A great teacher, a lesson learned...

First off today, Bush, a regrettably much belated tribute to a man who died last November, but whose death I only heard about yesterday. I don't suppose you will have heard about Dr. Ed Wortz, but he was a West Coast pioneer in biofeedback work back in the 1960s, and had the added distinction of knowling how to bring the special knowledge and wisdom of that field of inquiry to the world of contemporary artists.

I believe that the avant-garde work of the so-called Light & Space artists in California owed much to Ed's thought, teaching, and example; and that internationally-renowned artists like Robert Irwin were deeply in his debt, both from the point of view of the science and technology involved in their work, and in their breaking away from conventional art attitudes and concepts. He was an important part of a whole shift in consciousness in the art world, in which the "object" began to take second place to the experience of the observing mind. In addition, Ed's personal counseling sessions with numerous creative people was, I am sure, instrumental in shaping their lives.

An equally important gift to many of us who knew him was his understanding and teaching of Buddhist thought and practice. Not one of his close friends, but never anything less than a serious admirer, I was always aware of Ed and his work: he was a gentle, magnanimous, and mind-expanding presence in my life, as in the life of countless others; and that presence will itself be lasting, even now that Ed himself is no longer with us.

I have a particular reason to be telling you about Ed, Bush, because the great and manifestly simple lesson that he taught me might prove useful also to you. It came at a time when I was in a terrible mess: I had taken a job as Dean of the arts at a local Catholic university, and was at loggerheads with the Carmelite priest who was effectively my boss there. Attempting to boost the quality of arts education at the university, I was agitating for more money, more resources, more faculty, more funds to attract new students, and was running into the brick wall of stubborn, priestly oppostion. Convinced that right was on my side, I was perpetually angry, frustrated, confused… and giving myself ulcers for my pains.

I went to see Ed. He listened to my caterwauling for quite a while, then took a pillow from the couch and held it up. "What color is this pillow?" he asked. Ridiculous question, I thought. "It's red." No question. "Are you sure it's red?" Absurd. "Quite sure," I said: "any fool can see it's red, plain as day." "What if I told you it was blue?" asked Ed. "You'd be wrong," I told him. "And if I insisted?" "You'd still be wrong. It's red. No amount of arguing can make red blue."

So Ed quietly turned the pillow around to face the other way. Seen from the other side, of course, Bush, it was blue…

*

I'd intended today to talk about your Gonzales. But everyone else is doing that anyway. Just to note, though: another nice little trap you set for the Democrats, Bush. Those good folks certainly recoil from his record of providing you with clever justifications for the arbitrary arrest and indefinite imprisonment of citizens without recourse to legal representation; for the nice excuse for torture that led to the Abu Ghraib scandal; and not least for his odious Texas record of scant legal shrift in his mercy briefs for those about to sent to the death chamber--amongst other dubious distinctions.

Opponents see in him a man who is all too ready to provide you with the answers that he knows you want to hear, rather than one who exercises his own deliberate judgment on the merits of any given case. But--here's the trap--he is, after all, Hispanic. The first Hispanic to rise so high on the ladder of public service. Trump card, Bush. No? What Democrat will dare to stand in the way of his appointment, and risk being tarred (forgive the expression, Bush!) with the racist brush?