Follow Up to Reel Judaism

Because it makes me smile, AND scratch my head.... Zen Wizard, this one's for you. (Thanks to my friend Rob for sending this my way.)

Reel Judaism Sunday

I have dabbled in Buddhism and Jewish mysticism. Both practices appeal to me although I am both a bad jew and a bad Buddhist. Anyway, because I found Winkler's latest newsletter so appealing I wanted to share it. This is their website. Walkingstick.Org

MUCH ADO ABOUT EVERYTHING...
from Gershon

They say we are living in uncertain times. I say, with certainty, that there has never been a moment in human history when things were not uncertain. Every moment is uncertain, unknown. I could die of an aneurysm while writing this, or worse: experience a power outage. Being conscientious about how unpredictable and uncertain life really is, helps us to not set ourselves up for disappointment, and not get cardiac arrests when well-meaning friends throw us a Surprise Party at 85. More importantly, on a deeper level, it helps us cherish every moment, and make the best of our time, our time with our loved ones, our time with our work.

I myself don't have the luxury of being conscientious of the preciousness of my time here, busy as I am reminding everyone else how THEY should be more conscientious of THEIR time here. But that's my job. That's my personal excuse for being here and for doing what I do. We all need some excuse for living. Other-wise, we would be wracked with guilt beyond any guilt we'd ever otherwise experience. Life is so awesome, that who we are and what we do pales in comparison to the value of the gift that life is and that life offers us in every moment.

Then again, you and I, we never asked to be put here. So why feel guilty for living and thus having to drum up some lame excuse for the favor of existing? Exactly. We don't owe nobody nothin' and what we do gift to others and to the ever-elusive Creator of the ever-puzzling Universe is purely altruistic, from the goodness of our hearts, our own sweet, unadulterated volition. Like the ancient rabbis quote God as saying: "I owe my creations nothing, not even their very existence, yet I gift to them abundantly." So same here with you, me. We owe nothing to our being here since we never asked to exist, to begin with, and therefore the value of what we give back is immeasurable.

Take pride, then, in what you bring to this world, to this life, whether in meaningfulness or in aiding and abetting the lives of others. Take pride in every sandwich you make for someone other than your self, and in every time you pass the local bank without robbing it, or every time you are inspired to yell at your kids and you don't. Get more in touch with the benefactor you actually are even if you never gave a penny to any charitable organization or participated in a Peace march. To the world you might be an apathetic miser, but in the eyes of God you are a saint, just for that one time or two that you microwaved a dinner for someone, or made someone smile, made someone feel good about themself. Do not underestimate the degree of your righteousness, the value of what you have accomplished in your life hitherto and forevermore.

The ancient rabbis again and again emphasized this important lesson with stories of pimps and thieves who were considered more righteous than the righteously righteous just because they did one or two really nice things for others. In one such story recorded in the ancient Jerusalem Talmud (1:4 [or folio 5b]), a miracle-working rabbi is asked to pray for rain during a season of severe drought, but to no avail. He prays and prays and prays until he develops a migraine, when finally a heavenly voice says to him: "Go seek out Pentakakus the Pimp, for his prayer for rain shall be heard." The rabbi is pissed at such a suggestion but he looks for this Pentakakus fellow in the Red Light District of ancient Israel and when he finds him implores him to please pray for rain. The pimp prays for rain and it rains immediately. The rabbi, of course, is curious as to why someone of such ill-repute can succeed where he couldn't in bringing down the miraculous rain, and so he interrogates the guy. The pimp finally 'fesses that once this woman came to him pleading that he accept her into his brothel. He tried talking her out of it because she just did not seem like she was really really into it. But she persists, cries, weeps, pleads, begs. He realizes she's desperate and asks her why. She explains that she needs the money to redeem her imprisoned husband from the Roman authorities. The pimp then removes his expensive cloak as well as his expensive blankets and pillows and gives it to the woman and says: "Here, take these and sell them and redeem your husband."

The rabbi gets it. Do you? Do I? Can we please remind ourselves that we are so sweet and good and wonderful, that we have already accomplished so darn much in our lives worth not only our existence, but even a couple of reincarnations into more lucrative circumstances? How about an all-expenses-paid cruise next time, or pre-paid health insurance?

Another ancient Jewish teaching goes simply like this: "God says 'Just do, and whatever it is that you find to do, it is pleasing to Me'" (Babylonian Talmud, B'cho'ro't, folio 17b). Not much is asked of us other than we try and do our best now and then, and be a little creative about it. Like, when you microwave a dinner for someone, remove the wrapper for them and put the food on a nice dish for them. When you offer to make someone a sandwich, also ask them if they want something to drink with it. Very easy.

"If you decide to give to the poor," goes another teaching, "and you actually give to the poor, God rewards you for deciding and for giving. If you decide to give to the poor and then realize you don't have the means to do so, God rewards you for deciding and also as if you had actually given" (Midrash Sif'ri on D'varim 15:10). Or as the First-Century Rabbi Tar'fon put it: "The work is not upon you to complete; and neither are you exempt from trying" (Babylonian Talmud, Avot, 2:16). Even in religious matters, the ancient laid-back rabbis like the revered Second-Century Rabbi Yish'ma'el taught similarly: "Accept not upon your-self the fulfillment of the entire Torah, but also do not abstain from her altogether" (Babylonian Talmud, Avot D'Rebbe Natan 27:2). Or as his disciples would later paraphrase his teaching: "Let not the Torah be upon you like an obligation, nor shall you abstain from her" (Babylonian Talmud, Menachot 99b).

Gift of life? Gift of existence? Both are great. Awesome. Cool. But bottom-line let's not forget the most important gift of all. You. You and what you bring to it all.

And not just on Chanukah.

Gershon Winkler is both a renowned scholar as well as a rabbinic trickster. He has authored eleven books, including seven works on Jewish mysticism, philosophy, and folklore, and was initiated in 1978 by the late kabbalist Rabbi Eliezer Benseon of Jerusalem. For the past twenty years he has lived very close to the earth in remote wilderness regions and currently resides at the Walking Stick Retreat Center as its caretaker.

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Portnoy and the Pong Bitch

At work there is a ping pong table. The guy I play with is called The "Pong Bitch". He played so much on his last movie, and beat everyone doing it, they made a bumper sticker for him. I am out to beat the Pong Bitch into submission. So far I'm at 3 wins 17 losses.

You know I have said I have been mistaken for Richard Gere? Now I want to be mistaken for the player in the background.

Happy ThanksGiving. If you don't celebrate ThanksGiving, or know anything about it - it's a holiday warm up to Christmas where you gather with your relatives and pretend to like each other.

Blog, Frog, Dawg, Egg Nog. James Cromwell

As I watch the sitemeter decrescendo I am reminded that a new post would be a good thing. The title may be misleading but those are the words streaming through my head as I won't admit to writer's blogk. Truly the new job is consuming a lot of creative energy. For those who are visiting for the first time I would encourage you to check out the stories that are boxed in the sidebar.

It's been so busy I couldn't make the "Iraq in Fragments" screening. The new job is quite interesting but I can't say much about it. It's a film that is so controversial I wonder how much of it will be sanitized by the large corporation that is distributing the thing. But onto Cromwell.

Last week we met some friends for dinner at, what I consider, the best Indian food in Los Angeles. It's called The Clay Pit. The way we were seated I had the 'John Wayne' chair. For those who don't know what that means, it's the chair with its back against the wall which enables Wayne to spot any badguys he might need to shoot. From my vantage point I spotted James Cromwell two tables away. He was dining with - I would guess - his son because there was a younger Cromwell prototype with that... Profitable Cromwell proboscis.


We were well into a bottle of wine and I was feeling pretty, pretty puerile. I rarely drink. But feeling happy I concocted a little plan. I started thinking of movies and various lines that my wife would know. (And she knows quite a lot) Thus I would try to tell a little story and get her to fill in the blank. And she's quite good at that. There are times I will call her and ask her some IMDB question. She answers and I hang up so I can carry on with whatever conversation I'm having.

Part of my plan included goading her about something silly, like how she never gives me credit for editing her poetry - and she admits that to our friends. But, she reminds me, I never credit her for her jokes so I cop to that. Only I am purposely trying to drive her voice a little louder. Just a couple of notches. The wine helps. She is already a few decibels louder. Now I stir gently. You don't wanna boil the milk (or mix the metaphors) I poke, I prod and then I ask, "Hey, what's that line at the end of Babe, the Pig movie?. Is it, 'Nice Pig? or Good job Pig?' And she loudly puts me in my place with "That'll do, pig. That'll do." I think it was just loud enough for Cromwell to hear. Then I quietly said, "Hey, guess who's two tables behind you?"

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Because it's so cool

Pink Tentacle

I'm really into this Japanese high tech blog. The images are amazing. It gives you a good look at a world that I find more than fascinating.


Printing On Water

Subtitles

As Will from Uninflected Images says "Because it makes me laugh."

Marshal Jed Cooper

I have always wanted to meet Clint Eastwood. My father worked with him in White Sands, New Mexico on a film called Hang Em High. That was 3 years before Dirty Harry, I don't think Eastwood was a household name yet. My dad came back from that film with a cowboy tan. Very dark arms, tanned face but with legs whiter than Will Ferrell. I can't remember any stories about the movie or Clint. I wish the hell I could. My dad died about 11 years later.

The Clint story I have is second hand. I heard it from Brian Helgeland, one of the top screenwriters in town, who was working with Eastwood on Mystic River. Helgeland has a quiet, very smart way about him. His Payback Straight Up Interview reveals a man who can not only write well but tell great stories during interviews.

Mystic River. Directed by Clint Eastwood, the mysterious drama Mystic River is based on the novel by Dennis Lehane and adapted by screenwriter Brian Helgeland. Set in an Irish neighborhood in Boston... I think Helgeland had to do some cajoling to get Clint to shoot in Boston. I don't know how much, and I don't know for sure if that's what went down. But Helgeland and Eastwood were scouting neighborhoods in Boston. It was a hot summer night. Insurance wise you have a Film Corporation and a twice nominated Oscar screenwriter walking by themselves in a neighborhood where they could have been hurt. As Helgeland described Eastwood he explained that Eastwood is a man of few words. He's incredibly thoughtful and when he speaks everybody listens. So they were walking quietly down the street at Eastwood's deliberately slow pace. They walked to the early evening sounds, getting the feel and maybe considering images for the film. Or maybe they were just walking off dinner.

Because of the summer heat everyone had their windows open. It was around 7 pm. Helgeland said they walked down a row of houses and as they passed one house he heard a man yelling to his wife. "Hey, Come to the window. You won't believe it! Clint Eastwood just walked past our house!" They kept walking. The wife's angry voice said "Shut Up! I told you, you drink too much." Helgeland and Eastwood were nearly at the end of the block. The Husband, "No I'm tellin ya it's goddamn Clint Eastwood! He walked right past our house!" As Helgeland told it they kept walking. Quietly. While the house with the angry couple yelled at each other, Eastwood's face didn't crack a millimeter.

A few weeks back, at night - I was hanging alone on a quiet street near The Blue Whale (The Pacific Design Center) It was a strangely sad night. I stared up at the building as it changed colors. I reviewed things as you do when you can think without distractions. Then I saw the unmistakable outline of Marshal Jed Cooper. It was goddamn Clint Eastwood. He was walking a young woman to her car. She was a film director by the way they spoke. She thanked "Mister Eastwood" for watching her movie. He wished her luck and walked down Melrose. By himself. Slowly.

And I wanted to yell at my dad and tell him that I just saw goddamn Marshal Jed Cooper.

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The Last Knit

Because I started a new gig yesterday you get this beautifully crafted animated short. It speaks to my own obsessive nature. For me I can only learn by diving into whatever interests me. I can supplement knowledege with books but have little to no retention. On the scale of intelligence I fail miserably. Luckilly... I work in the film business.

Chris Rock Logs On To Reel Hollywood

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