Author: Gerald "Strib" Stribling

Right View: Seeing the World Through Buddhist Eyes {The Eightfold Path}

  By Gerald Stribling Wednesday Something is sapping my strength. My old doctor, Doctor Becky, tried to figure out why. She was my doctor for 25 years. She threw her hands up in the air, finally, and said that I was just getting old. This was not my new doctor’s response, whom I saw today. She ran some blood tests, and then re-ran some blood tests, and then my wife made me go see her today because I sprained my ankle. Doctor Huong is young and charming and very direct. And a very aggressive diagnostician. Seems when she re-ran...

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I Laugh at Pain

  By Gerald Stribling Pain, physical pain at least, has always struck me as funny. Your pain is not funny, but mine is. It’s the only way I can explain my tendency to laugh out loud whenever I am in acute pain. I figure it’s one of those mis-crossed neural pathway things, so that when I should be wincing and yelping, I’m laughing my ass off. There is no opposite effect, that is, when I see something funny, I don’t moan like I was in pain. I come by this honestly enough: my mother laughed her ass off from...

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Thoughts on Christmas from a Grumpy Buddhist

  By Gerald “Strib” Stribling I don’t like Christmas, never did like Christmas. My kids used to get me drunk to get me to help put up the Christmas tree. When I was young, Christmas used to make me feel lonely, and after I got married in 1972, Christmas was full of relatives. I couldn’t get away from them. Lots and lots of relatives—mostly relatives by marriage. My parents and sister and I, in the olden time, were a tight little group. Presents were purchased at the PX wherever dad was stationed, unless he was in Korea or Vietnam....

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The Zen of Despicable Me (and How to be Happy)

  By Gerald “Strib” Stribling   My granddaughter Oona Pearl and I have a tradition of watching Despicable Me II whenever we’re alone together. For one thing, my two oldest granddaughters and my step-granddaughter are the spitting images of Margo, Edith and Agnes (Oona is Edith), and I closely resemble El Macho. I howl with laughter every time Edith and Agnes use automatic weapons to blast the bad minions with blobs of jelly. And who can forget the minion poetry reading that preceded Lucy and Gru’s wedding—the best sendup of the artsy-fartsy world yet. And then there’s that song:...

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Confessions of a Buddhist Super Villain: Buddhism at the Source

  By Gerald Stribling Knowing what matters most, matters most. I had no real intention to study Buddhism and become a Buddhist when I first went to Sri Lanka in 2002. But, immersed in Buddhist culture, I basically couldn’t help myself. I was on a volunteer mission to start up English language learning centers working out of the Buddhist temples surrounding my village. The following summer I resided at a monastery and taught English in their “international college” for 3-8 year olds and the young un-ordained monks, and I played most afternoons with a passel of little orphans. I also...

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