Here. Now.

Everything is miraculous. It is a miracle that one doesn't melt in one's bath. - Pablo Picasso in the Zen Calendar (June 21, 2004).

Day 245. This quote has been at the top of my "Favorites" pile of saved Zen Calendar pages for several years. Since beginning the blog, I have always envisioned I would choose it for a day when something particularly astounding - nay, MIRACULOUS! - had occurred. Imagine my surprise when last night, while sitting quietly on my cushion, the quote arose in my mind, and I knew I would open tonight's blog with it. I can't quite decide whether to categorize the occasion as perfectly ordinary, or miraculous indeed. Upon reflection, the answer is (as always): It is both. How very Zen.

After blogging on the subject of being impeccable in my word, I approached my cushion with particular focus. I vowed to remain keenly centered upon refraining from effort at getting keenly centered. I briefly reflected upon Suzuki Roshi's reminders to assume the posture, breathe in and out, and - That's All! You're already there. Smack in the midst of Buddha nature. I sat with my breath for many moments. The omnipresent Monkeys whispered in the periphery. I focused on my breath. The Monkeys attempted to plan and ruminate and time travel. I focused on my breath. They chattered. I breathed. They upped their raucousness. I upped my resolve.

At that point, I grasped for a mantra, which has proven to be a useful talisman on nights the Monkeys are especially tenacious. The one that entered my consciousness was simply this: "Here" (inhale). "Now" (exhale). Here. Now. Here, Now. Here now here now here now. This place. This time. This moment - oh! it's gone. This moment - it's gone! This moment - gone! This moment - over! This moment - past! Butt still on the cushion. Buddha nature simply this: drawing breath, fully present, merged with the moment. This moment held a cricket's song. That moment, a tree frog's tune. Another moment, the first blast of a train whistle. Another moment, a louder train whistle. Another moment, whistle echoing in the distance. Consciousness narrowed such that my essence could alight on a pinhead. A pinprick in the cosmos contained all that has ever been and all that ever will be. Me - dissolved in Buddha nature - perched on the cushion, breathing through it all.

The miracle is this: Dissolving in Buddha nature freed me from suffering. Approaching the cushion I felt fatigue and grief and distress and erratic, misappropriated attachment. Wracked with miserable emotions I was invested in alleviating. The experience of disappearing within the here and now did not balance my checkbook, repair my son's car, cure my clients, or make insurance companies competent. It did, however, reconnect me with the sublime perfection of Reality. An actualization of the truth I read a few nights ago in the Roger Housden book: Reality isn't good or bad. It just is. Miraculous, indeed!

I am going to take a shower. I had considered a hot bath, but I'm certain I would melt in it.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc