. Merely Sunday morning.
We meet 3 dogs and their human companion at the turn of the first runway just up our path at the Snow Bowl. They run a little. We go on to the pond and fetch tennis ball and stick, returning by way of parking lot where Wallace and his human companion Jane are exiting their car. Rokpa
and Wallace are good buddies. Rokie
does the Border Collie crouch as they both sidle closer until like Sumo wrestlers they pound up against one another, run and tumble, pee and eat grass, smelling the remains of yesterday's tent catering now empty to the right of the chalet lodge.
They are, one surmises, happy to be with one another for this Sunday morning sunny time.
Dogen writes, “For the time being the highest peak, for the time being the deepest ocean; for the time being a crazy mind, for the time being a Buddha body; for the time being a Zen Master, for the time being an ordinary person; for the time being earth and sky… Since there is nothing but this moment, ‘for the time being’ is all the time there is.”
For seven days that week I spoke about this in as many ways as I could think of, silly and sometimes not silly, and for seven days 65 silent people listened and took Dogen’s words to heart.
We want enjoyment, we want to avoid pain and discomfort. But it is impossible that things will always work out, impossible to avoid pain and discomfort. So to be happy, with a happiness that doesn’t blow away with every wind, we need to be able to make use of what happens to us — all of it — whether we find ourselves at the top of a mountain or at the bottom of the sea.
(-- from Happy Days, The New York Times, August 7, 2009, 9:25 pm, For the Time Being, By Norman Fischer a senior Zen Buddhist priest and poet.)
Today I celebrate the sorrowful Feast of Nagasaki. In 1945 the second Atomic bomb dropped on Japan. It made the world a more frightening place for sane men and women. It began a spate of terror that has little promise of abatement. 9/11/2001 in New York City was only a small grandchild of that terror. There is a large extended family of terror-embedded offspring
from the 1945 blasts that wander through time and being trying to remember why it is they feel driven to explode themselves reaking
havoc, death, and destruction in their wake.
The parent originators and perpetrators of these terrifying and terrible ways of attacking the world with perceptions of fear and annihilation have long since retired from rationalizing and justifying and basking in adulation for their part in conceiving, creating, and cremating fellow men, women, and children. They have, as is said, taken their place in the pages of history. The scientists, the military, the president, and the populace all have settled into their own deaths and are little consulted in the conversation about their dangerous and demented grandchildren strapping explosives to their bodies, yelling or whispering demagogic threats of assassination, racism, and lynching in public town meetings, cable stations, and the podiums of congress.
We falsely accuse others of that which we are. These days "Hitler" and Nazism" and "Demagogue" are the epithets of right wing ideologues against their perceived enemies. A demagogue is a leader who makes use of popular prejudices and false claims and promises in order to gain power. These men and women, the grandchildren of atomic bomb ancestors, continue the delusion of separation, continue the rhetoric of division, continue the buildup of new platforms from which to launch contemporary versions of egoic
fear and trembling that they are not, as they are wont to believe, the sole favored, privileged, and divinely appointed future of this planet.
Toward dawn I dozed off, and in my dream I found myself surrounded by a group of skeletons . . . . One skeleton came over to me and said:Saskia
Are no more.
All are empty dreams
Devoid of meaning.
Violate the reality of things
And babble about
"God" and "the Buddha"
And you will never find
the true Way.
(--Ikkyu, 1400’s, from his poem "Skeletons")
come down from the mountain. It's a good day. We'll try Chase's Daily for brunch.
I love this life. And the world. I grow in deeper appreciation of my sisters and brothers. Even those grandparents who so desperately believed their perceptions of attack and destroy.
We are poor passing facts,
warned by that to give
each figure in the photograph
his living name.
(--from poem Epilogue by Robert Lowell)
My name is Bill. I am Nagasaki. I am America. I created the bomb. Flew it over Japan. Ordered the drop. And was killed there. So were you. So are you.
I tell you this because I do not want you to feel you have to continue my illusion. You do not have to blindly follow the conditioning imprinted by frightened ancestors and frightening figures selling delusional contemporary fear.
We are, for the time being, creators of the present. Imagine that!
Cease doing evil,
Learn and practice doing good,
Purify one's mind
This is the teaching of all the Awakened.
(from the Dhammapada, Verse 183, by the Buddha)
Begin here, now. From the rising of the sun to its setting. Let the name that is yours and mine, our brothers and sisters, earth and the whole of what is -- let it be praised and appreciated, respected and cherished. Take your finger off the button. Put it down. Look carefully beyond fear and attack. See What-Is
there. Be the innocent child. Enter compassion!
We were love