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Fueled by the music of revolution, anger, fear, and despair, we dyed our hair or shaved our heads ... Eating acid like it was candy and chasing speed with cheap vodka, smoking truckloads of weed, all in a vain attempt to get numb and stay numb.
This is the story of a young man and a generation of angry youths who rebelled against their parents and the unfulfilled promise of the sixties. As with many self-destructive kids, Noah Levine's search for meaning led him first to punk rock, drugs, drinking, and dissatisfaction. But the search didn't end there. Having clearly seen the uselessness of drugs and violence, Noah looked for positive ways to channel his rebellion against what he saw as the lies of society. Fueled by his anger at so much injustice and suffering, Levine now uses that energy and the practice of Buddhism to awaken his natural wisdom and compassion.
While Levine comes to embrace the same spiritual tradition as his father, bestselling author Stephen Levine, he finds his most authentic expression in connecting the seemingly opposed worlds of punk and Buddhism. As Noah Levine delved deeper into Buddhism, he chose not to reject the punk scene, instead integrating the two worlds as a catalyst for transformation. Ultimately, this is an inspiring story about maturing, and how a hostile and lost generation is finally finding its footing. This provocative report takes us deep inside the punk scene and moves from anger, rebellion, and self-destruction, to health, service to others, and genuine spiritual growth.
don’t need to take anyone else with me, not like you the time we got busted and you fucking tried to turn me in.” I had never beaten him up for that but I hadn’t forgotten it either. “I’ll talk to you later. Have fun with the ladies,” I said, more than a little annoyed. Toby had tried to get sober when I did but he couldn’t seem to stay away from the shit. It was kind of sad but I loved him anyway. We had been through so much together, I was not going to turn my back on him now. Don was a big
fear, despair, hatred, and a total dissatisfaction with the status quo. We dyed our hair or shaved our heads, we donned a new uniform to set us apart from the mindless masses of adults and brain-dead herds of kids who were going along with the lies, buying into the great American fallacy, playing sports, going to school, and listening to the awful popular music of the eighties that carried no meaningful messages and was just another symptom of the disease of apathy and materialism that plagues
sort of mellow. But it was a bit of a shock to my system and I liked that. These were my peers, my generation, the beings for whom I had vowed, while sitting beneath the Bodhi tree, to dedicate the merit of my life’s energy. The violent thrashing about of bodies, the release of so much pent-up aggression, began to spill over from the pit in the front of the d i e , d i e , m y d a r l i n g 207 stage and waves of people were being shoved in all directions. As I got smashed against the wall a
hook up with them for a week of punk rock on the way west. The tour was incredibly fun: slam dancing every night, bad food, silly kids. The shows were small so it was my job to get the kids dancing. I would just start running around in a circle and soon enough there was always a slam pit. I decided to follow them as far as New Mexico, where I stopped to see my parents in the final days of my practice. I thought of what it would be like to see my parents for the last time if I were to really die
the floods of grief and despair that we all hold at bay. No longer able to keep myself together, I fell apart and stumbled into a deeper understanding of what it means to be human. I began to see Toby’s death and all of my life’s experiences as teachings and tools to offer to others who will surely walk a similar path. I saw all of it as an opportunity for awakening, as grist for the mill. Still processing all that had happened, I put one foot in front of the other and showed up for my life’s