June 13, 2013
I’m a white woman with dreadlocks, my child-bearing years behind me, and the schooling of humanity is my only agenda. I’ve got things to say, but I don’t always know how to say them, kind of like the Sex Pistols singing, “don’t know what I want, but I know how to get it,” but backwards. My mind is a seething cauldron alternating rage with compassion, prompting me to take extreme measures in aid of my purpose.
Right about now, you’re wondering where I’m going with all of this. I’m headed for the frontier.
I sighted that frontier during Y2K, that I spent feting myself and my daughter at the well-known international hotspot, the Yak & Yeti, in Kathmandu, Nepal, where I had gone to find spiritual fulfillment and discovered pollution and rug merchants. Disappointing, yes, but instructive as well! What we needed was not a dusty, incense-smoke-encrusted Nepalese Buddha, or a fashionable, globe-trotting Dalai Lama, but rather a simple, downhome, useful-for-the-people American Buddha. So I sent Charles an email, asking him to register the AmericanBuddha.com domain name, but it had already been claimed by some cultists as a tribute site for their “Rama” guru who perished in a valium-induced drowning accident, if I’m not mistaken. So he got American-Buddha.com, and the rest is history.