She wishes it was different, she prays to God most every night. And though she swears it doesn't lsten-there's still a hope in her it might.

The title today comes from my favorite band on Earth, Dave Matthews Band, from a song called Grey Street of their Busted Stuff album. Click on the title to see the band's website. Since I'm sure I'll quote them numerous more times I'll try to find extra nuggets of interest to link to their titles from here on out.

One of the things I got to do last week as part of my visit to Pacific School of Religion was attend their Christian-Buddhism dialogue class. The class met at the Berkeley Buddhist Monastery and upon entering we were told to take our shoes off and ushered into the temple to chant with them. It was quite an experience. If you'd like to hear some Buddhist chanting check this website out. I couldn't figure out how to link it. What I really wanted was these chants playing while you read what I had written. I am P.T. Barnum!

http://www.buddhanet.net/audio-chant.htm

We sat on the floor on these tiny pillows filled with sand, while the head monk Heng Shure knelt before us facing a golden Buddha statue. He asked us to chant with him and taught us a little Chinese so that we would say the right words as we sang. The melody was simple and beautiful and we joined in unison. It was rather intimidating at first, Chinese language, new melody, new surroundings, new experiences all at once. After a couple of minutes I had gotten the hang of it, as had most of the class, and I closed my eyes and tried to take in the sound. The head monk was striking a small bell and an assistant clicked a rock with a wooden mallet to keep what was more a unifying encouragement than a beat or accompaniment.

A thought crept into the middle of my Chinese chanting. When was the last time I'd sat and sang a soft melody, closed my eyes, even took five seconds to gather myself? I've certainly prayed, but as a means to an end-for someone or for something. Here we were chanting the same phrase over and over for no other reason than to center ourselves. As I thought of how little I'd allowed myself this time I became increasingly calm for spending it now.

Around the room I had noticed golden statues, interesting wooden carvigs, colorful Chinese words and even more colorful glass windows depicting The Buddha and other spiritual leaders. None of this was so different than my faith, except the gold was usually on candles and offerings plates and just plating, not solid as I assumed these artifacts were. The presence of God was extremely different to me and the language would be a barrier to me on a regular basis, but as I sat there with my eyes closed, chanting in unison with those around me I could hear them singing. I could hear their breath enter and leave their body. I was at peace for one of the first times in my life.

The past week I've been trying to recreate that feeling. I spent some time in my church praying silently in a pew in the sanctuary. I spent some time in the Storytelling room propped up with pillows humming what I remembered of this song. I lit a cigar and laid down four nights ago and listened to a Dave Matthews band album in its entirety without singing or speaking trying to connect to this peace. I put in my CD of a Thunderstorm and tried to veg out Indian style on my couch.

None of these even came close.

Then today I was trying to find some CheckSmart place to pay my gas bill, wihtout much luck when I saw that the Little Ceasar's on the corner had a large Pepperoni Pizza for $5 and I realized I hadn't eaten yet today. I was driving, looking for this CheckSmart place, preparing to go eat some pizza and then clean my house when I noticed the sunset was beginning and the sky was a faint purple. It was beautiful. My mind hadn't been at rest for some time. I found the CheckSmart place, paid my bill and then backed my car into the corner of the parking lot, facng the now reddening indigo sky.

And there, in a stripmall praking lot with Little Caesar's pizza blowing through the air of my car I took in that image-purple, red, orange, and blue all at once in a corner of the universe glowing, and I closed my eyes.

Peace comes not from peaceful surroundings, not from inspiring melodies, therapeutic puffs on cheap cigars, quiet moments of meditation or prayer, or even faith in Nirvana or God. Peace comes from appreciating what it is that you've been given, a life to give voice to, a song to sing with it, and a God to praise however he comes to you. What I had connected with inside the Buddhist monastery I can connect to anywhere. It's the knwoledge that I can take stock of myself. I am my own worst critic-my own biggest fan. He needs a lot of my time. When I'm ignoring the time I've been given, when I am missing the beauty all around me I am not centered and dare I say not connected to God but to this world.

The gas that heats my water is of this world, the sun that sets in glowing light show with magnificence is God. The pillow I rest my legs upon is of this world, the air that escapes my chest in song is of God. The thoughts whirling inside are given to me by this world, the moment I take account of them and act as man of Truth and faith I am of God.