Saturday, January 13, 2007

If God is movement and not explanation (as Elie Wiesel suggests), then God is moving through me in ways and intention I no longer try to understand. I merely accept the passage through. I am through with it.
I am defenceless utterly.
I slept, methinks, and woke,
And, slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep.

(--from poem Hound Of Heaven, by Francis Thompson, 1859 - 1907)
If there was a mirror I would not recognize the reflection of what once was me looking back from an absurd looking absence. God has moved beyond me. What is left is no longer there.

We move shelves in bookshop. We open space. Last evening we read from Anam Cara by John O'Donohue. One to one, one at a time, the practice of presence, an act of wholeness.
The mind that is not always
caught up in details
is your only treasure.
Stop chasing details and become
still to feel it.
The mind that sees details clearly,
but is not caught up by them
is like a vast borderless mirror.

- Ji Aoi Isshi
Zen is borderless. Contemplation is boundaryless. Enter one to go beyond other.

Just because we love what we call God -- that doesn't mean anything. It is only what it is. In bare unconsoling experience, stark silence brings nothing with it.

Although she is alone, Wisdom can accomplish everything. She deploys her strength from one end of the earth to the other, ordering all things for good.
(--Wisdom 7:27 - 8:1)

We come here to be alone.
Pity Me Not

Pity me not because the light of day
At close of day no longer walks the sky;
Pity me not for beauties passed away
From field and thicket as the year goes by.
Pity me not the waning of the moon,
Or that the ebbing tide goes out to sea,
Or that a man's desire is hushed so soon,
And you no longer look with love on me.
This have I always known: Love is no more
Than the wide blossom which the wind assails,
Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore,
Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales.
Pity me that the heart is slow to learn
What the swift mind beholds at every turn.

(Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay)

When someone loves you they participate in making you lonely for God. Likewise, they contribute sculpting your appearance lovely for God. The clay bits curling to floor from shaping knife rejoice being made extraneous to what is being sculpted itself being readied for God.

Absence is what remains when we are loved and loving one another as God is.

(We typically think presence is the antidote to or opposite of absence -- but it's not. Absence is the fullness of no-other. We only prefer 'fullness of no-other' be called 'presence', which is what it is. The problem we experience with this preference is that we do not know how to navigate the experience of absence or emptiness when it comes -- and it indeed comes. We do not want the fullness named absence. We prefer the fullness named presence. And so, despondence, depression, and despair overcome us. It is useful to begin to consider the implications of dissecting wholeness. We might include in that consideration the wording: Embodying the dwelling-place of the Alone; Stepping aside to make room for Another. We might happily face the question: What remains when who we thought we were goes away? And happily consider as response: Who's asking?)

We face a trinity of unexplainable activity: move away; move into; move through. Without any relative notation, we are invited to be the original work, suffused with fingerprint of creating. We are at origin. Nothing there but this and only this one appearing before you. Attend this revelation, this sacrifice, this holy and unbegotten being with your name.

This is the blank mirror.

Look carefully. Emptying.

Be seen nowhere.

Shut up. Go home.

Silence.

Salvus.

Friday, January 12, 2007

Nothing.

As it is.

Now.

I see.

Without consciousness,
Time and space do not exist;
They appear within Consciousness
But have no reality of their own.
It is like a screen on which
All this is cast as pictures and move
As in a cinema show.
The Absolute Consciousness
Alone is our real nature.

- Ramana Maharshi

Jack led Thursday Evening Conversation on A Course in Miracles. In it -- Workbook Lesson 9: "I see nothing as it is now."

I love the intuition that words are not servants of thought. Words are themselves windows through which sheer reality looks. Words want to be seen through.

Do we?
1129

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant—
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind—

(Poem by Emily Dickinson)

"Here" is what has happened with language: war (and) love.

Between war and love is a window of words waiting for transparent viewing. Contrary to common opinion, seeing is not believing. Seeing is (merely, only, and wonderfully) seeing alone.
the great advantage of being alive
(instead of undying)is not so much
that mind no more can disprove than prove
what heart may feel and soul may touch
—the great(my darling)happens to be
that love are in we,that love are in we

(1st stanza of e.e.cummings poem, The Great Advantage Of Being Alive)
One of the great joys of being alive instead of undead, is poetry.

"...as far as I am concerned, poetry and every other art is and was and forever will be strictly and distinctively a question of individuality. If poetry were anything-like dropping an atom bomb-which anyone did, anyone could become a poet just by doing the necessary anything; whatever that necessary anything might or might not entail. But (as it happens) poetry is being, not doing. If you wish to follow, even at a distance, the poet's calling (and here, as always, I speak from my own totally biased and entirely personal point of view), you've got to come out of the measurable doing universe into the immeasurable house of being. I am quite aware that, wherever our so-called civilization has slithered, there's every reward and no punishment for unbeing. But if poetry is your goal, you've got to forget all about punishments and all about rewards and all about self-styled obligations and duties and responsibilities etcetera ad infinitum and remember one thing only: that it's you-nobody else-who determine your destiny and decide your fate. Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else. Toms can be Dicks and Dicks can be Harrys, but none of them can ever be you. There's the artist's responsibility; and the most awful responsibility on earth. If you can take it, take it -and be. If you can't, cheer up and go about other peoples business and do (or undo) till you drop."
(--e.e.cummings, i: SIX NONLECTURES (1953), "i & their son: NONLECTURE TWO")

If poetry is being, written -- what dare we say about seeing (as it is)?
[l(a]

l(a

le
af
fa

ll

s)
one
l

iness

(--Poem by e.e.cummings)

As alone as this leaf, a January path in frozen woods, the silence.

a total stranger one black day

a total stranger one black day
knocked living the hell out of me--

who found forgiveness hard because
my(as it happened)self he was

-but now that fiend and i are such
immortal friends the other's each

(--Poem by e.e.cummings)

When we learn to live with what-is-self, all our other selves, (the ones we like to call not-really-me, or enemy) dissolve and disappear. We accomplish nothing more than the destruction of a fundamental illusion. Each sip from that cup of Chai tea makes of the other what is oneself. Sip coffee. Sip milk. Sip water. Sip juice. Sip the sound of another's voice. Sip the sight of another's presence. Sip and be saved from delusion by what is taken into one's self -- we are not anything other than the sipping. Sip away and slip away from whatever you think you are. You are not what you think you are. You are -- (emphatically, transparently, parenthetically) -- what you (alone) only are.

As the words reveal:

I see.

Now.

As it is.

Nothing.

This
(Alone) --
is our real nature --
with One
Another

(!) or is it (?)

(There is no-choice, so
choose now)

(Poem by w.f.halpin)

Thursday, January 11, 2007

A day with dust discarding accumulated debris, liberating windows for daylight, and moving things about in our small space by harbor. It is disconcerting what we hold onto; discouraging why we do so. It is time to practice seeing through.

The true person is
Not anyone in particular;
But like the deep blue color
Of the limitless sky,
It is everyone,
Everywhere in the world.

- Dogen (1200-1253)

Reading Wayne Teasdale at Wednesday Laura Soul Friend Conversation at bookshop. A realm of quiet wandered between words and thoughts. Awareness, he wrote, is eternal, cosmic, and divine sensitivity. Patricia said that, when told by someone they thought they were too sensitive, she says,: Yes, exquisitely sensitive!
ex·qui·site Pronunciation (kskw-zt, k-skwzt)adj.
1. Characterized by intricate and beautiful design or execution: an exquisite chalice.
2. Of such beauty or delicacy as to arouse intense delight: an exquisite sunset. See Synonyms at delicate.
3. Excellent; flawless: plays the piano with exquisite technique.
4. Acutely perceptive or discriminating: "Blind dolphins have been known to survive in the wild, guided by exquisite acoustic images of their prey" Kenneth Browser.
5. Intense; keen: suffered exquisite pain.
6. Obsolete Ingeniously devised or thought out.
[Middle English exquisit, carefully chosen, from Latin exqustus, past participle of exqurere, to search out : ex-, ex- + quaerere, to seek.]

(The Free Dictionary)

Before dawn the waning moon, even in diminished curve of cycle, illuminates barnyard and kitchen roof. I don't doubt the presence of the Holy One -- it's just, at this time of personal spiritual darkness -- I see, feel, and think nothing of that presence. It is a time of one foot in front of another along a Via Negativa.

How desirable are all his works,
how dazzling to the eye!
They all live and last for ever,
whatever the circumstances all obey him.
All things go in pairs, by opposites,
and he has made nothing defective;
the one consolidates the excellence of the other,
who could ever be sated with gazing at his glory?

Pride of the heights, shining vault,
so, in a glorious spectacle, the sky appears.
The sun, as he emerges, proclaims at his rising,
‘A thing of wonder is the work of the Most High!’
At his zenith he parches the land,
who can withstand his blaze?
A man must blow a furnace to produce any heat,
the sun burns the mountains three times as much;
breathing out blasts of fire,
flashing his rays he dazzles the eyes.
Great is the Lord who made him,
and whose word speeds him on his course.

And then the moon, always punctual,
to mark the months and make division of time:
the moon it is that signals the feasts,
a luminary that wanes after her full.
The month derives its name from hers,
she waxes wonderfully in her phases,
banner of the hosts on high,
shining in the vault of heaven.

(--from Ecclesiasticus 42:15 - 43:13)

If even one person comes to see what no one else sees, there is opening for everyone. We must practice this understanding. What you see I am also given to see, whether I am yet ready to see it. Each journey into the realm of truth is gift for every person. We are not alone. We are profoundly connected and interconnected with one another. "Christ" is this shared revelation. So we live, now not "I," but Christ lives with/in us.

"Every one of us is a mystic. We may or may not realize it, we may not even like it. But whether we know it or not, whether we accept it or not, mystical experience is always there, inviting us on a journey of ultimate discovery. We have been given the gift of life in this perplexing world to become who we ultimately are: creatures of boundless love, caring compassion, and wisdom. Existence is a summons to the eternal journey of the sage - the sage we all are, if only we could see."
(--Brother Wayne Teasdale, in The Mystic Heart)

Have we been looking for God in all the substitute places instead of where the Divine One dwells?

The one Divine Presence is behind it all, in every age. This insight has significance for peace-making in Asia, the Pacific, really indeed everywhere, and it is very meaningful as a major resource for transformation as we embrace the monumental task of reshaping our global political and economic culture.

The elements of a universal spirituality, or mysticism include: (1) actualized moral capacity, (2) solidarity with the earth and all beings, (3) deep nonviolence, (4) humility of heart, (5) spiritual practice, (6) mature self-knowledge, (7) simplicity of life and lifestyle, (8) love in action--compassionate service, and (9) prophetic voice and action. All these aspects work together, and are essential to a fully formed and operative spiritual life in any part of the world.

[...A]n awakened contemplative, mystic, saint, or anyone aspiring to be so, understands the intrinsic interdependence of all beings, all sentient beings, and certainly all human persons. Such a one grasps inwardly, existentially, this ontological truth of the interconnectivity of all life. It leads one to a deep sense of solidarity with all beings, and especially with the earth itself, our mother, and the basis of our material, aesthetic, and even our spiritual life here in this world. This interdependence is the ontological condition of humankind, and further, the social, economic, and political interdependence exist because of the deeper interconnection of all beings. Each of the great world religions attests to the essential, ontological interdependence of all being. Hinduism speaks of non-duality, Buddhism of dependent arising, Christianity of the Mystical Body of Christ, all of which indicate a unitive holding of reality together. It is out of this ontological condition that the sense of solidarity emerges in the mystic’s vision of how he or she is related to everyone else.
(--from Spirituality as a Primary Resource in Promoting Peace, Unpublished manuscript by Wayne Teasdale), http://home.comcast.net/%7Ebrotherwayne/korea.htm

Patricia's Black Lab (Rumi) slobbered knees and wrists as usual as conversation went on at the shop. His tail thumped counter and bakery case as words "spirit" and "word" and "presence" settled like warm touches on his gentle back.

“The real revolution, the definitive revolution, is the spiritual awakening of humanity. The real revolution is one that goes to the radical core of human limitation and raises that up to transformation, to development. Unless that happens, the seeds of corruption are still going to be there — and the seeds of inequity, of exploitation, and of a selfish, greedy existence that neglects the welfare of the masses and of the planet.”
(—Brother Wayne Teasdale, in Transforming the Seeds of Corruption)

It is by the fruits of a person or a nation that we know them. Not by ideology; not by wealth or power; not by protestations of error or proclamation of any type. But by fruits. What are we actually doing to serve a suffering people in a troubling time?

We have to become what we really are. Become true. Become a person. See ourselves through and through. As One...Another!

"The true person is...everyone, everywhere in the world." Dogen reminds us to practice what is true to be enlightened by who and what we are. This is the revolution.

See this through.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

We must not lose our ability to see, feel, and think.

A conservative friend cautioned against "hate, criticism, and condemnation." He's right about the warning. In today's environment of fear and delusion any statement telling what you see, feel, or think might easily be spun into threat or danger to those in power intent only on security of the nation and its interests.

It is now dangerous to see, feel, or think.

If you want to be free, get to know your real self.
It has no form, no appearance, no root,
No basis, no abode, but is lively and buoyant.
It responds with versatile facility, but its function
Cannot be located; when you look for it you become
Further from it. When you seek it
You turn away from it all the more.

- Rinzai ( d.867?)

There have always been times disagreement was necessary and argument vital. They are good activities of mind, heart, and soul. We need not fear such exchange. But if fear is the desired effect, then demonize dissent, mock intellectual evaluation, and punish differing perspectives. This is how people become disheartened and nations deteriorate as they slip into disintegration.

The waves of death flooded round me, the torrents of Belial tossed me about,
the cords of the underworld wound round me, death’s traps opened before me.

(--from Psalm 18)

It is an odd time of civilization. Fear flows from every direction: terrorists want to kill anybody interfering in their ideology; democracies want to kill anyone interfering with that notion of political rule; criminals want to kill those interfering with their crimes; capitalists want to kill (metaphorically and economically) their competitors; and powerful people want to kill any restrictions to their increasing power. We seem enamored with the idea and practice of killing.

Contemplation Of The Sword

Reason will not decide at last; the sword will decide.
The sword: an obsolete instrument of bronze or steel,
formerly used to kill men, but here
In the sense of a symbol. The sword: that is: the storms
and counter-storms of general destruction; killing
of men,
Destruction of all goods and materials; massacre, more or
less intentional, of children and women;
Destruction poured down from wings, the air made accomplice,
the innocent air
Perverted into assasin and poisoner.

The sword: that is: treachery and cowardice, incredible
baseness, incredible courage, loyalties, insanities.
The sword: weeping and despair, mass-enslavement,
mass-tourture, frustration of all hopes
That starred man's forhead. Tyranny for freedom, horror for
happiness, famine for bread, carrion for children.
Reason will not decide at last, the sword will decide.

Dear God, who are the whole splendor of things and the sacred
stars, but also the cruelty and greed, the treacheries
And vileness, insanities and filth and anguish: now that this
thing comes near us again I am finding it hard
To praise you with a whole heart.
I know what pain is, but pain can shine. I know what death is,
I have sometimes
Longed for it. But cruelty and slavery and degredation,
pestilence, filth, the pitifulness
Of men like hurt little birds and animals . . . if you were
only
Waves beating rock, the wind and the iron-cored earth,
With what a heart I could praise your beauty.
You will not repent, nor cancel life, nor free man from anguish
For many ages to come. You are the one that tortures himself to
discover himself: I am
One that watches you and discovers you, and praises you in little
parables, idyl or tragedy, beautiful
Intolerable God.
The sword: that is:
I have two sons whom I love. They are twins, they were born
in nineteen sixteen, which seemed to us a dark year
Of a great war, and they are now of the age
That war prefers. The first-born is like his mother, he is so
beautiful
That persons I hardly know have stopped me on the street to
speak of the grave beauty of the boy's face.
The second-born has strength for his beauty; when he strips
for swimming the hero shoulders and wrestler loins
Make him seem clothed. The sword: that is: loathsome disfigurements,
blindness, mutilation, locked lips of boys
Too proud to scream.
Reason will not decide at last: the sword will decide.

(Poem, Contemplation Of The Sword, by Robinson Jeffers)

We become desperate. Hopelessness, however, need not be destination -- it can be a place from which to begin new journey.

Perhaps we see peace where our leaders only see war.
Maybe we feel compassion and love where our leaders can only feel arrogant vengeance.
It's possible to think more intuitively about paths for humans dwelling together in this world, rather than think about strategies to dominate and subjugate those differing from us.

Let this be today's practice -- to see, feel, and think -- in the open.

"Don't do it!" some say, "Don't look, feel, or think -- it's too dangerous."

John O'Donohue said it clearly in Anam Cara: "Time is eternity living dangerously."

What we call "Christ" is template for this life.

What we call "Buddha" is awakening this journey.

See truth. Feel courage. Think lively.

It is a trek with lovely view, authentic feeling, and inspiring thought.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

The annoying thing about zen is not knowing whether you want to smack the know-it-all in the head, or, whether the don't-know-at-all will be smacking you in the head. Either way is a headache.

The wisdom of Enlightenment is
Inherent in every one of us.
It is because of the delusion
Under which our mind works
That we fail to realize it ourselves,
And that we have to seek
The advice and the guidance of Enlightened ones.

- Hui-neng (638-713)

I prefer no-smacking. We, of course, should go out of our way to tumble one another with words and acrobatics along the lines of Tom Stoppard's "Rosencranz & Guildenstern are Dead" -- surprising and being surprised by the ability to say "yes" or "no" when saying so does so at the right time for so doing.

Often we take to our lives with shaking hands.

After Dinner

She's eaten dinner talking
back to the television, she's
had coffee and brandy, done
the dishes and drifted into
and out of sleep over a book
she found beside the couch. It's
time for bed, but she goes
instead to the front door, unlocks
it, and steps onto the porch.
Behind her she can hear only
the silence of the house. The lights
throw her shadow down the stairs
and onto the lawn, and she walks
carefully to meet it. Now she's
standing in the huge, whispering
arena of night, hearing her
own breath tearing out of her
like the cries of an animal.
She could keep going into
whatever the darkness brings,
she could find a presence there
her shaking hands could hold
instead of each other.

(Poem: "After Dinner" by Philip Levine, from A Walk With Thomas Jefferson.)

My prayer remains with individuals. Like the woman in the poem, like many men and women in the world, the longing to find presence in the dark arena of night is a longing we all know.

Better worlds (I suggest) are born, not made: and their birthdays are the birthdays of individuals. Let us pray always
for individuals; never for worlds.

--e.e. cummings

Let there be born to us individuals who better this world, this existence, this night moving to new light.

Consider the lilies of the field,
how they grow;
They toil not, neither do they spin;
And yet I say unto you,
that even Solomon in all his glory
was not arrayed like one of these.

(--Christ's words, Matt 6: 28-30)

No toil. No spin.

Just this.

Zen.

Monday, January 08, 2007

Here at the hermitage chilly rain falls. At practice last evening sky was clear. Krishnamurti was quoted as saying: "I don't mind what happens."

It was nice to have his words visit. When no thought intrudes between what is there and our inner illumined realization of it -- then, we know "what happens." We don't "mind" it, we become what is happening. We embody the kindness of profound reality. We know it -- not from any outside point of view -- but we know it with and as our whole being.

In Soto Zen, the practice is just realizing; we meditate as earnestly as the Buddha himself did, and it is not a question of waiting for satori. We understand that the value of this practice of earnest sitting in meditation is how the Buddha light is brought out into our world. If it is done, then naturally through the Buddha heart our human nature is elevated. There is no distinction here of sharp or dull or clever or stupid. It is a fact that anyone who devotes themselves wholeheartedly to spiritual meditation without wavering reaches the supreme state.
--Takashina Rosen (1876-1968) Excerpted from A First Zen Reader

Christmas season liturgically ends. Magi return wondering about the "uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor" (Yeats). Baptism is held and John is surprised to learn the man he pours water on is who he actually is. In neighborhoods and households many take down decorations and box away lights and tinsel. They wonder from time to time if they are actually who they are.

A feeling of expectancy had grown among the people, who were beginning to think that John might be the Christ, so John declared before them all, ‘I baptise you with water, but someone is coming, someone who is more powerful than I am, and I am not fit to undo the strap of his sandals; he will baptise you with the Holy Spirit and fire.
--Luke 3:15 - 22

John could have been the Christ. As far as he knew he might have been a madman lost in the desert. He opened his mouth and spoke fiery words filled with spirit recalling other desert prophets who themselves probably suspected they were madmen. The desert is where madmen go to find their God. And God is where the desert becomes the human heart longing for water and spirit.
The Death of a Soldier

Life contracts and death is expected,
As in a season of autumn.
The soldier falls.

He does not become a three-days personage,
Imposing his separation,
Calling for pomp.

Death is absolute and without memorial,
As in a season of autumn,
When the wind stops,

When the wind stops and, over the heavens,
The clouds go, nevertheless,
In their direction.
(Poem: "The Death of a Soldier" by Wallace Stevens from Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens. Alfred A Knopf.)

The American president plans to send more American troops to the nation he invaded. This is something he can do. He is president of a country that can bomb and invade anywhere it wants. Some say it is God's favored country. You have to embrace a particular theology to balance the will of God with the will of the American president.

I fill bird feeder. The coffee is "Oso Negro" from British Columbia Canada. Heather's brother sends it to us at her request. We are grateful. The theology feels right: friendship plus coffee with conversation and respect equals planetary-divine-human spirituality sprinkled with kindness.

Maybe kindness is what John baptized Jesus with. Maybe Jesus thought: "Wow! This is really sacred stuff!" Maybe the Dalai Lama is the only Christian. (We'd have to include Francis of Assisi, Mahatma Gandhi of Porbandar, Gujarat, India, Mother Teresa of Albania and Calcutta, and Josh of Warren). This 14th Dalai Lama -- Tenzin Gyatso -- is the head of state and spiritual leader of the Tibetan people. Born Lhamo Dhondrub on 6 July 1935, in a small village called Taktser in northeastern Tibet, he is widely quoted of late as saying: "My religion is simple. My religion is kindness!".

The religion of kindness might have been what called out over the Jordan River that day John doused Jesus. The sound heard was: "This is my child -- this pleases me -- listen to this one!" German theologians and philosophers lead the way through hermeneutics and phenomenological studies because they know that "kindness" and the German word for "child" ("kind") are mysteriously revelatory of Profound Reality.

This Profound Reality does not sanction the killing of children. It does not allow the murder of parents, brothers, sisters, or relatives of children. In fact, this Profound Reality takes a very dim view of individuals who engage in such behavior. Which is why something expedient needs be done to distract those who would send children to kill and be killed in foreign lands. What to do?

Maybe we can practice kindness. Kindness in speech, thought, actions, and prayer.

Kindness might also mean martyrdom. ("Oh God," you think, "there's that word again!")

The word martyr means witness. We can be witness for one another. We might practice seeing and hearing what is taking place with our brothers and sisters -- and present ourselves as would Profound Reality near or within their reality. [mar·tyr Pronunciation (märtr), n. 1. One who chooses to suffer death rather than renounce religious principles. 2. One who makes great sacrifices or suffers much in order to further a belief, cause, or principle.] (Free Dictionary)

Of course we have principles left. They're not all sacrificed to security and political expediency. Our principle is kindness. Kindness and presence call forth heaven and earth into sacred being.

Kind is natural.

The Free Dictionary elaborates: kind 1 Pronunciation (knd)
adj. kind·er, kind·est
1. Of a friendly, generous, or warm-hearted nature.
2. Showing sympathy or understanding; charitable: a kind word.
3. Humane; considerate: kind to animals.
4. Forbearing; tolerant: Our neighbor was very kind about the window we broke.
5. Generous; liberal: kind words of praise.
6. Agreeable; beneficial: a dry climate kind to asthmatics.
[Middle English, natural, kind, from Old English gecynde, natural; see gen- in Indo-European roots.]

All other religions must consider folding into the religion of natural kindness. In fact, there are no "other" religions. There is no other in kindness. Each is treated and seen as themselves, oneself, itself -- each as it is -- a sacred appearance of profound reality.

But there is a catch with these appearances -- namely, each appearing being takes on the attributes of its mother and father. Those of us who look upon one another are mother and father to one another. We who listen to one another are parent to one another. And if we do not see nor hear one another, if we intentionally or unmindfully ignore one another, we make orphans and abused and neglected and feral one another.

Outside window, chilly rain continues to fall.

Mound of seed placed on top feeder is gone.

My family is practicing their religion.

Heed one another.

Feed one another.

Be kind.

Sunday, January 07, 2007

At a meeting with dog, cat, mice, squirrel, and owl I plan to announce withdrawal of support for the American war with Iraq. I suppose I'll have to provide food to feed them at the meeting lest they begin to eat each other.

Deep green needles glow
Against a cobalt sky;
They radiate something
Only a few can sense.
Snow white peaks,
Summits shrouded in clouds,
Shine and echo,
Shine and echo
Through both sides
Of the skin line.
Oh, in all this lies
Some deep implication,
Yet when I try to say more,
I become silent, mute.

- Ji Aoi Isshi

The implication of support for the war will revive the ancient American metaphysical question (a question more difficult to comprehend than Fibonacci numbers and their sequence) whether it is possible to not support the war and yet still support the troops. The commander in chief of American forces will decide the matter with a signing statement on legislation intent on condemning the ongoing war by consigning the troops with condemnation and vengeance that "are fine, saith the sword." (It takes a rare grasp of etymology to insinuate multiple Freudian slips of such biblical proportions.)
Guys Like That

Drive very nice cars, and from
where you sit in your dented
last-century version of the
most ordinary car in America, they

look dark-suited and neat and fast.
Guys like that look as if they are thinking
about wine and marble floors, but
really they are thinking about TiVo

and ESPN. Women think that guys
like that are different from the guys
driving the trucks that bring cattle
to slaughter, but guys like that are

planning worse things than the death
of a cow. Guys who look like that —
so clean and cool — are quietly moving
money across the border, cooking books,

making deals that leave some people
rich and some people poorer
than they were before guys like that
robbed them at the pump and on

their electricity bills, and even
now, guys like that are planning how
to divide up that little farm they just
passed, the one you used to call home.
(Poem: "Guys Like That" by Joyce Sutphen.)

Dog, cat, mice, squirrel, and owl will, no doubt, not care what happens in Washington DC, Baghdad, Iraq or even Heavenly Realms, Mind of God. They'll just want the meeting over. They'll want to get back to their daily schedule of walk and snooze, pounce and snooze, gnaw and snooze, filch nuts and snooze, and lastly, hoot and snooze. I'll tell them: "Watch the news!" But they won't, being averse to the embarrassment of human reruns.

‘Console my people, console them’
says your God.
‘Speak to the heart of Jerusalem
and call to her
that her time of service is ended,
that her sin is atoned for,
that she has received from the hand of the Lord
double punishment for all her crimes.’

(from Isaiah 40: 1-ff)

Our double punishment is the lie we both tell and suffer. Truth is you can't support the war nor can you support the troops. It's a false choice, a false dualism.

The troops are out in a wasteland. They are dying and have no hope. The war is that wasteland. It kills and maims and its very name is hopelessness.

Back in the United States, Christians celebrate the feast of Epiphany -- the revelation of sacred truth in our midst, the fulfillment of ancient hopes in the being of a child who comes as embodiment of divine love and compassion. It is a wonderful narrative. It is a lovely story.

Tell me again this story of hope.

What shone through? Was it true back then?

Was there once a fusion and conjoining -- a meeting revelation of wholeness and union? If so, where did it go?

Is the meeting adjourned?

Saturday, January 06, 2007

Who is wise? Who are Magi? What magic is sought? Why ask?

Above all, don’t wish to become a future Buddha;
Your only concern should be,
As thought follows thought,
To avoid clinging to any of them.

- Dogen (1200 – 1253)

I ask because I no longer wish to cling to any thought. I wish no longer to be tied to belief. What remains?

What remains is inquiry. We ask in order to enter the question, not to find answer. To be called into question is great reprieve from prison of certitude.

I no longer know "why". Still, I am invited into what "why" investigates. We read. We listen. We watch. We ask. Then, as if some magical portal manifests from nowhere, we are invited into the question itself.

The question itself!
The Magi

Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye,
In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones
Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky
With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,
And all their helms of silver hovering side by side,
And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,
Being by Calvary's turbulence unsatisfied,
The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.

(poem The Magi, by W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)

Most explanation is unsatisfactory.

T.S. Eliot contributes:
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for Birth or Death?
There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

(from poem, The Journey of The Magi, by T.S. Elliot )

Death might be the letting go of knowing and entering the question of Being.

For which, there is no answer.

Only (some say) Being Itself. Some say -- God. What do you say?

I don't know what to say, nor why I have nothing to say. But we have to say something.

I say -- Wisdom attends.

There!

And here.

Manifesting.

Each one of us.

Friday, January 05, 2007

"Time is eternity living dangerously." (p.xix, Anam Cara, John O'Donohue)

We live dangerously any time we appear in the world. The world is a dangerous place. That's one of the reasons we so seldom show up as who we really are. Instead, masks and roles, costume and persona cloak and front for us. So many of us become the thing we fear. Do we fear ourselves?

When people of the world
Look for this path amid the clouds,
It vanishes,
Without a trace.
The high peaks
Have many precipices;
On the widest gulleys
Hardly a gleam falls.
Green walls close
Behind and before;
White clouds gather
East and west.
Do you want to know
Where the cloud-path lies?
The cloud-path leads from sky to sky.

- Han Shan

Everything is already and always itself. Itself, understood with clear mind, is nothing other than our true self without fear. What exists without fear?

Love. And love is allowing what-is to be itself with compassionate attention.

Imagine a very poor man living in a decrepit little shanty, the only thing he owns in the world. What he does not know is that just beneath his shanty, but hidden in the dirt, is an inexhaustible vein of gold. As long as he remains ignorant of his hidden wealth, this pauper remains in poverty; but when he attends more closely to his own dwelling, he is bound to discover his own fathomless wealth. Similarly, all we need to do is unveil our own nature, and we will find an inexhaustible source of wisdom, compassion, and power. It is nothing we need to acquire, from anywhere or anything. It has always been there. Seen in this light, the Buddha-nature requires no additions. One does not have to memorize sutras, recite prayers or accumulate virtues to create it. All one needs to do is unveil it.
(--B. Alan Wallace, Tibetan Buddhism from the Ground Up, from Everyday Mind)

I think of some people I've spent time with. They are dangerous. Some are in prison for crimes. Some see their task as keeping them in prison. The thing about prison is that everyone connected with prison is in prison. Even those of us not in prison -- we, too, share the fate of prisoners. This is a troubling fact. It is a difficulty of our time. As Bo Lazoff writes, "We're All Doing Time."

Time, said O'Donohue, is eternity living dangerously. Do you have the time?

My ideas and thoughts about time or about you are mostly illusions. For this I apologize. It is difficult to live a truthful life without illusions.

We must forgive and be forgiven this difficulty and those of us who fail so noticeably at it.

We practice impermanence because impermanence is perfection and practice is enlightenment as is enlightenment practice.

This takes time.

Dangerously.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

"Light is the secret presence of the divine. It keeps life awake." (p.25, Anam Cara, John O'Donohue)

A new earth comes with sunrise this morning. A clear light shines luminous from deep emptiness of space.

The demons, he said, will haunt us if we remain afraid. If you cannot be intimidated by those whose power is based on fear, you are not their victim. To live without fear has theological implication. Deity is not fearsome. Deity is natural. One's own mystery revealed in the simplicity step after step of this day.

Eye cannot see It,
Tongue cannot utter It,
Mind cannot grasp It.
There is no way to learn or to teach It.
It is different from the known,
Beyond the unknown.
In this all the ancient masters agree.

- Upanishads

It is possible to drop all belief and still experience that which belief pointed to. Belief is a direction to aim. Reality, especially sacred reality, is unadulterated point and that which is pointing.

The Long Boat

When his boat snapped loose
from its mooring, under
the screaking of the gulls,
he tried at first to wave
to his dear ones on shore,
but in the rolling fog
they had already lost their faces.
Too tired even to choose
between jumping and calling,
somehow he felt absolved and free
of his burdens, those mottoes
stamped on his name-tag:
conscience, ambition, and all
that caring.
He was content to lie down
with the family ghosts
in the slop of his cradle,
buffeted by the storm,
endlessly drifting.
Peace! Peace!
To be rocked by the Infinite!
As if it didn't matter
which way was home;
as if he didn't know
he loved the earth so much
he wanted to stay forever.

(Poem by Stanley Kunitz)

It doesn't matter which way is home. Home is way itself. Enter way with open heart, arrive where you are at origin.

But, as it is written, "What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him"
(1 Cor 2:9)

Maria will have heart surgery early next week. She and Tom stay after Course in Miracles for Thai food. We hug in parking lot.

Just as the water flows under the ground so those who seek it find it, without thought, without end, its effective power all-pervasive, Buddha Knowledge is also like this, being in all creatures' minds; if any work on it with diligence, they will soon find the light of knowledge.
(--The Flower Ornament Scripture, trans. by Thomas Cleary, from Everyday Mind, edited by Jean Smith,)

This light is the secret presence of the divine.

It's no secret.

Wake and see.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Some feel there is nothing to teach. Still, one must say something.

It is noteworthy... that the story of the Buddha's spiritual journey climaxes with his enlightenment but does not end there. Even as he was savoring the blissful state that followed his awakening, he was approached (in the traditional account) by a delegation of gods, who begged him to give up his private ecstasy so he could share his awakening with those who still suffered. This encounter and its outcome, however legendary, make the point that spiritual maturity includes the ability to actualize transcendent insight in daily life. The Buddha is said to have wandered across northern India for forty years, tirelessly teaching the dharma. His decision to arise from his seat under the Bo tree and go out into the world can be considered the first step of a socially engaged Buddhism. The Buddha's discourses, which had revolutionary force in the society of his time, include countless passages dealing with "this-worldly" topics such as politics, good government, poverty, crime, war, peace, and ecology.
(-Kenneth Kraft, Inner Peace, World Peace, from Everyday Mind, edited by Jean Smith)

There comes a time when someone will talk us through the "in-between state" -- the bardo -- of our passing through this existence into and through another.

If we imagine history running back in time, we inevitably come to the epoch of the "big squeeze" with all the galaxies, stars, atoms and atomic nuclei squeezed, so to speak, to a pulp. During that early stage of evolution, matter must have been dissociated into its elementary components.... We call this primordial mixture ylem.

At this first point in the evolution of the present cycle, according to this first-rank physicist, there existed only the Unbecome, the Unborn, the Unformed. And this, according to astrophysicists, is the way it will end; the silent unity of the Unformed. The Tibetan Buddhists suggest that the uncluttered intellect can experience what astrophysics confirms.

(--from First Bardo: The Period of Ego-Loss or Non-Game Ecstasy (Chikhai Bardo)
Part I: The Primary Clear Light Seen At the Moment of Ego-Loss.Tibetan Book of the Dead)

We must keep going, no matter what the sense of loss or emptiness, uncertainty or disillusionment.

Luke Chapter 9
1
He summoned the Twelve and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases,
2
and he sent them to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal (the sick).
3
He said to them, "Take nothing for the journey, neither walking stick, nor sack, nor food, nor money, and let no one take a second tunic.
4
Whatever house you enter, stay there and leave from there.
5
And as for those who do not welcome you, when you leave that town, shake the dust from your feet in testimony against them."


That "nothing" we are told to take, that empty handed openness we are asked to traverse with humility and courage -- that too must be left, that too is to be dropped.

If there is anything to say, then say it.

May it be one clear, authentic, word.

Stay.

Or leave.

With.

This.

Word.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Zendo mates make noise. Mu-ge takes break from on-guard station by cellar door to lay on back by brown chair leg, stretching against it. Cesco, head on bell-striker alongside wheat hull zafu, gurgles like a pipe moving uncertain contents reluctantly elsewhere. I find my breath. Where has it been? We are sitting just before 3am. It is, otherwise, quiet.

Calming the Mind


Too much knowledge
Leads to overactivity;
Better to calm the mind.
The more you consider,
The greater the loss;
Better to unify the mind.
- Shih Wang Ming (6th century)

I no longer understand the fuss about night and day. I read about Basil and Gregory.Their fete is today.

The Emperor Valens (364-­378), who unsparingly dispatched bishops displeasing to him into exile, was a resolute supporter of the Arians. He planted Arianism in other provinces in Asia Minor and came to Cappadocia with the same aim. He sent the Prefect Modestus to Basil in order to convince the hierarch to join the Arians. Modestus threatened him with ruin, exile, tortures and even death. St. Gregory tells of Basil the Great's response: "Thou threatenest me with the confiscation of property, but it means nothing for the man who possesses nothing, unless thou desirest to receive this modest clothing and a few books which make up all my estate. Exile? - but I do not know it, since I am not limited by space. If this ground on which I stand right now does not belong to me, then the whole earth belongs to God, Whose temporary guest I am. Torments? - but they do not have power over one not having flesh, except perhaps for the first blow, which thou art free to make. Death? - but it will be deliverance for me, since it will quickly bring me to God, for Whom I live and to a greater extent have died, and to Whom I hasten to come...Tell the Emperor that neither violence nor persuasion will force me to accept a wrong teaching." Modestus was struck by these words. (http://www.fatheralexander.org/booklets/english/saints/basil_great.htm)

Words embody us. They make us solid and present. Basil appeared in his word. So do we. This is why it is frightening to use words. They cause us to appear. Some of us use silence to remain invisible. That could be a wonderful way of being. Then again, others of us use silence to render unreal someone for whom words would confirm their being. The power of words has never detached from magical consciousness. Say...and see. It worked for the Eternal Creating Being. It still works. We make someone appear or disappear with words. Saying: "I love you," births being and beings. Saying: "Be dead, hang, depart from me, I hate you," erases being and beings.

But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all brethren. And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven. Neither be called masters, for you have one master, the Christ. He who is greatest among you shall be your servant; whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.
(-Matthew 23:8-12)

Humility is coming to earth. There are other words that send us into realms of power, security, control, dominance, fear, selfishness, or arrogance. But it is wording and embodying humility that brings us to earth -- deposits us feet first squarely in concert with the elements of this creation, this Gaia, this planet, this soil, this land, this breathing vision of integral incarnation with all living being and beings

Before the Sky Darkens
Sunsets, incipient storms, the tableaus
of melancholy—maybe these are
the Saturday night-events
to take your best girl to. At least then
there might be moments of vanishing beauty
before the sky darkens,
and the expectation of happiness
would hardly exist
and therefore might be possible.
More and more you learn to live
with the unacceptable.
You sense the ever-hidden God
retreating even farther,
terrified or embarrassed.
You might as well be a clown,
big silly clothes, no evidence of desire.
That's how you feel, say, on a Tuesday.
Then out of the daily wreckage
comes an invitation
with your name on it. Or more likely,
that best girl of yours offers you,
once again, a small local kindness.
You open your windows to good air
blowing in from who knows where,
which you gulp and deeply inhale
as if you have a death sentence. You have.
All your life, it seems, you've been appealing it.
Night sweats and useless stratagem. Reprieves.
(Poem by Stephen Dunn)
Given a reprieve, a man will stare into the deep of night and no longer crave the dawn. We learn to live with the unacceptable. We look under our feet. We are standing on the earth. Above our heads, at a distance beyond roof of barn, white specks of star sign darkness with signature presence silent earth wordlessly absorbs.

All is.

Well.

This.

Morning practice.

Monday, January 01, 2007

"Mother?"

I can barely see you.

Icy rain. Cat licks. Dog's head under couch. Fog at Bald. Creaks from upstairs hallway enter winter zendo. Everything sits meditation.

Time for clearer view of one's life presents itself.

There is a simple way to become a buddha: When you refrain from unwholesome action, are not attached to birth and death, and are compassionate toward all sentient beings, respectful to seniors and kind to juniors, not excluding or desiring anything, with no designing thoughts or worries, you will be called a buddha. Do not seek anything else.

--Zen Master Dogen, Moon in a Dewdrop, edited by Kazuaki Tanahashi

Saddam has fallen through trap and is back under ground. Bush imagines the number 3000, divides it by 2006 over 2007, subtracts 24 months remaining to his office -- and worries what answer will compute.

The observant today think Theotokos and celebrate Mary's Solemnity and consider what it means to say she is the God-bearer, the one who gives birth to God, Mother of God Incarnate -- Mary as Mother of God.

If earth, then Mary. If God, then earth. If January 1st, then fire in wood stove, coffee on stove, and lute on radio.

Some say that everything happens for a reason. I'm uncertain of that belief. I think that everything happens because it happens. This belief is the mother of such children as "Shit Happens" as well as "Kindness Happens." We have a large family, as it happens. Some of our brothers and sisters, though hard to take, are still family.

What was born of Mary was therefore human by nature, in accordance with the inspired Scriptures, and the body of the Lord was a true body: It was a true body because it was the same as ours. Mary, you see, is our sister, for we are all born from Adam.
The words of St John, the Word was made flesh, bear the same meaning, as we may see from a similar turn of phrase in St Paul: Christ was made a curse for our sake. Man’s body has acquired something great through its communion and union with the Word. From being mortal it has been made immortal; though it was a living body it has become a spiritual one; though it was made from the earth it has passed through the gates of heaven.
Even when the Word takes a body from Mary, the Trinity remains a Trinity, with neither increase nor decrease. It is for ever perfect. In the Trinity we acknowledge one Godhead, and thus one God, the Father of the Word, is proclaimed in the Church.
(from A letter of St Athanasius, Office of Readings)

There will be a new understanding of what "church" is and is to become. It is time for a transformed consciousness that steps beyond into the open. What we've believed too long is that "God" fits within the box of our thoughts and concepts, that we own God, or, at least, we do God's bidding and therefore, by extension, are soldiers in his army carrying out his commands and wielding his power for him. It is a metaphor and belief that has been God-awful.

The Kernal of Free Inquiry
(It is said that Siddhartha Gautama, while with the Kalama people, was asked how to discern Truth. His words are reported as follows.)

"It is essential to doubt, to question all things deeply, to inquire, examine, inspect and experiment.”

“Do not rely on what another says, be they a friend, a monk, a respected teacher or even a sage.”

“Do not rely on what tradition implies, mainstream culture dictates or what scripture may state.”

“Do not rely on comforting beliefs born of favorable ideas, traditional views, logical reflection, careful analysis or deep pondering.”

“Only when you know directly - having put them to the practical test of free and active inquiry, of living, dynamic embodiment and experience - 'these things are destructive; when enacted they lead to harm', then abandon them. And - 'these things are liberating; when enacted they lead to emancipation', then abide in them.

“Come to know directly - through the crucible of your own individual life - the truth that certain actions, thoughts and feelings lead to suffering - your own and that of other beings - then your vision will become clear.“

“Awakened Beings, with purified minds and harmonious of thought, word and deed, are those through whom boundless, panoramic dynamic peace is manifest in every event, in every moment and in every place.”

“Awakened Beings are complete, in need of no hereafter, and their Awakening precipitates the Awakening of sentient beings all around them.”

(--from The Engaged Zen Foundation, http://www.engaged-zen.org/Liturgy/Kernel.html

The path to freedom is paved with bare attention.

The Sudden Light And The Trees

My neighbor was a biker, a pusher, a dog
and wife beater.
In bad dreams I killed him

and once, in the consequential light of day,
I called the Humane Society
about Blue, his dog. They took her away

and I readied myself, a baseball bat
inside my door.
That night I hear his wife scream

and I couldn't help it, that pathetic
relief; her again, not me.
It would be years before I'd understand

why victims cling and forgive. I plugged in
the Sleep-Sound and it crashed
like the ocean all the way to sleep.

One afternoon I found him
on the stoop,
a pistol in his hand, waiting,

he said, for me. A sparrow had gotten in
to our common basement.
Could he have permission

to shoot it? The bullets, he explained,
might go through the floor.
I said I'd catch it, wait, give me

a few minutes and, clear-eyed, brilliantly
afraid, I trapped it
with a pillow. I remember how it felt

when I got my hand, and how it burst
that hand open
when I took it outside, a strength

that must have come out of hopelessness
and the sudden light
and the trees. And I remember

the way he slapped the gun against
his open palm,
kept slapping it, and wouldn't speak.

(-- Poem by Stephen Dunn)

Let's not shoot sparrows. Let's be wary of those with guns wanting to shoot sparrows -- they are really after us. They are afraid we will denude controlling anger and deposit them in an open vulnerability where violence cannot, nor will not, go.

Maybe that's another way of understanding "mother." Like the French word "mere" (for "mother"), there is the English word "mere"-- (adj 1: being nothing more than specified; "a mere child" 2: apart from anything else; without additions or modifications; "only the bare facts".)

We practice mere gaze when we practice meditation. "Mere gaze" can be envisioned as "mothering gaze" and/or "bare gaze." A bare gaze is one that looks without making additions or modifications. This would be akin to looking at one another without judgment or evaluative motives, but resting in the reality as it presents itself.

Mere gaze -- is mothering. Mere gaze -- is bare attention.

This is how we assist one another in times of icy rain and hopelessness. This is how we support one another through times of motherless isolation and nonspeaking abandonment. We present ourselves as nothing other than merely who and what we are -- attentive, listening, and engaging what is presenting itself before us.

This is how we mother God.

We present ourselves as nothing other than merely who and what we are -- attentive, listening, and engaging what is presenting itself before us.

We're meditating with that line. It can become, this new year of 2007, sudden light and trees.

We recall the words of Siddhartha Gautama:
"And 'these things are liberating; when enacted they lead to emancipation', then abide in them.
“Come to know directly - through the crucible of your own individual life."

Bearers of God, Mothers of God -- each and every one of you -- thank you for your crucial presence!

In this crucible, in this hollow place, we receive the melting form of our experience, and hold it with mere attention.

Happy New Year!

Sunday, December 31, 2006

No one cares. We have to see this through.

An ancient master said, “The mountains, the rivers, the whole earth, the entire array of phenomena are all oneself.” If you can absorb the essence of this message, there are no activities outside of meditation: you dress in meditation and eat in meditation; you walk, stand, sit, and lie down in meditation; you perceive and cognize in meditation; you experience joy, anger, sadness, and happiness in meditation.

- Muso (1275-1351)

One ends. One begins.

Now is the time to look. The time to see.

Are we alone with no one to care?

No.

One cares.

This is joyful news.

This is our joyful and original new year.

Friday, December 29, 2006

Before Saddam Hussein hangs until dead, I wish to protest.

Murdering him serves no purpose. Of course he's guilty of crimes, guilty of power lust, guilty of associating with countries like the United States in their attempt to shore up oil resources and safety for shared interests in the Middle East. But then things turned sour, the alliance was spoiled. Bedfellows turned their backs. But if crime and guilt in international power lust were the measure of who hangs or who merely is assassinated, I fear many nooses would be in the ready both here and abroad.

The field of boundless emptiness
Is what exists from the very beginning.
You must purify, cure, grind down,
Or brush away all the tendencies
You have fabricated into apparent habits.
--- Hongzhi Zhengjue (1091–1157)

Hussein's habits were excessive. It seems a common malady with people whose power is unchecked and whose sycophants are happy to bolster illegality and inanity as long as they are recipients of largess and payoff. We suffer this at home here too. And as for the fundamentalist belief that whoever is in power is by the will of God -- I care neither for the belief nor the mind perpetrating that thought.

Still, I'd rather he live. I'd rather those he murdered would also be alive, as well as those the United States has murdered in Iraq. Murdering people is a sad and mindless action taken in the absence of authentic compassionate justice. That kind of justice would strive to recognize a hidden truth much too often kept covered by those who know it is there.

What is that hidden truth? It is that when anyone is murdered I am murdered. When Saddam Hussein hangs, George Bush hangs. When an enemy combatant is tortured, you are tortured. When men and women in Afghanistan or Iraq are bombed, your mother and father, brothers and sisters are killed and mutilated. When someone is sexually molested, enslaved, or abused anywhere, so too is a member of your family. Whatever befalls one of us, befalls each of us.

How is it we do not feel what is happening to us as it is happening?

Whenever and whatever kindness is shown, that kindness is received everywhere by everyone.
64
When I have seen by time's fell hand defaced
The rich proud cost of outworn buried age,
When sometime lofty towers I see down razed,
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage,
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,
And the firm soil win of the watery main,
Increasing store with loss, and loss with store,
When I have seen such interchange of state,
Or state itself confounded to decay,
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate,
That time will come and take my love away.
This thought is as a death, which cannot choose
But weep to have that which it fears to lose. 
(Poem: "64" by William Shakespeare, from William Shakespeare: The Sonnets. Little, Brown and Company.)
To feel what is happening as it is happening would necessitate a more profound spiritual awareness than is currently practiced by the vast majority of us. It would call for a spiritual awareness that is willing to feel what is taking place and recognize the isomorphic nature of existence in this world.

(Greek: isos "equal", and morphe "shape"). We are in the presence of an unsettling reality: equivalent form, equivalent structure. Something "equivalent" is corresponding or virtually identical especially in effect or function. Perhaps we don't feel our equivalence with other beings because we have never understood the invitation to be that which we actually are. We hear "Be who you are" and assume the ego, or some collective definition, will give us the right information about how to be.
According to Douglas Hofstadter: "The word "isomorphism" applies when two complex structures can be mapped onto each other, in such a way that to each part of one structure there is a corresponding part in the other structure, where "corresponding" means that the two parts play similar roles in their respective structures." (Godel, Escher, Bach, p. 49)
(--Wikipedia)
What we do not feel, what we do not understand, is the vital interest of being alive.

Being, alive, is hidden from us. Why? I don't know. Could it be revealed and unveiled? Yes, I think so. How? Watch carefully.

Watch carefully and see what is taking place. Watch carefully and feel what is taking place. Watch carefully and be what is taking place.

To be what is taking place is to integrate the reality of this existence.

For my Christian friends, it is what the Christ Reality (incarnationalized in Jesus) is about.
For my Buddhist friends, it is what Prajna/Karuna (the Knowing/Loving, or, Insight/Resolve) is about.
For my Muslim, Jewish, Hindu friends, it is the deepest revelation of Surrender, Nameless Presence, and Truth.

We are frightened by wholeness. To integrate is to be what we are -- whole. It is sad to see that so many of us do not see what is our true reality. So much of human existence is diverted and distracted from experiencing our true nature in union with one another. We seem unwilling or unable to be who we profoundly are.

In our delusion, we murder one another. We hang Saddam Hussein. We like the name we give this action - we call it "justice." It is not justice. It is blindness.
The Vedas tell us this about God - "OM Poornamadah Poornamidam Poornaad Poornamudachyate; Poornasya Poornamaadaaya Poornamevaavashisyate". Translated in English, this verse means "What is Whole - This is Whole - What has come out of the Whole is also Whole; When the Whole is taken out of the Whole, the Whole still remains Whole". 
(- from Hinduism, the World's Oldest Religion, A Simple Introduction To A Complex Religion, c. 1997, by Sunil Balasubramaniam,  cf. https://youtu.be/yJXEKmbtsts?si=U_aSNjNZGGZRB26I

I don't yet find tears for Saddam Hussein. That's because I do not yet feel the profound sorrow of personal loss. His death is someone's death far away from what I consider to be the boundary of my personal self. And yet, is it? Am I able to recognize my face in the mirror of Saddam Hussein? Am I able to recognize my face in the mirror of George Bush? These two dangerous men reveal to me my own pernicious aspect.

Not realizing our true nature we remain dangerous creatures. In our ignorance and delusion, (Sanskrit: Avidya), we create and cultivate misery and suffering.

Today is a remembrance of Thomas Becket, also murdered, also caught in the squeeze of power.

Murder in the Cathedral, is a poetic drama in two parts, with a prose sermon interlude, the most successful play of T.S. Eliot. The play was performed at Canterbury Cathedral in 1935 and published the same year. Set in December 1170, it is a modern miracle play on the martyrdom of St. Thomas Becket, archbishop of Canterbury. 
 
The play's most striking feature is the use of a chorus in the classical Greek manner. The poor women of Canterbury who make up the chorus nervously await Thomas' return from his seven-year exile, fretting over his volatile relationship with King Henry II. Thomas arrives and must resist four temptations: worldly pleasures, lasting power as chancellor, recognition as a leader of the barons against the king, and eternal glory as a martyr. To the final and most subtle tempter, Thomas replies: 
 
"Now is my way clear, now is the meaning plain:
Temptation shall not come in this kind again.
The last temptation is the greatest treason:
To do the right deed for the wrong reason." 
 
After Thomas delivers his Christmas morning sermon, four knights in the service of the king accost him and order him to leave the kingdom. When he refuses, they return to slay him in the cathedral. Each justifies his actions to the audience, claiming that Thomas suffered from the sin of pride. The drama ends with the priests and chorus mourning Thomas' heroic death. (--1997 Encyclopædia Britannica)

The right deed is to mourn the dead. The wrong reason is thinking we have eliminated someone or something not-us.

The temptation to treason is strong, very strong.

Our ignorance and misery are not permanent. Yet our mind attempts to hold them fast and furious where they are. They can and will fade. They, too, are impermanent. We must not hold tight that which, of itself, will pass. When we murder by hanging, when we murder by bullet or bomb, or when we murder by neglect and unawareness, we are holding fast to delusion and misery.

Saddam Hussein is condemned to hang until dead.

Between the fall and the snap, between the in-breath and the out-breath, remains a fraction of time for us to come to see who we are. Such seeing, such feeling, is our corresponding connection with one another, with the Whole wherein we dwell. When we come to this realization, there will be a sudden flash of understanding that will initially sink us into profound despair at all the misery we have countenanced in ignorance. That too will pass. We'll have to quickly learn to let it pass with gentleness.

In conclusion, let me share with you a short prayer which gives me great inspiration and determination: For as long as space endures, and for as long as living beings remain, until then may I, too, abide to dispel the misery of the world.
(--The Dalai Lama, Nobel Peace Prize Lecture, in The Dalai Lama: A Policy of Kindness, edited by Sidney Piburn)

It is the end of a year.

Let's say goodbye with gentleness.

Thursday, December 28, 2006

Practice comes round here!

Dawn into orange sunrise walking with Cesco Ragged Mountain path I stop a few times saying 'good morning' to trees. The need for sangha is deep thirst.


I’ve always loved friends of the Way

Always held them dear
Meeting a stranger with silent springs
Greeting a guest talking Zen
Talking about mysteries on a moonlit night
Searching for truth until dawn
When the tracks of our inventions disappear
And we see who we really are
- Cold Mountain

Trees talk Zen. I ask them to share their view. I do not hear voice response, only felt presence. It says (if 'saying' is it) "Stay where you are rooted."


The Holy Innocents, Martyrs
There is nothing to be said about the Holy Innocents. They were no-one because they never had the chance to become anyone: they just died.
They may stand for the unimportant and unnecessary pawns that permeate the whole of human history, the ones who can be sacrificed for some greater cause because they don’t really matter; the eggs that were broken to make an omelette... or to make nothing.
--Universalis, Thursday 28 December 2006

Many pawns are sacrificed today. In war. In sex slave trade. In economic self-interest. In abusive relationships. When ideologies of all stripe -- political, religious, cultural, or personal -- infest and freeze human creativity, there is much suffering.

Coffee, toasted English muffins with peanut butter and Trappist cherry jam, Slavic choral music, slumbering cat and dog, and the good advice of mountain tree -- this is the morning hermitage. I think of the holy innocents. Everywhere they are burdened by selfish minds and chilly hearts.

Yesterday I caught red squirrel in hav-a-heart under feeder out back of kitchen. He darted back and forth in cage. I thought -- aha! now he won't monopolize feeder! I had meant to move him up Barnestown Road. Instead, I went out, lifted trap door, and he scurried up hill over fell branches. Half hour later he was back on feeder. There's enough seed.

An old debate returns -- about forgiveness. There's a man I am angry with. He infuriates me. Worse, he claims God is partner to his actions. (God does seem to partner the oddest of ventures -- from war to lottery tickets, from sexual abuse to foul shots, from being invited to damn almost anything to being considered the holy torturer for eternity of unworthy wretches like you or me.)

About forgiveness -- like the trees, nothing overt can be or need be said. Comes a time, after a bit of space extends itself, that we sit and accept that what happened did indeed happen. And there we are. Just that. With all the pain and sorrow, disappointment and anger -- it happened. Then slowly, and sometimes slower still, the memory remains but you notice no lingering bitterness.

It always appears too blithe to claim a certain forgiveness going or coming.

Our religious friends claim they're forgiven and that's that. No need to remember (as they say) their transgression or sin. God doesn't. Therefore, having accepted the Lord, they are saved and untouchable. I imagine there is some comfort in such an idea. No such comfort appeals to me. We're a remembering people. I don't trust forgetting.

I'll be content to stay rooted where I am. Let the day take care of day, and night take care of night. The actions of men are sometimes awful. Yet, often enough, they are kind and sweet. Curiously, both varieties are part and parcel of the same person -- each of us. It's a hard equation to prove, a calculus mystery too dense to lay straight.

Woodrow Wilson said, "If you want to make enemies, try to change something." He wasn't successful -- not with keeping out of WWI, not with his 1917 notion of a League of Nations.

Today, at end of year, political players toss hats into speculative gambling -- the presidential hopeful lottery. They all want to replace the man who currently occupies the seat of power and often foolish ideology. From where I sit, the world need not be safe for democracy; rather the world might wish to be true with selfless service, with kindness based on awareness, and with an insightful wisdom. We've had enough of pious platitude and spiritual hypocrisy. Enough of institutional callousness masquerading as will-of-society, will-of-law, or will-of-God. We've had quite enough (eh?) of arrogant force and cruel acts masked behind the words 'security' and 'Jesus Christ.'

Maybe we should do what a Native American folk singer suggested a while back: move out of town, head for the hills, grow some food, and stay with people you can talk with. There seems too much cultivating of ugly. We are desperate people pretending we aren't hiding under cable wires, modems, and antennas; pretending to be merely well-informed and au-courant. We're not that. We're hurting. Bleeding. Smiling for the cameras. Frightened at the picture that is emerging.

We're told to go shopping. We're told to go to church. We're told to love the surveillance videos. We're told to be very afraid of the terrorists who want to take away our credit cards and our Savior. We're told to be found in approved places, to be saved in arms loaded with ammunition.

A Robert Frost character named 'Keeper' says the following in a verse play:
I say I'd rather be lost in the woods
Than found in church.

(-- line 514, in A Masque of Mercy; in The Poetry of Robert Frost, Holt Paperback Edition 1979, p. 513.)

I'm frequently a visitor in church; seldom belong there. I'm often wandering in woods; always at home there, even when lost.

Those with a particular angle, those with a corner on God, are best diverted away from hereabouts.

Sitting on bench by brook just alongside cemetery as first sunlight slants across branches with dusting of snow -- the roundness of here.

I'll listen to roots of trees and try to see what each branch sees.

I prefer wandering round here.

Each way.

All alone.

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Reading students' papers. We each try to word the life we experience.

Waxing moon ringed with moving cloud. Woodstove stacked.

No one escapes nature -- not their own, not itself.

Mist bordered pine woods,

A Buddhist temple,
At water’s edge, willow trees, fishermen’s huts;
Zen monk with empty bowl after noon,
Old fisherman drying nets in the setting sun.
- Gido Shushin (1325–1388)

I used to think there was a reason to living.

Now I live not knowing why.

Feels better that way.

Freer.

Even.

Lost.

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Each is doing this with us.

Walking Ragged Mountain yesterday with Cesco. One step after another. We climb. Slant. Look out over town to Penobscot Bay. Wander switchback home.

Christmas was Monday. So it should be.

This morning rain on rooftop.

Renunciation does not have to be regarded as negative. I was taught that it has to do with letting go of holding back. What one is renouncing is closing down and shutting off from life. You could say that renunciation is the same thing as opening to the teachings of the present moment....

Renunciation is realizing that our nostalgia for wanting to stay in a protected, limited, petty world is insane. Once you begin to get the feeling of how big the world is and how vast our potential for experiencing life is, then you really begin to understand renunciation. When we sit in meditation, we feel our breath as it goes out, and we have some sense of willingness just to be open to the present moment. Then our minds wander off into all kinds of stories and fabrications and manufactured realities, and we say to ourselves, "It's thinking." We say that with a lot of gentleness and a lot of precision. Every time we are willing to let the story line go, and every time we are willing to let go at the end of the outbreath, thats fundamental renunciation: learning how to let go of holding on and holding back.
--Pema Chodron, Tricycle, The Buddhist Review, Vol. I, #1

Christmas was the mountain this year. Frost-pockets preached. Stones held foot in crossing melt. Trees whittled sky lovely shape. Long view opened to Battie, Megunticook, Maiden Cliff, Bald, and over bay islands to Isle a Haut.

I thought of writing something about my view of Christ. But only the view emerged. I thought to say something of Christology this theologically ambiguous time, but rain falls in its place. I thought to wonder aloud of how odd the way we hold on to religion and enwrap divinity in tight coils of our opinions and personalities, but instead sat in quiet as silence let nothing go on.

52
Which of the prophets did your ancestors not persecute? They put to death those who foretold the coming of the righteous one, whose betrayers and murderers you have now become.
53
You received the law as transmitted by angels, but you did not observe it."
54
When they heard this, they were infuriated, and they ground their teeth at him.
55
But he, filled with the holy Spirit, looked up intently to heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God,
56
and he said, "Behold, I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God."
57
But they cried out in a loud voice, covered their ears, and rushed upon him together.
58
They threw him out of the city, and began to stone him. The witnesses laid down their cloaks at the feet of a young man named Saul.
59
As they were stoning Stephen, he called out, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit."
60
Then he fell to his knees and cried out in a loud voice, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them"; and when he said this, he fell asleep.
(-Acts 7)
If we hold separation against one another, there will be separation. But if we let dissolve that which cannot be held back, then comes true what is our ungrasping wholeness.

"Impermanence is, in fact, just another name for perfection." That's what Charlotte Joko Beck wrote in Everyday Zen.

Just passing through. So it is. Our father and our mother, our brothers and our sisters -- each is doing this with us.

And now it is Tuesday.

So it should be.

Monday, December 25, 2006

Sun climbs down from tops of trees.

At dawn, as light arises east of Hosmer Pond, Cesco, Mu-Ge and I walk up to brook. Only sound of steps on frozen leaves.

Water down mountain turns where Mini, Kotoba, Jitai, and Sando ground memory with resting remains.

For while all things were in quiet silence, and the night was in the midst of her course,

Thy almighty word leapt down from heaven from thy royal throne, as a fierce conqueror into the midst of the land of destruction.
(- Wisdom 18: 14-15, Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition.)

Single flame in kitchen window over sink below "Peace" stained glass.

What is different about Christmas morning?

Every sentient being is ready
To be enlightened at every moment.
The only hindrance is not
Recognizing the purity and limitlessness
Of buddha nature.
We may have inklings of our limitless quality,
But we don’t fully recognize it,
So we become focused on the relative I, the self.
- The Twelfth Tai Situpa

Here is what is different about Christmas morning.

We are here.

Saskia comes down stairs.

We'll walk Ragged Mountain.

Earth is here. Sun is here. Dog, cat -- here. House and barn are both here. So too chapel/zendo.

Coffee and tea also here. Rye bread for toast. Shimmering leaves on Beech branch in morning light.

Christ, as well, is here.

Wisdom wants us to see through destruction, through fierce conquering -- Wisdom wants us to see something more interesting.

If we come to see from the midst -- if we, today, quietly turn in any direction, we will come to see the revelation of Christmas.

Wisdom says we must look into the word "midst."

Middle of, centered with, or, between us.

Is Christ...

(!) (?)

Welcome !

Sunday, December 24, 2006

And so, it nears Christmas -- the revelation of what is here -- seen through, with clear light.

seeker of truth
follow no path
all paths lead where
truth is here
(Poem by e.e. cummings)

We rub eyes still sleepy. We want ritual to say it for us. We're unsure we are the correct expression of the word. We think we're not, or might not be, adequately pronounced. We fear we've been mumbled incoherently. We're afraid we will miss something. We're nervous that we have not really understood the unchanging story told us about who we are, what God is, and how sacred history has unveiled itself through time and existence.

There is no unchanging story.

The story is what is just now and still not yet revealing itself.

Suzuki Roshi said, Renunciation is not giving up the things of this world, but accepting that they go away. Everything is impermanent; sooner or later everything goes away. Renunciation is a state of non-attachment, acceptance of this going away. Impermanence is, in fact, just another name for perfection. Leaves fall; debris and garbage accumulate; out of the debris come flowers, greenery, things that we think are lovely. Destruction is necessary. A good forest fire is necessary. The way we interfere with forest fires may not be a good thing. Without destruction, there could be no new life and the wonder of life, the constant change could not be. We must live and die. And this process is perfection itself. All this change is not, however, what we had in mind. Our drive is not to appreciate the perfection of the universe. Our personal drive is to find a way to endure in our unchanging glory forever....Who hasn't noticed the first gray hair and thought, Uh-oh.
--Charlotte Joko Beck, Everyday Zen

Wir mussen sich entsinnen.
We must recall, recollect, remember.

We must transcend, yet, include.

The story is being written -- even as we attend right here, right now.

Word. Being. Now. Here. Through. And. Through.

In the beginning was the Word:
and the Word was with God
and the Word was God.
He was with God in the beginning.
Through him all things came to be,
not one thing had its being but through him.
All that came to be had life in him
and that life was the light of men,
a light that shines in the dark,
a light that darkness could not overpower.

A man came, sent by God.
His name was John.
He came as a witness,
as a witness to speak for the light,
so that everyone might believe through him.
He was not the light,
only a witness to speak for the light.

The Word was the true light
that enlightens all men;
and he was coming into the world.
He was in the world
that had its being through him,
and the world did not know him.
He came to his own domain
and his own people did not accept him.
But to all who did accept him
he gave power to become children of God,
to all who believe in the name of him
who was born not out of human stock
or urge of the flesh
or will of man
but of God himself.
The Word was made flesh,
he lived among us,
and we saw his glory,
the glory that is his as the only Son of the Father,
full of grace and truth.

John appears as his witness. He proclaims:
‘This is the one of whom I said:
He who comes after me ranks before me
because he existed before me’.

Indeed, from his fulness we have, all of us, received –
yes, grace in return for grace,
since, though the Law was given through Moses,
grace and truth have come through Jesus Christ.
No one has ever seen God;
it is the only Son, who is nearest to the Father’s heart,
who has made him known.
(--John 1:1-18)

Soon we shall come to see the light that shines in the world through us by way of Christ being born in our sleepy consciousness.

It takes -- so it seems -- a long, long time to wake up.

The dawn will come. The present moment will reveal itself.

We have yet to get through the current darkness of tenacious unawareness.

It is the night before.