what is the anger for?

The anger is to keep me from giving in, from relenting.

Giving in to what, though? I just watched Karate Kid part III (didn't realize there were sequels, ended up with the third in the series by mistake). A major theme of the movie is the anger the teenage girl lead character feels at a world that's so indifferent to the unfairness of her parents' deaths (won't give away more of the story here.) She ends up getting some help from an elderly family friend, Mr. Miyagi, who gives this advice: "Grief trapped in heart become big anger."

After watching the movie and feeling a little irritated by the smug, self-satisfied glibness of much of the zen-speak (not to mention the inscrutability!), I Googled, "Zen is bullshit," just to see what I'd get. Led me to some interesting thoughts on this blog: http://vernontbludgeon.com/blog/archives/zen_practice/

Watching a movie like this or reading about zen ideas is such a stark contrast to reading the news, any news, on any subject, and seeing nothing but self-indulgence, people getting away with murder, literally; astonishing crimes are so commonplace that we hardly bat an eyelash. The self-discipline held up as a model in the movie is nowhere to be seen in real life.

And yet, in the movie, one of the monks saved a cockroach from being squashed by the heroine's shoe because all life is sacred.

So which is it? Which is right?

I guess that's the thing - we each make our own choice, and then we live with it. The thing is to try to be in integrity with what you say you believe. Or at, that's what I think I'm trying to do.

And it's not a matter of getting all Mother Teresa or anything, it's more just that I have to be able to live with myself.

Part of the problem is that I don't know anybody in real life who acts like the guy in the movie. Everybody, absolutely every person I know, has feet of clay. There's nobody to look up to, nobody to aspire to. Nobody to respect as a model of 'right living'.

And besides, I believe in "moderation in all things, including moderation." I don't particularly want to be holier-than-thou (though I certainly have plenty of moments of feeling superior.)

In fact, when I bought my first bottle of Jack Daniels a couple of years ago, I felt so proud, so utterly bursting with pleasure at having finally blasted through the internal constraint of my mother's fear of alcohol that I had to call up a friend to boast. Just this simple little bottle of nothing-special whiskey, yet it was the symbol that mattered: I'm a grownup and I'll damn well have a fricking drink if I want to!

And guess what? The world did not end! Life went on the next day, more or less as usual. And now I have something to help me sleep at night when the demons get to wrassling in my head.

But that's not really the point - the point is standing up to her, even on something so ridiculous. Again it's that belated teenage rebellion.