Point of View: Non-Attachment

I’ve been reading about Zen Buddhism lately, and was reminded of the Yogi Berra koans I’d seen at the Artists-Writers Game last August.

    Here are some:

    “The future ain’t what it used to be.”

    “It gets late early out here.”

    “We made too many wrong mistakes.”

    “Baseball is 90 percent mental — the other half is physical.”

    “A nickel isn’t worth a dime anymore.”

    “If you can’t imitate him, don’t copy him.”

    “I didn’t really say everything I said.”

    “If you come to a fork in the road, take it.”

                                    * * *

The Zen masters used to rap inquiring students over the head if they didn’t catch the drift of their puzzling koans, and the concussive force of the blow often led to Enlightenment.

I almost achieved it myself the other night during the Super Bowl, giving my forehead an awful whack with the back of my hand when the Seahawks tried that second-and-goal slant pass at the Patriots’ 1-yard line with 20-some seconds left in the game.

In somewhat unenlightened fashion I’ve been hoping to see the Patriots defeated for the longest time, it seems. Once the Steelers went down and I could no longer root for, rooting against — as in our national elections — became my goal. It’s not that I hate my country — I just can’t stand teams arrogating to themselves exceptional, bright, shiny status, even if they are exceptional. I’ve chafed at that self-satisfied our-city-stands-upon-a-hill kind of thing for a long time, ever since “America’s team” was flattened by the one in black and gold that brandished the United Steel Workers’ banner — in the Bicentennial year no less.

So the Patriot fans remain smug, and I’m going back to “Anne of Green Gables,” whose third disc I almost watched instead on Super Bowl night. Actually, I did remain unglued for just about all of the first half, calling out to Mary as I went down the hall to inquire as to the halftime score that I trusted my quest for spiritual peace would not be derailed by a little violence.

“We must look at the big picture,” I said.

“You are — you’re looking at the big TV screen down the hall,” Mary said.

“Well, yes, but I mean by the big picture that we must embrace life in all its mystery and contradictions and through serenity somehow transcend the duality that leads to our problems. That’s the only way to world peace. . . . It’s all one.”

“At least until the hockey playoffs begin.”