If you care, do something. If you care and don't do something, care is uncaring. If you don't care, and do something, care insinuates beyond intention. But if you don't care, and don't do something, you are no longer alive.

One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.
--Carl Jung

Practice and care are two made one.

With red leaves left after frost
That you gathered under the trees
You brew tea, call me in
A most generous thought!
We sit here not speaking;
The mountain window is still,
But pine winds from ten thousand peaks
Stir in the kettle.
- Gensei (1623-1668)

When someone dies the spirit, they say, leaves. The body is experienced as vacated. I think differently.

With death the spirit goes still and silent. It does not vacate. It doesn't move or activate or sound through. Instead, it rests. In peace. Unmoving.

Stillness is life at peace.

No wonder stillness is unrecognized.

As is God.

Tea, anyone?

Britta, Erika's devoted shepherd dog, went still today.

I'm not fond of the idea God is outside of creation. A very pleasant young man doing theological studies chatted about this notion earlier.

I'm not fond of professional sports either. There might be a connection.

It’s over, the “buddhas and patriarchs” disease
That once gripped my chest.
Now I’m just an ordinary man
With a clean slate.
- Daito (1282-1334)

I like cherry pie in the evening.

A wood stove finally hot.

And being nobody.

Finally no one.

Maybe we're looking for God in all the wrong places.

That's where God is.

I want you to be happy, always happy in the Lord; I repeat, what I want is your happiness. Let your tolerance be evident to everyone: the Lord is very near.
(--Philippians 4:4-5)

Forget being right. It's irrelevant. What's wrong is where we live. It's what Advent tries to point out. To see what's wrong is to stand alone. To act with what's compassionate and forgiving in the face of what's wrong is to sit together.

Soaring birds disappear over the distant mountains,
Leaves fall continually in the quiet garden.
Lonely autumn breezes.
An old monk in his black robe, I stand alone.
- Ryokan (1758-1831)

The old monk falls continually.

We're not dead yet. We're not born yet.

What are we?

Be evident.

Be happy.

Don't know.

Stay near.

There's no teaching, only learning.

A few fluttering green leaves and fallen red flowers on the doorstep, if they are gathered together, become the subject matter of poetry. A mass of floating cloud and a sweep of glimmering mist before the window, if their meaning is apprehended, suggest a clue to the wisdom of Ch’an.
- Hung Ying-ming 1596

All knowledge is self-knowledge.

The Torture Report

Most Americans have long known that the horrors of Abu Ghraib were not the work of a few low-ranking sociopaths. All but President Bush’s most unquestioning supporters recognized the chain of unprincipled decisions that led to the abuse, torture and death in prisons run by the American military and intelligence services.

Now, a bipartisan report by the Senate Armed Services Committee has made what amounts to a strong case for bringing criminal charges against former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld; his legal counsel, William J. Haynes; and potentially other top officials, including the former White House counsel Alberto Gonzales and David Addington, Vice President Dick Cheney’s former chief of staff.

The report shows how actions by these men “led directly” to what happened at Abu Ghraib, in Afghanistan, in Guantánamo Bay, Cuba, and in secret C.I.A. prisons.
(--from Editorial The New York Times, Published: December 17, 2008)

The ethical life has nothing to do with knowledge, but with presencing awareness of interrconnectivity.

No one stands alone in this.

We hold it all together.

Let's put it down!

Winter zendo in front room.

A space defined by silence, sitting, scripture, and sutra.

If this life buffeted by the wind
Of a thousand sorrows
Is even more precarious than a bubble on water,
It is a miracle, after sleeping,
Breathing in, breathing out, to wake up refreshed!
(- Nagarjuna (1st c) in DailyZen)

The whole house is monastery of momentary awareness.

Until forgetting.

Which is often.

Everything fails.

It's what makes life bearable.

A Hundred Bolts of Satin
by Kay Ryan

All you
have to lose
is one
connection
and the mind
uncouples
all the way back.
It seems
to have been
a train.
There seems
to have been
a track.
The things
that you
unpack
from the
abandoned cars
cannot sustain
life: a crate of
tractor axles,
for example,
a dozen dozen
clasp knives,
a hundred
bolts of satin—
perhaps you
specialized
more than
you imagined.
(--Poem, “A Hundred Bolts of Satin” by Kay Ryan, from Say Uncle. Copyright 2000)

To fail is to not forget human existence.

As a failure, my memory is just fine.

I hone it daily.

If it is the case that man is emptied of all things, creatures, himself and god, and if god could still find a place in him to act . . . this man is not poor with the most intimate poverty. For God does not intend that should have a place for him to work in since true poverty of spirit requires that man shall be emptied of god and all his works so that if God wants to act in the soul he himself must be the place in which he acts . . . [God takes then] responsibility for his own action and [is] himself the scene of the action, for God is one who acts within himself.
(-- Meister Eckhart in Thomas Merton On Mysticism, by Raymond Bailey, pp.169-170; from his sermon "Blessed are the Poor")

An old Christmas card, undated, with your and your son's name, suddenly appeared today. Two snowmen, a young boy between them, your name and his. You were not in the picture. It was before you died. This much, at least, I know successfully.

Still.

I remember fondly failure.

Note: The shop is closed today. We're working at hermitage.
Yes, there will be Sunday Evening Practice tonight at 6pm at the hermitage.

Be what God is; be grateful.

Be happy at all times; pray constantly; and for all things give thanks to God, because this is what God expects you to do in Christ Jesus.
(1 Thessalonians 5:16)

Advent invites gratitude.

Because God is.

What?

You.

Become.

With gratefulness.

News: American cars are dead and their auto workers are making too much (say some Senators) at 71 dollars an hour. Ok. Elsewhere a professional baseball pitcher's 16.5 million a year for 9 months work, or 1.8 million a month or 7 starts a month at 262,000 for every 3 hours on the mound. Another fellow gets 23 million a year for 9 months work. These kings of baseball are good to go. One guy's $425,000 dollars for three hours work every 5 days has become an obscenity that can be justified only by truly disconnected minds. (If my math is off, it's not by much. If my mind is off, it's off by a mile.)

The Yankees and Burnett agreed to terms on a five-year, $82.5 million contract, the team’s second major strike on the free agent pitching market this week. After reaching a seven-year, $161 million agreement with C.C Sabathia on Wednesday, the Yankees bolstered their rotation again. (--Burnett and Yankees Reach 5-Year Deal TYLER KEPNER, NYTimes, Published: December 12, 2008)

A connected mind is no-mind. It arrives. It attends. It abrogates itself.

When the wind blows through the scattered bamboos, they do not hold its sound after it has gone. When the wild geese fly over a cold lake, it does not retain their shadows after they have passed. So the mind of the superior person begins to work only when an event occurs; and it becomes a void again when the matter ends.
- Hung Ying-ming 1596

Sports and politics are no longer interesting. Their time is up. The throne is abandoned. An earth too soon forgotten is rising from obscurity to place itself before our numbed mind.

Returning to Earth

I'm getting very old. If I were a mutt
in dog years I'd be seven, not stray so far.
I am large. Tarpon my age are often large
but they are inescapably fish. A porpoise
my age was the King of New Guinea in 1343.
Perhaps I am the king of my dogs, cats, horses
but I have dropped any notion of explaining
to them why I read so much. To be mysterious
is a prerogative of kingship. I discovered
lately that my subjects do not live a life,
but are life itself. They do not recognize
the pain of the schizophrenia of kingship.
To them I am pretty much a fellow creature.
(--Poem, "Returning To Earth" by Jim Harrison.)

The time for silly games is past.

Let's drop the bat and the battering.

We are one another. Will we share what we know to be necessary for one and all? We are one another.

Everybody knows that.

And knowing this truth through and through -- sooner or later.

We acquiesce.

Ice storm thickens all surfaces. Feet slide along sidewalk. Staying put for night.

Thomas Merton died 40 years ago today. In his honor we pronounce for the 11th time our monastic promises.

Looking for Buddha
Trying to find a Buddha or enlightenment is like trying to grab space. Space has a name but no form. It's not something you can pick up or put down. And you certainly can't grab it. Beyond this mind you'll never see a Buddha. The Buddha is a product of your mind. Why look for a Buddha beyond this mind?
(-- The Zen teachings of Bodhidharma)

As monastics we promise contemplation, conversation, and correspondence. We say them in public.

I live on Earth at present, and I don't know what I am. I know that I am not a category. I am not a thing -- a noun. I seem to be a verb, an evolutionary process -- an integral function of the universe.
(--Buckminster Fuller, from his book, Seem To Be a Verb)

We word our unknowing.

Happy to be so doing.

Integrally functioning.

Finally coming to a place where one is at home.

Where belonging has been difficult to grasp.

I have lived for more than fifty years,
Floating in the sea of birth and death
There is nothing to grasp.
- Shin’etsu (1639-1696)

Saint Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin (1474 - 1548) met the Aztec Mother who wanted a church built on the spot she appeared. With persuasion of cloak and flowers the Bishop relented. Juan "left everything and devoted himself to the care of the sanctuary and the reception of pilgrims until his death in 1548." (--Universalis.com)

If I were a saint I would do the same.

McClures Beach

Here at the end of the world,
or so it seems to a traveller
in this country,

where the sun buffs the sea silver
in the late afternoon,
and water drips from the high clay banks,

having come as far as it can
from the upland meadows
where tule elk graze,

even here at this end of the world
where two turkey vultures in the sand
empty the white rib cage of a dead seal,

even here where the water is dripping
into the sand, poppies blossom,
yellow and orange,

and the land is bright with wildflowers,
as if to surprise each new visitor
who comes to the end of the world.
(--Poem, McClures Beach, by Sidney Hall Jr.)

I feel I've come to the end of the world. I don't want to build a church -- at least, no one has asked me to. I want to step into the sanctuary of the monastery of the world without distinctions about what is church and what is world. I wish to bow to Mother and thank her for the rain, the snow, the flowers, and the mountain.

To smile to each new visitor. As Juan must have.

Silently, in his eyes, saying: This is where we belong!

What is within is what is withing. What is withing is what is within.

Night spends itself. We are beneficiaries. Behind the hills across the road last dreams begin to turn to dawn.

Seeing the Buddha

At the time of the Buddha there was a monk who was so infatuated with the Buddha that he followed him around like a puppy dog. Wherever the Buddha went, this monk went too. One day the monk became very ill and had to stay in bed. As he was lying in bed he started crying. When the other monks came to see him . . . he said, "I am crying because, being ill, I can't see the Buddha."

Upon learning this, the Buddha immediately came to visit the sick monk, who brightened up and looked happy again. Then the Buddha said to him, "Whoever sees me, sees the dhamma; whoever sees the dhamma, sees me."

Whoever sees a Buddha, sees nothing but enlightenment, which is the essence of the dhamma. Whoever can see the dhamma within, sees the Buddha, equaling enlightenment. The greatest jewel is recognizing the dhamma in oneself and not being attached to any one person, even the Buddha, who only wants to be our guide. When true confidence arises in the dhamma, it gives great impetus to the practice.
(---Ayya Khema, When the Iron Eagle Flies)

With dawn, perhaps, we'll see what is within dawn.

V. Tota pulchra es, Maria. V. Thou art all fair, O Mary.
R. Tota pulchra es, Maria. R. Thou art all fair, O Mary.
V. Et macula originalis non est in te. V. And the original stain is not in thee.
R. Et macula originalis non est in te. R. And the original stain is not in thee.
V. Tu gloria Ierusalem. V. Thou art the glory of Jerusalem.
R. Tu laetitia Israel. R. Thou, the joy of Israel.
V. Tu honorificentia populi nostri. V. Thou art the honor of our people.
R. Tu advocata peccatorum. R. Thou art the advocate of sinners.
V. O Maria. V. O Mary.
R. O Maria. R. O Mary.
V. Virgo prudentissima. V. Virgin most prudent.
R. Mater clementissima. R. Mother most tender.
V. Ora pro nobis. V. Pray for us,
R. Intercede pro nobis ad Dominum Iesum Christum. R. Intercede for us with Jesus Christ our Lord .
V. In conceptione tua, Immaculata fuisti. V. In thy conception, Holy Virgin, thou wast immaculate.
R. Ora pro nobis Patrem cuius Filium peperisti. R. Pray for us to the Father, Whose Son thou didst bring forth.
V. Domina, protege orationem meam. V. O Lady! aid my prayer,
R. Et clamor meus ad te veniat. R. And let my cry come unto thee.
Oremus Let us pray
(--From "My Prayer Book", Fr. Lasance, 1908, pp 554-556. http://www.preces-latinae.org/thesaurus/BVM/TotaPulchra.html)

Within ourselves, perhaps, we'll hear what is within ourselves.

So may it be with us; so may it be within us.

Withing within.
Within withing.

Machias today.

History is written with facts that have changed names and bear no resemblance to what used to be called truth or reality.

Today, delusion masquerades as historical record.

At one point, Mr. Bush was asked if he wanted any do-overs. “The biggest regret of the presidency has to have been the intelligence failure in Iraq,” he said. “A lot of people put their reputations on the line and said the weapons of mass destruction” were cause for war.
(Editorial, The Deluder in Chief, Published: December 7, 2008, NYTimes)

It is impressive that Mr. Bush will rewrite history without anyone blinking. He's that good.

Buddha as Physician

Buddhism is neither pessimistic nor optimistic. If anything at all, it is realistic, for it takes a realistic view of life and of the world. It looks at things objectively. It does not falsely lull you into living in a fool's paradise, nor does it frighten and agonize you with all kinds of imaginary fears and sins. It tells you exactly and objectively what you are and what the world around you is, and shows you the way to perfect freedom, peace, tranquility and happiness.

One physician may gravely exaggerate an illness and give up hope altogether. Another may ignorantly declare that there is no illness and that no treatment is necessary, thus deceiving the patient with false consolation. You may call the first one pessimistic and the second optimistic. Both are equally dangerous. But a third physician diagnoses the symptoms correctly, understands the cause and the nature of the illness, sees clearly that it can be cured and courageously administers a course of treatment, thus saving his patient. The Buddha is like the last physician. He is the wise and scientific doctor for the ills of the world.
(--Walpola Rahula, What the Buddha Taught, from Everyday Mind, edited by Jean Smith, a Tricycle book)

It's been a difficult 8 years. The illness is deep.

Time to stop and think. How did we allow such disease? Such suffering?

On eve of Buddha's Enlightenment Day and Mary's Barrierless Coming-To-Existence, I can only be grateful for the invitation to see clearly through the deceit of delusion.

Happy to be invited.

Such a fuss about money. Such an odd way of living.

You received without charge, give without charge.
(--Matt.10:8)

Stock market, interest rates, savings, cash.

Why don't we just give each other what is needed? Pulling cart laden with necessary gift St. Nicholas wanders through our eloquent mythic imagination singing soft sounds of human remembrance.

The lone tip of Wonder Peak is
Beyond any climber’s reach.
One can only see white clouds
Drifting this way and that.
Thick pine and cypress forests
How old could they be?
Still, in rare moments birds
Along the steep cliffs sing.
- Daito (1282-1334)

The silliness of charging someone for conversation. Or fuel to warm homes. Bread to sustain body. Coffee to carry words and thoughts to voice.

Demanding money for healing.

Fees for everything.

We've got God wrong!

Return love for anything thrown your way.

Your body sits silently;
Your mind is quiescent, unmoving.
This is genuine effort in practice.
Body and mind are at complete rest.
The mouth is so still that moss
Grows around it.
Grass sprouts from the tongue.
Do this without ceasing,
Cleansing the mind
Until it gains clarity
Of an autumn pool,
Bright as the moon
Illuminating the evening sky.
- Hung-chih

Practice asks for love.

To be itself.

Beyond all.

To observe is to care.

Observe what cannot be spoken.
Do not accept anything simply
Because it has been said
By your teacher,
Or because it has been written
In your sacred book,
Or because it has been
Believed by many,
Or because it has been
Handed down by your
Ancestors.
Accept and live only
According to what will enable
You to see truth face to face.
(- Buddha)

With care.

Seeing.

Is itself seen.

What makes us turn? What is it suddenly focuses and empties mind bringing bare gaze to the fore?

Returning.

If your mind is fixed on a certain spot,
it will be seized by that spot, and
no activities can be performed efficiently.
Not to fix your mind anywhere is essential.
Not fixed anywhere, the mind is everywhere.
The Original Mind is like water which flows freely,
whereas the deluded mind is like ice.
There is a passage in the Diamond Sutra that says:
“The mind should operate without abiding anywhere.”
- Takuan (1573-1645)

"Nada" in Spanish is "nothing, not anything."

"Nada" in Sanskrit is "Sound; tone, vibration."

Metaphysically, the mystic sounds of the Eternal, of which the highest is the transcendent or Soundless Sound, Paranada, the first vibration from which creation emanates. Paranada is so pure and subtle that it cannot be identified to the denser regions of the mind. From Paranada comes Pranava, Aum, and further evolutes of nada. These are experienced by the meditator as the nadanadi shakti, "the energy current of sound," heard pulsing through the nerve system as a constant high-pitched hum, much like a tambura, an electrical transformer, a swarm of bees or a shruti box.
(--from Hindu Dictionary)

Different perspective, different meaning

Piano

Touched by your goodness, I am like
that grand piano we found one night on Willoughby
that someone had smashed and somehow
heaved through an open window.

And you might think by this I mean I'm broken
or abandoned, or unloved. Truth is, I don't
know exactly what I am, any more
than the wreckage in the alley knows
it's a piano, filling with trash and yellow leaves.

Maybe I'm all that's left of what I was.
But touching me, I know, you are the good
breeze blowing across its rusted strings.

What would you call that feeling when the wood,
even with its cracked harp, starts to sing?
(--Poem, "Piano" by Patrick Phillips, from Boy. The University of Georgia Press, 2008.

Being touched by goodness shows a lovely perspective.

Bright light singing.

Soundless.

Sound.

Long to see?

Filled with joy by the Holy Spirit, Jesus said, ‘I bless you, Father, Lord of heaven and of earth, for hiding these things from the learned and the clever and revealing them to mere children. Yes, Father, for that is what it pleased you to do. Everything has been entrusted to me by my Father; and no one knows who the Son is except the Father, and who the Father is except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.’
Then turning to his disciples he spoke to them in private, ‘Happy the eyes that see what you see, for I tell you that many prophets and kings wanted to see what you see, and never saw it; to hear what you hear, and never heard it.’
(--Luke 10:21-24)

In meditation, when we sit, we allow what is passing to come into focus.

Seeing, we affirm the seeing.

No more; no less.

We must change our mind.

Do not pursue the outer conditions
nor dwell in the inner void.
Rest yourself in oneness with things and all barriers will disappear
- Seng Ts’an (526-606)

We must change our heart.