With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,
The morning sun is already hard at work building the temperature of the day. A clear blue sky offers a perfect and serene sea for the sun's journey. The water warms.
We morning people, up at 4:30, witness a spectacular transformation. Sitting in the zendo, an ominous black, lightens. Outside on the morning walk, grey becomes pale blue. Sitting at my desk to write the pale blue becomes a brilliant sea for the sun to lead us along our way.
Storytellers use such drama to unfold their tales. I wish I could tell stories, but then again, perhaps I do. The stories of a life looked deeply into. Like water, they are sometimes pooled in the sand in full view. Sometimes deep in dark wells with cold stone encapsulating it.
My stories are living tales of mindful moments. Most likely boring, sometimes a little odd, but always there, a reflection in a pail of gathered water, being served up for you.
May we each have such pails of mindful reflection. Poured together they become the river of our human life.
Let's share.
Be well.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Faith
With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,
This morning the topic of hope came up on my morning walk. Not directly, but in context of a discussion with friends. For thirty years or so I have been listening to the suffering of the world. As a child protective services social worker, I listened to the cries of abused and neglected children, as well as their suffering parents. As a psychotherapist, I listened to men and women struggle with their assaults, abuse, wars, robberies, and marital strife. As a Zen Buddhist priest, I listen to all sentient beings, as I listen to my True Nature: we are all suffering.
So, how to have hope?
As there is suffering, so to there is equanimity. As there is suffering, so too there is compassion. We are not alone. We are also quite resilient. It is important to accept that hope may not be a particularly good quality. It resides in the future, a future we are imagining. I prefer faith. Faith is based not in belief, but in practice. From my practice I see our resilience as a species. Moreover, I see the resilience of the universe. Life goes on, and on, and on.
Faith, with in equanimity, allows us to take the next step and continue along the path. We develop this skill set through continued practice. Sitting on the cushion life arises, things intrude, thoughts, feelings, noises, smells...everything is there, an invitation to not be present. But our practice is to let go and return; let go and return. This is a very important point.
One might say flowing water depresses a leaf. On the other hand, we might equally say the leaf surrenders to the water and in so doing retains its position on the stem.
Its all in our point of view.
Be well.
Good Morning Everyone,
This morning the topic of hope came up on my morning walk. Not directly, but in context of a discussion with friends. For thirty years or so I have been listening to the suffering of the world. As a child protective services social worker, I listened to the cries of abused and neglected children, as well as their suffering parents. As a psychotherapist, I listened to men and women struggle with their assaults, abuse, wars, robberies, and marital strife. As a Zen Buddhist priest, I listen to all sentient beings, as I listen to my True Nature: we are all suffering.
So, how to have hope?
As there is suffering, so to there is equanimity. As there is suffering, so too there is compassion. We are not alone. We are also quite resilient. It is important to accept that hope may not be a particularly good quality. It resides in the future, a future we are imagining. I prefer faith. Faith is based not in belief, but in practice. From my practice I see our resilience as a species. Moreover, I see the resilience of the universe. Life goes on, and on, and on.
Faith, with in equanimity, allows us to take the next step and continue along the path. We develop this skill set through continued practice. Sitting on the cushion life arises, things intrude, thoughts, feelings, noises, smells...everything is there, an invitation to not be present. But our practice is to let go and return; let go and return. This is a very important point.
One might say flowing water depresses a leaf. On the other hand, we might equally say the leaf surrenders to the water and in so doing retains its position on the stem.
Its all in our point of view.
Be well.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Invisible Men
Good Afternoon Everyone,
This morning early I did a short mile and a half walk through a desert park. Soon after, I went to the downtown mall where we have a farmer's market. Approaching my spot I noticed a man sleeping on the low wall built to protect a tree. I carefully unfolded my blanket, put down my zabuton and zafu, my begging bowl and thermos of hot tea, and took my seat.
At the bell, I lit a stick of incense and offered it to all sentient beings. Palms together, I quietly chanted the Wisdom Heart sutra. Finally, a bow and settled in for zazen.
Over time a police cruiser pulled up. The homeless man rested. I watched over him. The policemen got out of their cruiser and walked passed us, slipping their batons in sheaths. The bell rang signalling the conclusion of the first period.
The market was getting crowded. I noticed people not noticing. They would look at me, then look right past the man sleeping on the bench. Some of us are clearly invisible men.
At the bell, another incense offering and another period of zazen.
A mother and two children walked by. Her little boy offered a dollar, I bowed. A woman followed past me hurriedly saying "namaste". Silence. The sleeping man stirred. He looked at me. My eyes were just about on him. Within a few minutes, he rose, tidied himself, picked up his cane, glasses, and plastic bottle of water. He also picked up his shopping bag pillow. Before my bell rang, he limped away not to be seen again. At the bell, I bowed, wishing the sleeping man were still there to receive the offering I had received. Another bell, another stick of incense in the air.
Third period of zazen. Police came back. People hurried by with bags of produce. Chanting Hannya Shin Gyo, the cruiser's engine started. Palms together, a bow to all sentient beings and as the last of the incense drifted into the morning sky, I rose with it and slipped way.
No trace.
Be well.
This morning early I did a short mile and a half walk through a desert park. Soon after, I went to the downtown mall where we have a farmer's market. Approaching my spot I noticed a man sleeping on the low wall built to protect a tree. I carefully unfolded my blanket, put down my zabuton and zafu, my begging bowl and thermos of hot tea, and took my seat.
At the bell, I lit a stick of incense and offered it to all sentient beings. Palms together, I quietly chanted the Wisdom Heart sutra. Finally, a bow and settled in for zazen.
Over time a police cruiser pulled up. The homeless man rested. I watched over him. The policemen got out of their cruiser and walked passed us, slipping their batons in sheaths. The bell rang signalling the conclusion of the first period.
The market was getting crowded. I noticed people not noticing. They would look at me, then look right past the man sleeping on the bench. Some of us are clearly invisible men.
At the bell, another incense offering and another period of zazen.
A mother and two children walked by. Her little boy offered a dollar, I bowed. A woman followed past me hurriedly saying "namaste". Silence. The sleeping man stirred. He looked at me. My eyes were just about on him. Within a few minutes, he rose, tidied himself, picked up his cane, glasses, and plastic bottle of water. He also picked up his shopping bag pillow. Before my bell rang, he limped away not to be seen again. At the bell, I bowed, wishing the sleeping man were still there to receive the offering I had received. Another bell, another stick of incense in the air.
Third period of zazen. Police came back. People hurried by with bags of produce. Chanting Hannya Shin Gyo, the cruiser's engine started. Palms together, a bow to all sentient beings and as the last of the incense drifted into the morning sky, I rose with it and slipped way.
No trace.
Be well.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Mystery
With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,
As I write it is raining outside. The window is open, a gentle rain. The sound is marvelous. It is still dark and I am reminded of childhood when as a boy I stood on the beach in the dark and was riveted to the sand by the large and mysterious sound of an invisible ocean.
Mystery.
Our deepest and most primitive sense of presence occurs in the face of partial sensory deprivation. We cannot see or we cannot hear or we cannot feel or we cannot taste. In such moments other senses come alive. Its as if they seek out the missing data. The mystery is the search itself.
Zen is like this: on the edge of nothing...everything
May we each have the faith necessary to take the next step.
Be well.
Good Morning Everyone,
As I write it is raining outside. The window is open, a gentle rain. The sound is marvelous. It is still dark and I am reminded of childhood when as a boy I stood on the beach in the dark and was riveted to the sand by the large and mysterious sound of an invisible ocean.
Mystery.
Our deepest and most primitive sense of presence occurs in the face of partial sensory deprivation. We cannot see or we cannot hear or we cannot feel or we cannot taste. In such moments other senses come alive. Its as if they seek out the missing data. The mystery is the search itself.
Zen is like this: on the edge of nothing...everything
May we each have the faith necessary to take the next step.
Be well.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Compassion
Good Morning Everyone,
When we talk about compassion we mean well. But compassion is not a thought. It cannot be articulated. Compassion is being. It is our complete buddha nature as it is. Talk about it takes us away from it, creates a dualism between this and that...as all talk seems to do.
Step into your day with the compassion on a deep knowledge of your oneness with everything. Touch the floor with your foot as if you are touching yourself, because you are. Listen to your boss or your partner or your children as if they were yourself because they are. Avoid stepping on that ant on the sidewalk. Offer a cup of tea to a friend, pay for a stranger's dinner at a restaurant, visit a hospital or nursing home and say hello to someone who is suffering there. For there we are as well.
Compassion is so easy to talk about, so challenging to be.Practice helps.
May you be a blessing in the universe.
When we talk about compassion we mean well. But compassion is not a thought. It cannot be articulated. Compassion is being. It is our complete buddha nature as it is. Talk about it takes us away from it, creates a dualism between this and that...as all talk seems to do.
Step into your day with the compassion on a deep knowledge of your oneness with everything. Touch the floor with your foot as if you are touching yourself, because you are. Listen to your boss or your partner or your children as if they were yourself because they are. Avoid stepping on that ant on the sidewalk. Offer a cup of tea to a friend, pay for a stranger's dinner at a restaurant, visit a hospital or nursing home and say hello to someone who is suffering there. For there we are as well.
Compassion is so easy to talk about, so challenging to be.Practice helps.
May you be a blessing in the universe.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Not By Bread Alone
With palms together,
Good Afternoon Everyone,
This day was full. Rising this morning, I studied the Torah portion for the week and was delighted that it was a wonderful teaching: "...man does not live by bread alone..." Deut. 8:3. Within this Torah portion God reminds us to be mindful and respectful, but mostly to keep our minds and hearts open. The Jews had left Egypt, had wandered in the desert forty years, leaving all that they knew. They are now about to cross over into the promised land. God says to them, to paraphrase, 'you'll have everything you will need.'
Very Zen. Wherever we are, we are complete and have exactly what we need. Nothing to eat? No problem, a little hot water, some flour, a little salt: bread...well, matzo. Master Dogen teaches us to treasure every bit. God asks the same. Moreover, the Infinite is present in every bite, every sip, every breath. We should pay homage to this reality.
When we leave what we know, everything has the potential to nourish us, because we are without assumptions about what is good or bad. A hot sun is neither hot or cold: a glass of water is the same as wine. Each breath, a blessing. Everything is an offering. And there is no trash.
This afternoon I visited two friends in the hospital. One just lost her leg; another was subject to a stroke. There I am. We are one in the same. I sit with her, I stand and walk with him. Each breath, each step, a blessing.
My one friend wants help dealing with the pain. Together we practice meditation, placing our attention on our nose, pain? Breath in. Pain? Breath out. We can have pain, but not suffer. Pain is just pain, it is a feeling in the moment. It is and is not. Suffering is our desire not to experience what we are experiencing. Cut it. Experience. Breath in, breath out, nothing more than that.
We should be thankful we are born human beings, thankful we are encountering the dharma, and thankful for the opportunity to practice. It is all that is asked of us, as in this practice, is the Heart of Being, call it Buddha, call it God, call it Nothing.
Be well.
Good Afternoon Everyone,
This day was full. Rising this morning, I studied the Torah portion for the week and was delighted that it was a wonderful teaching: "...man does not live by bread alone..." Deut. 8:3. Within this Torah portion God reminds us to be mindful and respectful, but mostly to keep our minds and hearts open. The Jews had left Egypt, had wandered in the desert forty years, leaving all that they knew. They are now about to cross over into the promised land. God says to them, to paraphrase, 'you'll have everything you will need.'
Very Zen. Wherever we are, we are complete and have exactly what we need. Nothing to eat? No problem, a little hot water, some flour, a little salt: bread...well, matzo. Master Dogen teaches us to treasure every bit. God asks the same. Moreover, the Infinite is present in every bite, every sip, every breath. We should pay homage to this reality.
When we leave what we know, everything has the potential to nourish us, because we are without assumptions about what is good or bad. A hot sun is neither hot or cold: a glass of water is the same as wine. Each breath, a blessing. Everything is an offering. And there is no trash.
This afternoon I visited two friends in the hospital. One just lost her leg; another was subject to a stroke. There I am. We are one in the same. I sit with her, I stand and walk with him. Each breath, each step, a blessing.
My one friend wants help dealing with the pain. Together we practice meditation, placing our attention on our nose, pain? Breath in. Pain? Breath out. We can have pain, but not suffer. Pain is just pain, it is a feeling in the moment. It is and is not. Suffering is our desire not to experience what we are experiencing. Cut it. Experience. Breath in, breath out, nothing more than that.
We should be thankful we are born human beings, thankful we are encountering the dharma, and thankful for the opportunity to practice. It is all that is asked of us, as in this practice, is the Heart of Being, call it Buddha, call it God, call it Nothing.
Be well.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Living Zen
With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,
My goodness, a late start on writing. Each morning I sit down to write. It is part of my practice. Usually this practice occurs after zazen, after my walk, and before breakfast. But today is different. Its a new day. I am stepping out of my box. When we do something a little different, news views appear before us. Writing in daylight, with the day well begun, offers a somewhat different platform.
This morning I went to the lab and had blood drawn in anticipation of my annual physical next week. While sitting in the waiting room I read a piece out of my Dharma Grandfather's book, "The Kyosaku". He was talking about Zazen as practice realization. This is such an important point. And, as some have said, we in the West do not talk about enlightenment enough.
Matsuoka Roshi was teaching from Master Dogen's Genjo Koan. He was linking practice realization to every moment Zen, or what he liked to call Mokusho Zen, Living Zen. I teach this as thusness: It is the Zen of this finger on this key at this moment with appreciation and complete awareness of both the key and finger and the finger and key's impermanence. We sit upright, body as buddha, we place our mind, mind as buddha: things come, things go, only buddha. We get off our cushion, body is buddha, we take a step, step as buddha. We sip our coffee, coffee is buddha; grandchild cries, we cry. We care, the universe is cared for; the universe cares, we are cared for. No duality exists, yet there it is.
Our mind arises from an organic combination of chemicals and electrical impulses. We should not confuse our mind with reality. Yet, our mind creates a reality so billions and billions of realities exist, all framed up by little cells with electrical charges flowing, interconnecting, interdependent. No organic compound, conditioned just right: no mind. No awareness.
In our practice, we ask that we approach the cushion with great faith, faith in the ancestors, in the buddha way. Our faith is in our practice. We sit. Five minutes zazen; five minutes buddha. But make no mistake, have faith, one day five minutes buddha, eternal buddha.
With palms together,
A bow to each of you.
Good Morning Everyone,
My goodness, a late start on writing. Each morning I sit down to write. It is part of my practice. Usually this practice occurs after zazen, after my walk, and before breakfast. But today is different. Its a new day. I am stepping out of my box. When we do something a little different, news views appear before us. Writing in daylight, with the day well begun, offers a somewhat different platform.
This morning I went to the lab and had blood drawn in anticipation of my annual physical next week. While sitting in the waiting room I read a piece out of my Dharma Grandfather's book, "The Kyosaku". He was talking about Zazen as practice realization. This is such an important point. And, as some have said, we in the West do not talk about enlightenment enough.
Matsuoka Roshi was teaching from Master Dogen's Genjo Koan. He was linking practice realization to every moment Zen, or what he liked to call Mokusho Zen, Living Zen. I teach this as thusness: It is the Zen of this finger on this key at this moment with appreciation and complete awareness of both the key and finger and the finger and key's impermanence. We sit upright, body as buddha, we place our mind, mind as buddha: things come, things go, only buddha. We get off our cushion, body is buddha, we take a step, step as buddha. We sip our coffee, coffee is buddha; grandchild cries, we cry. We care, the universe is cared for; the universe cares, we are cared for. No duality exists, yet there it is.
Our mind arises from an organic combination of chemicals and electrical impulses. We should not confuse our mind with reality. Yet, our mind creates a reality so billions and billions of realities exist, all framed up by little cells with electrical charges flowing, interconnecting, interdependent. No organic compound, conditioned just right: no mind. No awareness.
In our practice, we ask that we approach the cushion with great faith, faith in the ancestors, in the buddha way. Our faith is in our practice. We sit. Five minutes zazen; five minutes buddha. But make no mistake, have faith, one day five minutes buddha, eternal buddha.
With palms together,
A bow to each of you.
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