With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,
Today is Wednesday: I will attend the Breakfast Discussion at Temple Beth-El, followed by Torah Class; I will practice streetZen at the Veteran's Park at 4:00 PM, I will sit in meditation at Temple Beth-El at 6:00 PM, and we have a special Erev Tisha B'Av Remembrance this evening.
I ran a 1.6 mile set of hills this morning. I was by myself as Eve and Allen got in late and Judy was sleeping so soundly I did not want to wake her. It was good to get out there and do that. It relieves much stress, as if I had a lot of that. But it does allow a time for meditation in motion. Something I have actually missed since I stopped marathon and half marathon training. Zen in motion is what I would call a runner's high, though not quite the same. There is no euphoria involved, just the simple presence of feet on earth and breath entering and leaving and sweat pouring out and flies buzzing around. Just being alive and in motion. Its a very good thing.
If one day I am able to bring myself back to distance running, I am sure it will be a delight. In the meantime, running over hills, doing short interval repeats, and casual walks in the park with wife and friends is perfect.
May we each be a blessing today.
Organ Mountain Zen
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Constancy
With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,
The sound of the dishwasher creates a certain rhythm in the morning. A night of family, dinner, video games, running around the house, leaves quite a mess in the morning. I wake to it and begin by reheating last night's coffee as I empty out the dishwasher in order to reload it with a fresh batch of dirty bowls, pans, and plates. The plants needed water: water the plants. The dogs needed water; water the dogs.
The occasional question creeps into mind, 'why such a mess?' I set it aside and enjoy scrubbing out the pot, feel the hot water on the back of my hand. Drop that thought. 'And that stove? Does Jacob always have to coat the stove with whatever he's cooking?' Set it aside, wipe down the stove and appreciate its smooth, cool surface. Drop that thought.
Practice is constant: notice, let go. Notice, let go.
At a point, 'notice' and 'let go' are one in the same. This is the point of no-self.
I like to think of it as similar to beginning a run. 'Yuk! This is no good! I don't feel like it!' And, as the run progresses, feet, arms, legs, lungs, heart, head, road, all seem to come together. Miles seem to slide away in perfect presence. Thusness.
May you be a blessing today.
Good Morning Everyone,
The sound of the dishwasher creates a certain rhythm in the morning. A night of family, dinner, video games, running around the house, leaves quite a mess in the morning. I wake to it and begin by reheating last night's coffee as I empty out the dishwasher in order to reload it with a fresh batch of dirty bowls, pans, and plates. The plants needed water: water the plants. The dogs needed water; water the dogs.
The occasional question creeps into mind, 'why such a mess?' I set it aside and enjoy scrubbing out the pot, feel the hot water on the back of my hand. Drop that thought. 'And that stove? Does Jacob always have to coat the stove with whatever he's cooking?' Set it aside, wipe down the stove and appreciate its smooth, cool surface. Drop that thought.
Practice is constant: notice, let go. Notice, let go.
At a point, 'notice' and 'let go' are one in the same. This is the point of no-self.
I like to think of it as similar to beginning a run. 'Yuk! This is no good! I don't feel like it!' And, as the run progresses, feet, arms, legs, lungs, heart, head, road, all seem to come together. Miles seem to slide away in perfect presence. Thusness.
May you be a blessing today.
Monday, July 27, 2009
To Toe or Not to Toe
With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,
This past weekend just before it rained, I walked our property line at the Refuge. The air was delicious climbing the mountain side through alligator pine and oak. Small blue, yellow, and occasional orange flowers were there under the yarrow and would peak out once in awhile. I tripped over a fallen branch hidden in the grass. Dharmas are everywhere.
In Case 23, Think Neither Good, Nor Not-Good, we read the story of the Sixth Patriarch and his being chased down for the Dharma. "Think neither good nor not-good at this very moment, what is your true nature?" asks Hui Neng of Myo.
We often say everything changes and believe this "everything changes" to be apart from 'everything changes.' My bleeding toe, once whole, is dharma. My whole toe is dharma. Tripping is dharma. What is my true nature?
Both process and non-process are empty. Creator and creation are one: suchness and thusness, teaches Senzaki, on this point (Senzaki, Nyogen, Eloquent Silence, pp.119-120). Both are neither good or not-good. Both are.
Whole toe,
bleeding toe:
stars falling
from the sky
do not.
Be well.
Good Morning Everyone,
This past weekend just before it rained, I walked our property line at the Refuge. The air was delicious climbing the mountain side through alligator pine and oak. Small blue, yellow, and occasional orange flowers were there under the yarrow and would peak out once in awhile. I tripped over a fallen branch hidden in the grass. Dharmas are everywhere.
In Case 23, Think Neither Good, Nor Not-Good, we read the story of the Sixth Patriarch and his being chased down for the Dharma. "Think neither good nor not-good at this very moment, what is your true nature?" asks Hui Neng of Myo.
We often say everything changes and believe this "everything changes" to be apart from 'everything changes.' My bleeding toe, once whole, is dharma. My whole toe is dharma. Tripping is dharma. What is my true nature?
Both process and non-process are empty. Creator and creation are one: suchness and thusness, teaches Senzaki, on this point (Senzaki, Nyogen, Eloquent Silence, pp.119-120). Both are neither good or not-good. Both are.
Whole toe,
bleeding toe:
stars falling
from the sky
do not.
Be well.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Stellar Jays
With palms together,
Back at my residence, down from the mountains, the air is different. Just a little thicker, although it did rain at the refuge yesterday afternoon. Having a refuge is a great gift. I am periodically able to get away from the desert, enjoy some silence, or at least noise of a different kind. Stellar Jays squawk, hummers blitz by with shrill, high pitched tones of territorial aggression, and the flag of our deck, flips a beat in the breeze.
Son Jacob and I discussed this classic koan while on the deck with the flag. The wind moves, no, the flag moves: no, it is your mind that moves. We trailed off into wonderful tunnels of space-time. Folding space, time itself, and the role of the perceiver. Does anything move? What is movement if not something defined by relative relationships? All very heady. Not very Zen.
Feeding the birds when the feeder was empty; this is it.
Yet, the moment of self reference assumed in that statement, suggests I might as well be a rank amateur. Good. Let's sit down and abide in the universe together.
Be well.
Back at my residence, down from the mountains, the air is different. Just a little thicker, although it did rain at the refuge yesterday afternoon. Having a refuge is a great gift. I am periodically able to get away from the desert, enjoy some silence, or at least noise of a different kind. Stellar Jays squawk, hummers blitz by with shrill, high pitched tones of territorial aggression, and the flag of our deck, flips a beat in the breeze.
Son Jacob and I discussed this classic koan while on the deck with the flag. The wind moves, no, the flag moves: no, it is your mind that moves. We trailed off into wonderful tunnels of space-time. Folding space, time itself, and the role of the perceiver. Does anything move? What is movement if not something defined by relative relationships? All very heady. Not very Zen.
Feeding the birds when the feeder was empty; this is it.
Yet, the moment of self reference assumed in that statement, suggests I might as well be a rank amateur. Good. Let's sit down and abide in the universe together.
Be well.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Upaya
With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,
My last two days were spent at Upaya Zen Center, a monastic cluster of unasuming adobe buildings, people, trees, flowers, birds, and programs. I went there to meet Joan Halifax Roshi, someone I have admired and followed for years. I also met Sensei Beate Genko Stolte, their co-abbot.
My aim was to get a better understanding of Upaya, its programs, and how it functions. I wanted to learn about their chaplaincy program, in specific. On first approach, the center appears unkempt. Gardens seem untended, pathways are encroached somewhat by flowing plants. My son, a French Chef, explained these were classic french style gardens. And my discriminating mind found a bell.
We are both from a Soto tradition, yet there were many differences in our practices. Some subtle, others not so subtle. Rev. Dr. Soyu Matsuoka Roshi taught a Zen that was clear, direct, and unadorned. We sit facing a wall. In daily practice, we recite minimal sutras (one, the Heart Sutra), the Sanki rai mon (three refuges) and the Shi gu sei gon mon, (the Four Great Vows), and that's about it. Sanpai (three prostrations) and Tekkesa Ge (the robe verse) are private matters. Lineage recitaton is not done.
The service at Upaya is both elegant and classic Soto. Zazen, followed by the robe verse (repeated three times), followed by sanpei, a sutra chant, a recitation of the lineage, homage to heirs, again sanpai. It is good to know how these things work for just such occasions as visiting a monastery.
Still, I find the direct, simple Matsuoka style refreshingly humble. Our practice centers have used sanpai by the officiating priest at the beginning of services, but not always. We do these prostrations in the privacy of our own zendo and in front of our own alters. At my home Zendo, we come in, stand by our cushions, the priest offers incense, we recite the Three refuges, the great Heart of Wisdom sutra and take our seats for two periods of zazen with kinhin in between. At the conclusion of the second sitting period, we recite the Hannya Shin Gyo, the Four Great Vows, offer incense, bow, and take our seats for tea service and teisho.
One is not better than the other. Neither are correct or incorrect. It is in the doing.
Engaged Zen is a practice, not a thought or a set of rituals. We practice in the world for the benefit of the world.
Upaya is a wonderful training center. Its Teachers are warm and welcoming. Its staff and the practitioners are hard working and dedicated to the Great Way. This was clear.
I saw possibilities for developing similar programs here in southern New Mexico. I would like to have a Zen Center once again to house training and practice. streetZen is clear and direct. Visiting the sick is clear and direct. Much of our work does not require a building. In fact a building seems to get in the way of the work and some even see it as a substitute. On the other hand, a building offers a refuge and a place to conduct classes.
We are looking for such a building as I write.
If you would be interested in helping, please email me. Regular donations are essential. Generosity is our first paramita. It sustains us: both in the giving and the receiving.
Nine bows to Upaya, its Founding Teacher, and the many lives and many hands that went into its creation and go into its continued practice.
May you each be a blessing in the universe.
Good Morning Everyone,
My last two days were spent at Upaya Zen Center, a monastic cluster of unasuming adobe buildings, people, trees, flowers, birds, and programs. I went there to meet Joan Halifax Roshi, someone I have admired and followed for years. I also met Sensei Beate Genko Stolte, their co-abbot.
My aim was to get a better understanding of Upaya, its programs, and how it functions. I wanted to learn about their chaplaincy program, in specific. On first approach, the center appears unkempt. Gardens seem untended, pathways are encroached somewhat by flowing plants. My son, a French Chef, explained these were classic french style gardens. And my discriminating mind found a bell.
We are both from a Soto tradition, yet there were many differences in our practices. Some subtle, others not so subtle. Rev. Dr. Soyu Matsuoka Roshi taught a Zen that was clear, direct, and unadorned. We sit facing a wall. In daily practice, we recite minimal sutras (one, the Heart Sutra), the Sanki rai mon (three refuges) and the Shi gu sei gon mon, (the Four Great Vows), and that's about it. Sanpai (three prostrations) and Tekkesa Ge (the robe verse) are private matters. Lineage recitaton is not done.
The service at Upaya is both elegant and classic Soto. Zazen, followed by the robe verse (repeated three times), followed by sanpei, a sutra chant, a recitation of the lineage, homage to heirs, again sanpai. It is good to know how these things work for just such occasions as visiting a monastery.
Still, I find the direct, simple Matsuoka style refreshingly humble. Our practice centers have used sanpai by the officiating priest at the beginning of services, but not always. We do these prostrations in the privacy of our own zendo and in front of our own alters. At my home Zendo, we come in, stand by our cushions, the priest offers incense, we recite the Three refuges, the great Heart of Wisdom sutra and take our seats for two periods of zazen with kinhin in between. At the conclusion of the second sitting period, we recite the Hannya Shin Gyo, the Four Great Vows, offer incense, bow, and take our seats for tea service and teisho.
One is not better than the other. Neither are correct or incorrect. It is in the doing.
Engaged Zen is a practice, not a thought or a set of rituals. We practice in the world for the benefit of the world.
Upaya is a wonderful training center. Its Teachers are warm and welcoming. Its staff and the practitioners are hard working and dedicated to the Great Way. This was clear.
I saw possibilities for developing similar programs here in southern New Mexico. I would like to have a Zen Center once again to house training and practice. streetZen is clear and direct. Visiting the sick is clear and direct. Much of our work does not require a building. In fact a building seems to get in the way of the work and some even see it as a substitute. On the other hand, a building offers a refuge and a place to conduct classes.
We are looking for such a building as I write.
If you would be interested in helping, please email me. Regular donations are essential. Generosity is our first paramita. It sustains us: both in the giving and the receiving.
Nine bows to Upaya, its Founding Teacher, and the many lives and many hands that went into its creation and go into its continued practice.
May you each be a blessing in the universe.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
So?
With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,
We both use our mind and set our mind aside to be bodhisattvas. Our mind creates time, visualizing a past, creating a present, imagining a future. When we set aside our mind, we live in the exact present. We both, therefore, grow old, and do not grow old. We are born and not born. We die and don't die. So, "growing", "birth", "death", these are ideas of mind.
If I say I hate growing old, I am speaking from duality. I am not old. I am not young. I am not sick or well. I am this moment as it is.
So what?
Don't you just love the so what of things? We can get so fascinated with the language of Zen, its mystery, contradiction, esoteric quality. We can be philosophers. It is most important to know that if we are these we are asleep. "So what?" is the bell of awakening. Never forget it, always ask it.
Plan when it is time to plan Master Dogen teaches in his Tenzo Kyokun, Instructions to the Cook. It is not that we are not to use our mind, we are, but we are to know we are using it and not abusing it. We do not use our mind to avoid or fear the present moment.
"So what?" brings us back to our true moment, this one. My fingers touch the keys as I speak to you. Here, now. The so what is the sharing of our lives. We call it being human. Others call it being bodhisattvas.
Be well.
Good Morning Everyone,
We both use our mind and set our mind aside to be bodhisattvas. Our mind creates time, visualizing a past, creating a present, imagining a future. When we set aside our mind, we live in the exact present. We both, therefore, grow old, and do not grow old. We are born and not born. We die and don't die. So, "growing", "birth", "death", these are ideas of mind.
If I say I hate growing old, I am speaking from duality. I am not old. I am not young. I am not sick or well. I am this moment as it is.
So what?
Don't you just love the so what of things? We can get so fascinated with the language of Zen, its mystery, contradiction, esoteric quality. We can be philosophers. It is most important to know that if we are these we are asleep. "So what?" is the bell of awakening. Never forget it, always ask it.
Plan when it is time to plan Master Dogen teaches in his Tenzo Kyokun, Instructions to the Cook. It is not that we are not to use our mind, we are, but we are to know we are using it and not abusing it. We do not use our mind to avoid or fear the present moment.
"So what?" brings us back to our true moment, this one. My fingers touch the keys as I speak to you. Here, now. The so what is the sharing of our lives. We call it being human. Others call it being bodhisattvas.
Be well.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Mutual Aid
With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,
Last night after a wonderful meal and considerable chess, I took a walk with Tripper. We put in a mile plus a tenth. It was after nine. Unusual for me to be up and about that late. I came in, took a brief shower, sat for a few minutes, and went to bed. This morning after zazen I managed to complete a fast walk in the park with Allen and Eve just as the sun was rearing its mighty face over the mountains. It was a mile and three quarters, the walk. We in the desert are not used to the humidity levels we have been encountering. Dry heat is far easier to endure than the damp stickiness of humid air. Within the first two or three tenths of a mile, Allen and I reported breaking a sweat.
My friend Allen is doing wonderfully well. His scar is nearly disappeared. He is walking strong and feeling better each day. Having brain surgery is no small thing. Zen teaches us that we do better when we actualize in the thing itself. Allen has taken the steps to do this. He engaged his life as it is.
Sawaki Roshi says: "Heaven and Earth give themselves. Air, water, plants, animals, and humans give themselves to each other. It is in this giving-themselves-to-each-other that we actually live. Whether you appreciate it or not, it is true." (The Zen Teaching of Homeless Kodo", p.79).
Giving to each other is a moment in itself. It is multilateral, exponential, and exempt from time. Its core ingredient is care.
Here's the rub: we must be open not only to giving, but receiving. In receiving there is giving; in giving, there is receiving. One who closes himself to help does a great disservice to those around him. I am ashamed to say that has been my way most of my life. Deceived by the rhetoric of rugged individualism, I failed to see the delight of mutual aid.
Our practice teaches us to look deeply. As we do, we experience our own interconnected reality, we experience mutual aid.
I am very grateful for this practice and for those around me who have been my teachers.
Be well.
Good Morning Everyone,
Last night after a wonderful meal and considerable chess, I took a walk with Tripper. We put in a mile plus a tenth. It was after nine. Unusual for me to be up and about that late. I came in, took a brief shower, sat for a few minutes, and went to bed. This morning after zazen I managed to complete a fast walk in the park with Allen and Eve just as the sun was rearing its mighty face over the mountains. It was a mile and three quarters, the walk. We in the desert are not used to the humidity levels we have been encountering. Dry heat is far easier to endure than the damp stickiness of humid air. Within the first two or three tenths of a mile, Allen and I reported breaking a sweat.
My friend Allen is doing wonderfully well. His scar is nearly disappeared. He is walking strong and feeling better each day. Having brain surgery is no small thing. Zen teaches us that we do better when we actualize in the thing itself. Allen has taken the steps to do this. He engaged his life as it is.
Sawaki Roshi says: "Heaven and Earth give themselves. Air, water, plants, animals, and humans give themselves to each other. It is in this giving-themselves-to-each-other that we actually live. Whether you appreciate it or not, it is true." (The Zen Teaching of Homeless Kodo", p.79).
Giving to each other is a moment in itself. It is multilateral, exponential, and exempt from time. Its core ingredient is care.
Here's the rub: we must be open not only to giving, but receiving. In receiving there is giving; in giving, there is receiving. One who closes himself to help does a great disservice to those around him. I am ashamed to say that has been my way most of my life. Deceived by the rhetoric of rugged individualism, I failed to see the delight of mutual aid.
Our practice teaches us to look deeply. As we do, we experience our own interconnected reality, we experience mutual aid.
I am very grateful for this practice and for those around me who have been my teachers.
Be well.
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