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Buddhadharma : Winter 2014
winter 2 0 1 4 buddhadharma: the Practitioner’s quarterly 57 How Deep Is Your Love? T he afternoon I was scheduled to meet the dying man, my laptop got stolen. The crime felt oddly intimate, as though a burglar had snuck into my bed one night and, without waking me, removed the underwear from my body—with his mouth. I cried a little in the parking lot of Ralph’s gro- cery store, where the thief had broken into my Honda during the ten minutes that I was inside buying flowers. Fortunately, I had all my files backed up on a thumb drive. Unfortunately, I kept the thumb drive in the same bag as my Mac, so the thief got it too. But wasn’t that just like me? To leave the thumb drive in the same bag that I carry the computer around in? What the hell sense does that make? It was at least a hundred degrees outside. The heat felt like a vice slowly crushing my skull from every direction. I’d recently said good- bye to cigarettes and was sucking on nicotine lozenges like candy and compulsively talking to myself. Over half of my next book, three years of a daily journal, a rough draft of a novel, one very terrible screen- play about a black rapper who goes into the deep South in whiteface, It isn’t easy to offer spiritual comfort to a dying person, particularly when you can’t stop thinking about yourself. As shozan jack haubner learned, sometimes you just have to fake it. IllUSTRATION | Wesley allsbrooK