The first time I ever attended a teaching by the Dalai Lama was in the spring of ‘93, right in the middle of the scheduled recording time for what would become the Check Your Head album. Adam and Mike, knowing how important it was to me, agreed to take that week off. So I signed up for the five-day teaching and then began to study the recommended texts. There were several books that we were asked to read before attending the course, but the most important one, the one that the course was based on, was by Shantideva, an Indian Buddhist scholar who lived in the 8th century. In fact the entire five-day course was to be based on one chapter of that book, the chapter on patience. The book was called the “Bodhicaryavatara,” which translates into English as, “A Guide to the Bodhisattva Way of Life.” I worked hard at studying the texts. Although I had taken a prior interest in spirituality, I had never seriously studied it in Buddhist terms.
To try and make a long story short, about three or four days into the teaching, I showed up late for class. I’d somehow overslept. I was usually very careful to be on time to all of the sessions, but this one time my alarm wasn’t set correctly. I ran all the way to the auditorium, but they had already locked the doors. No one was admitted once a teaching began, but latecomers could watch from a nearby room that had a video monitor with a live feed.
After the session as I left the room I noticed some people gathering in front of one of the doors to the auditorium. They were lining the sides of the doors waiting for His Holiness to exit. I joined them. A second later he came walking through the doors. As he walked he’d stop and shake hands with people. Some of the people burst into tears as he touched them. Others smiled back at him. Then he got to me, clasped both of my hands in his, looked deep into my eyes and burst out laughing. It was such a sweet laugh, nothing mocking about it. It was like a child’s laugh. It warmed me in a way that I could not help but smile back. He greeted a few more people and before a minute had passed, he was gone. I looked around at the teary-eyed faces, and began to walk back to my room. As I walked, an idea came to me. I felt that I should write a song to express the meaning of the Bodhisattva Vow, or that at least I should try to.
-Adam Yauch
My heart broke when I read that MCA lost his battle with cancer today. The Beastie Boys were the first thing I ever discovered outside whatever music my dad had in the house, and any playlist I put together for any reason always has a disproportionate number of their songs on it. I can connect most of my memories and all of the major events in my life to whatever Beastie Boys album I was listening to a lot of that month. With him now gone, this feels like a line - maybe a small one - but a line nonetheless. If I needed to, I can now divide my life into the time my favorite band of all time existed and when it didn’t anymore. It feels weighty.
Yauch was the most eclectic and interesting one in the group. Outside of the albums, his work as Nathaniel Hörnblowér and at Oscilloscope is kind of incredible, and he was a dedicated activist, particularly for Tibet. There was an observable peace in MCA, attributable to his religion, and I certainly like the idea that he’s already reincarnated elsewhere, in some other form. I hope he’s not too far from enlightenment.
Steven Spielberg has selected a screenwriter for his upcoming paranormal adventure film PLANETARY thanks to an e-mail sent by the screenwriter’s father, Hugh Neenan. The young writer, Timothy F. Neenan, has a history of rolling his eyes and laughing at his father after being told that he should “send that Steven Spielberg an e-mail” when visiting Hugh on holidays.
