In prison today readings from "Does the universe have purpose?"

Who knows?

If you wish to bring the two matters of birth and death to conclusion, and pass directly beyond the Triple-world, you must penetrate the koan “This very mind is Buddha.” Tell me: What is its principle? How is it that this very mind is Buddha? And “this very mind” just what is it like? Investigate it coming. Investigate it going. Investigate it thoroughly and exhaustively. All you have to do is keep this koan constantly in your thoughts.
- Daito (1282-1334)

From Solaris the quote: "There are no answers, only choices."

When in doubt, don't despair.

Choose, instead.

Well!

Originally, nothing else is.

Only this.

The body of reality is pure as empty space. But emptiness is not empty and existence does not exist. Existence basically does not exist; people themselves become attached to existence. Emptiness is basically not empty; people themselves become attached to emptiness. Pure liberation is apart from existence and emptiness, without contrived actions, without concerns, without abiding, without attachment. Within Nirvana, not a single thing is created. This is the contemplation of enlightenment.
(- Records of the Lanka)

At Thursday Evening Conversation the question is asked: "What do I want in my heart?"

I remember as a young man saying I didn't want anything from God. I only wanted to see God.

I arrive at a four word response to the question: "To acknowledge each one." The four words can be read two ways with varying emphasis.

It occurs to me that if I acknowledge each one, I am seeing God.

This is enough.

Yes, yes. No, no.

This is good advice.

It's all a question of story. We are in trouble just now because we do not have a good story. We are in between stories. The Old Story -- the account of how the world came to be and how we fit into it -- is not functioning properly, and we have not learned the New Story.
(--from The New Story -- Comments on The Origin, ldentification and Transmission of Values, by Thomas Berry)

I wouldn't be surprised if the "New Story" had no narrative explanation connected to it.

Just what is taking place.

Ever changing.

Paddling ceder strip canoe in harbor and out around Curtis Island at twilight and back at dusk. Greet couple in white rowing skiff leaving their tie up abeam sailboat from home port of Portland. The quiet mariners slip into end of day on still waters.

People at their best, like water,
Serve as they go along;
Like water they seek their own level,
The common level of life,
Love living close to the earth,
Living clear down in their hearts,
Love kinship with their neighbors,
The pick of words that tell the truth,
The even tenor of the well-loved state,
The fair profit of the able dealing,
The right timing of useful deeds,
And for blocking no one’s way
No one blames them.
- Lao Tzu

Mary of Magdala has been a favorite. Whatever her story she was there inward and in words. She passes through mythic narratives in bevy of roles, most apocryphal, each conveying an aspect of spiritual life needed by the imaginer.

Blocking no one's way with blame -- simply acknowledging course and direction -- we pass alongside one another with glance and greeting and prayer for grace as each navigates the pathless way of water.
I'm glad the diversity of woman visits. Kahlil Gibran said, "Your friend is your needs answered." Men find responding need with mothers and lovers, wives and sisters, daughters and friends, boat mates and narrative companions.

It is Marvellous to Wake Up Together
by Elizabeth Bishop

It is marvellous to wake up together
At the same minute; marvellous to hear
The rain begin suddenly all over the roof,
To feel the air suddenly clear
As if electricity had passed through it
From a black mesh of wires in the sky.
All over the roof the rain hisses,
And below, the light falling of kisses.

An electrical storm is coming or moving away;
It is the prickling air that wakes us up.
If lighting struck the house now, it would run
From the four blue china balls on top
Down the roof and down the rods all around us,
And we imagine dreamily
How the whole house caught in a bird-cage of lightning
Would be quite delightful rather than frightening;

And from the same simplified point of view
Of night and lying flat on one's back
All things might change equally easily,
Since always to warn us there must be these black
Electrical wires dangling. Without surprise
The world might change to something quite different,
As the air changes or the lightning comes without our blinking,
Change as our kisses are changing without our thinking.
(--Poem, It Is Marvellous to Wake Up Together" by Elizabeth Bishop from Poems, Prose, and Letters. © The Library of America, 2008.)

A kiss is only a kiss. Of course, it is always a kiss. But a kiss is not something other than itself. Everything is itself. Nothing is other than itself.

Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.
(-- from On Friendship, by Kahlil Gibran)

So it is, Mary is honored for being.

No other.

Than.

Who she was in and through herself.

Who we are, in and through, ourselves.

Wending way as pathless...wandering itself.

We work, we tire.

When one truly dies and leaves his own body, he can go freely wherever he likes. In the midst of profound darkness or when the doors and windows are shut, one enters a state of freedom. The body is like a dream. When we see this and awake, not a trace remains.
- Takuan (1573-1645)

We retire, we die.

Throughout, we live.

Next!

What if movement through time, folded, were possible? Would our efforts be spent to always 'correct' things done hither or yon?

Each thing is different, each is complete and perfect just as it is. The very fact that everything is different makes it One Body. (We think of difference as opposed to the One Body; instead it's the nature of the One Body.) Form is emptiness. When we see that, when we can see everything as it is -- all the distinct, different things composing the One Body -- we understand prajna wisdom, the state of nirvana, the state of oneness, the state of enlightenment.
(--pp. 69-70, in Infinite Circle, Teachings in Zen, by Bernie Glassman)

With no inside or outside, emptiness is form.

Are we another One? Are we one another?

Forget everything! Place one foot ahead of the other.

It's your move.

Dusting off bicycle.

The clouds of sunset
Gather in the western sky,
And over the silent silvery Han
Rises a white jade moon.
Not often does life
Bring such beauty.
Where shall I see the moon
Next year?
- Su T’ung-Po (1037-1101)

Riding bicycle.

No gallons; many miles.

Next year? An empty question!

"Now" never arrives nor ever departs.

His wife has taken to forgetting. He is wearied by the care. Repeating the same questions over and over. No answer stays long with her. She asks again.

Shall I tell you what it is to know?
To say you know when you know,
And to say you do not, when you do not,
That is knowledge.
- Confucius

Does living a life of not knowing mean that when Alzheimer's comes I won't realize what I never realized before?

In prison today we listened to Rumi's poem several times.

Every form you see has its archetype in the placeless world;
If the form perished, no matter, since its original is everlasting.

Every fair shape you have seen, every deep saying you have heard,
Be not cast down that it perished; for that is not so.

Whereas the spring-head is undying, its branch gives water continually;
Since neither can cease, why are you lamenting?

Conceive the Soul as a fountain, and these created things as rivers:
While the fountain flows, the rivers run from it.

Put grief out of your head and keep quaffing this river water;
Do not think of the water failing; for this water is without end.

From the moment you came into the world of being,
A ladder was placed before you that you might escape.

First you were mineral, later you turned to plant,
Then you became animal: how should this be a secret to you?

Afterwards you were made man, with knowledge, reason, faith;

Behold the body, which is a portion of the dust-pit, how perfect it has grown!

When you have traveled on from man, you will doubtless become an angel;

After that you are done with this earth: your station is in heaven.

Pass again even from angelhood: enter that ocean,
That your drop may become a sea which is a hundred seas of 'Oman.

Leave this 'Son,' say ever 'One' with all your soul;
If your body has aged, what matter, when the soul is young?
(-- Poem by Rumi)

From Son to One.

Each emergence to a new situation calls for faith. Faith is trust in love. It sees though empty darkness covering us and whispers to the vacancy that All shall be well! No matter what, All shall be well!

The "situs," the "place" we find ourselves occupying, is a holy place.

God is this moment taking place.

Faith says yes to the longing to discover God in situ.

Walking up to a familiar stranger someone says: "I can't place you."

Place me.

Placing you.

Please.

Full as it needs to be, orange moon over Curtis Island.

The Path of enlightenment
Cannot be charted or measured:
Highest of the high,
Vast beyond limit,
Deepest of the deep,
Profound beyond fathoming,
Big enough to contain
Heaven and earth,
Small enough to enter
An infinitesimal point,
Thus it is called the Path
- Records of the Lanka

Just this evening I reside in the thin space between the twofold emphases of the sentence:
"I don't give a damn!"

Between: "It doesn't matter," and, "I condemn no one."

In the narrow shift of emphasis there's barely room to turn side to side.

It is a serene and grace-filled turn.

Barn sill refashioned. Support beams sistered. Heavy stones laid alongside flower barrel.

The wise find pleasure in water;
The virtuous find pleasure in hills.
The wise are active; the virtuous are tranquil
The wise are joyful; the virtuous are long lived.
- Confucius (551-479)

When tired, sleep.

Here's what was written on the patio this evening: "God is this moment taking place."

The present moment is the most profound and challenging teacher we will ever meet in our lives. It is a compassionate teacher, it extends to us no judgment, no censure, no measurement of success and failure. The present moment is a mirror, in its reflection we learn how to see. Learning how to look into this mirror without deluding ourselves is the source of all wisdom. In this mirror we see what contributes to the confusion and discord in our lives and what contributes to harmony and understanding. We see the relationship between pain and its cause on a moment-to-moment level, we see the bond between love and its source. We see what it is that connects us and what it is that alienates us.
(-- Christina Feldman and Jack Kornfield, Stories of the Spirit, Stories of the Heart)

So it is we treat each as God.

It is what is taking place.

Oiled bicycle chain. De-nailed wood. Moved stones with cart to pile. Drilled holes in plywood board for canoe seat. Wondered whether Jesus, Siddhartha, and Mohandas really are humanity's hope.

In samsara, which is like a dream and illusion,
Sentient beings roam like blind lunatics.
Not realizing the truth that confused
Appearances have no essence,
Those who cling to the false as true get so exhausted.
To the serum of youth, which is like a flower,
The young are attached like witless bees.
Not recognizing this is impermanent and fading,
Those who wander in endless lower
Realms get so exhausted.
After word knowledge, which is like a mirage,
Teachers wander like smart wild beasts.
Not recognizing that there’s no connection
Between term and meaning,
Those who wander in endless jargon get so exhausted.
To the pleasure of experience, which is like a rainbow,
Meditators are attached like faithful children.
Not recognizing that it’s an enticing dead end,
Those who hope for a result of spiritual warmth
And signs get so exhausted.
- Godrakpa (1170-1249)

The physical work and tiredness feel good.

Heather and Mark from Ontario. Nicky and Elijah from Massachusetts. Swordfish and chocolate ice cream.

There is no greater gift to practice than mere listening.

No thought, no word.

Moonlight and the sound of pines
Are things we all know
Zen mind and delusion
Distinguish sage and fool
Go back to the place
Where not one thought appears
How shall I put this
Into words for you?
- Han-shan Te-ch’ing (1546-1623)

After words, no thought.

No knowing why.

The day went by yesterday without mention of Benedict of Nursia. Last week the man whose art gallery and marriage both closed told me that another Benedict, a monk in Virginia, was close to finish of his life. One Benedict inspired the monastic life, the other was ending his walk with it. The man on the motorbike said such was life and rolled away.

To visit a Benedictine monastery of almost any kind is to find oneself spending time among a group of people who, by their strivings to live and grow together, have become more and more themselves, as God intended them, instead of being crushed into false uniformity by some idealistic and authoritarian regime.
(--Universalis, from Friday 11 July 2008, on feast of Saint Benedict, Abbot)

The monk had been kind to me when I visited to make an extended retreat at his monastery.

There is no Dharma that can be explained, no Mind that can be spoken of: inherent reality-nature is empty. Going back to the fundamental basis, it is the Path. The real identity of the Path is empty and boundless, vast and pure. With its stillness and solitude, it obliterates the cosmos. It pervades ancient and modern, but its nature is pure. This is the pure buddha-land.
- Records of the Lanka

Every once and again things quiet. Mind resides nowhere.

I trust in the wisdom of the non-localized self.

What's true for one is true for all.

No excluding. There's nothing wrong with any part of what we consider a cobbled self.

Nothing to cobble. Every bit of it is the whole of it.

There you are!

In prison this morning two conversations about absurdity and betrayal.

Absurdity means 'out of tune.' We decide that absurdity posits a faith in an original harmony.

Climbing the Mountain

I burned incense, swept the earth, and waited
for a poem to come

Then I laughed and climbed the mountain
leaning on my staff.

How I'd love to master
the blue sky's art:

see how many sprigs of snow-white cloud
he's brushed in so far today
(--Poem by Yuan Mei)

Tonight's conversation on John O'Donohue's Beauty -- the chapter on color. We are taken by his exposition. Everything has a vibration; a thing reflects what it rejects. A thing's color is 90% invisible; its color is a reflection of its rejection.

A way to discover intimacy with ourselves and all of life is to live with integrity, basing our lives on a vision of compassionate non-harming. When we dedicate ourselves to actions that do not hurt ourselves or others, our lives become all of a piece, a seamless garment with nothing separate or disconnected in the spiritual reality we discover.

In order to live with integrity, we must stop fragmenting and compartmentalizing our lives. Telling lies at work and then expecting great truths in meditation is nonsensical. Using our sexual energy in a way that harms ourselves or others, and then expecting to know transcendent love in another arena, is mindless. Every aspect of our lives is connected to every other aspect of our lives. This truth is the basis for an awakened life.

When we live with integrity, we further enhance intimacy with ourselves by being able to rejoice, taking active delight in our actions.
(-Sharon Salzberg, Lovingkindness)

When we retrieve original harmony, even the green plant reveals our inner awareness to us. Everything becomes clear as white light before refracting through the prism of one another.

We decided that betrayal is laying bare what is already there. We'd prefer it concealed. Our expectations create a hidden world. Betrayal upends expected hiddenness.

Everything is revealed at origin.

It's a home without fear of being found out.

Come home!

Solitude is recognizing each moment as the only one.

Each person as the only one.

I never tire in my search for solitude;
I wander aimlessly along out-of-the-way trails,
Where I have never been before,
The more I change direction,
The wilder the road becomes.
- Chao Yi (1727-1814)

The only one is all there is.

Sit a bit, alone with this...realization.

The two tires were expensive. Car is eight years old, and inspected. 2008 is half done.

No one knows this mountain I inhabit:
Deep in white clouds, forever empty, silent.
- Han Shan ( 7th-9th cent)

We move and stack eight hundred dollars of white pine from Robbins. Seven skunks later the trap is open, peanut butter growing stale.

I root for the solitaries.

They're alone.

All ways.

Alone.

Cool light breeze at water. A man holds a toddler in his arms at railing. Launch from yacht club passes in west channel. Summer in Camden.

There’s an old koan about a monk who went to his master and said, “I’m a very angry person, and I want you to help me.” The master said, “Show me your anger.” The monk said, “Well, right now I’m not angry. I can’t show it to you.” And the master said, “then obviously it’s not you, since sometimes it’s not even there.” Who we are has many faces, but these faces are not who we are.
-Charlotte Joko Beck, Everyday Zen

I'm glad to be working with crowbar and hammer, shovel and wheelbarrow. Vacation is for other people. Good for them.

I'd rather wonder how it is the House and Senate are allowing the Executive to engage in unlawful acts then pass retroactive permission and exoneration to all who've broken the law. As the line from a two bit gangster movie has it: Only chumps obey the law!

There used to be a law of God. Then God fell into disuse and abuse by purveyors of populist triumphalism and certitude. Their sincere belief that Jesus is the only truth worth their time is noteworthy and a little bit strange.

I'm reading an Irish novel about an alcoholic former Garda Síochána and the smart mouth adventures he has. The sardonic strange with Galway scenery.

Today I despair justice. MacLeish’s J.B. came face to face with Sarah's tutorial that there is no justice, only love at end of play.

We're on our own.

Find two feet.

Under you.

Pulling rusty nails from torn down boards in hot sun, mosquitoes circling in late afternoon. Arms heavy from tossing pieces of broken cement floor into iron skip.

Sun melts the early spring snow,
Willows and plum trees vie
For the freshest smell.
Every scene inspires innumerable poems,
But I seek the lines of just one man, off on his own.
- Daito (1282-1334)

Sweat makes everything damp. We are all off on our own.

Peace is a natural mind-state in every one of us. Peace has been there since the day we were born and it is going to be there till the day we die. It is our greatest gift; so why do we think we have no peace of mind? Experiencing peace is like looking at our hands. Usually, we see only the fingers – not the spaces in between. In a similar manner, when we look at the mind, we are aware of the active states, such as our running thoughts and the one-thousand-and-one feelings that are associated with them, but we tend to overlook the intervals of peace between them. If one were to be unhappy or sad every minute of the twenty-four-hour day, what would happen to us? I guess we would all be in the mad house!
(--Thynn Thynn, Living Meditation, Living Insight)

I've grown fond of the mad people I know. Madness seems as ordinary as chocolate crumb weight watcher's ice cream pop. When it's there you take it in.

“In making the word to become flesh the interpreter makes herself or himself into The word, takes the word as poem into her or his body, continues the creation process begun by the poet."
(--p. 52 in The Word’s Body: An Incarnational Aesthetic of Interpretation; by Alla Bozarth-Campbell, University of Alabama Press, 1979.)

Be aware of what you make your body.

The whole world depends on your awareness.

Whenever you do this -- embodying word -- remember the rest of us.

We don't know what we are creating.

In conversation, something new is being created.

The Mind of Sages is subtle, hidden, beyond understanding and knowing. Great Enlightenment is dark and mysterious, wordless and speechless.
- Records of the Lanka

A new language of prayer is needed. Particular, concrete, transformative, transparent. The co-creation occurring as conversation takes place.

At practice table tonight someone spoke of "being in this body;" the importance of it.

I hear it in translation: "Being as this body."

As!

We don't know what we are, creating.