Tag Archives | Zen

A Transcendental Ride

eye

It was a dark and stormy, clear summer’s day around high noon, as I rolled through the Elysian Fields that is the Mission District of San Francisco, when,

“Cha-ching! – 186 Liberty. Quigley. Dispatch.”

I ‘Accept’.

And I zoom across 20th Street, passing that majestic view of the city over Dolores Park, before turning a quick right onto Dolores proper, and then an immediate left up high on Liberty. As I pull up to 186, I witness what I believe to be my “Quigley” wrestling out in front of a florally manicured Victorian with several large Hefty bags.

I veer to a stop and yell out of my taxi’s shotgun window to the middle-aged woman all caked in layers of vibrant make-up and adorned with large ornate brass earrings that dangle down over her flowing, paisley-patterned robes. She’s huffing up a storm and wincing with each limping tug at her bags, as multiple necklaces of various lengths of colorful concentric rings of turquoise, crystal and earth-toned wood beads repeatedly flop against them, failing in their collective work to hold down the fort that is my potential passenger’s more than ample chest.

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the nAiL

There’s a nail in the wall.
Well, no. Actually, it’s in a beam.
Across the alley on my neighbor’s roof.

I always liked that nail.
Sticks out about three inches.
It’s just so straight. So carefully hammered. With Love.

Sometimes, you can see its shadow on the beam, as the sun creeps across the sky over our roofs.
A jealous sundial.

Except, it’s not jealous.
It’s a nail.

www.AlexSacK.com

Check out Alex’s book San Francisco TAXI: A 1st Week in the ZEN Life…
And Follow me on Facebook and Twitter for your non-practicing Buddhist one-offs. 

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The Best Four Minutes of Alan Watts

…(minus an intro from the double-rainbow guy), in which you are reminded that “what you are basically — deep, deep down — far, far in — is simply the fabric and structure of existence itself.”


Kensho from Aaron Paradox on Vimeo.

Short film dreamt by Aaron Paradox.

Narrated by Alan Watts audio courtesy of alanwatts.org.
Music: “The Way” by Zack Hemsey.
Sound design by Jacob Thomas Czech.
Additional 3D Animations by Mike Winkelmann.
Dreamer’s voice by Paul “Bear” Vasquez.
Visuals and animation by Aaron Paradox.

Kensho poster: https://www.flickr.com/photos/133149322@N02/19264316153/

“This place is a dream. Only a sleeper considers it real. Then death comes like dawn, and you wake up laughing at what you thought was your grief.”
— Rumi

Youtube version: https://youtu.be/bPJ5AjlPt4M

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Take Me To Your… Gold… Bridge!

Random Thought: There are two kinds of people in this world; The kind that go, and the kind that don’t go. If you go; ok. If you don’t… I will.

gold bridge copy

Friday

4:54am:
I’m meandering half-awake through the Citizen’s Cab lot.

As I head towards the bullet-proof glass to retrieve 137’s key and medallion – and maybe throw Kojak a $5 bribe for an airport, I take note of a newish Escape – 203, sporting a newly smashed-up front end. Poor night driver. Wonder what the story is on that.

And I do not see 137. Damn.

This is not good.

I address Kojak at the window, “What happened to 203?”

Kojak, “It was wrecked last night.”

Sack, “I don’t see 137 in the lot…”

Kojak, “It’s shopped. Got wrecked yesterday.”

Huh?? That’s my regular Prius!

So, ‘ol Koj throws me 2402, a Prius spare. It’s a spare I’ve driven before, one that smells like meth, B.O.

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Zen Nails & Waxing

zen

Devoted Passengers,

Your driver would like to take a “detour” this week, if you will… Many a fare has asked, so please indulge as I explain the “non” part of “non-practicing Buddhist” from my author’s tag line…

Noon:
I’m rolling the streets of ‘ol San Francisco in Citizen’s Cab #137 on yet another absolutely beautiful, clear, drought-ridden day. I’m rounding the left north onto Fillmore in the Lower Haight, fareless, when I spot an older woman up the block vehemently trying the capture the attention of an empty Yellow coming down the hill. She’s waving her arms all frantically at him on the sidewalk from the wrong side of a hedge of parked cars. His top light is lit, indicating that he is ‘Available’. But, Yellow does not see.

Well, “one man gathers what another man spills”.

I zoom up the block tapping my horn to gain the lady’s attention.

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TAXI Driver: San Francisco (Time-Lapse VIDEO)

My cabbie day time-lapsed. 10 hours in 10 minutes, complete w/ original music (by moi) and narration…

Monday

The infamous Milford is working the office and throws me 744, a Camry he boasts as “new” with a 5 o’ clock medallion. I throw him a five and Milford looks disappointed and expectant. I just ignore it. Why am I gonna tip him more for this?

I head out to the lot, prep the cab, and report some bumper marks over the radio to cover my ass – then proceed to leave the lot. But before I can, The Dutchman (a mellow, eccentric, 64 year-old driver who takes pride in looking 50 and lives 2 hours away in the Santa Cruz mountains where he has local girls trained as his personal prostitutes) has me roll down my window and asks where I’m going. I ask him where he’s going, if he needs a ride.… Read the rest

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AssaUlt!

Uber Police

Monday

Too damn early…

I’m in the Citizen’s Cab lot and run into Crooks, of last week’s fame – cab driver turned “rideshare” after losing his taxi permit for Paratransit fraud who last Saturday night totaled his sub-prime loan Uber Camry in a very public T-bone collision with a pink mustachioed Lyft “rideshare”.

(Gulp!) I really hope he did not read last week’s blog!

Sack, “Crooks! Waz up, mane! Hey! I heard about that Lyft, um, running the red and you T-boning it. Dude was taken to General in an ambulance, eh? And you went on your own? You ok?”

Crooks, “Ye-ah, I ok. My wife lettin’ me use ‘er Hyundai ’til it all git figur’d owt. Jus’ ‘ere washin’ ‘er cahr.”

I see behind Crooks stands a silver Hyundai SUV all beaded with water, with a suction-cupped phone and “U” signage visible in the windshield, over by the Citizen’s Cab hose and vacuum station… and right next to the new-ish sign acknowledging California’s drought (and increased commercial water bill) that states:

“NO WASHING PERSONAL VEHICLES.… Read the rest

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No Fare!

copolla

Monday

As usual, the weekend off messed with my circadian rhythm and I have not had a wink of sleep, even with my generic iPhone harp alarm set to a late 5 o’clock. But the hour later setting was not an attempt at extending my sleepless bed time for a chance that I might actually get some. It was in the hopes that Tony will call me preemptively from the Citizen’s Cab office asking if I want to take the day off and get covered by one of the (now defunct) Arrow Cab transplants hoping to go out. Tony has gotten wise to my all too frequent call-ins on Mondays asking to get covered, on account of lack of sleep. Hence, he’s taken to sometimes calling me first, around 5. Anyway, the last thing a cabbie wants is to start out a 10-hour shift on the cutthroat streets of San Francisco tired and set like a trap ready to spring.

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A Rush-Hour to the Bottom

cab hill

Tuesday

The fog horns were blowing all last night across the San Francisco Bay. I could hear the music from my attic flat all the way over here in the Western Addition. They came whooshing in, rolling over the hill with their volley, back and forth, back and forth, bridge to ship, ship to bridge, “BRR-AWWWW-NNN-PPP!” “MOOOAA-WWWNNN-PPP!”

They can keep you up a little at night. But it’s also kind of calming, and cool. Reminds you of where you are. But it must be a bit more of a deal for those living down in the Marina; with the caveat that fog and hence, the fog horns, are somewhat rare these days in drought-stricken California.

It’s 4:53am and I’m heading up Post in my van on a quiet ride to work. It is indeed thick grey out, misty, foggy, wet… and WINDY! I do very much see the need for the horns last night.… Read the rest

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You Can’t Really Dust For Vomit

SFO

Thursday

5am:
I slept in.

I’m just now shuffling up all zombie-like to the bullet-proof glass window to slide my five “tip” thru the metal tray to Sammy in exchange for 137’s key and medallion. I’m still feeling the generic brand nighttime cough syrup that I’ve been abusing to put myself down at my prescribed 8pm bedtime. My head is fuzzy still.

I passed 137, my regular Prius, en route to the window and noted that her windows are all down. Bad omen. Are we talking vomit?

5:05am:
I’m done with the window and cordial niceties with Sammy, the new-ish office worker that Citizen’s Cab poached from Arrow. Sammy and I have finally gotten a groove on it seems. But he’s a little out of it this morning, complaining about some serious bruising due to a boating accident over unspecified body parts that he promises I do not want to see.

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