Gratitude!
Tears melting into
mountain snow. - Soen Nakagawa in the Zen Calendar (January 31, 2002).
Day 308. The eve of Bodhi Day, also called (in Zen Buddhism) Rohatsu, which is Japanese for the Eighth Day of the Twelfth Month. December 8th. Tomorrow. A most sacred Buddhist holiday. The day Buddha's Enlightenment is observed. The day Siddartha sat under the Pipul tree and discovered some mildly significant Buddhist concepts including Karma, the Eightfold Path, and the Four Noble Truths. I will be doing some extra sitting, drinking some extra tea, and chanting some extra chants. Just the right amount of each.
Recently, I spoke to many clients, across several contexts, about learning to be gracious receivers. I coined the term myself during a session as I explained the paradox of when we receive something offered by someone else with grace and gratitude we are actually giving a gift of our own. It feels good when our gifts are graciously received. It is easy to recognize graciousness in the act of giving; less common to emphasize grace in receiving. I believe that is because there is a distinct vulnerability in the act of receiving. To some degree, giving also contains some vulnerability (will our gift be rejected, exchanged, forgotten about, neglected, minimized, criticized?), but the bottom line is that we can rest solidly in the altruism intrinsic to being a giver. In contrast, we may be in the position of receiver precisely because we have a need, a lack, a shortage, vulnerability, handicap, or weakness.
This is a long blog, and I have been interrupted. Come back to it. There is much more to say.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Quiet and Stable
Zen is not some kind of excitement, but concentration on our usual everyday routine. If you become too busy and too excited, your mind becomes rough and ragged. This is not good. If possible, try to be always calm and joyful and keep yourself from excitement. Usually we become busier and busier, day by day, year by year, especially in our modern world . . . But if we become interested in some excitement, or in our own change, we will become completely involved in our busy life, and we will be lost. But if your mind is calm and constant, you can keep yourself away from the noisy world even though you are in the midst of it. In the midst of noise and change, your mind will be quiet and stable. - Shunryu Suzuki in "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind."
Day 307. If my mind wasn't so quiet and stable, I might be quite excited about the fact that there is less than two months remaining of my sit/blog year. It is astonishing to contrast the Reality of the present status of my mind and heart with the wild (and exciting) imaginings I indulged when I first began this endeavor. I can't recall the specifics of what those expectations actually were, but I do know this: I wouldn't trade my present status for anything. Sitting smack in the midst of Reality is a pretty solid place in which to hang out.
The first edition of Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind was published in 1970. The "noisy. . . modern world" to which Suzuki Roshi referred forty years ago has grown exponentially noisier and more modern. Especially at this time of year. The swelling buzz of busy excitement is palpable. "Excitement" is probably an erroneous descriptor. Frenetic, urgent, immoderate, excessive, intemperate, and superfluous more aptly depict the ambiance I am registering. Registering, but not participating in. I seem to be sitting in my serene Zen bubble, non-attachedly watching it all go by. Like a ninety-year-old native New Yorker at the Macy's parade. Taking things in appreciatively, but probably not expending much emotion. What a wonderful way to watch a parade.
My mind feels quiet and stable. I am definitely not emotionless or numb; on the the contrary, it seems as though I have just the right amount of feeling along a broad continuum of affective states. Unfamiliar indeed, but comfortably balanced. It's like starting to make sandwiches for five people and discovering I have exactly ten slices of bread. Like Goldilocks finding the right bed at the Three Bears' house: not too firm, not too soft, but JUST right. Like having one stick of butter left and two recipes that each call for four tablespoons. And (best of all) like running out of paper exactly when the right number of copies have been made.
This feels a little more precise than the concept of the Middle Path. I am referencing quantity, portion, and proportion. When I am grounded in Reality, determining the right amount of something is effortless. It is so obvious. Enough, and nothing more. Enough, and nothing less. Mad but not furious. Disappointed, not devastated. Satiated, not stuffed. Daring, not stupid. Committed, not zealous. Loving, not lost. Ten slices of bread to make five sandwiches. You get the picture. My present mood state is utterly unlike the conspicuous consumption and wasteful extravagance permeating this time of year. It is quiet and stable rather than rough and ragged. Even in the midst of noise and change. I highly recommend it.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
Day 307. If my mind wasn't so quiet and stable, I might be quite excited about the fact that there is less than two months remaining of my sit/blog year. It is astonishing to contrast the Reality of the present status of my mind and heart with the wild (and exciting) imaginings I indulged when I first began this endeavor. I can't recall the specifics of what those expectations actually were, but I do know this: I wouldn't trade my present status for anything. Sitting smack in the midst of Reality is a pretty solid place in which to hang out.
The first edition of Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind was published in 1970. The "noisy. . . modern world" to which Suzuki Roshi referred forty years ago has grown exponentially noisier and more modern. Especially at this time of year. The swelling buzz of busy excitement is palpable. "Excitement" is probably an erroneous descriptor. Frenetic, urgent, immoderate, excessive, intemperate, and superfluous more aptly depict the ambiance I am registering. Registering, but not participating in. I seem to be sitting in my serene Zen bubble, non-attachedly watching it all go by. Like a ninety-year-old native New Yorker at the Macy's parade. Taking things in appreciatively, but probably not expending much emotion. What a wonderful way to watch a parade.
My mind feels quiet and stable. I am definitely not emotionless or numb; on the the contrary, it seems as though I have just the right amount of feeling along a broad continuum of affective states. Unfamiliar indeed, but comfortably balanced. It's like starting to make sandwiches for five people and discovering I have exactly ten slices of bread. Like Goldilocks finding the right bed at the Three Bears' house: not too firm, not too soft, but JUST right. Like having one stick of butter left and two recipes that each call for four tablespoons. And (best of all) like running out of paper exactly when the right number of copies have been made.
This feels a little more precise than the concept of the Middle Path. I am referencing quantity, portion, and proportion. When I am grounded in Reality, determining the right amount of something is effortless. It is so obvious. Enough, and nothing more. Enough, and nothing less. Mad but not furious. Disappointed, not devastated. Satiated, not stuffed. Daring, not stupid. Committed, not zealous. Loving, not lost. Ten slices of bread to make five sandwiches. You get the picture. My present mood state is utterly unlike the conspicuous consumption and wasteful extravagance permeating this time of year. It is quiet and stable rather than rough and ragged. Even in the midst of noise and change. I highly recommend it.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Buy Bewilderment
Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment. - Rumi in the Zen Calendar (November 23, 2007).
Day 306. I have followed Rumi's directive. I have forsaken cleverness and, as each day passes, I wallow in bewilderment.
The very word "bewilderment" delights me. The connotation is multifaceted: surprised, a little excited, caught unaware, uncertain but interested, faced with the unfamiliar, cautious yet curious, rendered defenseless, standing on the cusp of new possibility. It reminds me of when I first learned that the Chinese character for "crisis" is a combination of characters for the words "challenge" and "opportunity." Interestingly, as I recall occasions in my life during which I felt bewilderment, none of them felt like a crisis. They all felt very much like challenging opportunities.
I was bewildered when I first heard the word "Celiac," (this incident of bewilderment arrived way too soon on the heels of the incident in which the stick denoted "pregnant.") I was bewildered when I learned that the couple with whom I had bonded most closely while working on a team to assist persons living with AIDS were Baptists. Bewilderment accompanied the house closing I attended with my partner a mere five months after we met. I was bewildered on the 10th anniversary of my analysis and the 50th anniversary of my parents. I felt bewilderment when my son turned down Wake Forest and accepted a free ride at O.U. (but not at all when he left O.U. after only one semester).
I distinctly remember feeling bewildered each and every Sunday I attended my teacher's dharma talks. What was this Buddhist nonsense of which he spoke so confidently? How would I ever learn the meaning of all those words with so many a's in them (dharma, sangha, Boddhisattva, Avalokiteshvara, Tassahara)? Why would a person want to sit still on a cushion for 40 minutes at a time while her spine ached, her legs went to sleep, and her mind raced around like kittens after their first taste of catnip? How could it possibly be a good thing to completely empty my mind and surrender my ego? Practice loving kindness with people I don't even like?! Accept Reality as it IS, rather than wrest it into my Preferred Version of it? And (perhaps most bewildering of all!) WHY do all that if there is nothing to ATTAIN?!?
Ah, but wait. Here is the most bewildering thing of all: Commit to sitting zazen and blogging every single day for an entire year. Forgo cleverness for honesty, integrity, humility, and yes, for bewilderment. Top it off with infinite Gratitude for all that I have not attained. Therein rests my point. Bewilderment is best described by challenge and opportunity.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
Day 306. I have followed Rumi's directive. I have forsaken cleverness and, as each day passes, I wallow in bewilderment.
The very word "bewilderment" delights me. The connotation is multifaceted: surprised, a little excited, caught unaware, uncertain but interested, faced with the unfamiliar, cautious yet curious, rendered defenseless, standing on the cusp of new possibility. It reminds me of when I first learned that the Chinese character for "crisis" is a combination of characters for the words "challenge" and "opportunity." Interestingly, as I recall occasions in my life during which I felt bewilderment, none of them felt like a crisis. They all felt very much like challenging opportunities.
I was bewildered when I first heard the word "Celiac," (this incident of bewilderment arrived way too soon on the heels of the incident in which the stick denoted "pregnant.") I was bewildered when I learned that the couple with whom I had bonded most closely while working on a team to assist persons living with AIDS were Baptists. Bewilderment accompanied the house closing I attended with my partner a mere five months after we met. I was bewildered on the 10th anniversary of my analysis and the 50th anniversary of my parents. I felt bewilderment when my son turned down Wake Forest and accepted a free ride at O.U. (but not at all when he left O.U. after only one semester).
I distinctly remember feeling bewildered each and every Sunday I attended my teacher's dharma talks. What was this Buddhist nonsense of which he spoke so confidently? How would I ever learn the meaning of all those words with so many a's in them (dharma, sangha, Boddhisattva, Avalokiteshvara, Tassahara)? Why would a person want to sit still on a cushion for 40 minutes at a time while her spine ached, her legs went to sleep, and her mind raced around like kittens after their first taste of catnip? How could it possibly be a good thing to completely empty my mind and surrender my ego? Practice loving kindness with people I don't even like?! Accept Reality as it IS, rather than wrest it into my Preferred Version of it? And (perhaps most bewildering of all!) WHY do all that if there is nothing to ATTAIN?!?
Ah, but wait. Here is the most bewildering thing of all: Commit to sitting zazen and blogging every single day for an entire year. Forgo cleverness for honesty, integrity, humility, and yes, for bewilderment. Top it off with infinite Gratitude for all that I have not attained. Therein rests my point. Bewilderment is best described by challenge and opportunity.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Far Fewer Words
We're all in this together - by ourselves. - Lily Tomlin in the Zen Calendar (March 13, 2007).
Day 305. I read the quote for tonight dozens of times before actually selecting it for a blog. I never noticed it was a quote from Lily Tomlin until just now. I had just assumed it was said by some ancient, wise zen master. Instead, it was uttered by a contemporary, wise woman. Go Lily!
I rode the mountain bike 30 miles today. Revisited the Rock Garden of Eden, which I blogged about almost a year ago. It was interesting to ride along the same trails I rode when I had so recently begun to blog and meditate. I think I may have been a better blogger then. It was a fantastic day with some tremendous riding on the part of all three of us. I simply seem to have a LOT less to say about it. FAR fewer words inhabit my head these days (though I haven't yet seen a change of address submitted by the Monkeys). Maybe they have taken a sabbatical. Historically, I have adored stringing words together. At the moment, it will likely be a very short string.
I noticed a paradigm shift that began a few days ago when I was walking back to work after lunch and casually sauntered into True Nature. For large segments of each day since, I have the most uncanny perception that I have relinquished my grasp on something I have been holding for, approximately, my entire life. I think it must have been attachment. It weighed a lot. I feel stunningly light. Could it be that I am the teeniest bit enlightened?
I don't feel the same. When the clamoring racket of my overzealous neurons starts to manifest in thoughts, opinion, and strong emotion, I just cock my head to one side and register it for a half second. Then, mysteriously and enigmatically, I plop down into the midst of True Nature, and it is gone. There is nothing more to say. Apparently, True Nature is eternity itself. From beginningless time to endless future. I seem to have grasped it, and since it always has and always will be Truth, I also seem to have grasped that it isn't going anywhere. I may temporarily suffer from the illusion that I have stepped away from it, but I think I have also grasped that is an illusion. For someone who has relinquished her hold on, uh, maybe everything, I seem to be grasping a lot. Perhaps I should substitute "comprehend" for "grasp" in my word strings.
So - that's that. This comprehension of True Nature is something that we are all in together. By ourselves. I keep recalling Delbertino's comment that there comes a time when reading Zen and writing Zen and speaking Zen is insufficient. I suppose that is the jumping off point from which I just practice zen. Suzuki Roshi says it throughout the entire book Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind. We just assume the posture and practice zazen. Do it. Be it. That is plenty. That is enough. That is all.
I have sixty more blogs to write, and I bet I find something with which to fill up my white blogger screen. I also bet I use far fewer words.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
Day 305. I read the quote for tonight dozens of times before actually selecting it for a blog. I never noticed it was a quote from Lily Tomlin until just now. I had just assumed it was said by some ancient, wise zen master. Instead, it was uttered by a contemporary, wise woman. Go Lily!
I rode the mountain bike 30 miles today. Revisited the Rock Garden of Eden, which I blogged about almost a year ago. It was interesting to ride along the same trails I rode when I had so recently begun to blog and meditate. I think I may have been a better blogger then. It was a fantastic day with some tremendous riding on the part of all three of us. I simply seem to have a LOT less to say about it. FAR fewer words inhabit my head these days (though I haven't yet seen a change of address submitted by the Monkeys). Maybe they have taken a sabbatical. Historically, I have adored stringing words together. At the moment, it will likely be a very short string.
I noticed a paradigm shift that began a few days ago when I was walking back to work after lunch and casually sauntered into True Nature. For large segments of each day since, I have the most uncanny perception that I have relinquished my grasp on something I have been holding for, approximately, my entire life. I think it must have been attachment. It weighed a lot. I feel stunningly light. Could it be that I am the teeniest bit enlightened?
I don't feel the same. When the clamoring racket of my overzealous neurons starts to manifest in thoughts, opinion, and strong emotion, I just cock my head to one side and register it for a half second. Then, mysteriously and enigmatically, I plop down into the midst of True Nature, and it is gone. There is nothing more to say. Apparently, True Nature is eternity itself. From beginningless time to endless future. I seem to have grasped it, and since it always has and always will be Truth, I also seem to have grasped that it isn't going anywhere. I may temporarily suffer from the illusion that I have stepped away from it, but I think I have also grasped that is an illusion. For someone who has relinquished her hold on, uh, maybe everything, I seem to be grasping a lot. Perhaps I should substitute "comprehend" for "grasp" in my word strings.
So - that's that. This comprehension of True Nature is something that we are all in together. By ourselves. I keep recalling Delbertino's comment that there comes a time when reading Zen and writing Zen and speaking Zen is insufficient. I suppose that is the jumping off point from which I just practice zen. Suzuki Roshi says it throughout the entire book Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind. We just assume the posture and practice zazen. Do it. Be it. That is plenty. That is enough. That is all.
I have sixty more blogs to write, and I bet I find something with which to fill up my white blogger screen. I also bet I use far fewer words.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
Friday, December 3, 2010
Pleased, Not Proud
We must learn to be still in the midst of activity and to be vibrantly alive in repose. - Indira Gandhi in the Zen Calendar (November 20, 2006).
Day 304. Peak Experience! I have been to the Cloud! It gets even better. I have been to the Cloud to edit my son's paper on Cloud Computing. How perfect is that? Meta Clouding! It is an unprecedented first in the history of my interaction with technology to partake of a technological advancement within the first decade of its inception. I'm feeling extremely (though non-egotistically) hip! Not to mention I got to read a super cool paper for his MIS class. We could simultaneously see the paper and mutually watch the editorial activity of the other -- all the while accessing our work in progress in real time. I'm going to consider the milestone as preliminary practice for future work with the editor of my novels. Wow. Apparently, that state of non-egotisticalness was a short lived phenomena!
I am cautiously optimistic that my Flight into Reality has landed for the weekend. Or maybe for all time. I am proud -- I mean pleased -- with the equanimity I maintained during this frenetic week. I remained exquisitely mindful of my zazen practice, and drew from it the entire week like an ironman (woman) draws from her glycogen stores. Perhaps I am learning to be still in the midst of activity! I have always felt vibrantly alive in repose, but I doubt it is the version to which Indira Gandhi was referring. My vibrancy most likely emanates from overactive neurons and raucous Monkeys.
For reasons unbeknownst to me, I have an inexorable need to get my butt on the cushion. Who am I to question such zealous compulsion to meditate? Stay tuned.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
Day 304. Peak Experience! I have been to the Cloud! It gets even better. I have been to the Cloud to edit my son's paper on Cloud Computing. How perfect is that? Meta Clouding! It is an unprecedented first in the history of my interaction with technology to partake of a technological advancement within the first decade of its inception. I'm feeling extremely (though non-egotistically) hip! Not to mention I got to read a super cool paper for his MIS class. We could simultaneously see the paper and mutually watch the editorial activity of the other -- all the while accessing our work in progress in real time. I'm going to consider the milestone as preliminary practice for future work with the editor of my novels. Wow. Apparently, that state of non-egotisticalness was a short lived phenomena!
I am cautiously optimistic that my Flight into Reality has landed for the weekend. Or maybe for all time. I am proud -- I mean pleased -- with the equanimity I maintained during this frenetic week. I remained exquisitely mindful of my zazen practice, and drew from it the entire week like an ironman (woman) draws from her glycogen stores. Perhaps I am learning to be still in the midst of activity! I have always felt vibrantly alive in repose, but I doubt it is the version to which Indira Gandhi was referring. My vibrancy most likely emanates from overactive neurons and raucous Monkeys.
For reasons unbeknownst to me, I have an inexorable need to get my butt on the cushion. Who am I to question such zealous compulsion to meditate? Stay tuned.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Try-Umph!
Triumph is what happens when you put the "Umph" into "Try." - Marquee at the Central Church of Christ in Moore, Oklahoma (December 2, 2010).
Day 303. Brief blog tonight. There seems to be a lengthy term paper in my e-mail awaiting my editorial comments. Apparently, it is due in the morning. I could give a certain college sophomore the stereotypical, "Don't Wait Until the Last Minute" lecture, but: a) he clearly has done just that, and b) I am paying way too much for these classes for him to take one twice. Besides, he is soon to be an upperclassman majoring in Accounting. There can't be many classes left in which I can possibly be of assistance. If memory serves, I had a hard time grasping T-Accounts.
After speaking at a state conference this morning, I was driving home on I35 and glanced over at the marquee of the Central Church of Christ in Moore. Gassho to whoever selects the messages for their sign. I have been partaking of these sage proclamations for over a decade on my numerous forays between Oklahoma City and Norman. About ninety percent of them are original, witty, and thought provoking. I enjoy them immensely, though I will probably never set foot within the actual interior of a Church of Christ. However, history has taught me to never say, "Never."
I'm not sure whether or not the congregation at the Central Church of Christ would find it complimentary if I use a quote from their sign to exemplify a wonderful statement of Zen. I sincerely mean it as such. The sentiment was exactly what I needed today. My practice could use some "umph." I always feel it necessary to execute a Blog Confession when I look at my timer before it sounds (the Central Church of Catholics would probably find that quite complimentary!) This occurs every 50 zazen sessions or so, but last night was the most humiliating of all.
I had been sitting for what felt like 18 hours, when - without a moment's consideration - I collapsed my mudra, slumped on my cushion, and rebelliously grabbed the timer. I was utterly convinced that it had sounded and I simply couldn't hear it from the distance I had traversed in my quest for Nirvana. According to my oh-so-accurate timer, 15:09 remained of my 40 minutes of sitting. FIFTEEN MINUTES AND CHANGE. I was shocked and chagrined. How could that be? I had been there for . . . well, forever! For about 30 seconds, I remained slumped and disheartened on my cushion. A deep sigh issued from where my mudra usually rests, reliably guiding my breath. An expression of frustration and insurrection tugged the corners of my mouth into an exaggerated frown. This was followed by a pout, which quickly reversed into a grin as the absurdity of my insolence crept over me. I reformed my mudra, straightened my spine, drew a breath, and resumed the posture inviting my true nature. I remained motionless until the timer sounded, then stayed that way for an additional 30 seconds, just for good measure.
And today I am reminded by God (and the good folks at the Church of Christ) to put some Umph into my Try. Amen to that. The irony is that the very best sitting doesn't even require much actual trying. I just need to sit there and try not to think. Which, when you have Monkeys as robust as mine, does require a little Umph. I forgot that for about 30 seconds last night, but the good thing about 302 days of consecutive sitting is that when I fall off my cushion, I dust myself off and get right back on. Which makes me just a little Tryumphant.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
Day 303. Brief blog tonight. There seems to be a lengthy term paper in my e-mail awaiting my editorial comments. Apparently, it is due in the morning. I could give a certain college sophomore the stereotypical, "Don't Wait Until the Last Minute" lecture, but: a) he clearly has done just that, and b) I am paying way too much for these classes for him to take one twice. Besides, he is soon to be an upperclassman majoring in Accounting. There can't be many classes left in which I can possibly be of assistance. If memory serves, I had a hard time grasping T-Accounts.
After speaking at a state conference this morning, I was driving home on I35 and glanced over at the marquee of the Central Church of Christ in Moore. Gassho to whoever selects the messages for their sign. I have been partaking of these sage proclamations for over a decade on my numerous forays between Oklahoma City and Norman. About ninety percent of them are original, witty, and thought provoking. I enjoy them immensely, though I will probably never set foot within the actual interior of a Church of Christ. However, history has taught me to never say, "Never."
I'm not sure whether or not the congregation at the Central Church of Christ would find it complimentary if I use a quote from their sign to exemplify a wonderful statement of Zen. I sincerely mean it as such. The sentiment was exactly what I needed today. My practice could use some "umph." I always feel it necessary to execute a Blog Confession when I look at my timer before it sounds (the Central Church of Catholics would probably find that quite complimentary!) This occurs every 50 zazen sessions or so, but last night was the most humiliating of all.
I had been sitting for what felt like 18 hours, when - without a moment's consideration - I collapsed my mudra, slumped on my cushion, and rebelliously grabbed the timer. I was utterly convinced that it had sounded and I simply couldn't hear it from the distance I had traversed in my quest for Nirvana. According to my oh-so-accurate timer, 15:09 remained of my 40 minutes of sitting. FIFTEEN MINUTES AND CHANGE. I was shocked and chagrined. How could that be? I had been there for . . . well, forever! For about 30 seconds, I remained slumped and disheartened on my cushion. A deep sigh issued from where my mudra usually rests, reliably guiding my breath. An expression of frustration and insurrection tugged the corners of my mouth into an exaggerated frown. This was followed by a pout, which quickly reversed into a grin as the absurdity of my insolence crept over me. I reformed my mudra, straightened my spine, drew a breath, and resumed the posture inviting my true nature. I remained motionless until the timer sounded, then stayed that way for an additional 30 seconds, just for good measure.
And today I am reminded by God (and the good folks at the Church of Christ) to put some Umph into my Try. Amen to that. The irony is that the very best sitting doesn't even require much actual trying. I just need to sit there and try not to think. Which, when you have Monkeys as robust as mine, does require a little Umph. I forgot that for about 30 seconds last night, but the good thing about 302 days of consecutive sitting is that when I fall off my cushion, I dust myself off and get right back on. Which makes me just a little Tryumphant.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
The Resumption of True Nature
While you are continuing this practice, week after week, year after year, your experience will become deeper and deeper, and your experience will cover everything you do in your everyday life. The most important thing is to forget all gaining ideas, all dualistic ideas. In other words, just practice zazen in a certain posture. Do not think about anything. Just remain on your cushion without expecting anything. Then eventually you will resume your own true nature. That is to say, your own true nature resumes itself. - Shunryu Suzuki in Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind.
Day 302. Wow. December. Hard to believe. February of this year sometimes feels a heartbeat away, and sometimes a lifetime ago. Like I've traveled around the cosmos, and like I never left my cushion. Like everything has changed, and nothing has budged. Like I'm a totally new person, and like I am the quintessential original me. Zen is so weird.
Sometimes I indulge my ego the teeniest bit and actually read the advertisements that pop up when I first go to my blog site. The ones giving advice on how to fancy up the appearance of my blog, how to increase readership, etc. I hog tie my ego with a good strong toss of my lasso, and never consider actually implementing any of the suggestions. Besides, I know what it would take to increase my readership. I would need to write blogs with titles such as "Zen and the Art of Multiple Orgasms." Or "Using Zen to Predict the Stock Market," or "Buddhist Principles for Effective Government." But no. I shall stick to my modest descriptions of chronic cushion sitting. Gassho to the brave troopers and fellow cushion sitters who continue to read this stuff.
Speaking of modest descriptions, I have one for tonight. I am attempting to be increasingly mindful both on AND off my cushion. Like Suzuki Roshi points out, as zazen practice continues, it will begin to cover everything I do in my ordinary life. Today, I walked home for lunch to enjoy the sunshine and soak up a little dose of Vitamin D. On my way back to work (may I remind you, the total trek takes about 5 1/2 minutes), a few profound moments of zen descended upon me. I was on the sidewalk along Berry Road when I abruptly barged into the here-and-now. With my entire being. It was, literally, Just This! I felt my feet alternating between contact with the pavement and suspension in the air. I saw the leafless branches of recently disrobed trees gently swaying against a backdrop of feathery white streaks of cloud. I heard the vibrating purr of a scooter as it pulled out of the parking lot and headed north on Berry. The south breeze whispered across my cheek bones. Nothing more, and nothing less. Just This.
"Is this my own true nature?" my brain casually wondered. The thought vanished, and I felt the vastness of an emptied mind. Through some miracle of thoughtless, wordless awareness, "non-me" sensed that my own true nature -- the true nature of All -- had just resumed itself. Marvelous! Miraculous! Enlightenment in my office parking lot!
There is nothing more to say. I walked into the building and saw my next client. Had a tiny, flickering thought that went something like, "That was kinda cool," and a passing sense of poignancy that, so far, I don't dwell within my true nature for very long periods of time. Which saddens me a little, because True Nature ROCKS! That's okay. It is always there for (non) me. For all of us. Ready to resume itself.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
Day 302. Wow. December. Hard to believe. February of this year sometimes feels a heartbeat away, and sometimes a lifetime ago. Like I've traveled around the cosmos, and like I never left my cushion. Like everything has changed, and nothing has budged. Like I'm a totally new person, and like I am the quintessential original me. Zen is so weird.
Sometimes I indulge my ego the teeniest bit and actually read the advertisements that pop up when I first go to my blog site. The ones giving advice on how to fancy up the appearance of my blog, how to increase readership, etc. I hog tie my ego with a good strong toss of my lasso, and never consider actually implementing any of the suggestions. Besides, I know what it would take to increase my readership. I would need to write blogs with titles such as "Zen and the Art of Multiple Orgasms." Or "Using Zen to Predict the Stock Market," or "Buddhist Principles for Effective Government." But no. I shall stick to my modest descriptions of chronic cushion sitting. Gassho to the brave troopers and fellow cushion sitters who continue to read this stuff.
Speaking of modest descriptions, I have one for tonight. I am attempting to be increasingly mindful both on AND off my cushion. Like Suzuki Roshi points out, as zazen practice continues, it will begin to cover everything I do in my ordinary life. Today, I walked home for lunch to enjoy the sunshine and soak up a little dose of Vitamin D. On my way back to work (may I remind you, the total trek takes about 5 1/2 minutes), a few profound moments of zen descended upon me. I was on the sidewalk along Berry Road when I abruptly barged into the here-and-now. With my entire being. It was, literally, Just This! I felt my feet alternating between contact with the pavement and suspension in the air. I saw the leafless branches of recently disrobed trees gently swaying against a backdrop of feathery white streaks of cloud. I heard the vibrating purr of a scooter as it pulled out of the parking lot and headed north on Berry. The south breeze whispered across my cheek bones. Nothing more, and nothing less. Just This.
"Is this my own true nature?" my brain casually wondered. The thought vanished, and I felt the vastness of an emptied mind. Through some miracle of thoughtless, wordless awareness, "non-me" sensed that my own true nature -- the true nature of All -- had just resumed itself. Marvelous! Miraculous! Enlightenment in my office parking lot!
There is nothing more to say. I walked into the building and saw my next client. Had a tiny, flickering thought that went something like, "That was kinda cool," and a passing sense of poignancy that, so far, I don't dwell within my true nature for very long periods of time. Which saddens me a little, because True Nature ROCKS! That's okay. It is always there for (non) me. For all of us. Ready to resume itself.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
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