Saturday, December 25, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
“How can he make this judgment, he doesn’t even know me?”
“Apparently he does, or you wouldn’t be telling me this.” I affirmed.
“Why do you agree with him?
“Because you did.”
“I didn’t agree! I was insulted!” he argued.
“And, that’s what made him correct.”
“What I point out to you is only that you shouldn't allow yourselves to be confused by others. Act when you need to, without further hesitation or doubt. People today can't do this—what is their affliction? Their affliction is in their lack of self-confidence.”
So, what’s your excuse?
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
I have no time to study this days. Working in finding a work, working in developing my skills as a programmer, working in painting the bathroom, working in samsara.
I say I have no time to study and no time to practice. So when I sit, I'm worried. When I paint, I'm thinking I'd like to be "practising".
Then it happens again. Almost like a patient and compasive friend patting you softly in the back, as to wake you up: I can see the brush in my hand, my hand is white and moving up and down by the wall. There is this quality in the light, I AM PRACTICING. The wall is a book, the chair I'm standing on is my cushion, the bottom of the bucket is my teacher and he asks: "what is your practice?" And my hand answers, up and down, left and right, up and down.
Later, going for a walk, hard walk on the new snow, my nose says thanks to the cold, my chins cry in joy. The bent old tree asks again: "what is your practice?" I turn my head, three swans flying by, and I know I'm practicing, the swans can testify it.
I come home, wonderfully warm, I pick up the Dhammapada because I'm thirsty, as if had been to long away from my lover and I needed a kiss. I open the little book and read:
Those who awaken
Never rest in one place
Like swans they rise,
and leave the lake
Maybe there is no study, but there is practice
All the time
Friday, November 19, 2010
“All of them.”
“No really, which ones specifically?”
“None of them.”
Zen is the path of direct experience and to me this includes the direct experience of the copious writings beginning with the sutras. Those many times when I was practicing in solitude; books brought me the words of the Buddha as well as the countless teachings that have come since.
It is said that Zen is "not founded on words and letters” but this does not mean avoiding words and letters. If this were true, Zen would be a totally silent practice without dharma talks, gathas, koans, dokusan or sanzen. All of which are dependent on words. Who among us today would have come to Zen if we had never read anything about it?
I think I like Chuang-Tzu’s perspective on this-
The purpose of a fishtrap is to catch fish, and when the fish are caught, the trap is forgotten.
The purpose of a rabbit snare is to catch rabbits. When the rabbits are caught, the snare is forgotten.
The purpose of words is to convey ideas. When the ideas are grasped, the words are forgotten.
Where can I find a man who has forgotten words?
I would like to have a talk with him!
Monday, November 8, 2010
I’ve always loved friends of the Way
Friends of the Way I’ve always held dear
Meeting a traveler with a silent spring
Or greeting a guest talking Zen
Talking of the unseen on a moonlit night
Searching for the Truth until dawn
When ten thousand reasons disappear
And we finally see who we are
Well, it actually says it all.
Monday, October 11, 2010
No complicated meaning,
Ain't no need to over think it -
Let go laughing
Life don't go quite like you planned it,
We try so hard to understand it,
The fact is - It happens
With thanks to Kristian Bush, Jennifer Nettles, and Bobby Pinson
Sunday, October 3, 2010
I rest in the breath. Believing I lack concentration I turn my attention to the breathing-body process.
Something is lacking and soon I'm diving in and out the teachings of the Daodejing.
Take a backward step. The last factors of anapanasati are the gate to Silent Illumination.
Fading away: the need to provide an answer to an uncertain future, or to post a blog comment.
Cessation: attachments, words, needs, explanations, the wanting to be this and not wanting to be that.
Relinquishment: every instant is new, starting afresh, not concluded, not conditioned.
Then, back in the world, acting, speaking, moving.
Wind, old leaves in the trees become inocent children chasing each other, indifferent to external conditions.
And that light...
Friday, September 24, 2010
But here's my dilemma. My home life has become easier, owing to a change in my wife's professional situation, and my own job has recently improved, owing to a little down-shifting I arranged - so in my life as a whole, much less stress arises. Feeling thus healthier, I am taking my Zen "medicine" less regularly. Yet I still think of myself as a Buddhist, and Buddhists practise regularly, right?
Ok, everything changes, so these good times cannot last. I know that. But in the meantime, what should a Buddhist do when his life is going well?
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Going up the stairs Popeye noticed that as he went to the next stair the stair he just stepped from had vanished. He was now high in the air and there was no turning back, even the stair he was on was dissolving, his only choice was to move forward.
This is the nature of time, there is only the step you are standing on (which is dissolving) and the next one you will take, everything else is an illusion.
We cannot go back, nor can we stand still, our only choice is to take the next step.
Friday, July 23, 2010
So much of our suffering is generated by our own anger. Not just the anger of rage, but the slow simmering anger generated by jealousy, resentment, aggravation and judgment. Anger is purely a product of the mind, no one makes you angry, it is all your own. What purpose does it serve to be angry?
Letting go of anger, how simple it is to free ourselves of so much suffering.
To master our anger is to master our lives.
“Anger will never disappear so long as thoughts of resentment are cherished in the mind. Anger will disappear just as soon as thoughts of resentment are forgotten.”
Friday, July 2, 2010
Putting aside any Zennish navel-gazing about the meaning of "real" - I think we all know what she meant by the word - it is a fundamental question. No point doing it unless it has some positive affect.
To be honest, she asked because my job has been difficult for a while and so I've very much not been floating around smiling serenely like the Dalai Lama. Thus the only honest answer I could give was, "It makes me less of an arse than I would be without it."
What about you? How does your Zen practice affect your real life?
Friday, June 25, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
If I let go of perfection, am I a Buddha?
Friday, June 11, 2010
My spiritual journey has been a very diverse endeavor. I remember when I decided to return to practicing Zen beyond just zazen, I searched for a sangha in my local community and found a Zen center. I was thrilled and contacted them right away. I was informed I would need to attend a mandatory class before I would be able to attend and sit with the group. Thinking that was for people unfamiliar with zazen, I let them know I had been practicing meditation for a minimum of 20 years. “It doesn’t matter. You have to come to the class, and we aren’t doing another class for a couple of months.” I wondered what could be so incredibly critical about sitting as to require such deep instruction. Had I crossed into the Twilight Zone of Buddhism? I wondered. Through the years I have heard similar stories from many frustrated zenners. “I was so panicked about making sure I was doing everything just right that I couldn’t meditate!”
I also remember the time when I was doing my chaplain training in a hospital in central Texas and was called for a “Buddhist consult.” It turned out to be a pregnant woman who was about to have a C-section. She was concerned because of the precept that “forbids clouding one’s mind,” and she was concerned that she would be “violating the precept” if she allowed herself to receive spinal anesthesia.
An attachment is more than an addiction, more than an unhealthy connection. It is anything that inhibits our growth and progression. When one is more concerned about bowing correctly, if they’ve faced the correct direction, if they’re in the correct order of entry than they are about being fully immersed in the moment, in zazen or kinhin, than I would call that an attachment. Something the Bible summed up nicely as choking on gnats.
There can be too much of an attachment to the cultural trappings of the practice of Buddhism. The Buddha, before his enlightenment, shaved his head as a symbol of releasing himself from worldliness and attachments. Today some question why a monk doesn’t shave their head. Some quibble that we are “watering Zen down” when someone dares wear a robe of a color other than black. Others are so firmly attached to the concepts of lineage and dharma heirdom that they lose sight of the key components of Buddhist practice: Compassion and wisdom.
When Siddhartha Gautama sat beneath the bodhi tree, I highly doubt he worried about if he bowed to the earth appropriately. He extricated himself from all that he possibly could and opened himself to this breath, this second, until he discovered how to unshackle all sentient beings from suffering. If we look at the Eightfold Noble Path, we do not find instructions on the incense ceremony, on prostrations, on the correct pattern for walking into the dojo. Practices, ceremonies, etc., are tools. They can help us focus, help us settle into a special space, but when we place them above or equal to all other things, we tighten that which binds us to samsara. This moment, this breath. This is truly all that matters.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
What is the place of DOUBT in Buddhist practice?
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
we recite the following gatha:
Let me respectfully remind you,
Life and death are of supreme importance,
Time passes swiftly and opportunity is lost.
Each of us should strive to awaken,
Awaken, take heed! Do not squander your life.
What exactly does it mean to awaken?
How do we know when we are awakened?
How do we know when someone else is awakened?
Despite all our years of practice;
If we never see ourselves as being awakened,
have we simply "squandered" our lives?
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
To recap that debate, some thought you should meditate lots yourself so you become deeply fine and that this would both set an example to others and make one better company for the rest of the planet; others (a minority on this blog) felt part of the Bodhisattva path lay in sharing those techniques with anyone who showed even the slightest willingness to listen. Spiritual hermits v Buddha's Witnesses.
Last night a lady came to meditate who hadn't sat with the group for three years. Three years ago I put on my Buddha's Witnesses hat and did a leaflet drop of the neighbourhood. She took a zazen lesson, sat a couple of times with the group, then disappeared. A-ha! Kaishin clearly a rubbish meditation teacher! He should not be teaching but still should be sitting on his own, perfecting himself!
Yeah, true about me not being up there with the Dalai Lama. BUT...
What happened is she met at zazen a vipassaana practitioner, who gave her a leaflet. Now, despite my limitations as a teacher, the taste she got of the fruits of meditation was enough to make her want more, so she took up the leaflet's offer of a free 10 day retreat. Three years on and she's been there more than once and meditation is the rock upon which her life is founded.
So you don't have to be able to levitate before you teach people to meditate. Clearly I have flaws as a teacher and/or zendo leader, or she'd have stayed with "my" group. However, the karmic fruit of introducing her to the meditation scene was very great. Just think - if I'd been terribly modest and NOT posted those "come and learn" leaflets, if I'd worried whether I was yet perfect enough - that positive change in her life wouldn't have happened.
So if you're not dipping your toe in the lake for fear you're not pure enough, think about the wonderful karmic ripples you could be setting in motion...but are not.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.
Many Buddhists are under the impression that they are making the world a better place through their Buddhist practice. If these people were formerly spending their time looting, raping, and pillaging, and their practice has helped them to stop doing these things, then they are right. Otherwise, their practice is, in all likelihood, only helping to maintain the status quo. But keeping the world from becoming a worse place is not the same thing as making it a better place.
While using Buddhist practice to calm and center yourself is a good place to start, truly improving the world requires moving beyond the meditation cushion, beyond the zendo or temple, and actively engaging in a life of service. The Buddha himself recognized this when, after his enlightenment, he passed up the chance to live a peaceful, reclusive life and decided instead to spread peace by helping others to wake up as well. He spent the bulk of his life in service as a teacher, counselor, and advisor, and the fruits of this service are still evident 2600 years later.
So, I challenge you to serve. Move beyond the mere intellectual understanding that we are all connected into an active realization of this fact. Pick up trash in the streets and parks. Buy a homeless person a meal. Teach meditation to prisoners. The possibilities are endless - but you have to start somewhere. In time, you may even find that an hour of service can be a more effective practice than 10 hours spent in meditation.
Be the change.
What will you do?
Friday, April 23, 2010
Gutei raised his finger whenever he was asked a question about Zen. A boy attendant began to imitate him in this way. When anyone asked the boy what his master had preached about, the boy would raise his finger.
Gutei heard about the boy's mischief. He seized him and cut off his finger. The boy cried and ran away. Gutei called and stopped him. When the boy turned his head to Gutei, Gutei raised up his own finger. In that instant the boy was enlightened.
When Gutei was about to pass from this world he gathered his monks around him. `I attained my finger-Zen,' he said, `from my teacher Tenryu, and in my whole life I could not exhaust it.' Then he passed away.
So please tell me - what's that all about?
Monday, April 12, 2010
But since that time this whole issue has arisen under a completely different posting and under another topic, Karma. Harry and I have had some wonderful commentary bouncing back and forth and I realized that this is just too heady of a subject to not be resurrected.
According to the Dharmapada the Buddha stated:
“We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make the world.”
Did the Buddha actually mean that we create the world with our thoughts? Or was he just speaking metaphorically? Do our thoughts actually manifest physically in the world? Even those we do not act upon? What about volition? Can we plead not guilty, just because we meant no harm? And what does this have to do with Karma?
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
As advanced as our science becomes and as far as we have come spiritually, we still do not believe that we create our own existence. Many of us will admit that we create our current circumstances, while others will admit that our perception of reality is the only reality we really know. But who among us has come to totally believe that our thoughts actually create the world?
Duality is what keeps us from seeing this clearly, there is me and there is what is not me. I am a product of circumstances beyond my control. These thoughts are all generations of the dualistic mind, the mind that does not recognize the perceived and perceiver as one. Our eyes and my eyes are one and the same, yet to nearly all, the world something we see outside of us.
Who do you think you are?
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Where’s your certificate?
What’s your lineage?
Are you qualified to transmit the dharma?
These questions are all too prevalent in Buddhism, and are usually asked by people who doubt or disagree with what you have to say. Unable or unwilling to trust their own judgment of whatever bits of information, wisdom, or foolishness you may have just offered, they want to know if someone else (your teacher or other certifying agency) agrees with what you say. If they have heard of this other person, or if you can sufficiently convince them of that person’s qualifications, then they may believe you and be willing to listen further. Why is this? Why are we so willing to disregard one teacher, then blindly trust another (to the point of exalting and deifying them), entirely on the basis of who did or didn’t sign their certificate? Why can’t we simply evaluate what they’ve said and trust our own insight and judgment as to its veracity?
This need for external verification of authority is most definitely not unique to Buddhism, though it is certainly antithetical to Buddhist teachings. And yet, many Buddhists formalize it, revere it and give it a special name: lineage. Rather than using our own personal experience and innate wisdom to decide if a person speaks true, we instead look to his teacher. And his teacher’s teacher. And his teacher’s teacher. And so on and on, until we come to the name of a teacher that we trust and recognize as an authority on the matter. How far back do we go - to Dogen? Rinzai? Bodhidharma? Buddha? Do we ask who the Buddha’s teacher was? Do we wonder who gave him the right and authority to teach? When the Buddha said “Be a light unto yourself”, I’m quite certain he didn’t add “so long as you can trace that light through an unbroken line of qualified teachers back to me.”
The mistake we make is in equating teachings (or wisdom) with authority, in the process also failing to recognize the very source of authority. The Buddha addresses this himself in the Kalama Sutra. He advises us not to blindly accept teachings, but to critically examine and experiment with them, accepting them finally only if they ring true for us based on our own experience and understanding. That is to say, authority comes from within, and we should grant this authority to the teachings of others only if they accord with our own innate wisdom. Thus does a teacher gain his authority – not from his teacher, but from his student; he is a teacher if and only if he has one or more students who think that there is truth in what he has to say.
When we realize this, we see that teachers are not the sources of our authority, but simply those who have gone before us, and that the purpose of lineage is not to grant them authority, but to preserve and transmit their teachings. In this sense, it doesn’t even matter if the lineage is unbroken, or if such-and-such a teacher was in that direct line. Recalling our geometry lessons from school, a line is defined by two points – no more, no less. Additional points may fall on the same line, but only two of them are needed for the line to exist. This means that as one point of the line, you are in direct lineage with any teacher from whom you learn. You are a direct descendant of Buddha, Jesus, Bodhidharma, Meister Eckhart, Rumi, the raven in the sky, the salmon in the stream, the mountain underfoot, and the neighbor across the street. You belong to as many lineages as there are teachers, and as the center point for all these lines connecting you to the teachers of the ages, you are a veritable sunburst – truly a light unto yourself.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Cast off completely your head and skin. Thoroughly withdraw from distinctions of light and shadow. Where the ten thousand changes do not reach is the foundation that even a thousand sages cannot transmit. Simply by yourself illuminate and deeply experience it with intimate accord. The original light flashes through confusion. True illumination reflects into the distance. Deliberations about being and nonbeing are entirely abandoned. The wonder appears before you, its benefit transferred out for kalpas. Immediately you follow conditions and accord with awakening without obstruction from any defilements. The mind does not attach to things, and your footsteps are not visible on the road. The you are called to continue the family business. Even if you thoroughly understand, still practice until it is familiar. (Hongzhi Zhengjue, 1091-1157)
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
When we choose to intoxicate ourselves with drugs and alcohol, we choose the suffering of hangovers, overdoses and organ damage.
When we choose to be strongly opinionated and judgmental of others, we choose the suffering of reciprocal judgment and loneliness.
When we choose actions that destroy our environment, we choose the suffering of pollution, species extinction and climate change.
When we choose to accept war and social injustice, we choose the suffering of sorrow and guilt.
When we choose to express ourselves through hateful speech, we choose the suffering of regret.
When we choose to love others, we inevitably choose the suffering of loss.
When we choose to dwell on the self, we choose the suffering of emptiness.
When we choose to ignore reality, we choose the suffering of our ignorance.
The old adage says- “Name Your Poison” and with every action that is exactly what we do. It seems that we must we decide between the “lesser of two evils” every time we make any choice. So, what is this to say about the nature of our suffering? Do we actually have a choice?
If this were poised to me as a multiple choice question, I would have to choose “All the above”
Is it too late to drop this class?
Friday, January 15, 2010
Denmark is white all over. Snow takes in all sounds and we are forced to walk slowly and look around.
A Spanish translator reminded me of Laozi, retreating, losing, giving up, staying last and deepest, resting in the dao.
Abide in the UnbornJust like water.
Some people find a comfortable place; then they freeze, turn into ice and resist change. They know ice will melt down. The more one resists, the more painfull it will be.
And yet, rigth now, as water or ice, one rests on it, opening hands, giving one more step from the top of the 100 meter pole.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
...do the stuff we do. Sit on a cushion. Wear black. If you like Confucius, get up-tight about oryoki, if you like Lao Tse, get non-dualistic about ritual - whatever does it for you. But eliminate craving.
It works for me as an individual - but not as a parent! To aid his life-long happiness I had to go through ten days of misery with my son recently - worth doing, but I needed a strong motivation to launch into such a painful process.
Craving is a great motivator! So, because I craved his long-term welfare, we went through the process, it was horrid, but life's better now and I suspect lots of lumps of suffering have been erased from his future. I only did it because craving made me. Clearly craving eliminates suffering!
Seems a bit of a paradox here. For the Zen practitioner, eliminating craving really does make life better: but as a parent, can one do without it?
Is this the big difference between Zen and Theravada?
Theravada: "Eliminate craving."
Zen: "Seek Right Action. And sometimes craving is Right Action."
What do you guys think? Extra cred points awarded to the opinions of anyone who confesses to being a parent!
I am a dedicated zen practitioner who enjoys attending meditation retreats at my local zen center. While I enjoy these retreats, I don't feel that we spend enough time in silent, seated meditation. So during a work period at the last retreat, I asked the teacher "Why do we spend so much time working? Shouldn't we spend more time practicing zen?" He laughed so hard that he dropped his rake!
I don't get it - what was so funny?
A Confused Practitioner
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
"Solo" as in sewing unsupported, without oxygen.
"Attempt" as in Scott's "attempt" to reach the South Pole.
So, it was difficult and ended in failure. Let me talk you through it so that you may find it easier if you decide to have a go.
I don't really mind having failed as this was largely a philosophical exercise - when would I wear a kesa? The philosophical aspect was my attempt to sew within the spirit of the original kesas, garments made from discarded cloth. My kesa would be patchwork not because Dogen said the "official" pattern looked like rice fields: my kesa would be patchwork simply because if you make a large garment from discarded material, patchwork is the only way to do it.
Thus I found discarded materials - a worn out hockey shirt and a couple of pairs of trousers which seemed both to have shrunk about the waistband at the same time in my life. (Washing machine operating too hot?) With the help of a basic pattern - it's on the right-hand side of the blog - I got cracking.
There are two mistakes from which I feel you could learn.
Firstly, if you don't yet know how to sew seams, don't learn as you go along. My last seams looked excellent, very pro: sadly the rest were awful and thus have a grotty, frayed appearance. I discovered the important thing was to fold the seam over a couple of times until the edges of both bits of fabric are safely tucked away. Ok, ok, I know that's obvious to those of you who already know how to sew!
Secondly, home dying is really hard. The only way to get a consistent colour is to make your whole kesa from the same material. Now, this gets philosophically tricky as the whole point is to use discarded material, so going out and buying a roll of fabric is not quite in the vibe. Next time I do it, I'll go to the "thrift store" (I think that's what you call charity shops in America) and buy a discarded curtain, preferably a brown one to save the necessity of any dying at all. You'll then have to decide what you think was the real point behind the patchwork effect, and leave the cloth intact or cut up and reassemble according to your philosophy of kesa manufacure.
My rectangle of fraying, multicoloured cloth won't go to waste - there's thick snow over here and our zendo has neither heating nor insulation, so I'll be wrapped up in it for tonight's group meditation session, when the "mood" lighting (candles) will not reveal quite what a hobo I look. However, if you wish to make an item which you can wear in public, in daylight, then please bear in mind what I have learnt about material and seams.