I’m not a good Buddhist.

When I was a Christian, I was a pious Christian, but not a “good” one. That is, I would read books of theology and say my prayers; I would say canons and akathists, and receive Holy Communion with reverence and awe, but I was also prone to get drunk, do a bump of coke in the men’s room, and have sex with random men, or sometimes women.

Nobody gives me illicit drugs for free anymore (and I never was one to spend money on them), and it’s been years since I’ve had sex with anybody but John, but overall, not much seems to have changed.

It’s four in the morning. I’m not exactly drunk, but I’m not exactly sober, either. I’m on a diet, so I can’t have what I really want – vodka and mango juice – but vodka and Diet Rite tangerine soda isn’t too bad. I’ve just come in from the pool, where I was swimming back and forth, naked, softly chanting in Sanskrit and English. I had a large drink and an ashtray on the deck of the pool. In between chanting, I thought about many things, like my friend Tony Schmitt – I wonder where he is and how he is; I hope he’s happy – and how I still have a racist streak despite loving certain black people, and how I could write poetry if I were more disciplined, and how did I get to be this old, and how is Scott doing; is he dreaming about Ranger?

Buddham saranam gacchami.
Dhammam saranam gacchami.
Sangham saranam gacchami.

Getting married is more complicated than I imagined. When John and I first started getting to know each other, he told me that someday he wanted the whole deal – the ring, and the diamond, and proposal down on one knee. So I want him to have that. But where should I propose? When? How? What kind of ring should I buy? I mean, I’m not really going to spend two months’ salary, I’m too cheap and cynical for that, but I need to buy something nice. Should I propose in the club where we met? at home? at the river? at the botanical gardens? in Miami? in Mexico? at sea?

Dutiyampi Buddham saranam gacchami.
Dutiyampi dhammam saranam gacchami.
Dutiyampi sangham saranam gacchami.

When I was a kid in Ohio, we used to make snow angels. I can make shadow angels on the inside of the pool.

Tritiyampi Buddham saranam gacchami.
Tritiyampi dhammam saranam gacchami.
Tritiyampi sangham saranam gacchami.

Swimming naked is much better than swimming in trunks. If we had a privacy fence instead of a chain link fence, I could do this in the daytime. John wouldn’t like it if he knew I peed in the yard three times tonight, but I hate to go inside – the air conditioning is awfully cold when you’re wet.

I take refuge in the Buddha.
I take refuge in the Dhamma.
I take refuge in the Sangha.

I really should go inside and go to bed. I’ve needed a haircut for weeks, and I need to make an appointment with the ophthamologist, and I need to take Mom that bottle of Avoplex I bought her, and I need to go to the bank. And I haven’t even written a lesson plan for this evening. Lots to do before work. I probably won’t get half of it done.

Again I take refuge in the Buddha.
Again I take refuge in the Dhamma.
Again I take refuge in the Sangha.

Over Judith’s roof, I see a red light blinking somewhere up the street. I wonder what it is. Well, I’m not going to put my trunks on and walk out in the street to find out. Let it be a mystery. I’m almost out of cigarettes; I’m going to have to go in soon.

Yet again I take refuge in the Buddha.
Yet again I take refuge in the Dhamma.
Yet again I take refuge in the Sangha.

I don’t think this is what the Tathagata had in mind. I don’t think Seung Sahn or Ajahn Chah would approve. But I find it oddly satisfying. I’m as happy as I’ve been lately.

Buddham saranam gacchami.
Dhammam saranam gacchami.
Sangham saranam gacchami.