think again; nothing to say -- the rare joy of unsaying

Now that word has entered voice, we must learn whether there is something to say.

How pronounce it, where to allow it to be said, and the skill to say it in silence.

All without any saying becoming attached to the one saying it. Emptiness.

If God is a success it is because this is God's open accomplishment.

God is before, because of, and beyond any words of God. 

As though hearing without hearer a wordless voice.

A glance, a mere gaze, through, unknowing.

The sound of what is being said.

A rustling of tree in wind.

An empty resonance.

A felt utterance.

Still, in all.

Gone by.

Here.

Now.

See?

Oh!

And so, it is...

Now 

gratefulness.org

rain and mud

A single candle.

"When the sun rises in the morning sky, you will see the King of kings coming forth from the Father like a radiant bridegroom from the bridal chamber."

(--Antiphon, vespers)

Lighting what is near.

Faith, the zen master said, is "I am"

Will I?

Antiphon. “Today you will know the Lord is coming, and in the morning you will see his glory."              (--Invitatory, 24Dec2014)

Will we?

There is a wonderful Christian saying which says If faith, then faith. If you could penetrate that you would go right through to the bottom. If faith, what need of results? What need of changing things, getting things, getting rid of things? If faith, then faith. But so often faith is a bribe.   

We say to God, I’ll have faith in you, but you must deliver. And when he doesn’t deliver, we complain, saying, “I had faith in him so why is all this happening to me? Was my faith not strong enough?” If you have faith in the practice and this faith is that the practice is going to produce something for you, then you are a merchant trafficking in some kind of magical results for which you are prepared to pay what you call faith. But on the other hand, if faith then faith. If one prays to God and that comes out of faith, then nothing else matters.
(--from, A fountain of miracles, article by Albert Low) http://www.zenmontreal.ca/en/teacher/fountain.htm

Prayer is itself-faith.

Itself-faith is profound trust in what-is taking place, what-is showing up, right here right now, as it is.

Nisargadatta, in a conversation that he had with a visitor, said, ”Remember whatever happens, does so because ‘I am'”. You are the tenth person.* Everything is contained in you. To say, “I am everything” or “I am the whole world” is really redundant. ‘I am’ is “I am the whole world”. The whole world, at the moment, is the totality of your experience that is possible because ‘I am’. Even ‘I am’ is redundant. ‘The world’ is the result of being able to live without the sense of self, without the reflection back in a verbal way.   

The truth that the whole world is contained in ‘I am’ is fundamental. It is not something which we learn, nor is it a philosophy that we acquire. It is not something that we get hold of or get to know about. Everything, every philosophy, everything we get to know about, the whole division of experience in the multiplicity of words comes out of the most fundamental truth, the whole world is ‘I am’. Knowing is being. This is true whether you are conscious of it or not.
... 

 Mu is non reflection. “From the beginning, not a thing is”, or, if you like, “True self is no self.” When Dogen said, “To know the self is to forget the self,” he too is saying no reflection. Let go of the reflection and then you are, as Bassui has pointed out, “one with the ten thousand things”. You must go directly towards simplicity. ‘Letting go,’ ‘non attachment’ is non reflection, non turning back. This takes great courage because in doing so you let go of the sense of self. It seems as though you are dying, because the sense of self gives the illusory sense of existing.   

All religions talk of thee need for the death of the old person and birth of the new. But all that is required is just an unfolding. For a long time we just don’t have the faith. We feel that we have to hang on, we cling, we struggle. But if we can see our practice as the self releasing its grip on the self, we will have the confidence that we are coming home. 

Wherever you are is real; you can never get outside yourself. Theoretically I could duplicate your body in every possible detail, but I cannot duplicate you. I cannot get you outside of yourself in anyway. There is no outside of you, nor is there an inside. 

Nisargadatta told his visitor, “Whatever happens, happens because ‘I am’. All reminds you that you are.” Everything is your face. He went on to say that to experience, you must be.  

When Nisargadatta says that you are, he don’t mean that you are ‘something.’ All that I can say is that you are; I cannot say what you are. I sometimes say that you are pure awareness, or that you are knowing. But this is saying far too much. I say it because I want to direct your orientation away from things and objects. But what you are is truly inexpressible. When I ask, “Who walks?” some people still sit and think about this. And yet I ring the bell, and up they leap and off they go without a thought. Now, who responded to the bell? Who walks? Who bows? Who eats?  

(--from Thoughts Along the Way, Zen Master of the Montreal Zen Center Albert Low’s articles about life, The Spasm of the Mind, by Albert Low 2Oct2014) https://albertlow.wordpress.com

...

*Note: I thought , perhaps, there was a misprint with this word “tenth.” After research I came upon this interesting reference:

In the 2013 film, World War Z, Gerry Lane (Brad Pitt) is riding through the streets of Jerusalem as Jurgen Warmbrunn (Ludi Boeken) explains how the city was able to avoid the zombie apocalypse: 

 The tenth man. If nine of us look at the same information and arrive at the exact same conclusion, it’s the duty of the tenth man to disagree. No matter how improbable it may seem, the tenth man has to start thinking with the assumption that the other nine are wrong.  

While Hollywood may have simplified the idea a bit for the screen, this is apparently a very real tactic which Israel has used in the past. Their military has a unit often referred to as the “devil’s advocate office” [PDF]. And yes, the goal is simply to avoid falling prey to group think.
(from, THE 10TH MAN THEORY, GOD OF DEVIL’S ADVOCATE, July 28, 2014, 5 minute read, by Anoop Rajiv)   http://anooprajeev.com/the-10th-man-theory-god-of-devils-advocate/   

nobody’s side

WIth us. A strange name, “With us.”

“O Emmanuel, king and lawgiver, desire of the nations, Savior of all people, come and set us free, Lord our God.”(--antiphon, vespers)

Are you with us? someone asks.

You’re either with us or against us, another says. And it becomes clearer.

This side-taking talk is all about God.

With us in no side-taking.

Against us is side-taking.

a, b, c, d, -- the tremendous challenge of being;lettered

Who needs poetry?

Nobody.

What does poetry need?

"Poetry needs the breath. It needs the voice. It needs the body. It needs the mind."

(-- Anne Waldman, "Radical Presence")

OK. Now substitute spelling the word "God" for "poetry."

Now do you see why so few give themselves completely to either one of those spellings?

prologue

Silence means consent.

“O King of all the nations, the only joy of every human heart; O Keystone of the mighty arch of man, come and save the creature you fashioned from the dust.”
(--antiphon, Vespers)

Dust, the consonants of God. Vowels are God’s breath.

Breath and earth fashion the form of human comprising the word God is.

Cosmos opens its mouth.

It has something to say.

auslander

Start with bread where you are.

Now, go straight.

No need to know where you go.

Roethke tells us, we learn by going where we have to go. 

if God wanted to become human, why not our wanting to become human

“O Radiant Dawn, splendor of eternal light, sun of justice: come, shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.”

(--antiphon, Vespers)

Humans aren’t certain.

Often befuddled.

Only unhumans are certain and convinced beyond doubt.

toot, toot, toot -- train comes;train goes

Doris writes. She includes poem. 

                                                                        Manna

                                                    Everywhere, everywhere, snow sifting down,

                                                    a world becoming white, no more sounds,

                                                    no longer possible to find the heart of the day,

                                                    the sun is gone, the sky is nowhere, and of all

                                                    I wanted in life – so be it – whatever it is 

                                                    that brought me here, chance, fortune, whatever

                                                    blessing each flake is the hint of, I am

                                                    grateful, I bear witness, I hold out my arms,

                                                    palms up, I know it is impossible to hold 

                                                    for long what we love of the world, but look

                                                    at me, is it foolish, shameful, arrogant to say this,

                                                    see how the snow drifts down, look how happy

                                                    I am.

                                                                                                         (--poem by Joseph Stroud)

The men in prison miss her. In her mid-eighties, she has moved from Maine closer to Hudson River and family member. They called her 'old cow' with affection after she told them the story about the zen woman.

Deano says again he'll soon write her after he finds her letter he misplaced. 

Not much was said about Christmas when we were there for final time this year. We did an experiment passing around in silence, person to person, some 16+ orbits, the exquisite & subtle book, Marla Frazee’s “The Farmer and the Clown”. This artistic, near wordless (but for "toot, toot, toot") book, engrossed and engaged a roomful of unlikely 'readers' gazing at a "for ages 3 to 9" masterpiece of visual poetry while the white border collie pursued a blue handball around feet and chairs.

It was a morning of smiles and handshakes and gratefulness (near;wordless) with our prison sangha.

Chris, Saskia, Bill, rokpa, Armin, Reed, Deano, Doug, Rory, Everett, Tony, Charlie, Greg, and all the others who looked in, stopped in, smiled at Rokie or rubbed his appreciated doggy presence. 

And the larger sangha from years gone by, some still there, or transferred to another prison, or released: Joseph, Sonny, Dennis, Douglas, Brandon, Dale, Ricky, Mark, John, Antonio, Pat, Olin, Ryan, Joe-Pete, Peter, Kevin, Wesley, Chris, Andre, Kyle, Tree, Danny, Sean, Chris, Darren, Josh, Stephen, Ed, Chip, Mike, Lamarr, Kyle, Matthew,  Brian, Artie, Jon, Nick, boots and gloves guy, Tony’s posse, Jonathan, Vann, Scott, Jose, and the ones whose faces & shoes I recall but names evade. The volunteers who joined us inside or visited in visiting room -- Erica, Jean, Gail, Cheryl, Seth, Doris, Chris. And dear friends who came in with us who've died - Janet, David, and Richard. To each and all, thank you! Plus the staff and guards who periodically sat in. Meetingbrook all.

Look how happy I am!

May all beings, in and out of prison, be happy, safe, free, and come to dwell in their true home!

prison;weekly walking the mile

"O Key of David, O royal Power of Israel controlling at your will the gate of Heaven: Come, break down the prison walls of death for those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death; and lead your captive people into freedom.”

(--antiphon, vespers)

where are we;to look: at/as creative creating creativity

Q. Is there God?

A. Oh yes.

Q. Did God create everything?

A. God is the creative creating creativity.

Comment:  ‘What is’ comes to be seen via the urge to be. The urge to be -- whatever wherever whenever whoever -- is the constant changing, itself into itself, with forms upon form moving through emptiness toward creative appearance creating beings whose inner being is creativity longing to become itself creative.

[silence]

Q. Any other questions?

Q. What is, how is, when is, why is, who is -- One, Alone?

[pause]

[silence]

[time passes]

[then...fingers touch pewter attached to doorframe, then touch lips]]

A. (quietly)

Sh'ma Yis'ra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad.

Hear, Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.  

 http://www.jewfaq.org/prayer/shema.htm

[exeunt]

....     ......     .......     ......

 Note:
Shema Yisrael (or Sh'ma Yisrael; Hebrew: שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל; "Hear, [O] Israel") are the first two words of a section of the Torah, and is the title (sometimes shortened to simply Shema) of a prayer that serves as a centerpiece of the morning and evening Jewish prayer services. The first verse encapsulates the monotheistic essence of Judaism: "Hear, O Israel: the LORD our God, the LORD is one", found in Deuteronomy 6:4, sometime alternately translated as "The LORD is our God, the LORD alone." Observant Jews consider the Shema to be the most important part of the prayer service in Judaism, and its twice-daily recitation as a mitzvah (religious commandment). It is traditional for Jews to say the Shema as their last words, and for parents to teach their children to say it before they go to sleep at night. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shema_Yisrael

Nothing; keeps you

“O Flower of Jesse’s stem, you have been raised up as a sign for all peoples; kings stand silent in your presence; the nations bow down in worship before you. Come, let nothing keep you from coming to our aid.”

(--Antiphon, Vespers)

what's your name

Pope Francis turned 78 on the 17th. "I want a church which is poor and for the poor," he has said.

"People who know nothing of God and whose lives are centered on themselves, imagine that they can only find themselves by asserting their own desires and ambitions and appetites in a struggle with the rest of the world. They try to become real by imposing themselves on other people, by appropriating for themselves some share of the limited supply of created good and thus emphasizing the difference between themselves and the other men and women who have less then they, or nothing at all. 

(~Thomas Merton)

Chris sends nytimes video of Slomo. This unusual man radiates such a sense of joy in his glide. We end our Science, Technology, and Ethics course with it last night. The students were enchanted as well. http://www.nytimes.com/video/opinion/100000002796999/slomo.html

Robert Lowell ends his poem Epilogue with these lines:

We are poor passing facts
warned by that to give
each figure in the photograph
his living name.

http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/manuscript-study-robert-lowells-epilogue

What is your living name?

What's mine?

whispering light

"O sacred Lord of ancient Israel, who showed yourself to Moses in the burning bush, who gave him the holy law on Sinai mountain: come, stretch out your mighty hand to set us free.”

(--Antiphon, Vespers)

next;dream

We've fallen asleep before falling asleep. 

Sitting with man after bringing soup we touch on buddhist notion of no birth, no death. We'd both like to leave fear out of our diminishing time. I sit on wood bench with boots on in his living room close to dooryard entrance.

More and more clearly it appeared who this unique man was and who he presented himself to be. The climax of his life, the cresting of its saving course, comes with a week of utmost challenge and ultimate rejection, only then to be vindicated by the God who was (and is) his Father. “As with all of us,” writes Elizabeth Johnson, C.S.J., “the mystery of his person was never totally expressed...until the time of his death, when he transcends this world and is raised from the dead. Then his ultimate identity burst upon him in all clarity.” Then he is the fully human and fully divine person he was meant to be, the startling, suffering Savior once born in utter helplessness and now raised as “the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep."

(--from, Becoming Human, December 22-29, 2014 Issue, Leo J. O'Donovan, The Incarnation calls us to a new life. America Magazine)  http://americamagazine.org/issue/becoming-human

Appearance and disappearance, form and emptiness -- soup stop and go. This is all I can muster. I grow shy and shyer in visiting anyone, mustier in my cell of a room tucked away upstairs, where solitude goes to get away from itself.

I let dogs out at 2am. Cats downstairs are mousing noisily and setting dogs' eyes wider at side of bed. I read. I pray. I diminish.

The joy of being alive (instead of undead, eh, mr cummings?) is reflection and contemplation of what is taking place. Place is an awareness punctuating time.

Monks and nuns worldover place their feet on floor and ready for vigils. I turn out light and let baton move off down track running into next dream.

hold all things; together

"O Wisdom, you come forth from the mouth of the Most High. You fill the universe and hold all things together in a strong yet gentle manner. O come to teach us the way of truth."

(--Antiphon for Vespers)

(a) solitary ('s) appreciation

Watched town select board meeting on live streaming last night. 

Hurt pond, torn mountain, vested interests.

Differences of perception, opinion, emotion, alliance and allegiance.

The prospect of remaining both passionately involved, and, nonattached, has got to be major-league meditation practice.

I sit in support of such good effort.

truth of a different kind -- Maria Popova on Margaret Mead on “fact” and “poetic truth” about Santa Claus

The following from Maria Popova’s  Brain Pickings,  http://www.brainpickings.org :

Happy Birthday, Margaret Mead: The Legendary Anthropologist on Myth vs. Deception and What to Tell Kids about Santa Claus, By: Maria Popova, How to instill an appreciation of the difference between “fact” and “poetic truth,” in kids and grownups alike.

From the wonderful out-of-print volume Margaret Mead: Some Personal Views(public library) — the same compendium of Mead’s answers to audience questions from her long career as a public speaker and lecturer, which also gave us her remarkably timely thoughts on racism and law enforcement and equality in parenting — comes an answer to a question she was asked in December of 1964: “Were your children brought up to believe in Santa Claus? If so, what did you tell them when they discovered he didn’t exist?”

Mead’s response, which calls to mind Carl Sagan’s Baloney Detection Kit, is a masterwork of celebrating rational, critical thinking without sacrificing magic to reason:

Belief in Santa Claus becomes a problem mainly when parents simultaneously feel they are telling their children a lie and insist on the literal belief in a jolly little man in a red suit who keeps tabs on them all year, reads their letters and comes down the chimney after landing his sleigh on the roof. Parents who enjoy Santa Claus — who feel that it is more fun talk about what Santa Claus will bring than what Daddy will buy you for Christmas and who speak of Santa Claus in a voice that tells no lie but instead conveys to children something about Christmas itself — can give children a sense of continuity as they discover the sense in which Santa is and is not “real.”

With her great gift for nuance, Mead adds:

Disillusionment about the existence of a mythical and wholly implausible Santa Claus has come to be a synonym for many kinds of disillusionment with what parents have told children about birth and death and sex and the glory of their ancestors. Instead, learning about Santa Claus can help give children a sense of the difference between a “fact” — something you can take a picture of or make a tape recording of, something all those present can agree exists — and poetic truth, in which man’s feelings about the universe or his fellow men is expressed in a symbol.

Recalling her own experience both as a child and as a parent, Mead offers an inclusive alternative to the narrow Santa Claus myth, inviting parents to use the commercial Western holiday as an opportunity to introduce kids to different folkloric traditions and value systems:

One thing my parents did — and I did for my own child — was to tell stories about the different kinds of Santa Claus figures known in different countries. The story I especially loved was the Russian legend of the little grandmother, the babushka, at whose home the Wise Men stopped on their journey. They invited her to come with them, but she had no gift fit for the Christ child and she stayed behind to prepare it. Later she set out after the Wise Men but she never caught up with them, and so even today she wanders around the world, and each Christmas she stops to leave gifts for sleeping children.

But Mead’s most important, most poetic point affirms the idea that children stories shouldn’t protect kids from the dark:

Children who have been told the truth about birth and death will know, when they hear about Kris Kringle and Santa Claus and Saint Nicholas and the little babushka, that this is a truth of a different kind.

falling;away

Lite snow.

Two cats nestling after long night mousing.

Prayer for friends’ son critical after morning car accident.

(from Camden Public Library website)

Jootje is turned over near woodpile by meditation cabin. All three rest preparing for winter’s slow sail toward spring. I can only see harbor from solid ground, not the groundlessness of lapstrake inboard hull.

Waning decrease of darkness.

Late autumn stillness.

Solo candle vigils.

no longer; remains

Impermanence, it will be pointed out, doesn't last.

The historical Buddha, like you and me, had physical form, was born, and was destined to die. But the content of his being did not die and continues to live. And that is immeasurable life. And not only life. Because it brings us to awakening, it is also immeasurable light.
- Taitetsu Unno, "Even Dewdrops Fall"   http://www.tricycle.com/special-section/even-dewdrops-fall-an-interview-with-taitetsu-unno

Taitetsu Unno died three days ago on the 13th. He was 85. I recall his talk at the Nishitani conference "Encounters with Emptiness" at Amherst/Smith in 1984. I have an annotated copy of his notes.

Tricycle: Can you talk a little bit about how you understand surrender in Buddhist practice? 

Taitetsu Unno: In the first place, surrender is a Western religious category. In Buddhism, surrender is at the core of giving up the ego-self; but we don’t use a special term for it, because the whole thrust of Buddhist life revolves around surrender, giving up the ego.
Here there is a cultural difference—I can use the example of the martial arts. In this country, martial arts are described as “self-defense.” In the martial arts in East Asia, the aim is to train oneself to such an extent that there is no “self” to defend. That’s very hard for people to understand. I find the same problem in American Buddhism. For example, recently I read an article in which an American Zen Buddhist described visiting Japan, and I realized that American Buddhism is “psychotherapeutic” Buddhism, whereas in Japan, Buddhism is “faith” Buddhism. The core of faith is surrender, the giving up of the small-minded ego-self.  (Ibid) 

Who is giving up this ego-self?

Professor Unno shared an insight thirty years ago. It wasn't in the paper. It travelled with me for years. It showed up in conversations and classes when I did.

And then -- it disappeared. As things do.

Gassho!

Let the giving-up be what no longer remains when disappearance itself surrenders.

from still,marbles, after sunday evening practice

deconstructing the accumulated

structure of self --

this is what life is doing,

what Dogen meant by “dropping

off mind and body” 

not 17, 23, haiku

my studio, today,

solitude colored with silence --

look -- smoke from chimney

blowing southeast

off to east, down road, up melvin heights, a single light, seen through trees

If You Want

If

you want

the Virgin will come walking down the road

pregnant with the holy

and say,

“I need shelter for the night, please take me inside your heart,

my time is so close.”

Then, under the roof of your soul, you will witness the sublime

intimacy, the divine, the Christ

taking birth

forever,

as she grasps your hand for help, for each of us

is the midwife of God, each of us.

Yes there, under the dome of your being does creation

come into existence externally, through your womb, dear pilgrim—

the sacred womb of your soul,

as God grasps our arms for help; for each of us is

His beloved servant

never

far.

If you want, the Virgin will come walking

down the street pregnant

with Light and

sing . . .

..........

“If You Want” by St. John of the Cross, translated by Daniel Ladinsky,

Love Poems from God: Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West

(used with permission)

as snow gently falls

Morning light under cloudy skies, the ritual of placing oneself in prayer.

Notre Père qui es aux cieux, que Ton nom soit sanctifié, que Ton règne vienne, que Ta volonté soit faite sur la terre comme au ciel. Donne-nous aujourd'hui notre pain de ce jour, pardonne-nous nos offenses comme nous pardonnons aussi à ceux qui nous ont offensés ; et ne nous soumets pas à la tentation mais délivre-nous du mal par le Christ, Jésus notre Seigneur, car à Toi appartiennent le règne, la puissance et la gloire, à jamais. Amen

Zafu in merton retreat will serve as that place at 7:30am.

Emptiness of everything -- surround and infuse -- with silence.

With everyone.

And everything.

Within, and, 

Without.

Nuestra Señora -- Tan vacío de todo

I can imagine Juan Diego thanking the Aztec woman for the cape and the lovely flowers.

Gracias,

De nada, she says.

De nada, it's nothing, says Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe,

Nothing.

Ah, what happened in that trusting engagement of beneficial outcome for them and for many in their surround?

Nothing? Si!

Nothing? Hola!

Nothing? Yo creo!

Tan lleno de nada. Tan vacio de todo.  So full of nothing. So empty all.

The new world ...

of faith.

payback

I bet Michael Brown would have paid back the cost of cigarillos taken.

I bet Eric Garner would have paid back taxes on the “loosies” he’d sold.

Would that all were given the consideration to pay back what they (allegedly) took.

Would that justice were non-violent, non-punitive, and rooted in compassion.

simplicity, integrity, faithful engagement

We renew our promises as meetingbrook monastics: contemplation, conversation, correspondence.

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - we find it with another.”
― Thomas Merton, Love and Living

we meet you there

Maria writes: “Tom is in his final days -- as far as we know. Maybe God has other plans, but we are prepared for his departure to God’s loving arms.”

We write:

maria and tom in cosmos             

and our hearts

we speak by listening; 

we love by quiet 

transparent 

watchfulness

Our prayer & practice these days is silent sitting with both Quaker Friends & Zen Buddhist Companions. 

It is the silence.           We meet you there.

“Ashes do not come back to firewood.’ If you do not burn yourself completely, a trace of yourself will be left in what you do.” 

(Dogen Zenji) 

Dogen suggested we “Leave no trace.” We leave to the other, completely, one-self.

And so, we sit in silence with you, Maria, and Tom, with your love, and ours. 

This is what we offer one another. 

This traceless presence.

at long last

Catching up on reading.

The C.I.A. and some members of the President George W. Bush’s administration claimed these brutal acts were necessary to deal with “ticking time bomb” threats and that they were effective. Former Vice President Dick Cheney, an avid promoter of “enhanced interrogation,” still makes that claim. 

But “at no time” did the C.I.A.’s torture program produce intelligence that averted a terrorism threat, the report said. All of the information that the C.I.A. attributed to its “enhanced interrogation techniques” was obtained before the brutal interrogations took place, actually came from another source, or was a lie invented by the torture victims — a prospect that the C.I.A. had determined long ago was the likely result of torture. 

 (--from, NYTimes, The Senate Report on the C.I.A.’s Torture and Lies, By THE EDITORIAL BOARD, DEC. 9, 2014) 

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/12/10/opinion/the-senate-report-on-the-cias-torture-and-lies.html?hp&action=click&pgtype=Homepage&module=c-column-top-span-region&region=c-column-top-span-region&WT.nav=c-column-top-span-region&_r=0

hinter-denken

We are a storied people. We live in a story. And in that story there is good and there is bad. There are benevolent actors and there are malevolent actors. It’s both.

If we did not have a storied existence, we would be storyless. A storyless existence would have no experience nor awareness of others. No ego.

And while the notion of egolessness seems a desirable way of nonjudgmental being-in-the-world, there are considerations to be made that recognize the necessity of being storied and having an ego in this realm of story and ego wherein we dwell.

But, we are not the story. Even if we are used to saying, ’This is my story,’ you and I are not the story.

Living in a story, and being that story, are not the same thing.

Alan Watts relates how in a play or drama the actors come forward after the performance has concluded, and bow to the audience. The hero and the evil agent, the protagonist and antagonist, the good gal and the bad gal -- bow together to audience and each other.

It has been a play. Actors acting. Drama performed, and ended.

A story. Told and felt. Something to think about.

At end of theatrical story, we exit our characters and stage and return to ordinary stories in everyday settings with improvisational responses to unrehearsed questions.

In effect, until we die we are part of ongoing character development and performance expectation and perfecting.

“Hinter-denken” a thinking in the back of the mind, an awareness beyond thinking, haunts us. It suggests to us that while we are performers and spectators with regard to the stories wherein we dwell, we are not the stories, the characters, nor the acting itself.

Who then, or what, are we?

Behind everything, beyond everything, who are we?

retiring; words

Each poet's death is finishing line that, still, contemplates revision.

Notice:

Claudia Emerson, Pulitzer-winning poet who illuminated divorce and death, dies at 57

EMILY LANGER - WASHINGTON POST

PUBLISHED: DEC 8, 2014, 5:46 AM

UPDATED: DEC 8, 2014, 5:46 AM

Claudia Emerson, a former mail carrier who turned to writing in middle age and received the 2006 Pulitzer Prize for poetry for her book “Late Wife,” an elegiac collection of verses illuminating the complex legacies wrought by divorce and death, died Dec. 4 at a hospital in Richmond, Virginia. She was 57.
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And then:

EARLY ELEGY: HEADMISTRESS
By Claudia Emerson

The word itself: prim, retired, its artifact 

her portrait above the fireplace, on her face 

the boredom she abhorred, then perfected, 

her hands held upward—their emptiness 

a revision, cigarette and brandy snifter 

painted, intolerably, out, to leave her this 

lesser gesture: What next? or shrugged Whatever.

From the waist down she was never there. 

(--Source: Poetry, June 2012).

Unusual three, of a day

Siddhartha, Mary, and John 

this 8Dec.

Aware and clear. Imagine!

the prelude and proleptic of practice and prayer

Why sit? Why pray? At practices this weekend these questions arise. During final circle teisho these words come up for reflection response:

Silent sitting invites us to become a place where creation/universe has the opportunity to look at itself for the duration.

Prayer is an occurance for creation and the universe to have a time and place to pray within and through you for the duration of your presentation in prayer.

No matter if the time you sit or pray is turmoil and distraction. The world is most often troubled and in turmoil. Let its looking and its prayer take place in your surround. And if there be occasions of quiet and peace, let this prelude and proleptic take place in your surround for the benefit of all beings in all realms through all time.

Silent sitting, with Quakers or during zazen, is not meant to be a personal bettering accomplishment. If that occurs it is only part of the fruit tasted by creation and universe in and through you, your effort or non-effort, and your practice, your prayer.

So, practice. Pray. Be silent. Become mindful. Enter the place of inclusion, compassion, patience, and nascent wisdom. 

Let the umwelt of your being ready the radical unfolding of the true nature of circumincessional interpenetration. Become a perichoresis of practice! And if you preface God in your gathering into stillness, there God will attend with openness.

{sounding bell}

laughter? or, if nothing else is heard, last word?

“‘Ashes do not come back to firewood.’ If you do not burn yourself completely, a trace of yourself will be left in what you do.” (Dogen Zenji)

Leave no trace, it is said, is the task.

Give everything away.

Word it all into emptiness.

Return to silence.

Ha!