This one reminds me a bit of those 90s-era feel-good Chevron commercials: Do people delay their plans to construct new power lines just so a mama bear and her cubs can sleep peacefully through the bitter Wisconsin winter? People do.

[previous editions of Bears in the News]

Ram Bahadur Bomjan, a young man of fifteen, has allegedly been "meditating at the base of a peepal tree in Nepal's Bara District, without food, water, sleep or the need to use the toilet" — for nine months now. A peepal tree is kind of a big deal in Buddhism — the Bodhi Tree, under which the Buddha sat until he achieved enlightenment, was a peepal tree.

I've been following this story as best I can for a few months now (here's an earlier story from which I cribbed the image of Ram), but still can't make up my mind whether this is an elaborate hoax or something of a miracle. I do not buy into the speculation that Ram is the new Buddha — as I understand it, the next Buddha (the tenth Buddha, the Maitreya Buddha) will not arrive until the Shakyamuni Buddha (the ninth Buddha, born Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha we refer to when we just say "the Buddha") is completely forgotten, along with his dharma. But I do know this: I feel sorry for the cynics and the hard-core scientist types who immediately respond that there is no freaking way this is on the level, that what is purported to be happening here is simply not possible, period. I think the world would be a more peaceful place if every human mind were open enough to consider the possibility of miraculous events and undertakings. As I have pointed out before, "There are things your science cannot explain, doctor." And even if this is a hoax, even if Ram is secretly chowing down and taking dumps each night, that this young man can meditate all day long, day in, day out, for months on end — that is something in and of itself, and I freely admit, there is a part of me that envies that ability. And that stillness.

Six years ago today, Chronicle columnist Jon Carroll published what I still feel is the finest single newspaper column ever. I've kept a copy tacked to the wall of my cubicle at work ever since, and when I am feeling down, I often read it for a nice little shot of pronoia. I mean, my socks are dry. What more is there?

Here we have a story from Hartland, Maine. Seems a distraught man tried to do himself in ... via self-crucifixion. He didn't get too far:

"When he realized that he was unable to nail his other hand to the board, he called 911," Boucher said.

The poor guy. He never read one of my all-time favorite poems, Love Song: I and Thou by Alan Dugan. I was going to quote from the oh-so-delicious ending here, but then realized that doing so would spoil the effect of the work for those who've never read it. So just go read it!

Ten years ago (!) yesterday, my day started off as usual: I rose from my twin-sized bed in a large house on MLK in Berkeley; I donned my bathrobe, walked downstairs, and grabbed my copy of the Chronicle, which I subscribed to back then, the Web having not really taken off yet as a primary means of gathering one's news. It's weird, now, thinking back to days when the dead-trees version of the paper was something I not only paid for but looked forward to each morning. How alien!

Anyway, in 1996 local legend Herb Caen was still alive, still writing the best three-dot column anywhere. His need for more "items" was insatiable, and one time, I happened upon something that seemed item-worthy, so I sent it in. And on that splendid Tuesday morning ten years ago, I damn near had a heart attack when I saw my name down there at the very end of the column. My item had made the cut!

I've been thinking about making some changes to mahnamahna.net, and recalling this happy little episode has given me an idea. Coming soon to the mahna mahblog: ITEMS. Stay tuned!