Customer Reviews

Dharma Punx

5 star:		(15)
4 star:		(7)
3 star:		(11)
2 star:		(6)
1 star:		(6)

 

 

I really enjoyed this book. It's simply told, and has a measure of honesty to it that I don't find in more polished works. This is Noah's story, with all his confusion, anger, puzzlement, flaws and discoveries shared with us. Having grown up hippy-trippy on California's Central Coast, I heard echoes of my own experiences in thinking everybody was really too precious for words when they talked about Zen and buddhism, or mantras or tantras or whatever. I really appreciated the author's willingness to to share his own dichotomies with us-in one scene he describes threatening a hostel owner with a wooden stick, while he was on a journey searching for inner peace. I heard other echoes of my own experience as well: the desire to have peace and tranquility to think on things, yet instead getting angry and restless once the opportunity is at hand, the need to feel things intensely and yet the wish to be quietly placid, or even the desire to have no desire. I read this almost like reading somebody's REAL journal, not some edited and cleaned up literary masterpiece. The book helped me see that the path toward enlightenment starts wherever you are-for Noah it was a padded cell and taking his father's advice to do some breathing exercises-just to get through it all, just to survive.

A word on some of the other reviews: I don't think it's relevant who Noah's father was-I have several friends who have been on similar trips to monasteries, seen the Dalai Lama, etc. who have no connections, and the author was very up-front with his interactions with his father-good and bad. He even talks about some of the negative things he experienced when people disliked his father's writings.

In the end, this is Noah's story, but I also found echoes of my own experiences. I found it insightful, honest, and pure.

Unlike some, I read the whole book before writing my review. The story resonated with me, but I'm the audience. I'm about the same age as the author, like a lot of the same music, and have my own experiences with using, recovery, and spiritual seeking. I don't know how the book would read to you. I'm not you, you know?

But I didn't expect a textbook on Buddhism. For that I'd probably get a, I don't know, textbook on Buddhism. Instead I got a story from a contemporary of mine who told his story with honesty, humanity, and heart. It gave me some f-ing hope and that's something for which I'm always grateful. Thanks fellow trudger along the path of happy destiny. Pax.

When I saw Dharma Punx I was drawn to the promise of a story not too dissimilar to my own, but by the end of the book I was left quite disappointed. My biggest problem with Noah's story is that he's not really a Buddhist, but rather a generic spiritual kind of guy, who likes to meditate. Noah talks in great depths about his adherence to the 12 Steps(AA,) but doesn't mention adherence to the Eight-Fold Path, he mentions the Four Noble Truths in passing, but spends much more time in sweat lodges. Buddhist shortcomings aside, Dharma Punx is moderately interesting story of a man's struggle with addiction and growing up.
With a name like Dharma Punx one cannot help but comparing this book to Jack Kerouac's Dharma Bums, but don't, after finishing Dharma Punx I realized that the title is not an allusion to Kerouac's classic of disenfranchised youth finding refuge in the works of Zen lunatics and booze, rather, Dharma punx is the story of disenfranchised youth finding refuge from booze, drugs and violence in an amalgamated spiritual practice the author has called Buddhism.
I don't think that the lifestyles portrayed in either book could properly be called a middle path though.

One thing that is missing from these reviews - and indeed from the book itself, for the most part - is the acknowledgement that his father, Stephen Levine, is actually a well known Buddhist author in his own right and not merely some irresponsible Hippy, an unkind judgment that another reviewer here has made. This has much to do with why he was able to go on exotic pilgrimages, meet the Dalai Lama and get this book published. Noah and I moved in the same circles almost a decade ago, during a period of time that he writes about in this book. At that time he seemed to me very sweet and sincere. He was well thought of by people that I respected, at least one of whom appears in this book. I knew that he had been down a difficult road and thought it admirable that he seemed to have pulled himself together. In light of all this, I was somewhat surprised by the tone of self-cherishing that pervades this book, tales of service and selflessness aside. I'm sure Noah means well but, in truth, should probably have waited until he was a bit further down his path (read: Mature) to tell his story. If you want to read about Buddhism from a Punk perspective, read Brad Warner's Hardcore Zen instead.

A compelling book in many ways - especially the first heartbreaking pages of Levine's story, beginning with childhood suicidal ideation. Levine writes about years of suffering in drug addiction and destructive and anti-social behavior that spring from a rebellious attitude, and then finally getting some relief from his demons through AA and meditation practice, particularly the "Year to Live" practice written about by his father, spiritual teacher Stephen Levine. This book is not a literary marvel - it is often repetitive and shallowly descriptive - so it's not a must read for Buddhists. However, it would be extremely helpful for anyone dealing with recovery or with friends who are substance abusers. Also, the endnotes include a very nice instruction for mindfulness meditation.

There are many books available about Buddhism, from all the various schools--Theravada, Zen, Nichiren, Vietnamese, Tibetan. There are books about Buddhist ethics, about meditation, about dealing with grief, anger, and depression through Buddhism. But I doubt that there are many books like this, describing the intersection between the rebellious ethos of punk rock and the transformational spiritual practice of Buddhism. There are, as Levine points out, many differences between the two, but they share more in common than one might think. And most important for Levine, and for anyone who can relate to his story, the two are not mutually exclusive; both can be valid, healthy ways of expressing oneself.

One important thing to keep in mind is that "Dharma Punx" is first and foremost a memoir. It is not a book about Buddhism or about punk rock. Levine writes very honestly (or at least with a willingness to talk about his faults) about his life, giving us all the raw details, the good and the bad. He also makes it clear that there is more to him than either punk rock or Buddhism; he enjoys other forms of music, takes influences from other spiritual paths, but he also talks about more than music and religion. He also discusses his family life, experiences with his friends, his jobs, and the depths of drug addiction and violence that he had spiraled into during his early and mid teens. Levine makes an interesting point when he talks about the trajectory of his pre-Buddhist life, that when his days were spent getting high, or stealing, beating someone up, getting beat up, or getting arrested looking for the next fix, he wasn't connected anymore to his punk rock lifestyle. He had stopped caring about the music and the identity, and most other punkers scorned him when he got to that point.

The book unfolds in a series of short chapters, each taking a title that often sounds inspired by song titles, the events described in the chapter usually having some ironic relation to the title. Examples: "Who Killed Bambi?" (Sex Pistols), "Meditate and Destroy" (from Metallica's "Seek and Destroy"?), "Die, Die, My Darling" (The Misfits). Levine starts by showing him at this lowest point--locked up in a padded cell after a suicide attempt, wishing for death, finally realizing the pain he had inflicted on himself and others by his ways, wanting to get out of it but not seeing any other solution than death. He half-heartedly tries to follow his father's (Stephen Levine, a spiritual teacher in his own right) meditation instructions. It helps a little, and becomes the seed for Levine's spiritual development, but there is a hard road ahead for him. But before he goes into his recovery, he tells us how he got there.

In another startling anecdote, he then goes into being five years old, holding a knife to his stomach and wanting to die while his mother and stepfather scream at each other. His parental situation as a child, while not the most horrifying one could imagine, is not exactly optimal, either. His mother always seems to end up with abusive men, and his father and stepmother, while loving, seem a bit distant and wrapped up in their own lives to give Levine the attention he--rightly or wrongly--craved. While Levine does seem to hold his parents accountable to an extent, he later also makes clear that he had to realize that he was the one to choose to follow the path that he did, and that his circumstances were not as horrible as many in the world have to live with. Most of all, it took him to be able to realize that his circumstances do not justify his actions, nor do his past actions prevent him from changing. The twelve-step addiction recovery program, as well as Buddhism and spiritual practice, were instrumental in him coming to these realizations.

From contemplating suicide at five, he went on to become an angry and rebellious youth, and when he found punk rock, it seemed to fit that perfectly. He found others into the same music and way of being, and by the age of ten, they were drinking alcohol, smoking pot, and worse. He moved back and forth between his mother and father, between California and New Mexico, due to his continual run-ins with authority, getting into trouble at school, getting caught with drugs, vandalizing, etc. He attended many punk shows, shaved his head, wore boots and studded leather, and brandished the logos of his favorite bands on stickers, shirts, and tattoos. But as I alluded to earlier, the anger and frustration with not just authority, but life itself, of never feeling satisfied, led to his total immersion in drugs, violence, and sex--the supposed hallmarks of a rock n roll lifestyle, yet the very things that can disconnect people from the music they love.

Even in the worst moments, though, Levine keeps a sense of humor and humility, pointing out the ridiculousness of his behavior, though maintaining a serious enough tone to not lose the impact. I found myself stopping at various points when he was describing his early life and thinking, "Wow, that's messed up!" Like in one episode, him and his friend break into another friend's house, steal the VCR and jewelry, then sell the VCR for coke and weed. They meet up with a guy who takes them around in his car and drink, and they end up crashing. The car flips and catches on fire. Levine escapes by kicking out a window, but makes sure to grab the beer and stolen jewelry before getting out. They walk away from the upside-down burning car, drinking their beers.

One of the most inspiring things about this book is hearing how low Levine got in his life, and was yet able to become a respected spiritual teacher, counseling people dealing with addiction, working with AIDS patients, and helping his community any way he can. So, for those who think that there is no hope for reform, you can look at Levine's story and say that if he could do, so can I. Recovery and discipline in one's life, whether you're dealing with addiction, illness, tragedy, or just plain old anger, confusion, and fear, happen only with practice. It takes time, it takes pain, and it takes a lot of humility--Levine outlines how he spent years going to the many people he stole from or hurt, physically and mentally, and making amends. But Buddhism's draw for many people is that it gives them a structure and purposeful way of achieving this, just like the 12-step plan (which is why it's so effective).

Though he at first resisted the spiritual elements of recovery, trying to just ween himself from drugs and alcohol without the religious trappings, his relapses and frustrations push him toward spirituality, particularly Buddhism, as a way of living a better life. Ironically enough, one of his first teachers (who did not align himself with any particular religion, though drawing heavily from Eastern ones) ended up getting married to a woman (breaking a vow of celibacy) who caused much pain and suffering to his disciples, manipulating him into being a power-hungry guru. Levine could have regressed to his old ways from that, and though it took him a long time to deal with it, he moved on to other teachers and to his own investigations.

This perhaps underscores the way in which punk rock can connect with Buddhism: both have a sort of anti-establishment, anti-authority ethos. They express this in different ways. While Buddhists, lay or monk/nun, often follow teachers, the emphasis is on what actually works to transform them and break them from the fetters of suffering, from samsara. In punk, this takes expression in music, looks, and acts that differ from "the norm" (though a lot of these have been commercialized and normalized now), and in anger and rebellion towards those in power who cause widespread suffering by their greed, apathy, and malice. Both call one to resist the ignorance that leads to unawareness about suffering, about its causes and the ways to resist it. Levine remarks that when he first met monks in Asia, he felt they were the most "punk" people he had met; they had truly resisted and transcended the system, to live a totally radical way of life.

One of the disappointments I found with Levine's description of his spiritual development is that he doesn't really explain the Buddhist concepts and practices that have affected his life so much. He mentions karma, the eightfold path, the four noble truths, etc., but doesn't explain what these are. I have investigated Buddhism enough to know what these mean to me, but I think it would have been interesting to hear Levine explain how he interprets them and relates them to his life, and for someone not as familiar with Buddhism, I think it would have been helpful. Also, he goes into his travels to Asia, where he encounters monks and teachers of both the Theravada and Mahayana traditions, which can also be sort of confusing. I also found it a bit odd that he mentions trying to be as sensitive to the ecological ramifications of his actions as possible, sticking to a strict vegan diet out of compassion, for example. And yet he seems to travel a lot, with many international flights, which have a devastating environmental impact, but he never mentions this. I'm not saying it's "wrong," just that you would think he would be a little more conscious of this.

I do give Levine credit though for not showing himself as some perfect spiritual being, in contrast to his previous drugged out, destructive self. He points out various flaws in himself that being sober and dedicated to a spiritual life have not necessarily stamped out: pride, anger, vanity, even doubt and despair. This only serves to make his story sound more human and sincere. I get put-off by spiritual writers who give me the feel of having a superior attitude with little awareness of it. Levine does feel superior at times, but the fact that he admits it makes those moments less irritating to me, and makes me feel less distant from some elevated, untouchable guru.

One very interesting chapter in his spiritual life is when he takes on his father's "a year to live" practice--living his life as if he really only had a year to live. He goes through periods of confusion and fear, actually getting into the mindset of believing that he would soon die. It also turns out to be a very liberating experience for him, helping him to overcome some of his attachments and fears.

So in conclusion: if you are looking for a spiritual-oriented memoir, especially one in which the protagonist comes from a punk rock background, you will enjoy this book. If you're looking to learn about Buddhism or punk rock, this is not the place to start. It does show how both can affect a person's life. I give it 4 stars only for the slight flaws I mentioned, but it's a very powerful book that I highly recommend.

I really really liked this book when I first read it. I finished it in about 3 days, with a full work and school load. In retrospect I'm not so sure I'd be as into it now as i was when I first read it, and here's why.

I'm a twenty-something who grew up loving punk, and everything related. Noah's story resonated strongly with me, the shows, the drugs/alc/whatever else, the recovery, and the spiritual pilgrimage. What didn't resonate with me and, quite frankly kind of irked me, was his astounding air of self-righteousness. It's kind of hard for me to be taken aback by this usually, having been involved in the hardcore scene for quite a while, but it's pretty bad. It's almost like those kids who have claimed edge fairly recently and parade it around like it's something that everyone should care about. In my opinion now, months after reading this and having had some time to reflect on it this book is essentially a memoir of growing up in the Santa Cruz punk scene peppered with Buddhism and spirituality.

I learned next to nothing about Buddhism from this book. There were very good meditation instructions in the back of the book, but these were pretty obviously meant for people who have never done it before (which is not a problem, I'm just saying). Essentially this book is geared for people who are in recovery who can stand a little self-righteousness, a little bit of a tough guy attitude, tons of spelling/grammatical errors (warning all you spelling/grammar nazis), or anyone who wants to read a punk memoir lightly flavored with spiritual themes. I'm not going to tell anyone that Brad Warner's books are better, or to go read such-and-such book because it's better. For what it's worth, this book is good, but there are most definitely better books on punk and Buddhism out there.

This book is a journal/memoir, heavily laced with 12-step philosophy. If you are addicted to punk music, drugs, alcohol or Buddhism then the book is for you. I have titled my review "A 'dorks' night of the soul", because the book does not ultimately lead anywhere. I think the most uncomfortable aspect of the book is the author's comparison of Buddhism with Punk behaviour - as if his childish egocentrism, allowed to spiral out of control by parents who were themselves enraptured by their own self-absoption, was the manifestation of a spiritual drive comparable to the Buddha's.

I'm sure he means well, and as I said, if you have an addictive personality then the book will probably be of help to you. But don't make the mistake of thinking there is any real spiritual guidance between the pages.

I got through 3/4 of this book. It was sitting on my shelf from when i bought it a few years ago and decided to give it a whirl. I really wanted to like it. This is a lame memoir. Want the story. I'm a punk, have a spiritual supportive father yet cause i'm such a punk i have to rebel against that, did drugs, got sober and found my way. There is nothing likeable or interesting about this dude at all. His insights are far from profound. Very amateur, this is my first review ever on amazon but i really didn't like it that much, i felt its my moral obligation to warn others.

I try to give a balanced, in-depth review. A dropout at fifteen, and by nearly thirty a grown-up, Noah Levine shares his troubled journey. The son of a prominent American Buddhist teacher, Noah was raised in Taos and Santa Cruz, two not-exactly hardscrabble countercultural enclaves. Still, he seems to have spent little time with his father and stepmother, and early on became alienated from his mother and stepfather, turning to drugs by the age of ten or so, and then integrating hardcore (and then Straight Edge) punk and skating, tagging and panhandling, stealing and crack, into his lifestyle spent on the streets. He rails for much of his upbringing against hippie idealism and spiritual messages, but as the title indicates, he manages to survive stints in juvenile hall, twelve-step programs, and among many rebels in the Reagan-Bush-Clinton years who wind up in prison and/or dead.

He tells the story with lots of did-this, done-that detail for the first half of his narrative. He tends to fill pages with who he hung out with and what happened next which may be interesting if you were there with him, or were listening to his anecdotes now and then, but after a few chapters of similar-sounding mishaps, travels, parties, girlfriends, and concerts, it blurs as much for a reader as it must have for Noah back then. I sympathized with his torment, but it played like a long episode of MTV's "Behind the Music"--by a fan

Halfway, the narrative lightens and widens. A solo camping trip to Big Basin park to see the redwoods he loved sounds predictable. But, the emotion invested in his sight of a deer, and the feelings evoked, demonstrate movingly, in his entrapment in temptations, how estranged from nature he has become.

His share of his mother's inheritance must have stood him in good stead, for he travels a long time across the US and all over Asia. To his credit, earlier (as with "My Name is Earl," I thought), he repays those he ripped off and makes amends to those he cheated, and he does put his fairly-earned income from medical and social work to good use, going off for stays to Hindu ashrams and Buddhist shrines, as well as a Sufi encounter. He follows his parents' model of acting as if he had a year to live, and he lives it up, and down, on his travels

At Bodhgaya, where the Buddha sat under the bodhi tree, Levine seeks his own "intention to awaken in this lifetime" and to overcome his fears and mistakes and loneliness by "a victory over suffering." (161) Such self-surrender contrasts with his ornery past, and restless present, disdain as a punk for those who have chosen to play along with the system. Slowly, he realizes his own complicity with such a stable system, grateful for the safety it allows him as an American, compared to the assaults on the senses and body that much of India inflicts.

On his second trip to Bodhgaya, to see the Dalai Lama, he realizes his inconsistencies. "The day before I had taken a vow to be compassionate and there I was threatening some crazy Indian man with a stick. The absurdity of it made me laugh. I was very far from becoming a bodhisattva but at least I was trying." (205)

He tells of his on-again-off-again relationship with a girl named Lola, and of his gradual acceptance of their life that must be spent apart. He struggles with his desires, and despite his vegan, hardcore, purifying blend of dharma and punk ethos, he finds the practice as difficult as ever. But, he channels his rage and revolutionary idealism into a positive energy. "I had found the solution to my once-hopeless situation and lack of faith had been replaced by a verified understanding of the path to freedom from suffering. I knew that the path led upstream, against the current, and was the most rebellious thing I had ever done." (217)

As that last sentence of his shows, he can be a writer who struggles with a more fluent style, but the rawness, despite a typo or gaffe now and then, does reflect an honest account that surely has wide appeal for his audience, those who have come of age alongside him, and not the hippies of their parents' (or by now, grandparents') era. Levine can merge the discontent of punk with the First Noble Truth of Buddhism. By the end of his tale, he's finished college and started grad school in a program combining psychotherapy with spirituality, and he's serving the kinds of people he grew up with in Santa Cruz, with a Mind Body Awareness prison ministry, a safe-sex outreach program, and AIDS education.

He contemplates the funeral of one of his best friends, one who saw him both shoot up and meditate, and Levine resolves to keep doing better. He notes how few punks break through their anger at consumerism and conformity to get to "the causes and conditions of the suffering and falsehoods." (230) In dharma, personal freedom and a solution to the wrongs that fill society, he reckons, come together in his deeper, mature understanding. While this will not teach you much about what the Buddha taught, it's a nudge in the right direction. It's a rough ride over two decades, and the feeling that his father and his renowned colleagues intervene more than once to bail him out does persist. Still, the Buddha himself lived as a pampered prince before he saw the reality outside the palace gate. The rich as well as the poor need guidance, the suburbanites along with those in the slums. Therefore, especially for younger readers turned off by musings from his father's generation, Noah's energetic, if rambling, memoir should prove a wake-up call.

P.S. The title may promise more dharma, but it gives you more punx. Here, Levine appends an overview of his father's meditation practice based on breathing but you'll need his calmer 2007 ""manifesto and field guide": "Against the Stream: A Buddhist Manual for Spiritual Revolutionaries," as "a navigational chart" for that inner journey that returns to helping others along their own path. His 2011 book, "The Heart of the Revolution" shares his deepening commentaries on the Buddhist teachings of forgiveness, compassion, and kindness. Levine, as with his father, has been schooled in the "vipassana" insight meditation school of Southeast Asia and Sri Lanka's Mahayana traditions. For comparison, along the Zen path and amidst American hardcore punk and Japanese monster-movie culture, the similar memoirs and studies by Brad Warner (all four recently reviewed by me), are recommended. Like Levine, Warner mixes his own (sometimes repetitious, but entertainingly self-deprecating) punk saga into the Buddhist quest; unlike Levine, he's more insistent about how you can and should accept Zen's regimen as dharma.