A Slit in My Umbrella

Man fixes some wonderful erection of his own between himself and the wild chaos, and gradually goes bleached and stifled under his parasol. Then comes a poet, enemy of convention, and makes a slit in the umbrella; and lo! the glimpse of chaos is a vision, a window to the sun. - D. H. Lawrence in the Zen calendar (May 6, 2002).

Day 242. I attended an open house and movie viewing at Nick's dojo this evening. It was invigorating on many levels. I still feel mildly nonplussed when I see more than five Buddhists gathered in one spot in Oklahoma. There were over 20 people in attendance tonight. Before the movie began, several individuals spoke about various activities held at the dojo. Several forms of meditative practices are held each week, including Japanese, Korean, and Tibetan traditions. It was remarkable to hear the teachers as they briefly described their practice. There was such implicit respect, collaboration, and cohesion across the disciplines. To my ear, a total absence of competition and ego. Inspiring. I am intrigued by the concept of interfaith corroboration. I suspect it is a prerequisite for healing the world.

The movie was titled David Whyte, Live in San Francisco. I am blown away. I can't fathom how I have gone this long with no exposure to David Whyte's poetry. He made a slit in my umbrella. More accurately, he blew it inside out and ripped it from my hands. After hearing him read from his poems, it feels blasphemous for me to type a single written word. Yet here I am. Stringing them together with utmost humility and painful self-consciousness of what a neophyte work-stringer I am.

Mr. Whyte spoke of Self and Awareness and Presence. He said we need to spend much more time in silence, and recommended that we say about three "No's" for every "Yes" we commit to. He drew parallels from nature. He reminded us to be merciful towards ourselves. These are standard ideas and practices in Buddhism, yet the words and gestures Mr. Whyte chose in their expression was astounding. It was more than his eloquence and lovely, mesmerizing gesticulations. He opened my soul and poured in clarity and comprehension in the exact ventricle where chaos clamors. How do poets DO that?!

I will be purchasing a collection of Mr. Whyte's poems in the near future because my soul still has chambers echoing with chaos. Read his works, and don't get too attached to your umbrella. Pulsating gratitude for the gifts of my practice (especially connecting with the dojo) is throbbing in my veins. I anticipate an unprecedented number of bows before I get my butt on my cushion.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc