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Tribes

Tribes

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Published by hgrevemberg
Essay Ten - Tribes - The Zen Revolution Thanksgiving Special - takes you on a bus ride to Berkeley, a rambling tour through Skid Row, an update on Kye Soen from The Zen Revolution, and her children - all sorts of holiday fun.
Essay Ten - Tribes - The Zen Revolution Thanksgiving Special - takes you on a bus ride to Berkeley, a rambling tour through Skid Row, an update on Kye Soen from The Zen Revolution, and her children - all sorts of holiday fun.

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Published by: hgrevemberg on Nov 25, 2010
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04/06/2011

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I
let the Monterey house in a limo, dropped at 7th and Alameda, Skid Row. The street was oppressive, as usual, but inside the terminal a tribe ormed instantly; a great mix o personalities, races, social strata makes or a rambling, broadlove. I spent a lot o time with an old Korean woman whocouldn’t speak English. I told her it was OK (can chan ah yo)…random. It was un to see her in the crowd, because she wasreally happy to see me. I’m sure she could sense my delightin her, in all o the colorul people around me. I’ve noticed achange lately, maybe it’s the… pardon me, I’m being interrupt-ed by a Christian. Let’s see: OK… Old Testament,
 yeah…
Godhelping people… Israelites rebelling against God… killings,wars, oppression — punishment… God grew tired o wiping people out ater the ood… New Testament… repentance, de-liverance — restore the tribes, health, answered prayers…
OK  got it. No, I took notes.
Not just him, but everyone seemed to be radiant, happy — a great sense o humanity. Hard times bring it out. I’ve largelyescaped the chopping block, so may have a slanted view, butI’ve enjoyed the economic downturn. I can see so much moreon the aces around me. Going into diculty is a powerul at-
ten.
TRIBES
THANKSGIVING
A BUS RIDE
SOME TIME WITH KYE SOEN AND HER CHILDREN
 
tunement. We get so caught up in our lives, what alls outsideour immediate concerns is rozen. We are to a large degreeclosed.The driver had a copilot who talked loudly through therst our hours, then mysteriously quieted. What a talent! Icouldn’t do a quarter o it I I were allowed dead air, driting of into incomprehensible musings, and looming silences asvast as mount Fuji. There was all sorts o inormation passed back and orth, a east o data: various meals at whatever ho-tels, the strong winds on certain highways; the hazards o theunions, trades; nitric acid and the soil o Humboldt county. Ater a very strange and inexplicable silence, which must’ve been a eeding, he launched into another amazing monologuethat put me to sleep.Berkeley’s weather showed little regard or my plans, butturned rom a dim, bleak, heaviness to patches o sunlight. Thedays passed quickly. I enjoyed the time with Kye Soen and her wonderul children. She had a new daughter since The ZenRevolution, now 18–months old. How immaculate the humanmind in its essence, how sweet and pure. Though too young tospeak, she would go to other crying children to comort them,hug them; a hand to the ace. I spent a lot o time with her,holding her, playing music or her, watching TV, visiting theplayground, having meals together. What a delight! She likesall kinds o music, but gets bored with too much atmosphere.Though she appreciates classical music, she preers a good beat:
Black Sabbath, Aphex Twin, The Cure
— we went throughit all.I loved the time with them, but had to return to Los Anglesto produce this show, and other projects. I was both sad to goand thankul to Kye Soen or allowing me to adopt her amily,that I’ve had these kinds o experiences. The little ones have alot to teach, our origin, how our paths appear beore us — andthere isn’t anything as beautiul as an Asian child.
 
Kye Soen is resolved to being what she is, a scholar. Thoughonly in her mid–orties, she’s quietly resigned to the march o time — so much wiser than the woman I knew. But make nomistake, when I spend time with her I’m on the clock, nota moment to mysel. I’m usually not able to leave whatever room she’s in, much less disappear or hours to do the work. All work stops at her door. Instead I’m ooded with duties,tasks; plans which usually involve long trips across town to anoodle house, which afords many side errands such as pok-ing through musty thrit stores, picking out clothes or her children at various department stores — a vast, bottomlessendeavor that can’t be accurately described without rst be-ing in a near–comatose state then orced to jiggle about oncold linoleum while the most lonesome, sentimental muzacis piped through shit speakers — at each end o a section, thehunt begins anew. Who knew there were so many angles to apair o jeans? These pits o Hell, like galaxies, revolve around black holes, so don’t think you’re going to keep resh. You haveto go dormant. 
“When a warrior learns to stop the internal dialogue, every-thing becomes possible; the most ar–etched schemes becomeattainable.”
 – Carlos Castaneda (1925–1998)
Show her that you’re going dormant. No pretense allowed,it only consumes more energy. I you’re able to manage thecurrents here and nd the aultless rapture at the core, a trueman o the way — then go, and be a man.Standing at another bus terminal, Kye Soen and her chil-dren quiet rom my pending absence. How to be close to theones you love, yet ree? We all learn, together. We’re all in di-erent cities now. We see each other or brie moments thatcan hardly be recalled. What’s the value o these ractions o 

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