Lake Wobegon Buddha
Tarn and I have the great joy of attending the Garrison Keillor event at the Tower Theater. This is to be an evening of humor, stories, and singing—with full audience participation. Keillor is one of the very few entertainers that can hold the center and amuse all sides of the political and ideological spectrum without creating division. Of course, he does tend to appeal to older audiences who remember when Prairie Home Companion was broadcast on the radio. Even so, this particular crowd seems somewhat diverse in age.
I have a chance to speak with him prior to the event, and we share a little of our history. He originally comes from a very strict Christian sect, and I was a bit Methodist-flavored. He is now Episcopalian, and I am Buddhist-flavored. We both moved from a spiritual tradition that did not feed us to one of more suited to our sense of openness. I wish I could have more time to spend with him in conversation, but others are waiting.
As the performance begins, I notice Keillor’s manner is quiet, understated, and inviting. This is a one-man show, unaccompanied by musical guests who sometimes tour with him. Now 83, he moves more slowly across the stage and often refers to his amazement that he is still making these appearances at his age. As we join him in an a cappella rendition of the song, “Home on the Range”, and hear all the voices in the audience join him in unison: “Where seldom is heard a discouraging word…” —I have to wonder why some humans still insist on divisiveness.
The jokes are pretty mild, relatively speaking, but some are a bit ‘scatalogical’. For instance, “A man walks into a bar and places some dog turds on the counter and says, “Look at what I almost stepped in.” End of joke. But you cannot help but laugh. So simple that the mind surrenders to the silliness as a respite from the lunacy surrounding us these days. (Maybe things would be better if we were all that up front with our crap?) Actually, he goes out of his way to avoid making an overt political statement, even though he personally skews to the left. The only reference he makes to the current administration, without naming names, is to remind us not to “let the bastards wear us down.”
Keillor, who was once “cancelled”, has recovered and emphasizes cheerfulness and understanding amidst the seemingly unfair aspects of life. He recounts a story about his fictitious hometown, Lake Wobegon, Minnesota, and how a church congregation grows to accept a gay woman pastor. He goes on to tell us about one very resistant and angry parishioner whose life is saved by that same pastor. You’d think a potentially divisive story told to a primarily silver-haired audience might rankle some, but it fails to do so because it is held with lightness and love.
This is what Buddha taught as the middle path, free from extremes. We can engage in conversation about anything if we stand in the middle with kindness and compassion. Like a fulcrum on a seesaw that does not care which side is up or down, we simply seek balance so everyone is heard. Keillor seems to embody this. The world is full of buddhas like him. If we just let go of our self-absorbed blinders, we can see them—or even become buddhas ourselves.