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No Bullshit Buddhist Advice: Can I be seen for who I am?

No Bullshit Buddhist Advice is a new weekly column on Turning Wheel Media. NBSBA welcomes questions about everything. We'll answer with a little bit of common sense, a medium amount of humor, and some Buddhist-y advice. To submit questions anonymously, please go here.  Dear No Bullshit Buddhist Advice, I'm really frustrated--here's the story: I work as a youth and young-adult counselor in a social-justice o ...

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Artist Ang Tsherin Sherpa

Born in 1968 in Kathmandu, Nepal, Ang Tsherin Sherpa began apprenticing at age twelve under his father, renowned Tibetan thangka artist Master Urgen Dorje. He has also studied computer science and Mandarin in Taiwan, and Buddhist philosophy in Nepal. Now he lives in Oakland, California, painting thangkas and teaching classes in thangka painting. Are you already a longtime fan of Ang Tsherin Sherpa's work? T ...

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Adrienne Maree Brown on Transformation, Personal & Political

To send us off into the weekend, I'm thrilled to share a brief reflection from one of my activist crushes: creator, writer, and organizer Adrienne Maree Brown. If you don't know her work, look it up! [Update: Adrienne Maree's beautiful website is easy to find but we're not linking to it here because at the moment it might carry some malware. In the meantime, find her on DemocracyNow!, Colorlines, and AlterN ...

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I Saw Injustice. I See Passion.

Please enjoy the second submission from artist and activist Hải Võ. As engaged Buddhist Bernie Glassman and the Zen Peacemakers Order remind us, the path to freedom includes bearing witness to joy and suffering. Traveling 2,000 miles through 8 states, the Food and Freedom riders did just that: bearing witness to the challenges, resilience, and triumph of participants in the food justice movement. Thank you ...

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The Joy Composter and other Poems

I like the way your jar lingers, like flower packed light. There’s a mountain here that trails shadows of grease. Anyone could be a homeowner if you packed it down. I want to be eating a grain that is healthy. I want to be eating a grain that is good. My apple has roots beyond tasty and keeps poking me in the toe with its vitamins. The kind of certainty you’re asking for grows foul- smelling leaves. They sm ...

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The White Guys Were Intolerable

Reflections on “What’s Up with Engaged Buddhism? Who gets to speak?” – a Buddhist Peace Fellowship evening at the Oakland Peace Center with panelists Alka Arora, Katie Loncke, Donald Rothberg, and David Loy, moderated by Jen-Mei Wu and featuring visual artist Kenji Liu, May 20, 2012 [Photo removed by request.] Right at the get-go, the Baby Boomer generation socially engaged Buddhist expert white guys on the ...

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Righteous and ready to burn: 20 years after LA

[Editor's Note: Hi, folks, Katie here. I want to acknowledge that for many folks who commit their lives to peacemaking, the concept of an article dedicated to the anniversary of the LA riots might seem jarring.  We at Turning Wheel certainly welcome comments and feedback (fitting with our commenting guidelines) — in fact, the immediacy of online feedback and dialogue is one of the reasons we're excited to h ...

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Dialectics

when he saw the shrapnel in his leg, he decided to take up running   … to leave, to embrace, to murderously oppose— visceral decisions two boys must face daily. One boy to mother—“I hate you; please let me come back to live with you at home, those other people I am with... are cruel!” Their tears articulate, meander through the ducts and down the nose, giant lumps choke off the throat and all flows rev ...

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kandahar

taper smoke twirling in the heavy dark   perfume of danger   the rotted opposite of hometown matins   Timothy Gray is author of Gary Snyder and the Pacific Rim (2006) and Urban Pastoral (2010), both published by University of Iowa Press. His newest book, Reading Roots Rock Writing is also forthcoming from University of Iowa Press. He has new poems this year in Willows Wept Review and Pirene's ...

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Why Bodhisattvas Stare at Walls

The old winter light like the desert. The memory of war in green places. The dryness in our mouths, the paralysis in our limbs, the way it feels to let your skull be heavy against the floor, the rising and falling, the walk we should be taking to end the word should, the way it all wells up between our ears; the songs, the grief, the attempts to keep the sun on our skin for a thousand years, to balance at t ...

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