It was about this half-Chinese/half-Western man who was raised in China and came to the USA to find his lost brother during the Wild, Wild, West days. He was a real badass, and the kids on the playground pretended to be Kung Fu by kicking each other. I didn't understand it, I wondered, don't they see that he doesn't want to fight? That he wants to avoid fighting and be peaceful! That was the Kung Fu who inspired me.
I tried to fit in, but always knew I was different spiritually than those around me. And it took years to figure out, but I eventually did, and that is what this blog is about.
Okay, so for those of you who understand how some Esoteric Objects can protect themselves, I have an item for you. For Sale, My Ouija Board. Happy Bidding.
I don't normally advertise items that I sell on my withinfilm account on eBay, but today I am compelled to because, well, just because... or should I say, "...because the sky is blue... trees are green...." Dang, my bedroom poet side is showing again, sorry, back to the subject at hand.
Around 2009 -- when I was still making bad movies -- I was walking into this thrift store and as I was entering, I thought, "There is going to be a Quija Board here." And there was. That's right, a Parker Brothers Glow-In-The-Dark Quija board. And so I bought it. Now, having been raised a Christian I thought it was Satanic so never touched it; I did, however, use it in a short film called "Empty Boxes." That short was about a Mannequin (which is also for sale) that comes to life from the power of a Ouija board. Yes, another terrible film by Dr TV Boogie.
After shooting that film, I left the Quija board on the table, not sure why. A few days later, fire, Fire, FIRE!!! I live in a 4 Plex and so there was a bad fire which totally destroyed the 2 units beside me, as well as smoke and water damage to the unit above me. My unit, no problem, clean as a whistle. When I came to look at the damage a few days later, my condo smelled a little smoky, but that was it. And in the middle of the room was that Quija board, dry, clean, and safe; wow, Wow! WOW!
Now, the big question is, did the Quija board burn the units around me or did it just protect itself.
Anyway, I have learned in my Nichiren Buddhist faith that there are evil spirits around, as well as good ones -- that's right folks, there is a Buddhist faith for the Pagan and Witches out there who want to get out of darkness and into the light of Buddha.
Maybe I should advertise the Quija Board under home security. Hmmm....
July is a special month for special people for special reasons.
To begin with, July 4th is the day that the USA gained its independence from the British Empire. Now if that isn't special, I don't know what is.
Americans Revolt
Another special thing about July regarding my Nichiren faith, is that on July 3rd of 1945 a leader of the Soka Gakkai (Josei Toda) was released from prison after refusing to give up his Buddhist faith during the Japanese militarist authorities.
And finally, it was in July of 1921 that Mao Zedong and a dozen other delegates gathered together in secret to form a new political party. That's right, the Chinese communist party...
oppsss, sorry, anytime I mention Mao Zedong my computer crashes and I get this message from the Republican Party asking for a donation?... Not sure what that means.
For those of you who think dreams are bullshit, here's more truth that they are not -- at least from the mind of this Nichiren Buddhist.
I have been dating this beautiful woman from China for over a month now, and well, I said, I Love You. It was only a matter of time for me to do this for you see, I sometimes speak from emotion which is never good. I should have learned by now not to speak from emotion because, well, you see, I am a poet.
The rain came and I laughed
The sun came and I... cried.
~~ Li Kairui
See that was a poem I wrote under my new name, Li Kairui, but I'll cover that at another time. Today we are talking about dream number 486. Hold on to your seats boys and girls, here are the details:
What you say?
Last night I dreamed I was on a bus with my Chinese girlfriend to go see her deceased husband. Her deceased husband, her and I three were together on the bus, smiling, wondering. What does it mean?
Well, boys and girls, it means that I am connected to her deceased husband. You see, he died around the same time that I was in surgery to have the cancer tumor removed from my lung. Seems to me that he died at this time and she game into my life at this time for a reason. I know, I know!!! I am a dreamer. Well, yes I am. And so I believe he loved her so much that he helped bring us together from the other side.
Today is the 100 day after his death. In China this is a special day. My Chinese girlfriend has allowed me to go with her. I have a Chinese silver dollar to leave on his grave. This morning I chanted that he give us a sign that he is happy with us being together. Let's see what happens.
So I had one of those soothsaying dreams last night. It began on a street corner with a bunch of people I somehow knew, crossing a busy street. One of the guys was standing in the turn lane just before the median. Another guy had made it halfway and was safely in the median waiting for the light to change. I was waiting to cross at the beginning. Seeing the guy in the turn lane I yelled to him that he needed to go to the median or come back to the beginning with me to be safe from cars. He came back and joined me at the beginning to wait for the light. He was a black man. I remembering thinking he should have gone to the median instead of coming back to me, but at least he was safe for now.
The light changed and as soon as we crossed the street, we entered a bridge. Yes, the familiar bridge of my dreams. It's a high bridge, sometimes swaying, sometime still, sometimes open, sometimes encapsulated, but always modern. The bridge crossing is always a fun beginning too; excitement and joy for the journey ahead, which never last long. I walk with confidence at the start, but then look down at the water below and feel woozy at the distance if I should fall, and when I look ahead, scared of the long stretch of bridge I know is ahead.
There have been dreams where there is a draw bridge in the middle of the crossing and it opens before me and pauses my journey. Not this time, nope, I was already at the end of the bridge where I could see a damp landing a few steps below. I immediately take it leaving the others behind. Yes, impulsive me as usual. There is a group of young people waiting on an elevator, guys in their twenties wearing leather jackets and flip flop footings. While waiting for the elevator I look out a window and see this is the last section of the bridge and it leads to a brick building that reminds me of those ugly government buildings built in the 20's by Hitler and Mussolini. I'm puzzled, but nonetheless, excited. I push the elevator button, but nothing happens.
"We've been waiting a long time," one of the youngsters says -- I now realize that youngster was me.
I run back up the steps to the bridge where I left the others. They've moved on. I run back down the steps to the elevator platform. Still no elevator, I push the button and hear a mechanical sound which tells me that the elevator has arrived, but the door won't open. Elevator doors never open in my dreams. I try to force it, but it only opens enough to show me a glimpse of the light inside, and then snaps back. The others are laughing.
"We've tried it a dozen times," my younger self says, "it won't open."
I look out the window and see the others I left behind are at the end of the bridge. There is a father will his child in the lead and he's at the very edge, however, the bridge is not compete. Or is it? I follow the projected path of the bridge and realize it will touch the shore if there are more people at the end. I run back up the steps and find a passageway that leads to other parts of the bridge. The first passageway goes backwards, the second passageway is where I came from. I'm loss in a dream again, as in life. I'm about to give up, accept things as they are. So what, I'll go back to the beginning and start over. Only, there is no starting over at this point. And with this thought another passageway magically opens, it is a handicap ramp. I approach it and see a narrow path along its side that I must turn sideways to maneuver down, and so I begin my decent to the others at the end to help lower the bridge, but wait! As in all my dreams there is a break in the bridge, only at this time it is the final section. I'm so close to the end this time. I've never been closer. but then, NO, no, please god no...
The dream is over.
End of dream 689.
In analyzing this dream as I do all my dreams, I consulted my Cloud Nine dictionary written by Sandra A. Thomson. I began my analyzes with the main street where we were all trying to cross. Obviously, this is the beginning of my life, my youth. The characters waiting to cross the street I now realize are the different faces I had to wear in dealing with the adults around me at the time. I was born in 1959 and so became of age the 60's during turbulent times. We lived in Detroit during what they then called the riots, but we now all know was just another step in the long struggle for equality and justice in America. We lived in a white neighborhood on the East Side of the city. The first black family had just moved in and I was the friends with Charlie, the kid my age. Charlie was funny, easy going, and very giving. The world around Charlie and me was crazy, but we just ignored it and played GI Joe and Hot Wheels like boys will. One day playing on the steps of my porch my grandfather came out and saw Charley and me and started calling him "boy." Charlie and I were both embarrassed. I crumbled inside because I knew it hurt Charley. My grandparents were racist as were most white parents at that time. It was the first time I felt racism.
Another time, Charley and I were play-wrestling in an open field. We were imitating our favorite wrestlers, he was Bobo Brazil and I was Lord Athol Layton. I was about to deliver my sleeper hold when I felt a foot on my back. It was a black teenager who saw us 'fighting' and ran to help Charley. He kicked me twice before Charley could tell him we were friends playing. The teenager looked at me like my grandfather had looked at Charley. He said something like 'fucking white boy' and walked away. Charley and I decided to play a different game. A few weeks later the city violence was really bad and we could see smoke in the sky from the burning buildings. The National Guard parked jeeps around the neighborhood with armed soldiers. We could only play together until 6pm because of the curfew. That was my intro to life, and my dream hesitation in crossing the street at the beginning of my life. But with the help of others, such as the black man who came back to help me cross the street in my dream, I got on the bridge of life and began my journey.
Consulting my dream dictionary, a "bridge...can unite the past with the present." And I'm certain that is a big part of Dream 689, but the greater part of the dream may be my 'crossing' of the bridge itself. Thomson says in her book: "In many myths, crossing a bridge represents the passage from life to death and into whatever is your conception of life beyond. This, or other crossings, would be a typical kind of dream for someone who is terminally ill or close to death."
Ouch, reading that interpretation is scary, and to be honest I wanted to avoid it. But avoiding dreams only creates nightmares and so I must visit it. As many of you know I'm still recovering from having a cancerous part of my lung removed last month. So, I'm definitely closer to the 'beyond' than I am to the 'beginning.' As I have documented in previous post, my Buddhist faith has bought me some time in life, I don't know how much, but I do know I plan on spending this added time in my faith. Therefore I must now tell you that I am a follower of Nichiren Buddhism in which we chant Nam Myho Renge Kyo for truth and happiness. I joined the Soka Gakkai two years ago and from the first time I chanted Nam Myoho Renge Kyo the right side of my chest hurt. I thought it was from never have held my hands together in chanting before and that in time it would go away with conditioning. It never did go away and so I went to the doctor and they found a spot on my lung. It was an early enough detection that they removed the cancerous part of my lung and so I am now a cancer survivor thanks to my chanting. I truly believe this. Since having the cancerous part of my lung removed my chest doesn't hurt when I chant. And so I am the first one of my family in a long line of lung cancer deaths to have been given more time to live. My family karma of dying young from lung cancer has changed and I've been given more time to spread the news that chanting Nam Myoho Renge Kyo works. Try it if you don't believe me. Just put your hands together and find a spot on the wall to focus on and chant Nam Myoho Renge Kyo three times. The result will be enlightenment and happiness. That's where it begins, and for more info go to the Soka Gakkai International - USA website and find a group close to you, and soon you'll experience the happiness I have, and maybe interpreting a dream of your own.
Finally, back to my dream, I see now that when the elevator door does opens....
Last night I woke up and felt a planet calling me. The last time this happened it was Venus, and so I pulled out my favorite iPhone app, "SkyView," and looked out my bedroom window to identify the planet.
It was Jupiter.
So this morning I googled "Jupiter" and found the following good news:
Jupiter will represent
development, good luck, security, prosperity, plenty, higher learning,
idealism, knowledge, giving, dominance, integrity, and equilibrium....
Right on! all the things I've been chanting for!
Now here's where my innocent gaze up at the stars became a thing which at worse can be likened to a scene out of a bad 70's sitcom, or at best, the Twilight episode "The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street."
You see: I sleep nude. And so I was standing nude while looking outside my bedroom window up at Jupiter with my glowing iPhone; that's right: bare-assed naked, and I didn't notice that the neighbor across the street was looking right at me from his car. Yes, he saw me standing naked in my window looking up at his apartment with my glowing camera phone most certainly thinking I was peeping at his apartment window where his wife was most likely still sleeping.
"Yikes," I jumped back, closed the curtain, and made it worse I'm certain.
Howdy everyone, sorry I haven't posted in lately, but I've been working on a dream video that I'll post soon. I really am getting this dream stuff down, finally, after 60 years of dreams that I've had which would happen years later. You see, I come from a long-line of backwoods midwifes, animal doctors, and fortune tellers. Yep, good old-fashion American Hillbilly Gypsies -- yes, it is a thing (thang for my Texas readers). What pleases me most is that I still have many premonition dreams which mean I still have years left on this earth, unless that is, the dreams are for my next life... be still my Buddhist heart. Nonetheless, last night's dream was a weird one: a guy I worked with on a few films until I found out he was a White Supremacist and so stopped working with him, was in last night's dream. It took place at work where we were having a foursome with another man and a woman I loved. The other man was a mystery. That's right, that faceless person in dreams.
The White Supremacist guy was doing it to my woman while I was kissing her. Yes, I was getting off but hated myself while doing so. The other guy was standing in a corner. I heard someone coming and so ran and left the others behind. The person who came was the HR leader. That's right, the nemesis of my work life: the Human Resources person who was very cheerful even when telling you to hit the road, "You're fired!" "Oh, and please leave me a good review on the company Webpage."
Yes, the dream got weird and so I tried to run away from it. I went to another office where the White Supremacist guy was in a meeting with other business people and he joyfully winked at me. I ran to another office where I found a desk to hide under. Yep, a safe place that I try to find in all my dreams.
Okay, the analysis. The "safe place" is from my early childhood when my Step Father beat my mother while I hid in the closet with my best friend the Hoover vacuum cleaner -- which looked like R2B2 in the Star Wars movies. The weird sex stuff is just because I haven't had any since the Republican Party was still respectable and not the party of dissenting Neo Nazis on steroids -- pow, right between the eyes, someone had to say it. And finally, the faceless man... well... me. Yes, the faceless person in dreams is always that part of us we don't want to own up to. In my case, that deviant self that is hidden which might share in a perverted sexual thing with three guys and his girlfriend, but fortunately never have because I escape the act before it happened.
My childhood safe place was in the closet with the family Hoover.
Okay, so that's today's dream interpretation.
If you want me to analysis your dream, please respond. The first one is free.
