My father and I are at a Buddhist retreat. Most of the time we're not allowed to speak, but my father and
I break this rule when we're alone in the dormitory or when we
think no one is watching. My father commendably brought me up to quietly break any rule I
happen to find confining, as long as no one gets hurt.
Alone in our dorm room, we eat M&Ms and I ask him those important questions I've been meaning to for such a long time, like What makes you think so-and-so is gay? It is a crucial bonding experience and much better than a vow of silence -- one can do that anytime.
At the retreat, we each belong to discussion groups where we are officially allowed to talk. My group focuses on the environment. My father's discussion group is for Vietnam vets and is considerably more peppery; I secretly wish I could switch but I doubt I could pass.
In my group, people discuss their feelings of helplessness. We are small. Humanity is pushing the ecosystem over the brink and there's not a damned thing we can do about it. A total downer. We discuss the temperature of the room. It's a hot summer day. Should we turn the air conditioner on? We decide: no.
One woman is miffed. No, she's angry. The night before, in the dormitory bathroom, she had observed another woman letting the faucet run while she brushed her teeth. "How can a Buddhist waste water?" she says.
