Today At Meetingbrook

Saturday, September 28, 2002

Lola says she and Carter wait on Bear, their elderly dog, to teach them when and how to let go.
When do we actually die? As a question it ranks with -- When are we actually born?

Around the circle this morning we consider why many consider oncoming death 'tragedy,' while others do not. It is a sweet gift to speak of death. And rare.

In a pellucid ocean,
Bubbles arise and dissolve again.
Just so, thoughts are no
Different from ultimate reality,
So don’t find fault; remain at ease.
Whatever arises, whatever occurs,
Don’t grasp—release it on the spot.
Appearances, sounds, and objects
Are all one’s own mind;
There’s nothing except mind.

- Buddha

At Lectio this morning in the cabin, "Have this mind in you which was in Christ Jesus." Emptying, serving -- like death to life.



Friday, September 27, 2002


Sitting in loft for night prayer, candlelight glowing rafters.
It doesn't matter what comes in our life. Whatever comes is our life.

The highest truth is not difficult,
just avoid picking and choosing.

-- Zen master Seng-ts'an, 7th century

Rain comes. This day, this rain is our life.

Earth flag on barn signals allegiance. I pledge this allegiance to the earth, on which I stand.
This is where I live. This is where I die. This day. This place. This is my life.

When the zen master was asked for a definition of truth that would be true 500 years from now, he said, "The truth...is just like this."

I don't understand this.

Just to clearly see it would suffice.
And to share the soul of what is at origin, truth.

Wednesday, September 25, 2002

If prayer lifts up mind and heart, God is equipresent.
If zazen quiets mind and body, presence is equally God.
Beyond this, nothing matters, nothing is said.
September night. Moonlit chill skims Hosmer Pond.

Tuesday, September 24, 2002


Anytime we think we are sufficient, something goes missing.

Careful! Even moonlit dewdrops,
If you’re lured to watch,
Are a wall before the Truth.

- Sogyo (1667 – 1731)

It is not out there, nor is it in here. It is not the moon, nor dewdrop, nor our eyes. It is the watchful participation of each with each with each that engages no-wall truth.

In chapel/zendo Richard wonders about the 6.5 billion of us, and how many serve life, how many serve God. It is the light of God that catches our attention.

All the 6.5 billion are repositories of that light. Our mistake is looking for sufficient examples that, to our thinking, are models of light. We pass over each other looking for saints, masters, divas, angels, ascendant beings, great teachers, and official spokespeople for exalted notions of what is right or perfect.

If we are lured to watch something or someone outside ourselves, we are walling up that person or thing, event or teaching. But if we recognize there is only one new being each time, each instance of engagement with another person, event, place, or thing -- then we are creativity itself in the act of birthing a new form of existence.

If we are careful, there is a way through the forgetfulness, disappointment, and suffering this world cultivates. If we are careful we might see the light of God in another. In that seeing, for that instance, we might engage with joy what is being revealed there and then.

In a space the size of a salt granule fallen from an old pretzel, all might reside in peace -- in flavoring joyful engagement serving life.