Back to Basics

Zen practice emphasizes being present with your actual experience.  By placing our attention with the minute details of our physical posture, we get to know our selves, where we have tension, where we are crooked, where we are holding, where we let go, where we are at ease.  Our body reveals who we are.  Through this awareness, we enter the path of practice. - Pat Phelan in the Zen Calendar (June 2, 2004).

When we talk about understanding, surely it takes place only when the mind listens completely - the mind being your heart, your nerves, your ears - when you give your whole attention to it. - Krishnamurti in the Zen Calendar (September 14, 2006).

In order to improve the mind, we ought less to learn than to contemplate. - Rene Descartes in the Zen Calendar (October 3, 2007).

Let us be moral.  Let us contemplate existence. - Charles Dickens in the Zen Calendar (June 30, 2006).

Day 362.   Four blogs remain.  I am just home from a seven-hour day of zazen, chanting, kinhin, and spiritual connection with a dedicated sangha.  It was an incredibly peaceful and meaningful day.  What a lovely celebration of closure to my sit/blog year.  Gassho, Jiun Hosen Osho, Nick, and the attending members of Windsong Innerspace sangha for including me in a loving, inspirational weekend retreat.

I cannot express the perfection manifested in the zazen retreat.  It occurred to me yesterday that I was able to participate in four weekend meditation retreats this year - one for each season.  They all augmented my year's endeavor, mainly through the simple and wondrous reminder that others have also embarked upon a spiritual journey.  In unique ways, each retreat contributed to and enriched my practice.  Worship with others enhances spirituality in ways a singular practice simply cannot.  For me, the quintessential introvert, writing these words represents a shift of tectonic plate proportion.

Jiun Hosen gently, kindly offered some suggestions for improving my zazen posture.  She noted that a more stable base is formed when my legs are not crossed at the ankle, which enabled my knees to fall closer to the floor.  She further observed that, in my exaggerated effort to tuck my chin in, the crown of my head tipped forward slightly rather than reaching for the heavens.  I lowered my knees, relaxed my chin, and stretched my crown to the sky.  Indeed, I felt rock solid -- anchored to the cushion like a mountain.  This subtle feedback and attention from a teacher felt like gold showering down around me.  Back to basics.  Posture, mudra, breath.  Paying steady attention to the moment-to-moment intricacies of sitting meditation.  I felt warm and centered as I refocused on those sitting fundamentals -- like glowing embers pooled in my belly.  Zazen practice at its finest.

We walked kinhin in a manner slightly different from the style of my teacher Frank.  Jiun Hosen led us in a gently moving  line as we put one mindful foot in front of the other.  With the lifting of each slow, methodical footstep, she struck a rhythmic CLAP with the two small pieces of wood she carried.  We moved in a deliberate, purposeful, symmetrical line.  Back to basics.  As we alternated walking meditation with session after session of zazen, the sensation of moving my cramped, tingly legs shifted from stretching to relief to something bordering on deliverance.  Kinhin is a powerful way to get out of my head; for some reason the Monkeys are easier to mitigate while standing on my feet.  At one point I had the crystalline thought that, anything -- literally anything -- can be accomplished by simply putting one foot in front of the other.  If Jiun Hosen had headed out the door, saying, "Follow me!  We are walking kinhin to Argentina," I am certain I would have replied, "Bueno! Vamonos!" and followed right behind her.

Chanting with a sangha is always a powerful and moving experience for me.  Today, however, was probably the first time I ever engaged in aerobic chanting.  Forget competitive cycling -- I may start going to Windsong for major cardiovascular workouts.   Sometimes we intoned those stoic Japanese syllables so fast they blurred together like a Louisiana auctioneer at a plantation sale.  Other times, we articulated the disparate sounds so slowly, I died a death in between each one.  Only to be reborn with the next syllable.  It helps tremendously that most of us don't have the remotest idea about the chant's content.  Forming the sounds at the staccato, rapid-fire rate with which Nick strikes his drum is challenging and consuming enough.  I can't imagine trying to grasp their meaning.  Which, I believe, is the point.  Back to basics.

The day ended with a somber, breathtakingly beautiful ceremony honoring Nirvana Day - the day of Buddha's death.  It is usually performed on February 15th, but Jiun Hosen provided us with the great honor of conducting the ceremony while she was here.  The ritual,  precision, and ancient sacredness of it all brought tears to my eyes.  I overflowed with gratitude at the life and teaching of the Great Compassionate Buddha.

I hoped to capture the events of today in writing so that I can remember it always.   Interesting aspiration, for someone who just spent an entire weekend practicing being in the moment.  Though I attempted to stow my ego with my shoes in a cubby hole as I entered the dojo, I couldn't help but personalize the timing of the retreat just a little.  Through a remarkable synchronization of events that only a Perfect Universe could orchestrate, my year of zazen culminated in the most profound day of sitting I have experienced to date.  Enlightenment?  For a second or two.  Nirvana?  For a second or two.  The Reality of zazen, i.e. an infinite number of cycles of breathe - distract - observe - accept - refocus - breathe?  Damn near seven hours.  Ah, such is Zen.  Thank the Buddha!

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc