With palms together
Good Morning Everyone,
Interesting. Yesterday afternoon’s Zen Discussion group seemed to be caught on the question, “what is our function?” Most leaned toward survival and safety as first priorities and that is an understandable point of view. Many warriors, including Buddhist warriors, and myself, have made this claim. Yet, today I am not so sure. It depends on how we understand survival and safety.
More often than not, when we talk about personal survival and safety, we create an imaginary scenario wherein someone might attack us and threaten our lives and well-being. We often simplify the picture by using early man scenarios. Oddly enough, these scenarios almost always use hunter models where weapons are involved and present in the scenario, rather than an agrarian model where the gathering and growing food demands cooperation for survival. Cooperation becomes the definition of protection itself and survival depends on mutual aid.
Someone always raises the, “if someone punches me” scenario (as if that is a likely or imminent threat). In truth, I have only been punched once in my entire life and I am 63 years old. Do I really need to think about how to protect myself from an assault such as that? Should this be my baseline understanding of our nature? I wonder what would happen if no one locked their doors and no one had guns. Those of us who say there would be reckless abandon, total chaos, and the like, might check their views of human nature here. What if you knew your neighbor routinely did not lock her doors? Would you sneak in and steal? Would you sneak in and assault her? You say, “well, what about street thugs and the like?” I say, what about them? A lock will really help? And people are far more likely to use a gun against a person they know than a stranger.
The thing is, today we are neither hunters nor are we gatherers. We are not individuals nor are we tribes. We are, arguably, not even nation-states. Rather, we are an immense network of interdependent and interconnected beings. We are an organic system and such a system requires open channels of energy flow. Organic systems are dependent on environmental conditions. Organic systems are dependent on cooperation. Organic systems are dependent on each sub-system recognizing its relationship to every other subsystem, Changes in one part of the system affect all other parts of the system. Survival and safety take on very different meanings in such a context.
Oddly for me, in graduate school where we were taught systems theory as a model for understanding social systems, I argued against it. It was not existential enough for me. But existentialism is dualism dependent. It requires a self to be defining itself in contradistinction to others.
Through my practice, I have come to realize there is no self to define and that any such attempt is an artifice of mind. A Buddhist understanding of reality is a systems understanding with the added dimension of complete impermanence, which includes the system itself.
So, when we talk about our function, and thoughts of survival and safety arise, what do we really asking?
Be well.
Organ Mountain Zen
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
A few questions
With palms together
Good Morning Everyone,
Zen Master Seung Sahn asks, “What is our function?”
Let’s look around. A table I am writing on is made from the wood of a tree killed in the forest. The food in my refrigerator was grown and killed for me to purchase. The clothes I am wearing, the fibers, the dye, the weave, all done on a massive scale, shipped to my store in boats, trucks, and trains. The air I am breathing is filtered. The water I drink is processed and then filtered. The coffee comes from large plantations grown on what was rain forest. Yes, when I look around, it would seem my function is to use and not just use, but also to use in excess and at any cost. Who am I that this is should be the case? Am I alone in this abuse? No. At last count (a few seconds ago, according to the World Population Clock) there were 6,855,134,658 persons on this planet. Who are we that this should be the case?
Is using the planet and its resources truly our function or are we simply out of control? Do we just not know how to live simply and without excess? Would we want to?
How much do we really need to live well? Do we need two or three cars? Do we need two or three or four pairs of shoes? Do we need to eat in excess to the point that our girth expands at the rate of the population of our species? No. We want this. Is this our function, to want? To want so badly and so mindlessly that we are willing to end life as we know it on planet Earth?
I consider this question often. I am often speechless.
Good Morning Everyone,
Zen Master Seung Sahn asks, “What is our function?”
Let’s look around. A table I am writing on is made from the wood of a tree killed in the forest. The food in my refrigerator was grown and killed for me to purchase. The clothes I am wearing, the fibers, the dye, the weave, all done on a massive scale, shipped to my store in boats, trucks, and trains. The air I am breathing is filtered. The water I drink is processed and then filtered. The coffee comes from large plantations grown on what was rain forest. Yes, when I look around, it would seem my function is to use and not just use, but also to use in excess and at any cost. Who am I that this is should be the case? Am I alone in this abuse? No. At last count (a few seconds ago, according to the World Population Clock) there were 6,855,134,658 persons on this planet. Who are we that this should be the case?
Is using the planet and its resources truly our function or are we simply out of control? Do we just not know how to live simply and without excess? Would we want to?
How much do we really need to live well? Do we need two or three cars? Do we need two or three or four pairs of shoes? Do we need to eat in excess to the point that our girth expands at the rate of the population of our species? No. We want this. Is this our function, to want? To want so badly and so mindlessly that we are willing to end life as we know it on planet Earth?
I consider this question often. I am often speechless.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Compass
With palms together
Good Morning Everyone,
Sitting down to write about Zen is a strange this to do. There is nothing to be said. Every word is a lie as it is the true nature of words to deceive us. They are always mere representations. Not the thing themselves. When we are asleep we fail to see this. When awake, we say nothing: Awake is the realm of doing.
Our Temple will be taking up the study of the text, “The Compass of Zen” in our weekly discussion group this Friday at 4:00 PM. The text is a book developed over the years by Zen Master Seung Sahn. I have enjoyed this text myself over the years. It is a clear, direct dharma gate in itself.
Who are we? What are we here for? What are we to do? These are his questions and he takes us through the many layers of Buddha’s way to get to center. He assists us in our effort to see what our next step actually is, not what we think it ought to be.
Please consider joining us as we enter the Compass.
Be well.
Good Morning Everyone,
Sitting down to write about Zen is a strange this to do. There is nothing to be said. Every word is a lie as it is the true nature of words to deceive us. They are always mere representations. Not the thing themselves. When we are asleep we fail to see this. When awake, we say nothing: Awake is the realm of doing.
Our Temple will be taking up the study of the text, “The Compass of Zen” in our weekly discussion group this Friday at 4:00 PM. The text is a book developed over the years by Zen Master Seung Sahn. I have enjoyed this text myself over the years. It is a clear, direct dharma gate in itself.
Who are we? What are we here for? What are we to do? These are his questions and he takes us through the many layers of Buddha’s way to get to center. He assists us in our effort to see what our next step actually is, not what we think it ought to be.
Please consider joining us as we enter the Compass.
Be well.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Considerations
With palms together
Good Morning Everyone,
In the beginning, God spoke, and everything came into being. Or so they say.
In such a view, God stands outside of time, but since time and being are one, this could not be. So being happened and with it, God came into existence. Consider this.
We ask, well what caused being to happen? We answer nothing. Before being happened, nothing existed, including time. Cause, therefore, also could not have existed. Consider this.
We say, well there was the original material of the universe. We answer, can anything “be” without a perception? In the instant the universe appeared, cosmic consciousness appeared and with it, matter appeared. Consider this.
In the relative view, we are but a part of an infinite network of connections which gives rise to the view of no parts, just one. When we reside in no parts, wholeness, parts, and everything else drops away. What is left?
Just this.
Good Morning Everyone,
In the beginning, God spoke, and everything came into being. Or so they say.
In such a view, God stands outside of time, but since time and being are one, this could not be. So being happened and with it, God came into existence. Consider this.
We ask, well what caused being to happen? We answer nothing. Before being happened, nothing existed, including time. Cause, therefore, also could not have existed. Consider this.
We say, well there was the original material of the universe. We answer, can anything “be” without a perception? In the instant the universe appeared, cosmic consciousness appeared and with it, matter appeared. Consider this.
In the relative view, we are but a part of an infinite network of connections which gives rise to the view of no parts, just one. When we reside in no parts, wholeness, parts, and everything else drops away. What is left?
Just this.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Life
With palms together
Good Morning Everyone,
“The dharma is incomparably profound and minutely subtle…” I have been chanting this nearly daily for some time now. I have come to realize life is like that, the dharma. Actually, life is the dharma: Life unpolished, life without our fine gloss. Just life as it is: nothing special. This is the profound aspect of the dharma. And its subtlety is the very thing it uses to hide itself. A delicate membrane of ignorance covers our eyes of its truth. A persistent membrane, one that keeps rebuilding itself, over and over and over again until our practice reveals that both the gross and the fine are one and there is no membrane, no ignorance, and no wisdom. Indeed, there is no dharma.
We like being contained in this membrane. It helps us feel safe. We feel in control. We feel we know what’s what. It’s a warm and moist place. Who really would want to leave it? Like living in a holographic world where we are exactly what we think we want to be and everyone and everything is just right: who would really want to abandon such a place?
Some of us, though, have either torn that membrane a bit, had it torn for us, exposing it for what it is, or have “aroused the thought” of such. For us, the membrane has been exposed and we have a sense of the true dharma. We no longer are of the “membrane world,” but can see the complete wonder of being free and easy in the world as it is.
Life, as it is, is just right.
Good Morning Everyone,
“The dharma is incomparably profound and minutely subtle…” I have been chanting this nearly daily for some time now. I have come to realize life is like that, the dharma. Actually, life is the dharma: Life unpolished, life without our fine gloss. Just life as it is: nothing special. This is the profound aspect of the dharma. And its subtlety is the very thing it uses to hide itself. A delicate membrane of ignorance covers our eyes of its truth. A persistent membrane, one that keeps rebuilding itself, over and over and over again until our practice reveals that both the gross and the fine are one and there is no membrane, no ignorance, and no wisdom. Indeed, there is no dharma.
We like being contained in this membrane. It helps us feel safe. We feel in control. We feel we know what’s what. It’s a warm and moist place. Who really would want to leave it? Like living in a holographic world where we are exactly what we think we want to be and everyone and everything is just right: who would really want to abandon such a place?
Some of us, though, have either torn that membrane a bit, had it torn for us, exposing it for what it is, or have “aroused the thought” of such. For us, the membrane has been exposed and we have a sense of the true dharma. We no longer are of the “membrane world,” but can see the complete wonder of being free and easy in the world as it is.
Life, as it is, is just right.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Ceremony
With palms together
Good Morning Everyone,
Ceremony is an interesting thing. We Americans appear to both love and hate it. We are suspect of rules, forms, and expectations, yet on the other hand, we seem to take particular pleasure in witnessing others in ceremony. Opening ceremonies, closing ceremonies: we love to play dress-up if only to watch others go through the motions. When asked to participate, however, we seem hesitant, awkward, or sometimes just plain hostile.
Those who come to Zen are often quite surprised by our ceremonial forms and rituals. I don’t know, but it seems people think we are a rag-tag, iconoclastic bunch of misfits and so, when they come into a Temple and are asked to remove their shoes, place their hands in special positions, and even bow, well, my goodness, they often just don’t know what to say. “Do we really need ceremony?” We suddenly ask. “I don’t feel comfortable,” another might argue.
Why do we have so many forms? Why ceremonies at all? The short answer is simple and direct: forms and ceremonies keep us intact. Without them we are like chess pieces without a board or a box. We might bristle at this, but it is so. Maps guide us, boundaries aid us, cup and tea are symbiotic. Even if we reject all forms (which is impossible to do and still remain human), in our formlessness we seek form. People want and need to know what the next step is.
If we had no forms, no ceremonies, no rituals, people would create them, demand them, and still complain about them in the process. Forms actually free us. In them we are no longer wondering what to do next, but rather, have a place to put our mind’s eye. Life demands this. Awakened life is this.
Interestingly, Maezumi-roshi suggested in a talk he did that ceremony has a healing function. He says, “Ceremony means to do things orderly. To take care of things in a healthy way. It is a healing process itself.” With form, order, and proper attention, we protect ourselves and show respect for both ourselves and Zen.
One last point, it is important to note that showing respect for something or someone is a mechanism for caring. No respect, no care, and the problem with a lack of care is that things uncared for fall apart.
Be well
Quote from Maezumi-roshi’s Teachings of the Great Mountain.
Good Morning Everyone,
Ceremony is an interesting thing. We Americans appear to both love and hate it. We are suspect of rules, forms, and expectations, yet on the other hand, we seem to take particular pleasure in witnessing others in ceremony. Opening ceremonies, closing ceremonies: we love to play dress-up if only to watch others go through the motions. When asked to participate, however, we seem hesitant, awkward, or sometimes just plain hostile.
Those who come to Zen are often quite surprised by our ceremonial forms and rituals. I don’t know, but it seems people think we are a rag-tag, iconoclastic bunch of misfits and so, when they come into a Temple and are asked to remove their shoes, place their hands in special positions, and even bow, well, my goodness, they often just don’t know what to say. “Do we really need ceremony?” We suddenly ask. “I don’t feel comfortable,” another might argue.
Why do we have so many forms? Why ceremonies at all? The short answer is simple and direct: forms and ceremonies keep us intact. Without them we are like chess pieces without a board or a box. We might bristle at this, but it is so. Maps guide us, boundaries aid us, cup and tea are symbiotic. Even if we reject all forms (which is impossible to do and still remain human), in our formlessness we seek form. People want and need to know what the next step is.
If we had no forms, no ceremonies, no rituals, people would create them, demand them, and still complain about them in the process. Forms actually free us. In them we are no longer wondering what to do next, but rather, have a place to put our mind’s eye. Life demands this. Awakened life is this.
Interestingly, Maezumi-roshi suggested in a talk he did that ceremony has a healing function. He says, “Ceremony means to do things orderly. To take care of things in a healthy way. It is a healing process itself.” With form, order, and proper attention, we protect ourselves and show respect for both ourselves and Zen.
One last point, it is important to note that showing respect for something or someone is a mechanism for caring. No respect, no care, and the problem with a lack of care is that things uncared for fall apart.
Be well
Quote from Maezumi-roshi’s Teachings of the Great Mountain.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Patience
With palms together
Good Morning Everyone,
Life has its ways of demanding that we pay attention.
After three refrigerators and several repairs of refrigerators, it seems the refrigerators were not the problem, but the receptacle in which they were plugged was faulty. My chess rating was three hundred points higher than it is now and I just got beat twice by someone who was likely ten years old and who behaved like it. When bills are not paid, someone will try to collect on them. In each case, someone was not paying attention and in the end some sort of bell was invited to ring.
What is interesting to me is the sound of that bell.
Is it a soft and gentle bell, a loud bell, a sharp and jarring bell? What are my responses to these bells?
Last night I offered a dharma talk on the kshanti paramita, that is, the perfection of patience. When we practice patience, we must open ourselves and allow the bell, of whatever type, to ring. We must allow the bell to teach us.
When beaten by a brat was I a brat in return? Did bratness trigger bratness? And when I learned I needed to pay much closer attention to who owes what to whom and when, how did I respond?
When we practice mindful patience, there is only the moment in which we are in. We practice to open that moment and reside fully and completely there. Self falls away and our presence is available completely to, and for, the situation. Internal dialogue becomes a teacher. What are we saying to ourselves? Can we see it, experience it, accept it? Can we smile at ourselves, forgive ourselves, and gently take whatever action is necessary?
May many bells continue to ring
Their sweet sound
Is everything.
Good Morning Everyone,
Life has its ways of demanding that we pay attention.
After three refrigerators and several repairs of refrigerators, it seems the refrigerators were not the problem, but the receptacle in which they were plugged was faulty. My chess rating was three hundred points higher than it is now and I just got beat twice by someone who was likely ten years old and who behaved like it. When bills are not paid, someone will try to collect on them. In each case, someone was not paying attention and in the end some sort of bell was invited to ring.
What is interesting to me is the sound of that bell.
Is it a soft and gentle bell, a loud bell, a sharp and jarring bell? What are my responses to these bells?
Last night I offered a dharma talk on the kshanti paramita, that is, the perfection of patience. When we practice patience, we must open ourselves and allow the bell, of whatever type, to ring. We must allow the bell to teach us.
When beaten by a brat was I a brat in return? Did bratness trigger bratness? And when I learned I needed to pay much closer attention to who owes what to whom and when, how did I respond?
When we practice mindful patience, there is only the moment in which we are in. We practice to open that moment and reside fully and completely there. Self falls away and our presence is available completely to, and for, the situation. Internal dialogue becomes a teacher. What are we saying to ourselves? Can we see it, experience it, accept it? Can we smile at ourselves, forgive ourselves, and gently take whatever action is necessary?
May many bells continue to ring
Their sweet sound
Is everything.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)