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About Suzuki Roshi
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Part II, America, 1971, Chapter 19 - Final Season: Autumn
To observe things in a flash—that is nonduality.
Silas had given some lectures that summer at Suzuki's behest. In early September Suzuki asked Silas to come see him. As they talked, seated in the tatami room of Suzuki's apartment, Suzuki fingered his mala, a Buddhist rosary. It had large sandalwood beads, each carved into the shape of a skull. Silas looked at the skulls and at Suzuki, and he felt deeply apprehensive.
Suzuki was very ill. His skin was yellow; the doctor said he had hepatitis. Okusan was taking care of him with assistance from Yvonne, who also kept him abreast of Zen Center matters. They were very careful to avoid infection and didn't share any food with him, as had been their habit. Aside from attending an occasional zazen, the last time he'd done anything in public was the lay ordination for fifty-five students at the end of August. He hadn't even been able to attend his own ordination of four new priests in September. Katagiri, now called Katagiri-roshi at Suzuki's request, performed it for him by proxy, having come up from Tassajara where he was leading the practice period. Ed Brown was first in line, then me, then Lew Richmond, who'd been studying with Suzuki since 1967, and Angie Runyon.
Suzuki's absence was conspicuous. It was a somber occasion. Afterward we all went to his apartment to greet him and stood at his bedside. He acted like it was the happiest day of his life. After leaving his room I went up on the roof of the building, walked amidst the potted plants, looked out over San Francisco, and cried.
A young monk named Ryuho Yamada arrived from Japan in late September. Over tea, Okusan learned that he knew the healing arts of shiatsu (pressure-point massage) and acupuncture. She asked him to give her a treatment, and he passed the test. He was supposed to have gone straight down to Tassajara, but now he was needed in the city. Every afternoon he worked on Suzuki for a couple of hours.
Ryuho was a thick-spectacled, enthusiastic, naive young monk, and he immediately started gobbling up the strange experience of Zen in America. He knew quite a bit of English and spent a lot of time talking with students.
"Ryuho-san, if you continue to live in America, and you want to be a success in America, you have to be majime. If you are not majime you will not be appreciated." Suzuki was sitting up in bed, talking in Japanese to the new monk. Okusan had told him the same thing. "Just be majime and you'll have nothing to worry about."
Majime is usually translated as "serious," but it includes the qualities of sincerity and enthusiasm. In Japan, Ryuho knew he could easily get by as a priest with canned majime; there were centuries of tradition and the cloud of vagueness to hide in. But in America the students were straightforward, and everything was clear. He loved the communal aspects of Zen Center: the natural food, women and men living together on an equal basis. Even Suzuki's wife was willful and would tangle with him. The students saw in Ryuho, as in other Japanese monks, qualities that they admired. A perfect place for Japanese monks, he thought. They can learn from us, and we can learn from them.
Ryuho discovered Suzuki could be short-tempered. Once Ryuho commented on a Buddha statue, casually saying it was just a piece of wood. Suzuki barked at him not to speak so flippantly: until he knew the true meaning of the statue he should shut up. Then as quickly as the anger came, it was gone. Ah, thought Ryuho, he's innocent and honest, like a child.
"So, you've come to see our yellow roshi," Yvonne said, and that's how Albert Stunkard learned Suzuki was ill.
"Yellow?" he asked.
"Yes, he has hepatitis."
Dr. Albert Stunkard was chairman of the department of psychiatry at the University of Pennsylvania. In September 1971 he had come out to work at Stanford Hospital for a year, largely because he wanted to be near Suzuki, whom he had studied with in the past. Stunkard, one of the senior Zen practitioners in the States, had started his study when he was a doctor to Japanese prisoners being tried for war crimes in Tokyo in 1946. One of them had told him about D. T. Suzuki. He met the great scholar and subsequently became his student and occasional doctor. Stunkard had studied with Nakagawa, Yasutani, and other teachers as well. He met Shunryu Suzuki for the first time at Sokoji in 1967, and Suzuki embarrassed him by asking him to deliver the lecture for that evening.
Entering Suzuki's bedroom, Stunkard saw that Suzuki was scratching. A chill went down Stunkard's spine. He knew there were two types of jaundice—one infectious (hepatitis), the other obstructive. An obstruction to the outflow of bile causes itching. The obstruction couldn't be gallstones because Suzuki's gall bladder had been removed. Stunkard felt terrible but didn't say anything at the time. He just asked if he could confer with Suzuki's doctor.
If you were not born in this world, there would be no need to die.
To be born in this world is to die, to disappear [laughing].
On October 10, 1971, Shunryu Suzuki called his Bay Area disciples together. They were asked to wear their robes. At ten o'clock they entered the apartment and gathered around his bed, joining his team of caregivers—Ryuho sitting on the floor, Okusan by the door, looking tired, and Yvonne at the bedside fussing with Suzuki over an office cassette recorder. Mel had driven in from Berkeley and Bill from Mill Valley. Also present were Silas, Reb, Lew, and Angie, all of whom lived in the building. Claude came from his home in San Francisco. Everyone was quiet. There was a feeling of tense anticipation.
Suzuki sat up in bed, propped up by pillows. He was frail and thin, and his skin had become a darker yellow, but his spirits were good. He smiled warmly, glad to be with so many of his closest students. He hadn't seen them much in the past six weeks. They re-
turned his smiles and stood in a semicircle around his bed. On Page Street cars passed, and birds chirped in the rubber tree outside the window.
Suzuki cleared his throat and turned on the tape recorder. Then he softly told them what they feared to hear.
As you know, my doctor thought I had hepatitis, but my symptoms didn't change for such a long time, so he thought it might not be hepatitis, maybe cancer. So I went into Mt. Zion Hospital again three days ago and they checked me out—and the doctors discussed my illness. The day before yesterday my doctor came and told me, "You have cancer." And he explained exactly what is happening. So now I am telling you.
Suzuki immediately set about putting people at ease and giving a positive spin to the news. He spoke as if it were no big deal, adding that it was a great relief to find out that he had cancer and not hepatitis, because now he could eat and drink whatever he wanted, and they could share food with him without worrying about contagion.
I myself selfishly feel good, but on the other hand, I am very sorry for you. But I think buddha will take care of everything, so I won't worry too much. How long I'll live I don't know. No one knows actually. I asked the doctor, "Two years?" "At most," he said. I am not so sure about it. So I want you to be prepared. If I live longer, it is better, of course, for me and for you. I think I can live one more year for sure, I feel that way. I don't feel so discouraged or weak. So maybe I want you to allow me to be a lazy monk, that's all. I shall be a very bad example, but [laughing] instead, you should be a good example. Okay? That's all that I want you to do—to prepare. Most things you can decide among yourselves. If necessary, I can join your discussions. Physically, I get tired quite easily. Thank you very much.
Abruptly he turned to Claude, the oldest, whose counsel he had valued since they first met in 1963. "Claude, I want you to stay here, even though I am no more. Okay? Please." Claude, cornered, affirmed that he would. "Thank you," Suzuki said, going on to make a point about their roles as priests and about the priest's responsibility within the larger Buddhist community. "You shouldn't feel you have to do exactly what I did, you know. You are free to develop our way as people want you to do. That is the bodhisattva idea."
He leaned close to the mike when he said this. He was speaking to Richard Baker, for whom the tape was being made. Suzuki's tone of voice said, you should come back now and assume this responsibility. Richard and Suzuki had been corresponding with Yvonne's assistance throughout his stay in Japan. Since the spring there had been discussion of Richard's returning in the fall or winter to assume some of Suzuki's responsibilities. Richard had been resistant to the idea—he didn't feel ready for that. Now Suzuki was twisting his arm.
After some joking with his disciples, Suzuki had the tape rewound and played. At the exchange with Claude he listened carefully, stopped the machine, and acted pleased that Claude was on tape saying he would stay, although his answer was fairly inaudible. Suzuki bowed to his crestfallen disciples and they bowed back, going out with tears in their eyes to share the tragic news with the community.
The day before, when Yvonne had gone to the hospital to pick up Suzuki, she'd found him sitting on the edge of his bed with legs dangling below his hospital gown. Okusan was in the hall saying goodbye to some visitors. The nurse had just brought his lunch, and he patted the bed and motioned to Yvonne to come over. She knew something was up. He slowly mouthed the words, "I have cancer," with a big grin on his face. She was confused because the two things didn't go together—cancer and grinning. As she sat next to him, he pulled over the food tray. "I have cancer. That means we can eat together again." He took a forkful from his plate and fed it to her. Yvonne threw her arms around him and cried.
"This cancer is my friend, and my practice will be to take care of this sickness," he told her.
Dr. Stunkard, who had first realized Suzuki had cancer, talked to him about going to the cutting-edge Stanford cancer unit, but Suzuki decided against it, saying, "This doctor is my doctor, and I have to respect him. It wouldn't be appropriate to see another doctor." Stunkard tried to tell him things were different in America, but Suzuki stood firm. After talking further with his colleagues at Stanford, Stunkard decided that Suzuki had made the right decision. The type of cancer he had was not responsive to treatment, it had spread, and radiation and chemotherapy would just make him sicker.
"You know we often talked about teaching in the past," Suzuki said to Stunkard. "So many of these young people are afraid of dying. I can show them that you don't need to be afraid of dying. It's a wonderful teaching opportunity."
"I wish you were doing some other kind of teaching," Stunkard said.
"Yes, I don't want to die. I don't know what it's going to be like when I die. Nobody knows what that's going to be like. But when I die, I'll still be a buddha. I may be a buddha in agony, or I may be a buddha in bliss, but I'll die knowing that this is how it is."
Wherever you go you will find your teacher, as long as
you have the eyes to see and the ears to hear.
Ryuho continued to do shiatsu on Suzuki every day. He concentrated on points in Suzuki's back that corresponded to the liver. He pressed his feet and legs and arms. Suzuki was weak but alert. If Ryuho's mind wandered while working, Suzuki would immediately tell him to concentrate.
Ryuho was intrigued by the people who came to see Suzuki: disciples, students, friends, scholars, artists, teachers, priests, members of the Japanese congregation at Sokoji, other Buddhist teach-
ers. There was Maezumi, the teacher of the L.A. Zen Center, who'd known Suzuki since 1959, and Bishop Sumi from Zenshuji in L.A. Eido Shimano, Nakagawa's disciple and the teacher at the Zen Studies Society in New York, dropped by to pay his respects one day.
Bob Halpern visited. He had been studying with the Tibetan teacher, Trungpa, in Boulder. On Suzuki's bedside table was a large postcard Bob had sent. Instead of a note, he had drawn a picture of Trungpa's altar, which had a Buddha in the center, Trungpa's Tibetan guru on the left, and Suzuki-roshi on the right. Trungpa came a few days later. Suzuki spoke to him optimistically about the future of Buddhism in America. Trungpa sat by Suzuki's bed, holding his hand for over an hour.
Almost every day some old-timer would enter Suzuki's room and stay for half an hour—Betty, Della, Jean, Mike Dixon, and others. Suzuki had asked Philip to come as much as possible, and he would drive in every few days from Santa Rosa. Okusan told Philip that Suzuki said to let him in any time he came. Philip said he'd break down the door if he couldn't get in.
Grahame sent a letter from Tokyo expressing concern and saying that he'd come as soon as he could, in late December, when he would be visiting Pauline and the children in Mill Valley. He was fully involved with the English language school he had started and could not get away until then.
Ryuho stood by and listened as Alan Watts and Jano paid their respects. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but it was a lively meeting, considering Suzuki's condition. Watts was in fine form. Jano teased her husband, and Ryuho worried that Suzuki would die on the spot, he was laughing so hard.
Louise brought her newborn daughter to visit wearing a tiny rakusu, the last that Suzuki had inscribed. The little one's name was Johanna. Suzuki was sitting on a low table in the tatami room. In front of him was his well-worn pocket-sized dictionary, brought from Japan and often carried back and forth between Tassajara and the city. He picked it up and said, "This will live longer than I will."
Suzuki expressed great regret over his cancer. "Before my disciples are ready to come out of the oven, I will be going into it." Louise was surprised at his sadness, because she still had the idea that a Zen teacher wouldn't have that kind of feeling.
Suzuki told Bill Kwong the opposite, saying: "I've put my cookies in the oven, they've come out fine, and now I'm going to crawl in." He'd say different things at different times, but clearly he was thinking about his disciples and what to do for them before he died.
Richard Baker was coming back. There was going to be a ceremony to make him the new abbot. Page Street and Tassajara were abuzz with talk about it. How could this be? He'd received transmission, but still, how could he take on Suzuki's role? What about Katagiri? What about the other priests? What about Bill Kwong, who'd been with Suzuki almost from the first and who had a zendo in Mill Valley? What about Silas, who was giving lectures, Jean in Carmel Valley, Mel in Berkeley, and other disciples?
Suzuki told Claude that he wanted to give transmission to a number of his disciples before he died. Especially, he emphasized, he must complete Bill Kwong's transmission ceremony. But there were others. He was thinking of giving transmission to six to twelve disciples. He wanted to ask Noiri-roshi to come over from Japan to work with these students for several months in preparation for the ceremony. Claude asked what would be the difference between Richard's transmission and these, and Suzuki said, "They will be the same as Richard's—no difference."
Claude conferred with a few people, and they all agreed that Suzuki was too ill to do this. Okusan was also opposed to her husband's plan. Noiri needed a special diet, and she'd have to take care of them both, which would be too much for her. Suzuki made it clear how much he wanted to do it, but Okusan told him to leave it to Richard, who was coming back and could carry out Suzuki's wishes. She and Claude agreed; and after they told Suzuki how they felt, he gave up and didn't mention it again—not even to Richard.
Suzuki asked Okusan to go back to Japan after he'd passed his authority to Richard in the Mountain Seat Ceremony. He said he wanted to do saitokudo, reordination. She knew that he wanted to spend the remaining time with his students and to let them take care of him, to be as close to them as possible. He'd read a book Katagiri had given him by Kodo Sawaki, with an introduction by Katagiri's second teacher, Eko Hashimoto. It stressed that priests should practice celibacy and not live with women. It didn't seem very practical to Okusan.
She said, "I'd comply with your wish if you were getting well, but I couldn't possibly leave you in this condition. Who would cook rice gruel and other Japanese food for you? You need someone who can understand your needs by a single wink."
She wrote to Hoitsu immediately, and he wrote right back, urging her to stay with her husband by all means, or they'd just have to send someone else from the family to take care of him. Hoitsu sent a similar letter to his father. So Suzuki gave up on that idea too. One by one he had to let go of his wishes.
When he had enough energy to walk down the stairs to the basement, Suzuki still went to zazen occasionally. Afterward he couldn't get back up. He wanted to make it on his own but couldn't. Sometimes Reb and Peter would make a chair out of their arms, and he'd sit and enjoy the ride. He made it fun. He was very sweet about such dependence. His life was not in his own hands anymore.
Zen is the practice of all existence with everything else—stars, moon, sun, mountains, rivers, animate and inanimate beings. Sometimes the pain in our legs practices zazen. Sometimes our sleepy mind practices zazen on a black cushion, on a chair, or even in bed.
Richard Baker returned with Virginia and Sally. As soon as they arrived, he went to see Suzuki. Soon Suzuki-roshi
would pass to him the enormous responsibility of taking care of Zen Center and all the people who came there. He would be the chief priest. "I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do to you," Suzuki said to him, tears filling his eyes.
"How could someone with your intuition choose to marry someone as difficult as me?" Okusan asked.
"Because you are ridiculously honest," he said.
"What should I do when you die?" she asked him.
"Stay here," he said. "Don't go back at all." He said everyone would be happy if she stayed, that her ten years in America would make it hard for her to adjust to Rinso-in. But how could she be helpful at Zen Center? she wanted to know.
"You are fair in your dealings with people. It will work out naturally."
"Should I become a nun?"
"Oh, that would be best."
"I'm too old for that. Maybe I'll be a monk in my next life."
That got him laughing, which started him coughing. Okusan helped him over onto all fours so she could pound his back. He stopped coughing. "You're lucky you have someone to take care of you to the last moment," she said in a teasing voice.
Suzuki raised a hand in a faint gassho. Then he farted loudly. "That's for you," he said.
Nirvana is seeing one thing through to the end.
Knowing that their father could pass away at any time, Suzuki's daughter Yasuko and son Hoitsu arrived for the first time in the States with godfather Amano, to say their farewells. They were shocked to see him so jaundiced and weak. They stood at his bed saying a few polite phrases, not knowing what to do. But Su-
zuki was more open and easygoing than in the old days, and before long they were talking comfortably with him and among themselves. Okusan was making noodles in the cramped kitchen. Then Philip, a familiar face, came to visit.
At Page Street, and later at Tassajara, his children witnessed with amazement what Suzuki had accomplished in his twelve years in the States. It was hard for Yasuko and Hoitsu to imagine that their father was a dharma teacher with many disciples, and that a book of his lectures was selling well. They were impressed that everyone called him Roshi and amazed to hear from Americans such enthusiastic praise for his lectures. "Mother always said his problem was that he didn't know how to lecture about Buddhism, that he didn't express himself well enough," Hoitsu said. Their father had hardly ever said anything to them about Buddhism, so they didn't even think of him as someone with a particularly good understanding of it. But the evidence of his effort lay before their eyes.
Yasuko, Hoitsu, and godfather Amano arrived at Tassajara in time to attend Bill Kwong's head monk ceremony, at which Katagiri officiated. One after another the American students put their hands in gassho and asked the head monk questions about dharma and life. Hoitsu couldn't believe what he was seeing and got teary—they were doing the ceremony sincerely, spontaneously, and in good form.
I came up from Tassajara to pay a visit to my dying teacher. Richard answered the door. I'd already spent time with Richard at Tassajara, so we just greeted each other briefly. "Right now is a good time to see Roshi," he told me. Knowing me well, Richard was quite firm about the time limit. "Don't spend any longer than five minutes unless Suzuki-roshi absolutely insists that you stay longer."
"Okay, I promise," I told him.
After I'd put on my robes I went to his room. Okusan led me into the bedroom and directed me to a chair next to his bed. Suzuki looked up and smiled. We bowed. He looked terrible. With some difficulty he pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the bed, close
to me. Then he slapped his thighs like he'd do to indicate pleasure. I just sat there moping. "I feel fine," he said. "I don't feel so serious." That was all I needed. "Okay," I said snapping out of it.
He asked me what I was doing at Tassajara, and I said I was the assistant director. He acted impressed. Then he gave me a little advice. He said that, as a priest, I should have two specialties, one primary and one secondary. My first one, he said, should be to take care of guests, something I'd done since Tassajara opened. And the second one could possibly be scholarship. His point wasn't to tell me what to do. He trusted that my seniors at Zen Center and I would work out the details on our own. It didn't matter to him so much what I did, I think, but he knew I needed some wholesome activity to be engaged in through the years that would both express my true nature and keep me out of trouble.
I was touched by his concern. Here he was wasting away, and all his attention was on another, giving me a boost, conspiring with me to the end to have faith in myself.
We talked a while longer and then I said I had to go. "No, no, stay," he said. I remembered what Richard had said, and I also thought Suzuki should lie down and rest, so I stood up and bowed. Then he said, "If you leave I will be unhappy. If you stay I will be happy." "Okay," I said. He asked me if I'd met his family and I said yes, that I'd shown them around Tassajara. So he called them all in and we talked and visited for half an hour. It was lots of fun, and I completely forgot that Suzuki was dying and this was the last time we would meet. I don't even remember saying goodbye to him.
"With these hands I have done many things in my life," Suzuki told Hoitsu. "I never imagined all the things I would do with these hands in America. Now my work is almost finished. It would be good to go back to Japan and die there."
"Would you like to go back to Japan with me?" Hoitsu asked.
"I will crawl if necessary," his father answered.
Hoitsu was surprised to hear his father say that. Since his third year in America it had seemed that he would never return. Seeing
his two eldest children and Amano must have awakened a nostalgia for his homeland. The ceremony was a week off. They could bring Suzuki back with them right after that. Hoitsu talked to Okusan, Yasuko, and Amano; with help from Okusan, he talked to Suzuki's doctor, who said Suzuki could do it. Hoitsu went to tell his father.
"Master, the doctor said you can come back with us."
Suzuki looked up at Hoitsu and laughed. "Isn't it obvious there's no way I could leave here? Can't you people even take a joke?"
"You were just telling us what we wanted to hear," Hoitsu said.
"Yes, of course. I will become American soil."
Yasuko saw her father in a new light in America. Putting a positive spin on his misfortune, he told her he'd lived longer than he'd expected, that his master So-on had died at the age of fifty-five, he was now sixty-seven. The twelve extra years were his time in America. (Suzuki's chronological accuracy was sometimes off—So-on actually died when he was fifty-seven.) He was thin, soft, and open to her. She'd never felt closer to him and was sorry she'd seen so little of him since he left Japan. She could finally forgive him for the death of her mother and saw his accomplishments in America not only as atonement for but as partially motivated by her death.
She thought of the time in the fifth grade when he'd taken her to Shizuoka City and, embarrassed to be seen with him, she'd walked on the other side of the street. She didn't feel that gap now.
"The bond between children and parents is never lost," he told her.
Godfather Amano felt he had accomplished the purpose of his trip. He had seen Suzuki, his temples, his students. He could see that Suzuki was going to die. "I'd better go back now," he said. He too had cancer and trouble with his bowels; and though he wasn't dying or sick like his old friend, it was difficult for him to stay. But Suzuki wanted him to witness Richard's Mountain Seat Ceremony.
"Father," Suzuki said to him, "there is one more important job I
need to do as a monk. Please see it and report it to the membership at Rinso-in. Tell them what I have done since I left them and came here."
"Father, please fulfill Hojo's wishes," said Okusan.
Finally Amano agreed to stay.
It was more difficult every day for Suzuki to talk, but he could do it, especially with Okusan, with whom he could communicate with much less effort. "I won't interfere with Zen Center at all once I have handed it over to Richard. It's entirely up to him whether it will be ruined or not," Suzuki said to his wife. He even told her and Richard that he didn't want any more Japanese priests to come to Zen Center as teachers. "From now on, they should come as students."
The most important point is to continue our way
and to have a good successor.
On Sunday, November 21, at ten in the morning, the halls and courtyard of Zen Center were filled with people talking softly and waiting. They had come for the Mountain Seat Ceremony in which Richard Baker was to be installed as the chief priest of Zen Center. The foyer and hallway were lined with rows of chairs. The buddha hall, where the ceremony was to take place, was too small for the five hundred guests. Chinese, Tibetan, and Japanese priests of various sects attended with some of their disciples. Many of the key figures in Suzuki's life in America were there: Wako and Emi Kato, Reverend Ogui, George Hagiwara, and many from the Japanese congregation of Sokoji. Bill McNeil stood in a corner in a leather jacket; poets and artists from the old Beat days came in the front door. So many people who had become deeply
connected in the past twelve years, so many stories like fibers running among them, so many for whom Suzuki had opened dharma gates or been there with a nudge when their lives turned.
The bell downstairs was being struck every minute, informing the crowd that it was time to settle down. People patiently sat or stood where they were. They could hear a procession moving from Katagiri's apartment up the street, into the building, and to its various altars. The rumble of the deep buddha drum echoed in the halls—the high chin-chun! of handheld bells a half-tone apart and the kachin! of wooden clackers, the music of the moving rite. On the second floor the procession stopped outside Suzuki's room, where Richard offered incense and said: "Although I don't know how I came, through your heart-teaching I am always here."
Katagiri-roshi, Kobun-sensei, and a few of Suzuki's senior monks accompanied Richard down the stairs to the hushed buddha hall. Richard wore a blue and gold robe with bright-colored flying phoenixes, which Suzuki had given him for this day. He carried a ceremonial horsehair whisk.
The assembled crowd was utterly hushed when the spine-chilling sound of intermittent thuds and jangling bells jolted everyone to attention. Suzuki was walking with the staff Alan Watts had given him. Affixed to the top was a bronze headpiece with rings. At his sides were Hoitsu and Okusan. They helped him down the stairs and past those seated and standing along the way, to the double doors of the buddha hall. With each step he struck the floor with his staff, as if continuing to plant the dharma in America. There he was, his reddish-brown okesa draping over a yellow koromo. All eyes were on him. Many people hadn't seen him in his illness, and even to those who had, his appearance was crushing. He was so dark, weak, and shrunken. Yet as he moved into the buddha hall toward the specially built Mountain Seat altar, his enormous effort and dignity shone through.
Reaching the brocade-covered altar, still supported on both sides, he slowly pulled out from the sleeve of his robe a bowing cloth. Gathering his strength, he laid it out properly, bowed down to the
floor, and rose, somehow, drawing strength from the depth of his will, calm and powerful, the way frail old Kitano-roshi had risen from his bows at Eiheiji, amazing and inspiring the young Suzuki. Hoitsu helped him to a cushioned ceremonial chair to the right of the altar. He sat and looked with eyes straight ahead yet downcast, as in zazen.
People were just catching their breath when Richard Baker stepped forward. After the Heart Sutra was recited, Richard stood before the Mountain Seat altar and said in classical style: "This Mountain Seat, climbed many times before, is the everywhere bodhimandala. With the help of my Master and everyone here, in the ten directions and the three times, I will climb this mind-seal altar. Do not wonder about it at all."
He offered incense to buddhas, bodhisattvas, and ancestors, to Trudy Dixon, Katagiri-roshi, and "to my own subtle and compassionate teacher, Suzuki Shunryu-daiosho," to whom he said, drawing from Suzuki's own Mountain Seat Ceremony at Sokoji in 1962:
This piece of incense
Which I have had for a long long time
I offer with no-hand
To my Master, to my friend, Suzuki Shunryu-daiosho,
The founder of these temples.
There is no measure of what you have done.
Walking with you in Buddha's gentle rain
Our robes are soaked through,
But on the lotus leaves
Not a drop remains.
Richard sat on a red lacquered chair before the altar. Katagiri spoke for Suzuki loud and clear: "Dragons and Elephants! Accept this holder of Buddha's First Seat!"
Then Richard Baker said, in what may be called the first lecture of his abbotship, "There is nothing to be said."
A mondo followed, ritualized yet impromptu questions, which
Richard answered quickly and dramatically. Telegrams were read, formal congratulations were made, and the ceremony was over.
Suzuki was helped to face the altar, where he made another slow, painful prostration from which he rose almost by himself. Then he started down the aisle to leave. Halfway to the opened doorway he stopped in the midst of his sangha, disciples, students, former students, admirers, old friends, visiting teachers, and guests. There was utter silence. He looked to the left, then decisively rolled the staff several times between his hands; the rings at the top burst out jangling. He looked to the right and rolled his staff again, and again the rings rang out. It was the sound of an ultimate effort. It was the sound of his love and his freedom.
Tears and sobbing began on all sides. Hearts cracked open. Everything was suspended in his presence, in an immense shared feeling—a car honking on the street, pigeons cooing, the crying in the room, and a deep stillness. Time stopped. A moment that started the day he arrived in America continued as he was helped out of the room, striking his staff to the floor as he went. He left behind him a room full of palms pressed together saying thank you, saying goodbye, saying what could not be said.
After the ceremony, Suzuki met with his disciples. Twenty or so sat on the tatami in his sitting room. It was done. He'd passed on Zen Center, Page Street, and Tassajara to Zentatsu Richard Baker, who sat next to him a head higher in his fancy robes, his eyes down, the weight of what he'd received all over him. Suzuki turned to him, nodded, and smiled. The room was hushed. In a faint voice Suzuki said thank you to everyone and to Richard and then, nodding toward Katagiri, another breathy thank you "for all you've done, for which I am so grateful." All of a sudden a howl arose. It was Katagiri who crawled toward Suzuki crying out, "Don't die!" Sobbing, he hugged frail Suzuki, who said in a soft rasp, "Daijobu. Daijobu" (It's all right).
Katagiri had said goodbye to Suzuki and was on his way back to Tassajara for the last few weeks of the practice period. He left in sadness and with some discomfort at his situation. Seven years he'd served Suzuki—hard work, low pay, no time off. Katagiri was dependable and had a seamless constant practice. He'd come to be seen as a coteacher by many. Suzuki and Katagiri had contained their feelings, speaking little through the years. Until the meeting with his disciples following Richard's Mountain Seat Ceremony, Suzuki had never verbally expressed his gratitude.
Suzuki was still troubled by Katagiri's intention to leave. He wanted him to remain a senior dharma teacher for the whole community. "Maybe Katagiri can still help," he said to Okusan as he went to sleep.
Katagiri wasn't the only person he had troubled thoughts about. Unfinished business pressed at Suzuki. Bill. Silas. He wanted to take care of his disciples. Suzuki's style was to let things happen, nudging them, patiently waiting, acting skillfully by not acting rashly. He hadn't known how quickly his illness would overcome him. Some disciples were disturbed. A few had postponed or given up careers to devote themselves to studying with this dying man. Would he leave no final instructions?
So far Suzuki's instructions were not about practical matters but about dying with dignity. It was tragic for his students to see the deteriorating physical condition of their dear teacher, yet at the same time it was marvelous to witness his composure and see how undiminished he was at heart.
In his last meeting with Hoitsu before his son returned to Japan, Suzuki implored, "Take care of Bill Kwong for me. Make sure Bill gets transmission—you can do it for me."
Suzuki wanted Hoitsu to be available to help his disciples in whatever way he could, but Hoitsu knew his father didn't want him to interfere with Richard. "Leave Zen Center to Richard," he'd said several times. Hoitsu also knew that leaders need assistance, and his father knew it too. Richard would need help from his elders, like
Katagiri and Claude, and from his peers, like Bill and Silas. Even if he disagreed with them, he should work with and respect them. Suzuki knew there was rivalry but hoped it could move toward cooperation. "It is done," he said to his son. "All I can do now is hope."
With the trust he had in Richard and in others, and considering his patience and acceptance of problems, Suzuki's hope might have included more possibilities than were imagined by his students. If some disciples couldn't work together, maybe they could work separately. If there were sharp differences, maybe time would smooth the edges. Ultimately, if people were sincere, it would be okay. He might have looked at his students through his dying eyes and thought, as when Tatsugami landed, "You have no idea how much you're going to suffer."
Amano came to his bedside to say goodbye. "I've finished all my duties," Suzuki told him. "Please report the details to the members."
"Hai," Amano answered in the affirmative.
Suzuki gave Amano his mala bracelet with the skull-shaped beads. He told Okusan to roll up a scroll for Yasuko and to give Hoitsu the staff with the bronze rings he'd carried in the ceremony. The clanger on top of the staff was the last item he wanted to return to Rinso-in, of those he had borrowed when he'd left in 1959.
"Well, we're leaving now," said Amano.
"Okay. Goodbye, Father. Have a good trip," Suzuki said softly.
Hoitsu couldn't believe how casually the two said farewell, as if it were just another day.
Sitting on the plane before takeoff, Yasuko was crying. She wanted to get off and stay with her father. Hoitsu told her they had to go back now to help Amano explain to people what their father had been doing in America these twelve years, what he had created and was leaving behind. Nobody had really understood why he left. Now Amano, Yasuko, and Hoitsu knew and could tell the others, who should feel some pride in this too.
The ancient bodhisattvas were not afraid of, but found joy in failure, poverty, and death—and in doing small things.
A hospital bed was put in a second-floor room overlooking the courtyard. There Suzuki could have a sense of the rhythm of the building and some time in the sunlight. The buddha hall was right below; during morning service he'd listen to the sounds of chanting, drums, and bells coming through the window and the open door. Okusan would wash his face, and he'd have a glass of orange juice—that was his service. He was too weak to get out of bed.
Ryuho would get lost looking at Suzuki's face as he gave him shiatsu treatments. It was spacy and changing, he said, and it didn't look Japanese. He could obviously die at any time—Okusan and the doctor said so, too. His skin was dark, almost the color of the brown okesa robe. But to Ryuho the light of his eyes was powerful.
Yvonne was there every day, staying with him while Okusan cooked, did laundry, and cleaned. They took turns caring for him and massaging his back, legs, arms—wherever he'd indicate. Yvonne would be sitting by his bed and a skinny arm would come out from the covers and go into the air. She'd rub it for a while; then he'd pull it back under the covers. Later the other arm would appear. She and Okusan massaged and moved him enough so that he hadn't gotten any bedsores. He never complained and always appreciated the attention he received.
There was a bottle of painkillers on the table. He refused them, as after the gallbladder operation. He had tried them once because his doctor told him to, but he didn't like the state of mind that resulted, so he asked Yvonne to take them away. Still, he told Richard that sometimes he felt like he was being tortured.
One day Suzuki asked Yvonne to come close to him, and when
she did he apologized for not having ordained her as a priest, saying again that he lacked confidence in training women. "I didn't recognize your seriousness to practice," he said.
Suzuki asked Yvonne about Silas and was pained to hear that he had already left to lead sesshins in Portland and Quadra Island near Vancouver. Silas had come to say goodbye, but Suzuki had been sleeping. He sat next to him for a while and then left. Silas did not see eye to eye with Richard and had argued that the membership should have had a chance to approve of Richard as the new abbot. But most people just wanted to do what Suzuki wanted. The board members were all students and couldn't accept Silas's democratic and legal approach. He hadn't seen much of Suzuki since Richard returned. Now Suzuki was thinking about Silas.
Within a week of the ceremony, Suzuki had almost completely stopped talking. Then he stopped eating. His body was soft and weak and thin, the size of an eight-year-old child. It had always had a childlike quality, but with great strength and energy, the power to move large stones. Now it was a dark, dying child's body. Okusan told Ryuho not to bother coming anymore. Either Okusan or Yvonne stayed close by. They still massaged him gently, but to Yvonne it seemed that mainly they were just breathing together. She felt there was almost nothing they needed to do. Just leave him alone, be with him, and respond to his few requests. They wiped his face. When he stopped drinking, they kept his lips and mouth moist with a washcloth.
Richard came every day. Sometimes he would talk to Suzuki with Okusan's help. She said he could hardly hear now. "Where will I meet you?" Richard asked, standing in gassho at the foot of the bed. Suzuki's hands came out from under the covers in gassho. Then, with index finger extended, he drew a circle in the air, bowed into it, and returned his hands under the covers. Richard bowed in return.
That we are here means we will vanish.
On the evening of December 3, Suzuki was moved from the hospital bed overlooking the courtyard to his own bed in his apartment. "Tomorrow," he told Okusan in a hoarse whisper, "I must talk to Richard about Silas."
Okusan went into the tatami room and spread out the futon. For the first time she didn't put on her pajamas, but left her clothes on and lay down exhausted to sleep.
Suzuki's son Otohiro had been there for a couple of days and said he would stay till the end, which he knew was near. He slept on Okusan's bed, up against his father's in the small room. At about two in the morning Otohiro shook Okusan awake. "Mother! Mother! Father wants a bath."
"No no no." She went in and told her husband to go back to sleep. He repeated that he wanted a bath. The thought of it made Okusan anxious. He hadn't been in a tub for a long time.
"It's okay," he said.
Otohiro wasn't going to argue. He knew the old man would be stubborn to the end. Okusan went into the bathroom and started to fill the tub. Otohiro carried him into the bathroom slowly and placed him in the tub. Suzuki started gasping for air, breathing fast. "It's all over," he said between short breaths.
"Calm down, calm down," Otohiro spoke soothingly in his ear holding him. "Breathe slowly, breathe slowly." Otohiro breathed loudly and slowly, and his father's breath slowed down till they were both breathing together at the same slow rate.
Suzuki asked for the bar of scented soap that Della had given him. He never used anything scented, but he took it and slowly made a good lather, and they helped him to clean himself thoroughly. Then he took a long, relaxed bath.
Afterward Suzuki lay on the bed and sighed. Slowly and faintly he spoke. "Ahhhh, what a good feeling," he said, with a wisp of pleasure on his face. "Don't wake me in the morning."
"Maybe you're thirsty," said Okusan. "Would you like some orange juice or ice cream?"
"Orange juice." He drank some orange juice, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.
Okusan went back to her futon and Otohiro lay down next to his father in the bed. Before long it was four and he heard the wake-up bell—a handbell run through the halls to get people up for zazen. It was not just any day's zazen, but December 4, the first day of a five-day sesshin that would culminate on Buddha's Enlightenment Day, the eighth of December. Over a hundred people were participating. Otohiro could hear people opening and closing doors carefully, running water in the bathroom across the hall. Then came the sharp sound of the wooden han being hit, indicating that the new abbot, Zentatsu Baker-roshi (as Suzuki said to call him), was on his way to offer incense at various altars. The last altar was the one in the zendo, where he would open the sesshin and begin the first period of zazen.
The sound of a bell could be heard faintly coming from the distant zendo. Otohiro felt his father move slightly. Suzuki's hand reached over and clutched his arm.
"Get Baker," came a thin whisper.
Otohiro jumped out of bed and ran into the tatami room. "Mother! Something's happening with father! He said to get Baker!"
Without a word Okusan leapt up and went quickly down to the zendo.
Richard had just sat down on his cushion and straightened his robes when Okusan opened the side door. Lew was sitting in the space nearest her. "Get Zentatsu!" she whispered urgently.
Richard took long strides to the zendo door and then dashed up the stairway to Suzuki's room. Okusan and Otohiro left Suzuki alone with Richard. He was still conscious, and with the last
strength of his life he just barely reached his hand out to his beloved disciple. Half sitting, half kneeling by the bed, Richard held his hand and touched his forehead to Suzuki's. They rested that way for a few moments, then Richard felt the man most dear to him slip away, let go of his life. Slowly, Shunryu Suzuki-roshi faded away—so gently that Richard could not tell when he died; he just knew it had happened.
Richard let go of Suzuki's hand. He waited a moment and felt for a pulse. Then he went outside to Okusan and Otohiro. Richard had his hand on his heart. He spoke in Japanese, his voice cracking, as he told them, "Suzuki-roshi's life has ended."
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The Origin of Life and the Universe - 2nd International Conference 2017
A Detailed Account of the 2nd International Conference on the Origin of Life and the Universe
On May 21st, 2017, the Technics & Science Research Foundation (TSRF) held its second annual International Conference on The Origin of Life and The Universe at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Istanbul, Turkey.
Focusing on the question of "What is the origin of life?" the TSRF's The Origin of Life and The Universe Conference drew a line in the shifting sands of the scientific community, declaring boldly that evidence for a God-driven Creation exists plainly in such fields as genetics, biology, paleontology, physics, chemistry and astrophysics.
Unique among creation-oriented groups, TRSF is THE ONLY Islamic-based organization, and prides itself on its interfaith dialogue. TSRF frequently hosts events, which feature Christian, Jewish, and other leading theologians and scientists from around the world.
Attended by approximately 500 participants, The 2nd Origin of Life and The Universe Conference featured two sessions of speakers.
In addition to the talks presented on topics ranging from the nature of viruses to the complexity of the DNA, conference goers viewed several exhibits of fossils, many dating back millions of years, and enjoyed performances of musicians and the Istanbul Dance Factory.
TSRF has been working for quite a long time to bring to the public's attention the latest scientific developments offering insights as to the origin of life and the universe, as well as the findings of modern science in an effort to highlight how this knowledge can be used to change our outlook on life.
The second conference provided answers from genetics, biology, paleontology, physics, chemistry and astrophysics to the question 'How did life begin?' with the valuable input of scientific figures who are experts in their fields and who have published many academic studies in respectable peer-reviewed journals.
In addition to discussing the latest scientific discoveries of the 21st Century, the speakers provided their insights as to how science can be utilized to build a peaceful world where people can live together harmoniously.
Guest speaker Fazale R. Rana, gave a presentation entitled 'DNA's Inspirational Design.' In his presentation, he described how works in biomimetic and bio-inspiration—exemplified by the inspirational design of the DNA molecule—focuses fresh perspective on the elegant designs of biochemical systems—designs befitting a Creator's handiwork.
Anjeanette "AJ" Roberts, in her speech 'Why Did God Create Viruses?' spoke of God's fingerprints in every living thing.
Carlo Alberto Cossano, MD, with his presentation entitled 'Informatics Records and Proteins Production' shared the latest information on how bio-informatics and the design found in proteins show us the flawless Creation of God.
Psychiatry Professor Paolo Cioni's presentation was on 'Psyche and the Crisis of Materialist Reductionism', in which he talked about the failure of materialist reductionism in human mind.
Fabrizio Frautus, in his presentation titled 'Evolution: Myth or Truth?', talked about the scientific evidences which refute the theory of evolution.
Oktar Babuna, MD, presented a talk titled "Matter: The Other Name for Illusion", in which he pointed out a crucial secret of our lives. Throughout his talk, in the light of scientific evidences, he showed the whole material world is really a shadow, and that this is the key to understanding the existence of God, His Creation, and the fact that He is the one absolute Being.
And lastly, Jeff Gardner, in his closing speech said, "That is, at the heart of it, our challenge, our task is to instruct the world that each of us has been made purposefully, and with the purpose of being seen, of being heard and not being silenced, forgotten or disappeared."
The conference also hosted a 'fossil exhibition' along with the book stall, where the audience could see clear paleontological proofs that living things haven't gone through any change over hundreds of millions of years.
The evidence and scientific arguments provided by our speakers included information that will lead the world of science to the good and right, and enlighten the Turkish youth as well as the whole world. For this reason, our international conference themed "The 2nd Origin of Life and the Universe" was an utterly important and influential initiative that shed light to the whole world and the future.
For further information or interviews about Technics & Science Research Foundation or The 2nd Origin of Life and The Universe Conference, contact:

subset: commoncrawl


text:
June 25th, 2009
Is an occasional cigarette that bad for you?
As a regular feature of CNNhealth.com, our team of expert doctors answers readers' questions. Here's a question for Dr. Gupta.
From Troy in Silver Spring, Maryland:
"I heard President Obama recently admit that he still smokes cigarettes occasionally. I know he is trying to quit but I'm curious what the health ramifications are for someone who just smokes once in a while?"
Great question, Troy. More than 46 million adults in America smoke cigarettes. But 70 percent say they would like to quit, according to a Centers for Disease Control and Prevention study. There is no question that smoking is a hard habit to break. It's been suggested that nicotine could be as addictive as heroin. And like many Americans reading this right now, the president also struggles to break the habit. Obama admits that, "as a former smoker, I constantly struggle with it. …Have I fallen off the wagon? Yes."
However, it's a myth to believe that if you smoke only two cigarettes a week for example, or just on the weekends, that it won't affect your health. Even a few cigarettes can increase your blood pressure,and put you at a slightly increased risk of heart disease and stroke. Some studies show that young smokers who light up only occasionally have signs of artery disease. And though their risk of developing cancer is nowhere near that of a regular smoker, compared with a non-smoker, the risk is elevated.
One group the new anti-tobacco bill targets are so-called "social smokers.'" The concern is that social smoking can turn into a full-time habit very quickly. Big tobacco companies spend millions of dollars researching and marketing to this demographic.
What's constitutes a social smoker? If you were to ask them, they'd tell you they don't consider themselves smokers because they don't do it every day. Studies show social smokers are younger, often smoke only with friends at social functions and typically don't typically purchase their own cigarettes in packs. Because of this, tobacco companies often market to social smokers in bars and clubs. The FDA will now regulate tobacco industry marketing in an effort to reduce social smoking in America.
Bottom line, Troy, is that no quantity of cigarettes is safe or healthy for our body. But for the millions of people struggling to quit right, don't be discouraged if you slip up and smoke. Smoking one cigarette is much better than an entire pack. And by no means does it mean you're a smoker again. Start fresh tomorrow. And check out www.smokefree.gov for great information on cessation and support programs.
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Get a behind-the-scenes look at the latest stories from CNN Chief Medical Correspondent, Dr. Sanjay Gupta, Senior Medical Correspondent Elizabeth Cohen and the CNN Medical Unit producers. They'll share news and views on health and medical trends - info that will help you take better care of yourself and the people you love.


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Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Paper-Based Storage Furniture: Cardboard and More
Q: Cardboard, really?
A: YES, really!
So says the Karton Group, which makes this Barnyard Method collection, and other less-fanciful storage furniture — shelving and bed drawers. Karton says, "Our board is made from a mix of virgin and recycled paper (the virgin pulp provides superior strength)." And like many paper-based furniture options, it's relatively inexpensive. [via Shoebox Dwelling]
Reinhard Diennes Studio has created two cardboard storage pieces — a sideboard and a bookcase. Each is available in eight different colors, and can be purchased from Fashion For Home.
Shelves2go positions its products as "your dorm room shelving unit made of corrugated cardboard." [via Apartment Therapy] Update on July 14, 2014: The Shelves2go website has disappeared.
Way Basics makes its furniture, including storage cubes and storage bookcases, from zBoards — which in turn are "made almost entirely (99%) from post-consumer recycled paper."
Kroom makes a wide range of products from reinforced cardboard. Here's just one: a bookcase for kids. Although the company is based in Israel, the products are sold in many countries; I found this bookcase on Amazon.com. [via Magnifeco]
And let's end as we began — with some animals. This moose and bear come from The Green Apple; there's also a monkey. Unfortunately, these cardboard bookcases are only available in the U.K.; the company does not ship overseas.
Related Post:
Shelving (and Other Storage) Made from Cardboard and Other Pasteboard
Posted by Jeri Dansky at 7:10 AM 2 comments
Labels: green alternatives, organizing products
Monday, June 27, 2011
Organizing the Books, for Kids Who Read in Bed
Reading in bed is a pleasure for kids and adults alike — but how do you store the books your children are reading? Just today I came across two products designed to address this issue. The first is Tambino's clever combination of a bookshelf and a bed rail, also available through Etsy. Note: "Intended for kids over the age of two, who can get up and down from the bed unassisted. Not intended for the upper level of a bunkbed (upper bunk rails are longer)." [via Furniture Fashion]
But here's a product that is intended for use in the upper level of a bunkbed: the Tidy Books Bunk Bed Buddy, which holds books and assorted small items. Tidy Books also sells other neat products for organizing children's books, including the Tidy Box.
Related Post:
Storing and Displaying Children's Picture Books
Posted by Jeri Dansky at 8:57 PM 4 comments
The Power of Using Checklists
Checklists save lives. Dr. Atul Gawande makes that very clear in his fascinating book, The Checklist Manifesto: How to Get Things Done Right.
Gawande focuses mostly on airline pilots and medical teams (ICU and surgical). Builders of skyscrapers and other complex structures, and managers of investment funds, also get some attention. (Van Halen and David Lee Roth make a brief appearance, too.)
Aviation checklists have proven their worth for many years now. Manufacturers like Boeing have become experts in creating effective checklists: precise and practical, and tested in flight simulators. Airlines then make customizations; Gawande tells us that "when airlines merge, among the fiercest battles is the one between the pilots over whose checklists will be used."
Such checklists aren't exhaustive, covering every possible issue; they focus on the "the killer items — the steps that are most dangerous to skip and sometimes overlooked nonetheless." When Gawande spoke to Daniel Boorman of Boeing, he learned that "even the look of the checklist matters. Ideally, it should fit on one page. It should be free of clutter and unnecessary colors. It should use both uppercase and lowercase text for ease of reading."
Unfortunately, the surgical checklist developed by the World Health Organization — Gawande was a key player in developing this list — has had much success, but has yet to gain anything close to complete acceptance. I just checked my own area, and many hospitals are actively using the checklist — but many are not. Gawande mentions how he started using the checklist himself, thinking it wouldn't be all the useful in his practice. "To my chagrin, however, I have yet to get through a week in surgery without the checklist's leading us to catch something we would have missed."
Checklists, Gawande argues, don't turn the users into "mindless automatons." Rather, a well-made checklist "gets the dumb stuff out of the way, the routines your brain shouldn't have to occupy itself with ... and lets it rise above to focus on the hard stuff." Both the aviation and the surgical checklists also help build the sense of teamwork needed to effectively deal with emergencies.
While many of us don't work in the complex environments that Gawande describes, checklists can still be useful tools. Reading this book made me appreciate them all the more.
Related Posts:
Organizing for Travel: The Packing List
Checklists: Chore Charts
8 Tips for Getting (and Staying) Organized When You Have Memory Problems
Posted by Jeri Dansky at 8:18 AM 11 comments
Labels: books, organizing techniques
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
One Good Reason to Stop Running Late
Photo by Evan Sharboneau, Photo Extremist; found on Flickr; licensed through Creative Commons.
I'm late, I'm late for a very important date. No time to say hello, good-bye, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late. — Michele Novotni in ADDItude MagazIne, quoting the 1951 Disney movie, Alice in Wonderland
How many of us are in this situation regularly — because we didn't plan our leave-the-house routine well enough, or because we fell prey to what Kathleen Nadeau, also in ADDItude Magazine, called one-more-thing-itis?
We know that running late can become a bad habit, but these words from Laurie Perry, also known as Crazy Aunt Purl, remind us just how serious a problem this can become:
This is what happened last month when that lady hit my Jeep. After the crash she sat in her car, writing out her phone number for me, saying, "I was late for work." I remember looking at her with absolute disbelief, thinking You almost killed me because you were late for work?
That line keeps coming back to me at the oddest times. I'll see someone blow through a red light and hear that lady saying, I was late for work. And then I think, I hope they don't kill someone just because they couldn't bother to leave on time for work today.
Related Post:
Stop Being Late
Posted by Jeri Dansky at 11:35 PM 3 comments
Labels: time management
Monday, June 20, 2011
Organizing the Tax Records: My Own Story
Tax-related papers. It's easy to be overwhelmed by them, and have them take up an inordinate amount of space.
While you should certainly ask your own tax accountant or tax attorney about his or her recommendations on record retention, I personally follow the guidelines I see most often: Keep the returns themselves forever, and keep all supporting documents for seven years. (That's a general rule; there are exceptions.) And since I've seen conflicting advice on whether or not it's OK to rely on scanned copies, I keep paper originals for all those "last seven years" papers.
But even with this approach, I had much more paper than I wanted, or needed — and I wasn't storing it well. For the last couple years I've been using my ScanSnap to make scans of all tax-related papers, and then filing them in my file cabinet — and that worked well. But before then I'd been keeping my tax-related papers in fireproof boxes, and the boxes were taking up room I wanted for other purposes. And the old tax returns, dating back to the 1980s, were taking up room in my file cabinet.
So this past weekend I finally embarked on my "clean up the tax records" project.
Paper reduction: I scanned all the old returns, after blacking out my social security number and my signature. (I don't need either of these floating around in electronic form.) After making sure I had a good backup in place, I then shredded the returns. I have a very full recycling bin this week!
Improved storage: For returns within the 7-year period, I scanned what had not yet been scanned, and put the papers in my file cabinet — in the space that used to hold all those really old returns. Since I have electronic copies, I'm no longer afraid of losing the originals, and see no need for those fireproof boxes.
I'm not quite done with the project, but it's well underway and I'll finish it this week — and then I'll Freecycle all those boxes.
While all the scanning was a bit tedious, a good scanner (and a good shredder) made things go pretty quickly. And now I have a lot of reclaimed space — and I have all my tax information at my fingertips, in well-organized computer files.
Posted by Jeri Dansky at 11:01 AM 4 comments
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Kitchen Knife Storage: Whimsical and Colorful
Unique is a word that gets tossed around a lot — but here's a product for storing knives that truly is unique. It's the Kitchen Bull from Toro Legno, in Australia — and you can get it through Etsy. As you can see, it's much more than a knife block — it's also a bookshelf, and there's a cheese board tucked away in there, too. And, of course, it's also a conversation piece, and a work of art. [via Freshome; photo used by permission of Ian Sargeant] Update on May 22, 2021: I'm no longer seeing this product on Etsy, and the Toro Legno website seems to have disappeared.
Also from Australia — and also available through Etsy — are the colorful magnetic knife blocks from Feel Felt Found. There are five color choices.
And another fun option is the BISTRO knife block from Bodum, which comes in six colors. Bodum says, "The inside of the knife bock is made of a myriad of very fine plastic sticks allowing any knife to sit anywhere in the block — tight and secure." This makes it functionally similar to the Ekobo knife block and the Kapoosh knife block, mentioned in earlier posts.
Related Posts:
Knife Blocks Don't Have to be Boring
Nine Options for Storing Your Knives
Knife Storage Without the Chunky Knife Block
Reader Question: The Best Way to Store the Knives?
Posted by Jeri Dansky at 4:52 AM 2 comments
Thursday, June 16, 2011
How Not to Declutter: Donating Stuff After a Disaster
Photo by Walt Hubis, licensed under Creative Commons.
Tornados. Floods. Earthquakes. Fires. Tsunamis. Hurricanes. We read about these things, and often think: I've got extra clothes, or toys, or food, or home furnishings I could donate to help people out.
And that's a generous impulse, and sometimes it's useful to act on it. We had a huge explosion and fire in my part of the world last September, and such donations were solicited for a while. But rather soon the requests changed: Please, no more stuff. If you want to help, donate money.
Especially in cases of disasters occurring outside of the area you live in, donations of "stuff" are discouraged by aid agencies.
The American Red Cross will not accept such donations, as it explains:
The American Red Cross does not accept or solicit small, individual donations of items for emergency relief purposes. Small items such as collections of food, used clothing, and shoes often must be cleaned, sorted, and repackaged which impedes the valuable resources of money, time, and personnel that are needed for other aspects of our relief operation. ... The best way to help a disaster victim is through a financial donation to the American Red Cross. Financial contributions allow the Red Cross to purchase exactly what is needed for the disaster relief operation. Monetary donations also enable the Red Cross to purchase relief supplies close to the disaster site which avoids delays and transportation costs in getting basic necessities to disaster victims.The Salvation Army explains it this way:
Anytime a disaster strikes there are two inevitable things that will happen. One is that people's lives will be affected in some way, shape or form. The other is that people will want to donate "stuff."And Good Intentions writes:
After every major disaster I have been part of, we have been inundated with donated goods. One thing is for sure … people have big hearts and good intent. On the surface cleaning out a closet to donate your no-longer-needed pair [of] pants, or t-shirts that you wore that one time only, seems like good idea. The reality is this can be a huge burden on the disaster response. ...
With in-kind goods a lot of infrastructure is required to make those gifts manageable and able to be delivered to those in need. Warehouses must be secured, trucks lined up to transfer the goods, mechanisms in place to get the goods to the disaster survivors … and the list goes on.
After the tsunami tons of used clothing were donated, much of it inappropriate to the climate and culture. There were winter hats, coats and gloves donated to southern Thailand and mountains of donated clothing dumped beside the road in India. Donated goods can clog ports and prevent more critical relief items from getting through. Ports can only hold and process so many goods and often the port authorities have difficulty sorting through everything arriving to get it processed and out the doors.But there are plenty of other ways to donate your excess items to good causes. You can give to Goodwill, a local thrift shop whose sales benefit a local charity, a homeless shelter (after checking on its specific needs), a food bank, or Soles 4 Souls — to name just a few worthy organizations. Or you could offer the items to others on Freecycle, or pass child-related items along to a family with children younger than your own; some mothers groups coordinate such passing-along efforts.
Posted by Jeri Dansky at 10:31 PM 7 comments
Labels: donating and recycling
Monday, June 13, 2011
Two More Ways to Store the Legos
Lego storage is an ongoing challenge for many — but fortunately, clever people keep developing more storage options. Back in 2007 I wrote about 16 Lego storage options, which I thought was a pretty comprehensive list — and then people added even more ideas in the comments. Last year, I found the BrikCrates. And now I've found two more ways to store the Legos. Both of these are targeted at kids, rather than older collectors.
1. Play mats that become toy bags
These would work great for any toys involving lots of small parts, including Legos. The eye-catching one above is the Swoop Bag, which comes in six different colors. [via Cool Mom Picks; photo used with permission of Swoop]
Gogo&co, based in Australia, makes the gogosac. This was mentioned in the comments on my prior post, but I wanted to be sure no one overlooked it.
And if you're craftier than I am, you could make your own, as described by Instructables and Bellgirl. Keren Kurti Alexander shows off another handcrafted one on Flickr.
2. Portable Lego Storage Box
This one comes to us from Knick Knack Wood Shack, and it's available in two different sizes. Each box is handmade — and the shop owner is a dad whose own children have tested these boxes out. [via Ohdeedoh]
Related Post:
Organizing Products Inspired by Famous Toys
Posted by Jeri Dansky at 5:38 PM 12 comments
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Filing Supplies: All About Redwelds
It was the bastion of a successful, busy lawyer as little as 15 years ago. It sat on desks, was cradled by counsel, paralegals and secretaries and, undoubtedly, caused many backaches. I am writing of the humble Redweld — that brown, expanding folder that housed nearly every aspect of a matter from motions to correspondence to billing. — Eric Elfman
If you've been in a legal office lately, you may well have seen these files around — even if Elfman writes about them as a thing of the past. And plenty of other people use them, too.
As John's Legal Lexicon explains: "When your lawyer says 'Put it in the Redweld,' he is referring to one of those large, usually red, file folder holders with a red ribbon for tying it shut. The name comes from the colour and the fact that the manufacturer wanted to emphasise the weld-like strength of the glue holding it together."
Notice that Redweld is always capitalized? That's because it's a registered trademark. Technically, the products are Redweld expanding pockets and envelopes. Companies other than Redweld, such as Smead, make similar expanding pockets, but they aren't called Redwelds. And anyone using the term "redwells" is probably just confused about the term.
Want to know why lawyers like Redwelds? Blond Justice explains why she prefers them over binders, and how she uses them when preparing for a trial. The comments are interesting, too, as other lawyers weigh in.
And finally, LacquerWear informs us that there's a nail polish which matches the color of a Redweld.
Posted by Jeri Dansky at 11:33 PM 6 comments
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
For Book Lovers: Fun and Functional Bookends
You've sorted through the books, moving along those that no longer fit your life. Now it's time to organize the remaining books on the bookshelves — which means you just might need some bookends.
The editor in me was pulled to the bookends shown above — one of eight designs available from Boxed. If you're a fan of the Keep Calm products, look for the ones with that theme. "U.S. customers will receive this product filled with beans, while for the other countries the bookend will be mailed empty. Fill it with 3 cups of dry beans, rice or even sand."
Robots S.P.A. provides us with these Giulietta e Roméo bookends, available from Made in Design and Panik.
Need a simple heavy-duty bookend? Take a look at the stainless steel bookends from Magmax, available at Canoe. The picture is a bit confusing, since the bookends would actually be turned around, with the metal plates under the books — but turning them this way shows them off properly. Each bookend weighs almost four pounds. As Canoe says, "The hefty construction and generous scale makes them highly suitable for holding oversized art and design books which ordinary bookends can't accommodate." [via Better Living Through Design]
Ideaco has some fun dual-purpose bookends: a combination of a bookend and a letter holder, or a tape dispenser. Some places to find these, outside of Japan, are MollaSpace and Emmo Home. [via Swiss Miss]
The Puhlmann Filemaker bookend allows you to easily label sections of books. The same company makes the Zoo brand bunny bookends. These are easy to find in The Netherlands — and harder to find elsewhere. Update on April 20, 2014: I'm no longer finding any place that sells the Filemaker bookends.
Finally, here's an interesting idea from Colleen & Eric: a shelf with a built-in bookend — which can be slid along the shelf, depending on how many books you need to hold up. The wood, color and size can all be customized to meet your needs. [via Bookshelf]
Related Posts:
Nice Bookends Don't Have to Cost $685
Treat Your Books to Some Nice Bookends: The Elephant Edition
Bookends for Those Who Haven't Totally Converted to the Kindle, Nook or iPad
5 Bodacious Bookends
Posted by Jeri Dansky at 10:57 PM 0 comments
Labels: organizing products, organizing the books
Monday, June 6, 2011
Have It Your Way: Customized Organizing Products
Every hear of Custom Week? I hadn't either, until a few hours ago. But June 6-13 is the first annual Custom Week, where a number of companies that provide customizable products are offering discounts.
And some of those companies make organizing-related products. I've already mentioned CustomMade a number of times, and shown you some of the furniture I found through that site. So let's look at two other companies this time.
Ghost Nest lets you create customized knobs, using one of three standard styles and your own text and/or artwork — or you can choose some artwork provided by various artists. The SOCKS knob above is the design of graphic artist Matthew Langille; the photo comes from the Ghost Nest Flickr site (and is used with permission from Ghost Nest). Custom knobs would be an interesting way to label dresser drawers — or any other drawers!
At what I imagine is the other end of the price spectrum, there are the amazing Riveli shelving systems.
Posted by Jeri Dansky at 5:38 PM 3 comments
Reader Tip: Organizing with Wreath Hangers
Sometimes the perfect organizing solution is something very simple — and inexpensive. I use hooks on the back of my bedroom door to hang some clothes — but reader Rachel in San Diego has another suggestion. She wrote this note in response to my recent post about coat stands, and has given me permission to share her words and her photo with all of you. Here's Rachel:
I have discovered the benefits of metal wreath holders. I have three on my bedroom door and they hold my small collection of scarves as well as my winter jacket during the winter. I have one on the bathroom door and it holds my nightgown. I suddenly realized after reading your post that if I had a winter coat or two, I could hang a couple inside out on my front door and use that as a coat rack.
They work fine, the price is reasonable, and installation is very simple. In a pinch I can "borrow" one and use it to hang a wreath on the front door.
Rachel got me curious about wreath hangers, so I looked to see what's available beyond the basic ones. If you like Rachel's idea and want to add a bit of pizazz, there are some nice wrought iron wreath hangers made by Village Wrought Iron and sold many places online.
And if you are willing to spend even more, you can get a personalized wreath hanger. The examples on the web site all show family names, but there's no reason you couldn't order one that says ROBE or whatever, to remind everyone about what goes where. Or say you wanted a place for each of two children to hang something; each wreath holder could have the child's name. Built-in labels!
Pottery Barn also has personalized wreath hangers, in a different style.
Posted by Jeri Dansky at 12:47 AM 3 comments
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Organizing with Creative Coat Stands
Don't have enough closet space in the entryway? Looking for an easy way to get coats (or other clothes) hung up, rather than tossed on the floor or across a piece of furniture? Then you may want to consider either hooks or a product like the ones shown here.
The coat stand above comes from Misewell, and it's called Stretch. It's made in the USA. [Photo used with permission.]
Porada, an Italian company, makes the Flamingo coat stand, available in white, black, walnut and other finishes. One place to buy it is Mac & Mac Interiors in the U.K.
This coat stand is called Tree. It is one of the many coat stands — others include Twist, Pole and Coat Lamp — designed by Robert Bronwasser of Smool for Cascando, "a Dutch brand of innovative office and home accessories" where Bronwasser is now the art director.
Of course, you don't have to go for modern styling to get a nice coat stand. Here's Restoration Hardware's English Mac and Brolly Stand - a nice-looking adaptation of an old favorite.
And here's a combination coat, hat and shoe rack from Mark Love Furniture, found on CustomMade.
Finally, for a very different approach, take a look at the Martha coat rack from E15, sold by Nest. Yes, that's solid wood.
Related Posts:
Nine Coat Racks That Caught My Eye
Reader Question: Coat Trees
Organizing Made Easy: Coat Racks
Posted by Jeri Dansky at 2:40 AM 3 comments
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AFI Fest is combining a screening of Alexander Payne's new film "Nebraska" with a tribute to its star, Bruce Dern (7 p.m. Nov. 11 at TCL Chinese Theatre). Do I even need to tell you to commit a misdemeanor, if you must, to score a gala ticket?
Not only is Dern one of the great screen actors associated with the New Hollywood Cinema of the 1970s; he is magnificent as a taciturn, cantankerous and more than a little addled ex-drunk in "Nebraska." Dern's Woody repeatedly sets out — on foot — from his longtime Montana home to claim something like a Publishers Clearinghouse prize he thinks is waiting for him in Lincoln.
Eventually, Woody's equally discontented son Dave (SNL's Will Forte, proving himself not only a fine, unfussy dramatic actor but one of the best straight men in the business) agrees to drive Dad there to shut him up and, just maybe, catch up on a little bonding.
When the pair is forced to stop over in the Nebraska town where Woody grew up, old grievances and new avarice infects a plurality of the population. When Woody's motormouthed, ever-complaining wife Kate (June Squibb) busses in, the hilarity meter rises into the red zone.
Payne ("Sideways," "The Descendants") lets his love of petty behavior loose in this one, but he also makes room for affectionate notes without getting too sloppy about it. There's a great balance here between verbal dexterity and the humor of people having nothing to say.
"Nebraska" is as bittersweet as its black-and-white photography, a cockeyed ode to Midwestern life and an argument for why the state's native son Payne got the hell out of there.
Check back for updates from AFI Fest and more reviews by Los Angeles News Group reporter Bob Strauss.


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Avoiding Illegal Robocalls
Protect your money from automated telemarketing scams
En español | Remember "Rachel from cardholder services?" She was the recorded voice announcing an "important message about your credit card" and promising a way to reduce its interest rate. Though she was recently forced into early retirement by the Federal Trade Commission, similar calls have kept coming, sometimes several times a day.
Yet these automated robocalls to pitch goods and services are illegal, unless the seller gets written permission from you to receive them.
But that's not the worst part. If you press 1 as you're urged to do, you're connected to a telemarketer, who may falsely claim to be calling from, or on behalf of, your credit card issuer, your bank or a government agency — lies that are also illegal.
Then you're asked about your current credit card and interest rate. Depending on your answer, you may be told that you can save at least $2,500 in finance charges and pay off balances up to three times faster — without increasing monthly payments.
Interested? That prompts a request for your financial and personal information, says the FTC, sometimes for a purported audit (or verification) to determine whether you qualify for the rate-lowering offer. In reality, says the agency, this is used to determine whether you have enough credit available on your credit cards to pay the company's fee.
And that fee can be as high as $3,000, with no guarantee that you'll get the rate reduction.
Sometimes fees are disclosed up front; other times you're told the process is free. In five cardholder services calls I recently received, I played along to see what con was being offered. I was told that if I qualified after providing my card details, my rate reduction would cost nothing. (One caller claimed to be a representative of a well-known credit card who said the rate reduction was a "free courtesy for years of loyal patronage." I don't even have an account with that card company.)
After ending one rate-reduction operation a year ago that bilked some 13,000 customers out of an estimated $13 million, the FTC in December disbanded six similar schemes in just over a month, including the company behind "Rachel." And most recently the agency mailed refund checks to hundreds of consumers that they identified who were allegedly duped a total of $350,000 by a company that used robocalls to deceptively claim it would lower credit card interest rates.
The bottom line: If you want to reduce your interest rate, give it a try yourself by calling your credit card issuer. There's no guarantee you'll succeed, but you never know unless you try.
Sid Kirchheimer is the author of Scam-Proof Your Life, published by AARP Books/Sterling.
Also of Interest
- Look out for these cyber threats
- Photos from the red carpet at the 2013 Oscars
- Get free assistance with tax return preparation
Visit the AARP home page for great deals and savings tips


text: Under "Little Bastard" aka. Hornswoggle, you have that on the January 14th, 2008 edition of Raw Hornswoggle competed in a mini rumble. You have that all of the participants came from micro however that is not the case, Preppy Matt Prada & Lil' Nasty were apart of it the first as Mankind, the second as Batista, however Blixx and Bronx Thug were not. Kane was played by Bodydrop, a worker from the southern area, and Mr. Kennedy was played by Enigma, also from the southern area, I know because I am Enigma, the guy that played Mini Kennedy, just thought you guys should know, thanks and later, big fan of the site keep it up.


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Because we always want more mobile games /s. Square Enix has announced a free mobile game that ties into Final Fantasy XV somehow called King's Knight - Wrath of the Dark Dragon. King's Knight was a game that actually predates Final Fantasy that was made by Hironobu Sakaguchi and Nobuo Uematsu. So this mobile game is a bit of a throw back.
The game will be free to play with some in game purchases if you want. It will be available on the apple store and google play sometime in 2017.


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Cat's Claw should not be taken during chemotherapy, and where transplants
are present.
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Your use of information available on or through this site is your own responsibility and at your own risk. Legal Information
Comments? Mail to email@example.com © copyright Natural Remedies Haven Ltd.


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In June 2015, the SC legislature passed a bill requiring all state and local law enforcement agencies to implement body-worn cameras and to develop policies and procedures for their use. Ken Miller, who was Police Chief at the time, had implemented body-worn cameras in a previous jurisdiction and testified in support of the legislation before a SC Senate committee.
Two Greenville officers show a profile view of a head-mounted camera.
All patrol officers will be equipped with video recording equipment.
Greenville Police chose head-mounted cameras for officers, as they provide an accurate line-of-sight view.
City Council, the City Manager and the Police Chief are committed to the success of Greenville's program and are confident that body-worn camera technology is both useful and necessary for informing and maintaining public confidence and trust. Body-worn camera systems enable officers to record situations that occur in most any environment, and provide the best chance of capturing the entirety of an incident on record, not only to evaluate against law, policy and skills training, but also to enable the Police Department to preserve and present evidence or address concerns with factual information.
The Greenville Police Department has partnered with a variety of stakeholders, including local and state prosecutors and judges, to develop a body-worn camera policy (PDF) and to efficiently manage the access and transfer of video evidence.


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If making a recurring subscription purchase via PayPal®, your account must have a credit card associated with your PayPal account (this is required by PayPal). Subscription purchases require a credit card linked to a PayPal account.
It is possible to use the PayPal payment option for other purchases [for items that are not subscriptions] without a credit or debit card added, however, you must have a verified back-up source of funds when you have only a bank account tied to the PayPal account. This is because PayPal only accepts instant payments for digital goods, and using a bank account via PayPal (paying with an e-check) is not considered an instant payment.
If you do not have a credit/debit card, you can simply add funds to your PayPal account that covers the amount of the purchase. Once you have a balance on your PayPal account, you will not be prompted to add a credit or debit card. If you do not have a balance in your PayPal account, you will always be asked for a backup funding source, ie: credit/debit card.
If you have any further questions regarding instant payments or any other issues with your PayPal payment, please contact PayPal Support directly: https://www.paypal.com/selfhelp/home
Something else to keep in mind before making your PayPal purchase attempt: Your PayPal account must be verified in order to complete purchases. Verifying your PayPal account protects you as the account holder, as well as the merchant.
For more information on what it means to have a verified PayPal account, as well has how to verify your account, please refer to the following page: https://www.paypal.com/us/webapps/mpp/security/verification-faq


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Paro United Football Club
Paro United FC First Team
The team Paro United FC First Team
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Do not hesitate to become cambodian football correspondent and share your passion for Paro United FC First Team, a team you follow, game after game, week after week.
Thank you for your commitment!
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Clerk of Courts,
and Clerk of Orphans' Court
The Prothonotary is elected to serve a four year term as the legal custodian of civil documents filed with the Lawrence County Court of Common Pleas. The Prothonotary's filing duties are set by Pennsylvania statutes, the Pennsylvania Rules of Civil Procedure, and the Lawrence County Local Rules of Court.
This office maintains accurate indices, case dockets, record keeping security and provides user-friendly access to the same for the public. As a courtesy to the public, the Prothonotary also maintains a passport office which assists local citizens in obtaining passports for international travel and related matters.
Clerk of Courts
The Clerk of Courts office maintains all criminal records at the Common Pleas level.
Clerk of Orphans' Court
The Orphan Court office handles all marriage licenses, adoption records, first and final accounts and petitions for incapacitated persons.
Meet Our Department
Jodi Klabon-Esoldo
DeAnna DeMonaco
Deborah Genareo
Leanne Marino
Maria Morgan
Contact Information for DepartmentLawrence County Government Center
Prothonotary Office
430 Court Street
New Castle, PA 16101
(724) 656-2126
8:00 am – 4:00 pm Monday through Friday


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Getting Drunk in North Korea
With crappy beer, strange nightclubs, and even bad hangovers, Pyongyang's nightlife may be the only domain in which a Westerner can find normalcy in the Hermit Kingdom.
PYONGYANG -- I'm standing outside the Egyptian Palace nightclub in Pyongyang's Yanggakdo Hotel, a place that promises all the advantages of a combination bar, nightclub, sauna and massage service, geared toward the tired and terminally lonely (which, like all other services at the Yanggakdo, means "foreigners only"). The only problem? It's nearly midnight, and the bar is firmly, implacably closed.
Welcome to North Korean nightlife. The Macanese-run Egyptian has a sign claiming to be open nightly between the hours of 7:30 p.m. and 3 a.m., but, according to well-informed sources, it's mostly shut (and "shit," anyway). Tales of debauched nights behind its locked glass doors -- which showcase a rack of traditional North Korean clothing and some half-hearted hieroglyphics -- are rare enough to be semi-legendary.
Though the Yanggakdo's basement has two sides – one Korean, the other Chinese – the latter is by far the sleazier. The reason the club was shut that night was that there were no Chinese staying at the hotel that week and, consequently, neither were the prostitutes that typically service them.
Even with its irregular hours, though, the Egyptian is a bit of a rarity. Under "Drinking," my Lonely Planet guide to Pyongyang has a single recommendation: The Diplomatic Club by the Juche Tower, a "newly refurbished complex full of bars, karaoke rooms, and restaurants."
The mere existence of such bars, however, is a sign of the gradual easing towards a marginally less controlled North Korean society (in Pyongyang, at least).
Private car ownership is increasing and, while the infamous traffic jams of Beijing are nowhere to be seen, it's not uncommon to see the notorious black-tinted Audis, so beloved by Chinese officials, prowling around -- though most sedan-style vehicles seem to have been manufactured abroad sometime in the 1980s. There are now around 2 million mobile phones in the country, purportedly North Korean made but, in fact, mostly manufactured under license by Chinese firms such as Huawei and then rebranded and repackaged with special "Juche" software.
Apart from the ruling elite, these are owned by a growing middle class, who, having grown rich from black markets and grassroots capitalism, are eager to consume what scant riches the country offers: Evenings out at hip new haunts like the Haedanghwa restaurant-spa; $50,000-dollar high-rise apartments; flatscreen TVs; imported whisky, cognac, and steak sold in exclusive places like the Paradise Shopping Center.
These are all ideas that don't fit easily into the notions of a "military-first" (songun) society whose Juche philosophy of national independence is omnipresent in the country.
As more bars open up, though, they'll likely find a receptive audience.
"North Koreans' main hobby is probably drinking," says Simon Cockerell, who has visited the country more than 100 times in his capacity as a tourguide for Koryo Tours, which leads trips to the DPRK for foreigners.
"North Korean people tend to drink more and [drink] stronger liquor," said Leonid A. Petrov, a North Korea expert at Australia National University, who cites the "lower temperatures in winter and bleak lifestyle" as reasons.
"Governments in Communist countries often resort to subsidizing alcohol in order to keep people happy," Petrov explains. "As long as the regime stays in power, the leaders will permit people to drink more and will keep the price of alcohol low and consumption rules relaxed."
For non-Koreans, nightlife is mostly confined to downtown hotels like the Koryo or the Yanggakdo. Or you can take a trip up to North Korea's highest restaurant, serviced by North Korea's slowest elevator and North Korea's surliest staff. Spinning (or "swiveling," as the hotel literature terms it) 47 stories above the city at a majestically sedate pace, the restaurant offers after-dark views of the pitch-black Pyongyang nightscape; they serve soju and beer: "It's alright," a fellow guest said and shrugged.
Most prefer to stay on the ground floor, though, where the "Tea House" serves up a foaming jar of microbrew to a crowd of world-weary diplomats, journalists, NGO workers, and rookie tourists. With expectations at rock bottom, most tourists are happy to pay RMB22 ($3.50) for something that doesn't taste terrible. Unfortunately, some say the unnamed "Draught Beer" tastes like "a pint of Boddington's that's been left in the fridge with a copper penny at the bottom of the glass," as Cockerell put it.
Cockerell and his friends have asked a Beijing micro-brewery called "Great Leap" to come help teach the Tea House workers how to brew a better beer.
It's the kind of move -- a Beijing hipster brewpub hops over the border to Pyongyang -- that would have seemed impossible a few years ago.
Pyongyang's usually quiet streets are filled with revelers on key dates for the regime. For a parade I visited on Victory Day, the July holiday commemorating the armistice between the two Koreas, people came decked in an array of styles, from the military's oversized pomp, to ill-fitting short-sleeved safari shirts and baggy slacks, to bootleg versions of fancy labels like Lacoste, Dolce & Gabbana, and Dior -- all convincingly faked by the Chinese.
When the tanks have all rolled off, though, the real celebrations begin. In homes and bars across the city, bottles of beer and soju are opened and shared. Driving around the big cities at night, one can sometimes spot clusters of men sinking pints at street bars. "People leave work and go home at five. The men will often come here, after they've been home, to drink," a barmaid at the Taedonggang Number Three beer bar explained via a translator. "Later their wives will call to ask when they're coming back."
Most of this is off-limits to foreigners, who must attend pre-approved bars – but there are occasional glimpses permitted. While producing Mass Games documentary A State of Mind in 2003, the physicist father of one of the film's subjects, gymnast Song Yon Kim, took Koryo Tours' Nick Bonner and crew out for a beer.
It was, Bonner says, "one of the coolest bars in the world. There was a seat left empty where Kim Il Sung once sat. Otherwise, drinking was the same as in any country. Social drinking, chatting, and joke telling… we renamed the pub the Red Lion and became celebrities with the locals -- nothing more than wishing us well in Korean and occasionally English -- but we were, for a few months, definitely part of the 'in' crowd."
According to Petrov, Korea's beer culture was introduced by the Japanese during the colonial era, from 1910 to 1945, and enthusiastically embraced.
The Taedonggang, named after Pyongyang's river, is one of the city's most notable nightlife stops, producing seven types of beer. Although these are named with typical Soviet flair -- Beer Number 1, Beer Number 2, Beer Number 3 and so forth -- the equipment used in their brewing actually comes from a well-regarded, though now defunct, British brewery. "When I was visiting North Korea, I was pleasantly surprised at the quality of their Taedonggang beer, of which we drank quite a lot," recalls Alistair Humphrey – or "Humph" – whose father was chief brewer for the British ale makers Usher's of Trowbridge, before he died and the brewery was sold. "When we got back to Beijing, I went out with Nick [Bonner] and Simon [Cockerell] of Koryo to the Great Leap Brewery, and the subject of Usher's came up. They asked if I knew what happened to the brewery, exchanging conspiratorial looks. 'It folded. I think it's now a supermarket,' I said. 'No!' said Nick, gleefully. 'It was sold to the North Koreans – they've been using it to brew the beer you were drinking last week!' So the equipment my father bought to brew English ales lives on in Pyongyang."
When I visited, they only had two beers on tap and were selling them to foreigners at about $3 apiece, having opened early especially for us. I tried both brews: one made of around 70 percent barley, the other a rice beer. It was hard to tell them apart, although I was told the rice brew was a "woman's beer."
Although it is a conservative culture, North Koreans will drink openly and publicly on certain days. "On hot Sundays and holidays, it is common to find local people having picnics and throwing down a few glasses of soju or even home-made alcohol," Cockerell says. "They are usually quite keen to share with visitors." Indeed, alcohol helps lubricate what rare bonding opportunities can be had with locals, Cockerell explains, explaining that late-night drinking sessions "offer a situation in which both Western people and North Koreans are comfortable."
Such open-air events give rise to probably one of the most bizarre aspects of North Korea's alcohol culture: drinking while literally cooking on gas. "Making a BBQ using gasoline might sound like a crazy idea: it's dangerous and not healthy. But in North Korea, where firewood is a luxury, this method is the most popular way to have a picnic," Petrov explains. "All you have to do is to forget about the bitter lead aftertaste in your mouth and enjoy the atmosphere of friendship and hospitality."
Camaraderie comes from toasting and singing. "Soviet drinking culture was full of symbolism and long toasts," Petrov says. "That was adopted by the North Korean bureaucrats and even common people who drink on family occasions."
Celebrations often include extended, formalized Kim-cheersing, but people tend to drink in moderation. (That said, Petrov points out that alcoholism is "very widespread" in North Korea, as is meth use and, supposedly, marijuana, as people seek to be "distracted from the grim realities of everyday life.")
Although one is constantly blasted with Kim worship from loudspeakers positioned on street corners, there's little chance of tapping your foot to a Western hit (let alone "Gangnam Style") in North Korea. Instead, people make their own music, belting out revolutionary tunes popularized by modern folk groups like Moranbong Band, a sashaying, miniskirt-wearing, violin-and-guitar-playing female quartet, whose members are said to have been handpicked by Kim Jong Un. They are the closest thing the country has to the Spice Girls -- hits include "Song of Bellflower Root," "Song of Red Bean Paste," "Let's Meet at the Front Line," "Drink to Victory," and the classic "Cheers!" ("Chuk-bei!").
Even for buzzed North Koreans, there are few opportunities to fall out over religion or domestic politics; both are essentially off limits. Bar fights are rare, as are Hangover-style experiences -- "I don't know of anyone who has drunk too much and then blazed a trail of destruction across Pyongyang," Cockerell says.
It's simplistic to dismiss North Koreans as brainwashed masses; in fact, we have more in common than we think. The morning after some particularly lively, birthday-inspired karaoke celebrations, one of our guides seemed unusually subdued and thoughtful. Later, he leaned over on the bus with a sorrowful sigh. "I drank too much last night," he admitted. "Now I have a hangover."
Perhaps he wanted something for his headache?, I offered. His face immediately lit up. "You have medicine! Is it from France?" he eagerly asked. "No," I replied, "Made in China." Pak's smile fell and his expression switched to one of immediate scorn. "China!" he scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "Pfft!"