Shaking off the Weirdness...

Listening for the center of the sun...

2011-10-28T18:48:00.000-07:00

To look upon the world with these dead, glass eyes,
And listen intently with these old, wooden ears,
Is the gift of all gifts.

Like hunting for sand-dollars on the beach,
Only to find a gold coin.

Like looking for a whore,
But instead finding a wife.

Like trying to count smoke.

Like trying to see the center of the sun.

Is it even there?

No.

It's here! Here! HERE!

Just listen...

Split Pea & Bacon Soup

2011-10-17T08:11:00.001-07:00

The smell of bones
The air of pain
The bubbling of blood.

Not to be shunned
or avoided
but bathed in
as a hot-spring
for an aching body.

Karma to Karma.
Lips to lips.
The kiss of death;
To heal me
of my ignorance.

The world works
Just this way,
And I shouldn't hide
from the truth
Like I once did
When I was so
Full of myself.

Thank you, Great Teacher,
for the taste of wisdom
you give me,
and the way your
incense
fills my nose
with the smell
of reality.

Two jewels and a rock: my supreme support...

2011-06-27T09:04:00.000-07:00

A brief update from the health front:

I'm a lot better than I was. I'd say 95%. The lingering 5% is a result of fatigue brought on by 10-or-so days of iffy sleep due to the massive amount of antibiotics I'm still on. Taking them alone is tiring. They make me feel lethargic due to their body-load. But they also cause a pretty severe insomnia. I think I'll only be on them a few more days. They were a life-saver, to be sure, but we're getting to the point where the cure is worse than the symptoms. The 5am nose-bleeds are getting sorta old as well. That's because the anti-b's kill off a lot of the gut flora needed to process dietary potassium, and a lack of Vit. K means easy hemorrhages.

But enough whinging. I'm spending my time being grateful for all the friends who've expressed concern, love, compassion and metta for me, grateful for all the medical professionals whose skills helped save me, and my daughter and fiancée for being so strong for me in what for them must have been a very scary situation.

I'm headed back to the Zen Temple to get some work in. I'm looking forward to seeing it 10 days after I left it suddenly. Part of me feels a bit robbed that things I was working on were finished by others' hands. But at the same time, I'm more grateful that things I was working on were finished by others' hands.

Sangha: my supreme support.

Sunday morning reflection...

2011-06-26T09:45:00.000-07:00

A bell peels, ringing out a call to the faithful, yet I remain, still and motionless; a faithless apostle of this moment...

Rememberences (Edge Practice, Part II)...

2011-06-21T11:34:00.000-07:00

I am of the nature to have ill health; there s no way to escape having ill health...
-The Five Remembrances

So as I said in the last post, I wound up in hospital last week for a few days with a rather nasty case of cellulitis. I've had this before, a few years back shortly after I sprained my right knee. It was bad, but after a huge shot of antibiotics in the ass, and a week or so of oral treatment, it was managed.

This time? Not so much.

I'd been working on the rehab/reno of my sangha's new Zen temple in north Portland. We recently purchased a 100-year-old church for our new home, and there was much work to do. One of the things that I struggle with through this extended unemployment is a sense of malaise; a general feeling of purposelessness. Nothing to do, nowhere to go. One of the things I've been focusing great energy on lately is weightloss (you can follow that story over at my other blog) and I'd been having some really satisfying success. Part of that success is directly a result of all the physically hard work I'd been doing the three-and-some weeks prior.

Working hard, sweating, crawling around in the crap, using my skills and knowledge all felt so good. I'd come home exhausted, sure, but it was that satisfying kind of tired that comes from real ardent effort at something that really matters. I felt energized, strong, and vital. I haven't felt that way in quite a while. I was feeling really good about things.

My teachers dropped in after returning from some extensive travel. They hadn't seen the temple in almost a month, and the look on their faces was so incredibly gratifying. Sure, the place still resembled Dresden for the most part, but the changes were remarkable. My sensei—the teacher I work most closely with in my practice—just kept on looking at me with this glint in his eye. It was in no small part a look of deep gratitude for all the effort, but there was also a glint of "Really? You did this? I'm impressed," that comes from a deep understanding of me and my physical limitations as a partially disabled man. He knows many of the most intimate details of my life, including the hurt parts that are born out of feelings of weakness and emasculation. For him to see me standing there in my work clothes, gear hanging off of me, not looking like I was about to have a heart-attack, and able to see what I'm actually physically capable of, what my skills can accomplish, and what my dedication can achieve, was both gratifying and touching. We chatted briefly, then I got back to work.

I was working with a friend planing wainscoting. I was "catching," or receiving the thin boards after the machine milled off the face of each piece, removing a hundred years of paint and dirt, then stacking them neatly. In that process, the closed room we were working in grew rather warm, and I was sweating pretty good. I was also getting completely covered in ancient sawdust and old paint. It caked on my arms. It got in my eyes. I was wearing a respirator, but I'm sure I breathed some of it in, too. As we wrapped up, I could feel myself itch nearly everywhere. I was sweating more than I thought I should be. I'd run out of my allergy pills that day, so I hadn't taken one, and thought I may be having an allergic reaction. It made the most sense to me at the time.

I had to leave to get home and see my partner. I started to feel rather lousy. One of my friends noticed this and offered me a ride to the bus stop, which I accepted. On the way back into SE Portland, I started to feel absolutely awful. A few miles away from my street, I knew that something significant was happening to me, and that if I got off at my stop, I wouldn't likely be able to walk up the hill to my flat, so I called a taxi from the bus, and told them to meet me in the parking lot of a Walgreens next to a bus stop. When I got home, my fiancee was there and had an extra allergy pill, which I chewed, then took a hot shower to wash off all the caked-on crap. It seemed to work. I felt better, with the only major thing now being a roaring headache, and sent her home telling her that I didn't want to snap at her unfairly due to the headache, and what I really needed was rest.

I slept like crap that night. I couldn't get comfortable, couldn't stay asleep, and kept being either too hot or too cold, with the headache still in place.

The next day, I thought I felt a bit improved. My step-daughter stopped by in the early afternoon, and we hung out a bit. I was getting ready to make us something to eat when the same shivers and cold feeling crept over me again. I told her to make herself something to eat while I went to try and warm myself up in the shower. If that didn't work, she said she could run me to urgent care.

I had the shower set to "poach", I'm sure. I sat under the scalding water, freezing and shaking almost uncontrollably. Is this blowing up into anaphylaxis? I wondered. It was a moot point; I knew I was in trouble. I called to her from the shower, and said something I hoped I'd never have to say to her on my own behalf: call 911. I was starting to feel like I was going into shock. I knew that I had to get to a hospital, and fast, and that the chances of me physically being capable of getting into her tiny CRX were slim-to-none. I was to the point that I didn't even know if I could get out of the shower. EMS arrived quickly, assessed me, got a temp of 102.8, and took me to a nearby hospital.

My daughter had run into downtown and picked up my fiancee. They were both there, both worried, and both doing their best to be strong. When I got into ER, I was examined, and given IV fluids, a big fat pile of acetaminophen and a dose of Tramadol. It all seemed to help, and within three hours, I was feeling vastly improved to the point that I was able to eat, and they were considering discharging me, willing to write it off to a nasty virus. The ER doctor said "If your vitals show stable, we'll send you home."

They didn't.

For as well as I may have felt, my blood-pressure was screwed up. I have mild hypertension, or high blood-pressure, but the problem was in the opposite direction. I was showing consistent hypotension, or low blood-pressure. The BP readings for me should have been 130/80 or so, but I was consistently showing 90/45. The doctor looked at me and said "I'm really sorry, but I just don't feel good about sending you home like this, so I'm going to admit you overnight for observation." As bummed as I may have been by this, I had to agree with her. I sent my fiancee home, assuring her that all would be well, that there was nothing to do, and that I was exactly where I should be.

They found me an initial room, and the doctor in residence came to examine me. While doing a top-to-bottom exam, she was checking my feet, and commented on the swelling. I told her I have edema, and had for years. I also mentioned that my right shin and ankle were slightly larger due to a case of cellulitis a number of years earlier. "I'm looking at your left leg," she said. "You look like you've got some redness there." I still felt generally okay.

Shortly thereafter, not even an hour later, I was moved to a different room. I started to feel terrible again. Sweating, but cold. Uncontrollable tremors. The acetaminophen they'd given me in the ER was wearing off. They gave me more, and one of the nurses took a Sharpie marker and traced the area on my left leg that was going red and radiating hot. It was cellulitis for sure, and it was very angry. They started me on two kinds of IV antibiotics. I knew I was going to be in hospital for at least a few days.

The next day, my step-daughter came and hung out in my room with me, bringing me a few more things from home. Later that day, my teacher—who'd recently found out that I was in the hospital—came and visited me. It was a comfort, and I appreciated it deeply. "How are you practicing with this?" he asked. I told him that I would simply repeat the Five Remembrances whenever it occurred to me, and that I was trying to concentrate on my breath, which was still there, still vital, and still under my control. I remember him saying to me just before he left "Do not make the mistake of minimizing the size of this challenge."

I was discharged the morning after that visit, on Friday. Things looked rather good. I was told to make a follow-up appointment with my personal physician as soon as I could. He was available the next day—Saturday—but I figured that Monday was good enough. The hospital doctor thought so back when we were talking about it, so I scheduled an appointment for Monday.

The weekend was generally uneventful, with the only major addition to my routine being the swallowing of two antibiotic pills a day the size of baby shoes. I felt better, looked better, but was still having trouble sleeping, and waking up hot at 4am. Monday morning, I noticed that a larger patch of redness was showing on my leg. When I got to my doctor, I could see the concern on his face. Is this being resistant? I told him I was tolerating the antibiotic well, and asked if he thought we should double it. He agreed. He also put me on half my normal dosage of diuretic to help get the excess fluid out of the leg. The swelling and edema would only make it harder to heal. That was yesterday. Anyway, that's where I am now: four baby shoes and half a water pill a day, plus acetaminophen as needed.

The double dose of anti-b's make me very photosensitive, and give me a crashing headache, but appear to be working. The red patch is cooler, less diffuse and more defined, which is good. The swelling is down overall. I'm still a bit nervous, but that's not really going to accomplish anything helpful.

This has been, and continues to be, a rather significant challenge. I went from feeling so good, so vital, and my lowest weight since high-school, to completely helpless and dependent, shivering in misery in a hospital bed hooked into IV's, or laying on my couch with my leg in the air, watching the Hysteria Channel about 10lbs heavier than this time last week. It seemed so instantaneous.

All that is dear to me, and everyone I love are of the nature of change; There is no way to keep being separated from them.

All that is dear, including my own health.

Once again,

"...it's always the image of change that really makes the poem..."
-Alan Watts

The edge of practice...

2011-06-19T09:15:00.000-07:00

A close friend and dharma brother recently asked me about a term we bandy about in our community/shanga: "practice edge". "What the hell is an 'edge' of practice?" he asked. I used cutting metaphors, cliff metaphors, etc. It worked, but I left the conversation feeling like I gave a thimble full of water to a thirsty man asking for a drink. Not short-shrift, but by no means quenching.

I wound up in hospital for a few very miserable days this past week. I'm healing well, but my sleep schedule is completely out of whack, so I was up at 4am. I did zazen for about a half an hour lying down in the dark, then got my phone to watch something while laying there, hoping to fall back asleep for a bit. That didn't work at all, because I made the grave mistake of watching something so utterly engrossing that I woke right up.

What an utterly fascinating film this is! I'm not going to go on and on about it here, but suffice it to say that it stirred something in my head in that wonderfully groggy space between dreams and wakefulness.

If you look at life like a perfect, flat, uniform sheet of paper, it has four edges. If you consider or assume that those edges define its scope in any direction, and beyond those edges is nothing (and by definition, beyond that life) you have a pretty interesting and generally useful model for the human life, or human experience.

Now, if there are no imperfections in that sheet of paper—no dimples, tears, creases or folds—you have a rather homogeneous existence. Everything just flows evenly from edge to edge, even if that plane is twisted. It all just goes along smoothly until it suddenly stops.

I think that would be a very boring life.

But put a crease in there, and suddenly, without affecting the contiguousity (yes, I just made that up) of the experience, you've now got more definition. You have difference, you have realm, you have texture, you have shape.

With that, you also have, in the case of the analogy of life experience, choice. This side of the crease or that side? Left or right? North, South, East or West? Up or down? Do you, or don't you?

We all think that we want a smooth life. Wrinkles, crinkles, tears or messy bits in the flow of our existence tend to upset us, make us change course, or do something in a manner not of our original or current desire. But to quote (with minor modification) Billy Bragg; "...all (life) is strange, and you have to learn to take the crunchy with the smooth, I suppose."

As I said, I wound up in hospital recently, and at one point, I was laying in my bed, soaked in misery, watching a stunningly beautiful full moon arc across the slightly cloudy skies through the huge windows of my room, and I remembered a favorite audio bit from Alan Watts I stumbled upon a year or so ago...

"So we are living—as it were—on many levels of rhythm. This is the nature of change. If you resist it, you have dukka, you have frustration and suffering. But, on the other hand, if you understand change—you don't cling to it, and you let it flow—then it's no problem. It becomes positively beautiful, which is why in poetry the theme of the evanescence of the world is beautiful. When Shelly says:
The One remains, the many change and pass;
Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly;
Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
Stains the white radiance of Eternity,
Until Death [shatters] it to fragments.
Now what's beautiful in that? Is it heaven's light that shines forever, or is it rather the dome of many colored glass that shatters? See, it's always the image of change that really makes the poem..."

Change gives us dynamism. Difference gives us definition. Choice gives us opportunity. Smoothness gives us rest. The dimples, tears, creases and folds in the fabric of our lives—those places and points where direction changes without our consent, where the shape morphs into something we're not expecting or even wanting, where roughness pushes us out of a comfortable flow—these are the edges of practice.

Space and time themselves are not smooth, we now understand. We perceive them as so, but they're not at the most basic and fundamental level. Quantum particles pop in and out of existence, creating a seething foam of ever-changing texture. Time is bent by the laws of physics, slowing the closer you get to the speed of light. As I said, we perceive them as so, but in reality, they're anything but. The error in perception is, as always, a matter of scale.

But I'm all about texture...

Sound poem...

2011-01-26T07:48:00.000-08:00

The day awaits,
hard like cold iron,
waiting to be heated and
hammered into some fresh, new shape.
The loud banging of the hammer and anvil
a song to be heard throughout the day,
but yet to begin.
The fog,
gripping.
grasping,
clinging to everything it touches,
trying so very hard not to lose its tenuous hold on life,
whimpering as it slides down the hillside.
The crows beckon,
from on high and down low,
their voices stabbing through the quiet,
making their intentions known.
What they're saying
is readily heard;
what is being said remains a mystery,
lost in translation.
The sound of all things,
loud and quiet,
gentile and shrill,
soft and sharp,
caresses me like the hands of a lover,
with a mind of their own,
wants and needs of their own,
and their own
agenda.

A few of my favorite Zen things...

2010-12-17T16:10:00.000-08:00

Fannys on zafus in honorable poses;
Sit in the zendo and breathe through our noses.
Inos and doans. The large bronze bell rings.
These are a few of my favorite Zen things.

Sore, achy muscles from sitting through sesshin.
Avalokitishvara, Dogen and Kuan Yin.
All bodhisattvas throughout the world sing,
These are a few of my favorite Zen things.

When the tire's flat.
When I feel fat.
When I'm seething mad.
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then things don't look so bad.

Work in the green-house or samu in kitchen;
Wrestle the bramble into short-term submission.
Straighten your rakusu: the only zen bling.
These are a few of my favorite Zen things.

Chanting and kinhin and bowing to founders;
Sanzen with Hogen when my practice flounders.
Koans and parties with puppets that sing.
These are a few of my favorite Zen things.

When I'm freezing.
When I'm roasting.
When there is no breeze.
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I'm more at ease.

Red cape and cap because Jizo gets too cold.
Practice my dying--hopefully when I'm old.
Boat-loads of metta for all living beings.
These are a few of my favorite Zen things.

The gateway to freedom is zazen samadhi.
Be one with the moment: heart/mind and body.
For a great Heart of Wisdom: the moment's the thing.
These are a few of my favorite Zen things.

When I'm stressed-out.
What's this about?
Try to seek its source.
The Great Way is easy for those without
"favorite things" of course.

Birthright

2010-12-06T07:57:00.001-08:00

To what do I owe the pleasure?

To thee, of course.

To years of truth that cut like scalpels, knives and saws,
Leaving me bloody, but lighter.

To years of fire that burn away the underbrush, deadfall and chaff,
Setting the forest floor for growth anew.

To years of flood that have washed away all the loose, fetid rot of me,
Where my "good" and "bad" are not distinguished.

To the wind, ever-present, blowing hard from all directions;
Challenging me to stand in the face of it and howl back.

To all those energies that have come to manifest my life;
Each person, place, thing that has helped me become more verb-like.

The magic of banality, the wonder of boredom, the thrill of ennui;
Each sting of assumption and error a Zenji.

To sit
As a stone
In a field;
Immovable but by time,
Resolute through stasis,
Confident via gravity,
Stalwart by way of density.
Eternal on the small scale,
Insignificant to the large.
A solid, concrete illusion.
An æons-old, tenuous conglomeration.
Dependable,
Yet ever crumbling,
atom
by
atom
back
into
aggregate.
Out of time,
out of place,
out of form,
The Universe spreads her legs,
and
Noumena is born.
Looking upon this place
With blurry,
unfocused,
impossibly blue eyes;
Seeing that all is right with the world,
and greeting it with a awful, confused wail.

The best medicine...

2010-11-21T17:52:00.000-08:00

A Universal Recommendation of Zazen
(aka: "FUKANZAZENGI")

-------------------------------

The Way is originally perfect and all-pervading. What need is there for practice and realization?

The Dharma vehicle is rolling freely. Why should we exhaust our effort?

There is no speck of dust in the whole universe. How could we ever try to brush it clean?

Everything is manifest at this very place. Where are we supposed to direct the feet of our practice?

Now, if you make the slightest discrimination, you will create a gap like that between heaven and earth.

If you follow one thing while you resist the other, your mind will be shattered and lost.

Suppose you are confident in your understanding and rich in enlightenment, gaining the wisdom that knows at a glance, attaining the way and clarifying the mind, arousing an aspiration to reach for the heavens. Now your head is stuck in the entrance-way, while your body has no clue how to get out.

Although Shakyamuni was wise at birth, can't you see the traces of his six years of upright sitting? Bodhidharma transmitted the mind-seal from India. Can't you hear the echo of the nine years he sat facing a wall?

If even the ancient sages were like this, how can we today dispense with wholehearted practice? Therefore, put aside the intellectual practice of investigating words and chasing phrases, and learn to take the backward step that turns the light and shines it inward.

Your body and mind will drop away of themselves, and your original face will manifest. If you want to get into touch with things as they are, you - right here and now - have to start being yourself, as you are.

For practicing Zen, a quiet room is suitable. Eat and drink moderately. Put aside all involvements and suspend all affairs.

Don't think about "good" or "bad". Don't judge true or false. Your mind, intellect, and consciousness are spinning around - let them have rest. Give up measuring with thoughts, ideas, and views. Have no designs on becoming a Buddha. How could that be limited to sitting or lying down?

When you sit, spread a mat and put a cushion on it. Sit either in the full-lotus or half-lotus position. In the full-lotus position, first place your right foot on your left thigh, then your left foot on your right thigh. In the half-lotus position, simply place your left foot on your right thigh.

Tie your robes loosely and arrange them neatly. Then place your right hand on your left leg and your left hand on your right palm, thumb-tips lightly touching.

Straighten your body and sit upright, leaning neither left nor right, neither forward nor backward. Align your ears with your shoulders and your nose with your navel. Rest the tip of your tongue against the front of the roof of your mouth, with teeth and lips together both shut. Always keep your eyes open, and breathe softly through your nose. Once you have adjusted your posture, take a breath and exhale fully, rock your body right and left, and settle into steady, immovable sitting. Think of not thinking. Not thinking: What kind of thinking is that? Letting thoughts go (Nonthinking). This is the essential art of zazen.

Zazen is not a meditation technique. It is simply the Dharma gate of joyful ease, it is practicing the realization of the boundless Dharma way. Here, the open mystery manifests, and there are no more traps and snares for you to get caught in.

If you grasp the point, you are like a dragon gaining the water, like a tiger taking to the mountains. For you must know that the true Dharma appears of itself, so that from the start dullness and distraction are struck aside.

When you arise from sitting, move slowly and quietly, calmly and deliberately. Don't do it head over heels. Understand that those who transcended the mundane and sacred, and died while either sitting or standing, have all committed themselves entirely to this power.

In addition, turning the Dharma wheel with a finger, a banner, a needle, or a mallet, and realizing it with a whisk, a fist, a staff, or a shout - these cannot be understood by discriminative thinking. Much less can they be known through the practice of supernatural power. Your conduct must be beyond seeing forms and hearing sounds, it must be based on the order that is prior to knowledge and views. Don't worry about if you are more intelligent than the others, or not. Make no distinction between the dull and the sharp-witted. If you concentrate your effort single-mindedly, that in itself is wholeheartedly engaging the way. Practice-realization is naturally undefiled. Practicing the way means to live the present day.

In our world and others, in both India and China, all equally hold the buddha-seal. The wind of truth is blowing unhindered, so just give yourself to the sitting, be totally blocked in resolute stability.

Although they say that there are ten thousand distinctions and a thousand variations, just wholeheartedly engage the way in zazen. Why leave behind the seat in your own home to wander in vain through the dusty realms of other lands? If you make one misstep you stumble past what is directly in front of you. You have gained the pivotal opportunity of human form. Do not pass your days and nights in vain.

You met the Buddha way in this life - how could you waste your time delighting in sparks from a flint stone? Form and substance are like the dew on the grass, the fortunes of life like a dart of lightning - emptied in an instant, vanished in a flash.

Please, honored followers of Zen, long accustomed to groping for the elephant, do not doubt the true dragon.

Devote your energies to the way that points directly to the real thing. Revere the one who has gone beyond learning and is free from effort.

Share the wisdom of Buddhas with Buddhas, transmit the samadhi of patriarchs to patriarchs. Continue to live in such a way, and you will be such a person. The treasure store will open of itself, it is up to you to use it freely.

-Dogen zenji

Touching the Void...

2010-11-14T08:10:00.000-08:00

僧問：狗子還有佛性也無?
師云：無。
問：上至諸佛，下至螻蟻皆有佛性，狗子為什麼卻無?
師云：為伊有業識在。

A monk asked, "Does a dog have a Buddha-nature or not?"

The master said, "Mu!"

The monk said, "Above to all the Buddhas, below to the crawling bugs, all have Buddha-nature. Why is it that the dog has not?"

The master said, "Because he has the nature of karmic delusions".

—The Recorded Sayings of Zen Master Joshu, koan 132, translation by James Green

"Ku," "mu" or "sūnyatā" is the underlying true nature of all phenomena. Often translated (read: "dumbed-down") as "emptiness" or "void", it is the base level of reality in a Buddhist paradigm. And, (all too) often, this--to outside observers--is seen as being tinged with negativity. "What point is there to life if all things are empty? That sounds suspiciously like nihilism, and I don't like that!" More advanced or formal practitioners appreciate that this is not, in fact, a proper apprehension of the concept. They do, however, understand why so many misapprehend the concept of ku. Were it to be easy, we'd all have a handle on it by now, and render practice unnecessary.

Every practice, every step on the path--be it kinhin, a walk to the library, or a wiping of your ass--is a practice of ku. Every sneeze, burp, fart, back-rub, egg-scramble, oil-change, fapp, nose-pick, letter-opening, thrust, wince, hug, smile, frown... everything is empty and without form. A true apprehension leads one to experience that every sneeze, burp, fart, back-rub, egg-scramble, oil-change, fapp, nose-pick, letter-opening, thrust, wince, hug, smile, frown... everything is the entire Universe. Whole, total and complete, lacking nothing.

As I am off for a week of monastic retreat (or "sesshin") starting on Monday, I leave you with this:

In your life, in your daily experience of now, where do you touch "ku"? Have you? Do you? What has this experience done for you? Where/how does it manifest? Does it inform your life, or vice-versa?

May all beings achieve enlightenment, even before me...

THIS should be interesting... (or not).

2010-11-13T10:21:00.000-08:00

I've been struggling the past few days. After returning from the Mindful Eating retreat, I was on a bit of a high. I felt empowered. A tad more in control. I dropped below 240lbs. I had a job interview that went really well, and I look to be employed soon by a non-profit that I really believe in. Our sangha has finally found a suitable building, and will pay a mere song for it, not a Wagnerian opera's worth. I was feeling like... I dunno. Things felt good.

Somewhere between there and here, I've slid back into some old, unhelpful ways. It's illustrated something to me: No matter how "in control" one feels, it's an illusion. A delusion, more rightly. And it reinforces to me Sekito Kisen's admonition: "Do not waste your time by night or day!"[1]

It's so easy to lose sight of what's important, truly important. It's almost as if we--as monkeys--are programmed to lose it. I suppose in a way we are, or else practice would be unnecessary.

The weight has ticked back up on the scale a bit. Not dangerously so, but not insignificantly either. I feel a clinging arising in me lately. A desire to fill voids. A habit of seeing voids where there are none, or making them in my mind in order to feel gratified when they are filled, or by what I choose to stuff them full of.

This I believe is coming from anxiety.

I guess part stems from the initial tastes of S.A.D. 'Tis the season and all. But I know that the lion's share is stemming from my going to my first full sesshin at the monastery.

The anxiety isn't as great as it has been in the past about this. I don't feel panicked. I know I'll be fine. I have been needing to do this for quite a while, and I have the support of my teachers and my friends, both inside and outside the sangha. I know I'm "ready" to do this.

I am just railing against the ideas of discomfort and dissatisfaction. Fighting preconceived notions of a future that I think I may have an idea about. How dumb. Here I am, the guy that tells everyone to have no preconceptions, yet I'm busy being bitten in the ass by my own.

But that's just as it goes, innit?

I'm happy, though, in that I do now taste a difference on my palate regarding this anxiety. It's less than it used to be. I'm vastly more anxious about being away from my cat for a week, and her needs, than I am my own. The worse that will happen to me is that I'm mildly uncomfortable and slightly annoyed for a week. I've suffered worse.

I know this is a bit of a scatter-shot blog today. Sorry. Just spitting out a mouthful of what's on my tongue. Maybe if I do it on a piece of white paper, we can have a pretty Rorschach to look at?

Armistice Day, 1918: My Dear Son George...

2010-11-11T10:21:00.000-08:00

On this Veteran's Day, 2010, 92 years after the armistice, a letter from my great grandmother, Mary Logan-Grady, of Valders, WI. to my maternal grandfather, George Grady, a conscientious objector in WWI, who served as a corpsman and ordinance technician throughout France between 1916-1919. This entire piece, including the parenthetical addendum, was printed in a local Manitowoc news paper in remembrance of Armistice Day (date unknown).

My Dear Son George:

I am more than bursting with joy this morning. The glad news of peace arrived yesterday at half-past 2 o'clock. What a relief and comfort to all mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers and all sweethearts.

Every whistle and bell and bugle and horn was heard for miles around. Yes, more than that, the roosters crew all night and Darkey howled and Sport barked and all the cows came bellowing to the barn and everything was at a standstill.

John just got through plowing as the whistles blew. It was a real holiday.

And the night before, they had devotions in our church and blessed the service flag. Sadie and Ella rang for the dedication and thanks to Almighty God and the Blessed Mother, there aren't any gold stars on it yet, if all be true which I hope it is.

Last night I dreamed I seen you coming up the road driving the gray team on an old buggie and you looked so small and thin. The first time I ever dreamed of you. We got all your letters and Johney's letter came a few days ago.

So, you seen General Pershing.

Well, George, I have no more paper and I want to write so bad. Excuse this letter this time.

With love from your loving Mother.

P.S. Schools and churches and everything was shut down the past five weeks. Elmer (Barnes) had the flu so bad he died three times, but still lives and is feeling fine.

(James Mullins, formerly of Manitowoc, and now teaching at St. Ambrose College in Davenport, Iowa, found this letter among his mother's keepsakes after her death several years ago. He sent copies to other relatives, including Mrs. Justin Mullins, (formerly Mary Claire Barnes) who brought it to the newspaper office. Mrs. Grady was her grandmother.

Mrs. Grady writer of the letter, was the former Mary Logan, and the family farm was on County Highway C, where it is still operated by Mr. and Mrs. Gordon Grady and Mrs. Ruth Grady. Ruth's late husband was John Grady who is mentioned in the letter.)

Veteran's Day: A letter home...

2010-11-11T09:49:00.000-08:00

On this Veteran's Day, 2010, 92 years after the armistice, a letter from my maternal grandfather, George Grady, a conscientious objector in WWI, who served as a corpsman and ordinance technician throughout France between 1916-1919, to my great grandmother, Mary Logan-Grady, of Valders, WI.

Charpentry, France
Jan 1st, 1919

Dearest Mother-

Well, another year has rolled around and in place of the grim and hideous spectacle which the last few years have found confronting them on taking their appointed place in the ages, it finds all mankind at peace. I can well imagine with what a frenzied and momentous joy the wild bells ushered in this new year of nineteen hundred and nineteen. God grant that all subsequent years finds the world more securely attached to peace and peaceful pursuits.

It would be too bad if this war has been fought in vain, unless the whole world stands as a unit and agrees to abolish compulsory military service and fails to uphold the fourteen points of President Wilson's plan, I am sure in a few years expect the same awful catastrophe to occur again and with more terrible and appalling results. There is no way to judge the future but by the past. My prayers now are for the peace counsil [sic] which is soon to sit. I hope God be with them in their work so that their poor blind eyes be able to see their way clear and guide them aright. On their heads rest the future of this turbulent sphere. How well their work is done determines the safety of it. Let us sincerely hope and pray for the best so that the sacrifices and heroic sufferings and efforts will bear fruit.

-PVT George W. Grady
Ordinance Detachment
American Expeditionary Force
France

Back into the depths...

2010-11-02T09:53:00.000-07:00

To go deeper than ever before
Presupposes a shallowness that may
or may not
be a delusion.

Can the ocean ever truly be shallow?
Can the sea ever be anything other than the sea?
Are there parts that are one thing,
but not the other?

I peak
as a wave
acting alone
but never truly
Alone.

I crest
like a mountain
atop an ever moving
firmament.

I crash
like diamonds
upon an eternal and endless
shore.

I recede
back into the depths
of the infinite potential of
suchness.

I am
as you are.

Same.
Same.
But different.

Mindful Eating (II): The Ango pledge...

2010-11-01T21:39:00.000-07:00

An ango (安居), for those who don't know, is a period of more intensive practice in a zen sangha or monastery. My sangha observes one every autumn. For us, it's traditional to make an ango vow or commitment; some extra practice like bowing, chanting, memorizing a sutra, daily- or extra zazen, etc. This year, I was having a hard time coming up with something that resonated with me. Last year I committed to sit every time my sangha was at the dharma center (of 32 opportunities, I missed four. Jes' sayin'...). This year, I was thinking of trying to memorize the Shosai Myokichijo Dharani, which always renders me dumb and mum. I may still. I'll be chanting it daily for six days in about two weeks.

But this past weekend, I attended my teacher, Chozen Bays-roshi's Mindful Eating retreat at Great Vow Zen Monastery. The retreat was a gift to me by my friend Bansho, but it was a bit extra significant for a few reasons. I've dropped over fifty pounds this year, and I really wanted to attend this retreat. He's been following my progress, and had purchased this retreat with the intent of making it a scholarship. I suddenly couldn't come up with the finances to attend, and it all fell neatly into place.

I'll talk a bit more about the experience in a future post, but suffice it to say that I came up with my commitment tonight as I ate dinner half ōryōki-style. I will eat at least one meal a day this way throughout all of ango.

Mindful Eating (I)...

2010-11-01T18:26:00.001-07:00

Back from the edge of Space and Time...

2010-11-01T15:47:00.000-07:00

Just got back from a weekend-long monastic retreat (focused on mindful eating: more on that in a following blog post) and can report that much zazen was energetically sat. At 4:30am yesterday morning, I was up, sitting zazen outside in the crisp cold of an early Oregon autumn, in the pitch dark with a stunningly bright half-moon hanging behind the translucent UV-blue clouds, and every star in the sky encouraging me to "wake up"! I sent out my intentions, and included all my Weirdness-following friends. One thing that came up for me (thanks in no small part to the aforementioned moon) was the issue of the waxing and waning of practice at times, and specifically the energy required to keep up a good daily zazen/shikantaza practice. My tip to you all: don't be discouraged if you fall off the zafu. Be gentle with yourself. Just get back on. Be it five minutes or a half-hour is no matter. As Dogen-zenji stated, "Do not waste your time by night or day."

Keep at it. Your practice is quite literally of the utmost importance to all beings throughout space and time...

-bows of gratitude-

=/\=

What's love got to do with it?

2010-10-11T14:03:00.000-07:00

And off to the races we go!

First off: Brad Warner has a new book out, called Sex, Sin, and Zen: A Buddhist Exploration of Sex from Celibacy to Polyamory and Everything in Between. No, I haven't read it yet. I was sent an advanced promo for it of a few chapters by someone with a link to the publisher, but it was of a few of the "dryer" chapters. Regardless, I'll read it soon. Also regardless, buy the book, y'all. Brad-san needs the dough, and I want him to have it. Brad is one of the few contemporary Zen writers in America that's actually saying something relevant and interesting, and as aggravating as he is to me sometimes, I think that his approach is not only valuable, but inherently important to Zen in the West. Props, Brad. Actually, I'll probably post a review of the book once I've digested it, so stay tuned...

Let's begin at the beginning.

I am not average.

That is not a boast. It is a statement of statistical observation. I am a 42-year old male (that bit is average), queer (latently bisexual) ethically non-monogamous (read: "polyamorous") agnostic, former-vegan, leftist/socialist libertarian (minus the gun craziness, but with added crispy anarchistic tendencies) Zen Buddhist who believes in the inherent, constitutional right of gays to marry, is a pro-cannabis advocate and thinks most drugs should be legalized, as should prostitution.

So I confused the census guy a wee bit. But he seemed really happy to see me the 2nd and 3rd time he was by here. I was obviously a fun compare/contrast from the Jehova's next door. And while he may have been a bit perplexed that my mailing address wasn't actually--in fact--Amsterdam, he understood why Portland seemed not so unbelievable.

I've been of the "alt" generation my entire adult life. For a time in the late 80's, I was actually a safe sex educator to certain communities; a time when friends and loved ones started dying. To say "I was on the front lines" of the HIV/AIDS fight is a bit of an over-statement that I'm not entirely comfortable with, but I will say proudly that I did my part to help educate gays, lesbians, and straight folks--both friends and strangers alike--so as to help keep them from becoming one more statistical data-point in a war with an increasingly growing body-count.

And yes, I lost people I loved. Too many.

My fist "adult relationship" was when I was seventeen. I don't really want to go too deeply into it, but it was more formative than I think I realized then. And it was a non-monogamous one. My first. Not hers. I'd heard about "swingers" in the likes of the Penthouse Forum and Xaviera Hollander's "Call Me Madam" column, but while that was titillating, it just didn't seem to fit my experience. My partner at the time, (I'll call her "RDL") was a bit older, vastly more experienced and much wiser than I was at the time. She was my first great teacher of love, sex, and of compassion. Great Compassion. She was a care-giver of the first order, an angel, a true Bodhisattva, I'm certain of that. I'll never forget when we sat down to talk about "opening" our relationship. "How can you love more than one person at a time?" I asked her in mild horror.

"Do you love your mother and your father?" she replied.

"Well, of course, but that's different!" I exclaimed.

"Really? How?"

I waxed intensely on the topic, covering all the obvious points, including a detour down the predictable Freudian tangent. When I was done having my emotional and intellectual grand mal, she sat there quietly, then said "Okay. Now open your heart and tell me how it's really different."

I couldn't.

And I couldn't not because it wasn't different (because to some degrees it obviously is and I'm fine with admitting that) but because I suddenly allowed myself--for whatever reason--to truly wonder why it was, and then very quickly I was forced to ask myself if it was, in fact, all that different. Was I simply tripping over a language issue? I mean, the most complicated and nuanced words I knew at the time to try and differentiate one kind of love from another were words like αγάπη ("agape") or "trancendant, 'otherly' love", but no words seemed to work properly. I told RDL that I'd have to think about this. I left the discussion shaken, but oddly charged, and I didn't know why.

After a lot of soul-searching, I agreed that RDL and I would open our relationship. In my mind, this was mostly a sexual thing, and I'll admit that I did it mostly to please her and at the same time hedge my bets against giving her any kind of reason to dump me. But I did have her assurance that if at any time I felt uncomfortable or threatened by this path, I could hit the stop button. Being that I trusted her both implicitly and explicitly, I felt that this was at least some kind of wild experiment that I had some manner of control over.

The following 18-or-so months was one of the weirdest, most wonderful and at times most painful periods of my life. I never felt comfortable with telling even my closest friends about my life that they couldn't see. Some of my friends were privy to my "sexual adventurousness", but none knew that this involved more than just me and a few people in bed together. No one but my mother--my closest confidant--ever knew that it involved concurrent heart-based relationships with people. I had a number of relationships with women in that period, with RDL being my overriding constant.

It was right about that time that we heard a new term. Actually, I'd discovered it in a magazine. It may have been Omni. This word was "polyamory". And while I--a growing word geek--bristled at the bastardization, it sure seemed to fit what we were doing in our lives.

But it seemed to be working. And it seemed to fit me. I had always been a big-hearted guy. I'd always had much love to give. And in that period of time when I walked away from RDL to "think about this", one thing popped into my mind over and over: I loved RDL, deeply and truly, and I wanted her, and "us" to be happy. Forever. But was I really ready to commit myself--my heart--to one person for the rest of my life? Forsaking all others? 'Till death, etc? Was it truly reasonable to think that, on a planet of billions of people, the one great love of my life just happened to be living one town over from me? Was there really only one person on this Earth I could ever love this way, lest I diminish that love through feeling that way about another? Would that even happen? I mean, my parents had six kids. None of us felt less loved than the others.

I suddenly started to get a handle on this issue, and the first thing that helped was to understand that a) I didn't know a damn thing about "love", and b) nobody else did, either. I was in the first generation to have a 50% or greater divorce rate, and one of the first to deal with single-parent families (both through divorce, death and as a mindful life-choice). It was becoming obvious to me that what society said about love was vastly different from what love's boots were like on the ground (or outside the door, or banging, or... anyway.)

Sadly, my time with RDL was cut short. We were there for each-other until the end. I still miss her. And yes, I still love her. Deeply. Every woman I've ever been with has been told of her, and I have told most of those later women that they own her a debt of thanks. She is without question the main reason why I am the man I am today, and most likely the reason why they fell in love with me. She was my greatest teacher, for she taught me that love is nothing like what is printed or put up on the silver screen. It is so much more than that. It is truly a Universal thing. She was tapped into something huge, mighty and powerful. Trans-formative. Transmogrifying. Transcendental. I wanted to taste that. She fed me. Then she had to go. The very last words she uttered to me were "Be honest with yourself, always, and know that I truly love you."

The following years were a morass of mistakes, tempests, fool's errands and other missteps. After RDL, I tried monogamy, thinking that I could never experience what I had with RDL outside of the strong container of safety and encouragement that she provided. My first was with a girl I'd went to high-school with, that had me making the mistake of proposing to her after only a week together, and which ended a month later after I wised-up to the fact that I was about to ruin both our lives. The longest try at monogamy lasted nearly six years. It ended less over the issue of monogamy -vs- polyamory than it did over a mismatch of personalities, ages and life-goals. But I knew that when I left the Center Coast for the Left Coast that I wanted to be polyamorous again.

That I'd fallen in-love on-line with an amazing polyamorous woman in Portland, OR sort-of sealed that deal. I've been here in Portland, and actively polyamorous, ever since. That relationship was also very formative. It was my first marriage. It was my first divorce. It put my daughter in my life. It was a time of great growth, both personal and spiritual, and I owe her, too, a great debt of thanks. And yes, I still love her. Deeply. Too. But more in an agape way. She's with the right person. She's happier than I've ever seen her. That's the promise I made to her on our wedding day: to do all that was in my power to make her happy. That just also included asking her for a divorce when the time insisted upon it.

Polyamory developed quite a bit over the years. It now has clubs, magazines, TV pieces featuring it and a whole raft of other trappings, institutions and eclectica, like shirts and buttons with pithy sayings (which we all know makes it relevant). But what is it really, and how does it relate to my life, and to a life devoted to the Dharma?

Teh Wikipedia defines "polyamory" as "...the practice, desire, or acceptance of having more than one intimate relationship at a time with the knowledge and consent of everyone involved." Now, this to me is a bit short-shrifted of an answer. The above could also apply to swinging, which poly is most assuredly not. "Intimate relationship"--were the term "intimate" to be used properly--would be okay, but the word typically carries too much mere sexual baggage. I tend to use the terms "heart-centric" or "emotional" to reinforce the most pertinent point of polyamory for me: the heart. For me, and for most long-term poly practitioners, polyamory is better defined as "...the practice, desire, or acceptance of having more than one concurrent emotionally intimate, heart-based or romantic relationship--with or without sex--with the knowledge and consent of everyone involved."

Secks. About that. Yes, I've been ENM (or "ethically non-monogamous") my entire adult life. I have felt open to many interactions with many people over my lifetime. Yes, more than many other people, but honestly, less than you might think, given my circumstances. ENM/Poly has never been a vehicle for merely shagging anything I want at any time. It's not that simple. Nor is it that easy. And as I have grown in the Dharma (having taken the first Five Precepts), I have come to view polyamory as a very special embodiment of the practice of the precepts. Talk about a practice of non-attachment! Oy! So, let's look at those precepts, shall we? As a matter of fact, let's look at the whole thing: how does the practice of polyamory and the dharma mesh in my life?

Polyamory is about ethics. At least it is for me, or anyone truly operating within the original model. This is not about "getting some on the side". In true, open polyamory, not only does everyone know about one-another, everyone typically knows one another, at least in a formal--if not cordial--sense. There are no secret lovers. There's no sneaking around. Of course, any model can be improperly or dishonestly implemented. If, say, you were poly, found someone you fancied, and saw them--romantically or intimately--without letting other partners know about it, that would be cheating, just like in the monogamous world. The interesting twist here is that, unlike monogamy, you are responsible to more people at the same time. The potential to hurt more people with unskillful action is even greater. Which leads us nicely to...
Polyamory is about karma. Boy-howdy! Again, as above, you are not just responsible to one person. Your actions often have an immediate effect on numerous lives. That is very swift karma, and the potential to harm people by heedlessness and selfish action is possibly higher than with monogamy.
Polyamory is about mindfulness. You bet it is. You will come to no good end if you don't remember where you should be and when, to say the least. Double-booking, forgetfulness, kids and other associated partner's names, birthdays, anniversaries, etc are all challenges that people have with ONE "significant other". Try it with more than one! Being attentive to multiple partner's needs--emotional, physical or what-have-you--and being involved in their lives in any substantial way is a very demanding practice in mindfulness. You cannot expect to be a fulfilled and fulfilling partner in a poly dynamic if you have a "phuq-all" attitude. It, and you, will crash and burn before take-off.
Polyamory is about non-attachment. <-- Understatement of the year. What greater exercise in non-attachment is there than to give your heart to someone, and then not only allow--but support--that partner in a similar relationship with someone else? We all want to feel special. We all want to be the center of someone's world. Yet at the same time, deep down inside, we all are insecure when it comes to love. When our partner appears less interested than they once were, or admits to being interested in someone else, we immediately say to ourselves "I'm going to lose them..." as if they were a mere possession. Yet at the same time, many--if not most--people like to say things like "love is infinite". Well, if the latter is true, how can the former happen? If there is no end to love's ability to feel, to express, and to expand and encompass all it needs to, then why do we so often allow our heart to "attach" itself? Or, is it--in fact--the heart that's doing the attachment after all? Could it be the ego--the "small self"--at work here? Jealousy is often defined as the ego crying "this is MINE!" when the heart-mind--or the "greater or true self" is saying "this is Universal". And make no mistake about it: poly people deal with jealousy all the time. If anything, we just try and go about dealing with it differently. Which leads us to...
Polyamory is about communication. And frankly, it's vastly more about communication than sex. By magnitudes. There must be constant, open, and at times very intense communication with partners in order for polyamory to be healthy and happy. There really is no place for biting one's tongue, burying feelings, sweeping things under the rug. It will upset the apple-cart, that pea will disturb the princess, etc, and will likely do so in the most upsetting way possible and at the most inopportune time. The only way to head-off problems before they happen is for everyone to communicate in an open and honest fashion at all times. To say that it's challenging doesn't cover it. At times it's completely Herculean, at others, it can feel down-right Sisyphean. But it must, must, must be done in order for this life-choice to be ethical. After all, lies of omission are still lies.

So, those are just some of the issues that are tangentially related to polyamory and a Dharma life. But what did the Buddha say about any of this? Well, frankly, not too damn much. Honestly, the Buddha didn't actually say a whole lot about love and sex while he taught. More than anything, he likely viewed romantic love in a slightly dim light, in the same way that inspired him to name his son Rāhula, or "fetter". This is so often interpreted as a major negative. "How could the Buddha, someone who professes love and compassion, name his only child 'ball and chain'? How cold-hearted! How could the Buddha look at love and romance as something so negative an influence on life?!" Well, look at it this way...

Has love ever caused you to be heedless, or to make unskillful decisions?
Have you ever felt "intoxicated" by love?
Have you ever lied about your feelings for someone in order to protect yourself, or ingratiate yourself to someone in the hopes of gaining their affections?
Have you ever acted spitefully in order to lash out at someone who you feel has hurt you or your heart? Worded differently: have you ever gone out of your way to kill someone's joy?
Have you ever passed up an opportunity for personal growth or betterment simply due to your desire to stay within the comfort-zone of an established relationship?

I'm sure it's becoming clear where I'm going with this. I have to answer "yes" to all of the above at one point or another in my life, and I'm pretty sure you do, too. In the case of someone who is working with renunciation--or mindful letting go of attachments--"love" most certainly can be a fetter. That romantic "love", or even familial "love", is a connection that attaches one to a sense of comfort, placidity, and predictability. When the Buddha named his son Rāhula, it was not an insult. It was an admission of the truth of the Great Matter. It was as if he was saying "I will love you, and my heart will bind to you, and no matter how hard I try, this, too, will cause suffering. The problem is not that I don't love you, son. The problem is that I do. I must give up all fetters so that all human beings can free themselves from the ever-turning wheel of saṃsāra, and that includes you." Now that's not to say that romantic or familial love is a pointless waste of time, or is in and of itself unskillful. Far from it. But allowing it to be blown out of proportion--as it so very often is--is where the fetter is created. One can, and should, love, but it must always be with the acknowladgement of the Truth of the Great Matter.

All that is dear to me, and everyone I love, are of the nature of change; there is no way to escape being separated from them.1

This is the Truth of "love". It will not last. It is of dependent origin. It is finite, and must be fit into a tiny lifetime. But just because of that, it is not diminished in the least bit. Because that "love" is--or at least can be--a manifestation of a much greater, and Universal "Love", in the same way that a single wave is an expression and manifestation of the entire ocean. And just like that one wave, that one single peak of movement and water, it is finite, and it will disappear. But even so, its transient nature does not in any way diminish the ocean. Waves come and go, yet the ocean remains.

The ocean. The vastness of "Love". We always hear the term "unconditional love" bandied about. It's verging on being over-used. I've always found it sadly ironic that I hear it in wedding vows and ceremonies all the time, and then, right behind it are tagged (you guessed it) a list of conditions! It's nearly like saying "I'll love you unconditionally, unless you do this, this or this, and you can't do this either. You must promise me this, and in exchange for that, I'll promise you this." Hmmm. All that's missing from that, to my mind, is the term "Party of the First Part", and all the rest of the legal mumbo-jumbo. Talk about romance!

I could go on and on (and on...) about this, but as this is now the longest blog in my blogging history, I'm going to try and wrap this puppy up. I guess I'll try and close this up like this:

In my life--my life, the only one I can actually do anything about--I know that to be genuine, I have to do as my heart dictates, and that those actions must be in accord with my ethics and the Precepts as I understand them. My actions are always governed by ahiṃsā, or "non-harming" taking into account all those I love, including myself. Physical, mental and emotional harm can only be prevented or mitigated by my actions, my deeds. "My deeds are my closest companions. I am the beneficiary of my deeds. My deeds are the ground upon which I stand."1 Love is so vast, and I do not feel that I can be genuine, and fully embody my life here this time around, if I commit to something I do not truly and genuinely feel in my heart. I believe--I truly believe--that I have an infinite capacity to love. I also believe that my ability to love more than one person at a time in an emotionally--and at times physically--intimate way is in and of itself one more Dharma gate in an infinite and boundless realm of Dharma gates, and I have repeatedly taken a vow to enter them all.2 This, too, is a practice in compassion, deep listening, non-violent communication, openness, non-attachment, equanimity, selflessness, and above all else, ethical living. It is not merely about sexual gratification, nor is it--nor can it be--about selfish sensory or emotional fulfilment and ego gratification, and I am always hyper-aware of my own motivations and sense of "self" through this life-choice.

In closing, I'd just like to say that I am one of the luckiest people on the planet. I am in relationships with two unbelievable women, both of whom, in their own ways, help bring out the very best in me. They challenge me to be the man that I want to be deep down. They accept me unconditionally. They care for me in ways that are very hard to explain, and it humbles me down to my very core. Could I find that fulfillment, that challenge, that sense of connection in a monogamous relationship? I'm sure the chances are good. But were I to do so from anyplace other than an honest desire in my heart to do so, and not by some societal mandate, I would be being disingenuous, and I promised myself when I started pursuing the Dharma that I wouldn't allow myself to do that. The Dharma is Truth, and to try and be anything other than who I really am is a disservice to both the Dharma and to myself, and thereby all beings. And the Truth of the Great Matter is just as the Buddha said:

"Thousands of candles
can be lit from a single candle,
and the life of the candle
will not be shortened.
Love and happiness never decreases
by being shared."

— Sutta Nipata

That is what love is to me. And I commit to following the path honestly, and with an open heart, through ethical adherence to the Precepts.

'Till death I do part.

Next time, on a very special SOTW...

2010-10-08T17:22:00.000-07:00

Well, I've been putting this off for long enough...

...so what's a bit more procrastination gonna hurt, eh?

Kidding. I kid. I'm a kidder.

There are going to be a few big bloggy things happening here soon that deal with some rather weighty topics, and particularly how they relate to the dharma and me.

Party on, Garth...

Let's see what happens...

2010-10-05T10:17:00.000-07:00

So, over the last three or four years, I've been experimenting. I suppose one could look at it as a sort-of social/psychological experiment. At least I do. Field research and data-gathering have been going well, and I am ready to release some of my initial (and very preliminary) findings. I've touched base with "the Journal 'Nature'" (at least that's how they always refer to it on NPR, so I figure that's how I should mention it. You know... to sound all official-like) but they don't seem too interested in my research. Elitists! They pointed me towards two avenues: a thing called Tricycle (which I didn't understand, as it has nothing to do with cycling of any kind at all), or something called "Mimeograph" which is a journal, I think, although I've never heard of it.

Anyway, I'm not sure about how to go about presenting my findings, but as with all good science, I know it involves charts and graphs. Far be it from me to fall on my face when it comes to scientific inquiry and analysis, so anyway, here we go.

Fig 1: Mean-average chance of something significant happening in my life.

As the chart clearly illustrates (aside from the fact that I can't properly spell "significant" with this little caffeine in me) the chances of something significant happening in my life at any given time is exactly 50% (that's %50, for my research colleges at Cambridge). This is a pretty significant finding, and I was as stunned as Louis Leakey at a "Old bones no one's ever seen" convention. This is ground-breaking (Leakey joke. See what I just did there? Anyway...)

Alright. Let's get serious. I guess.

I've been making a practice of having no real expectations of life for the past few years. This stems--in part--from a conversation I had with my sensei Hogen Bays earlier this year in sanzen.

It was a wee little thing of an epiphany. A weepiphany, if you will. Totally kensho-lite. But he nodded in a way that--to us students of his--says "Good. You got that one. Now go chop more wood."

When you think you know what's going to happen next, you're walking down the wrong path. Assume anything--anything at all--and you're in for a surprise. It may be a good surprise, or a nasty one, but you will, in fact, be surprised. Why?

Because you don't know what-the-phuq you're talkin' bout, Willis. Srsly. You have no idea. No, you really don't. At least I don't, to be sure. I've proven this to myself over and over again, and a few years back, I decided to finally take a clue.

I have spent the unfortunate majority of my life thinking I knew what was around the corner. Where I was going. What was going to happen in a sequence of events. That style of living was a comfort of sorts. "No one enjoys stumbling blind through life" I thought. "Better get things sussed so's I don't stub mah toes!" But through my 20's and early 30's, my feet saw more hard corners and errant Legos than I cared to admit. Well, I don't care now.

That idea of comfort in a presumed understanding of the Universe is so deadly. Whenever I think of a concept like that--an assumption that is held for its own sake in order to make you feel better about your complete and utter insignificance to the Universe--I think of two things, obviously related: Friedrich Nietzsche and Monty Python.

Comfort. Contentment. We believe that these things are important to our lives, our joy, our experience of happiness. We tend to equate them with "happiness" in the same way that we equate "health" and "love" with happiness. But they are truly illusions. They are not the things-in-themselves. We look at them as indicators. Maybe they should be looked at more as symptoms.

Nietzsche, in Also sprach Zarathustra: Ein Buch für Alle und Keinen, stated this through the eponymous character:

In truth, man is a polluted river. One must be a sea to receive a polluted river without becoming defiled. I teach you the Overman! He is that sea; in him your great contempt can go under.

What is the greatest thing you can experience? It is the hour of your greatest contempt. The hour in which even your happiness becomes loathsome to you, and so also your reason and virtue.

The hour when you say: What good is my happiness? It is poverty and filth and wretched contentment. But my happiness should justify existence itself!

The hour when you say: What good is my reason? Does it long for knowledge as the lion for his prey? It is poverty and filth and wretched contentment!

The hour when you say: What good is my virtue? It has not yet driven me mad! How weary I am of my good and my evil! It is all poverty and filth and wretched contentment!

The hour when you say: What good is my justice? I do not see that I am filled with fire and burning coals. But the just are filled with fire and burning coals!

The hour when you say: What good is my pity? Is not pity the cross on which he is nailed who loves man? But my pity is no crucifixion!

Have you ever spoken like this? Have you ever cried like this? Ah! If only I had heard you cry this way!

It is not your sin -- it is your moderation that cries to heaven; your very sparingness in sin cries to heaven!

Where is the lightning to lick you with its tongue? Where is the madness with which you should be cleansed?

Behold, I teach you the Overman! He is that lightning, he is that madness!

You say "So what?" Well, that's reasonable. But when I read this sometime in high-school, it tingled me. It sent a shiver through me like experiencing my first erection (and I'm not making that up). And, like my first erection, I had no idea why it made me feel that tingle. I had no idea why because I had no context for the experience. Later in university, and after a (very) hard few post-high-school years, it hit me like a sack of wet, angry cats.

Wretched contentment.

The French (leave it to them) call it malaise. To us Amerikaners, we tend to call it "complacency". Kierkegaard called it (sorta wrongly) "despair". It's that mild uneasiness that arises when you're stagnant, but okay with your own stagnation, because it's better than one of the alternatives. Yet in accepting that stagnation, you rule out the other alternative. Sorry. I'm not trying to be obfuscative (and I'm digressing). It's my blog. Deal with it.

Back to the point.

This complacency we tend to drop into out of fear of being hurt by something that may or may-not happen in life--this attempt at homeostasis--touches this idea of assumptions. We tend to think that we know what's coming. We tend to WANT to know what's coming. Hell, we even think we CAN know what's coming.

No.

No.

No.

I told my teacher Hogen, in that sanzen conversation (is that a "sanzenversation"?) that "No enlightened being would ever assume anything about the future ever. That must mean that nirvana is a constant state of complete and utter amazement at every single event, no matter its size. It's like an eternal state of 'Holy shit! Really?' I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But I'm pretty sure that that not-knowing is a good thing."

So my life has been a practice of not-knowing for the last few years. In many places, it's been a practice of acceptance, of sorrow and tumult, of stress and of deep, deep pain. At other times, great joy. Utter amazement. Wonder. As a matter of fact, the latter seems to have outweighed the former, but by a percentage, not by a magnitude. But the practice has allowed me to experience the wonder more often than I had previously anticipated.

This wonder has manifested itself all over the place. Watching squirrels in trees and on phone-lines, watching snow fall, feeling rain, smelling the earth. It's sorta obvious that I get it from nature. But moreover, it manifests now more noticeably in my relationships. This practice of "not knowing" and "not assuming" anything really fills my current relationships with a wonder that is really hard to describe. It can really be heady at times. Not being complacent about relationships is actually really challenging, because (even though we don't like to admit it) us monkeys really actually try very hard to shoot for homeostasis in our relationships. The predictability makes for easier present-buying, I think.

But the more I've taken my hands off the modeling clay that is my love-life, the more I've been finding the rewards greater than I could possibly have envisioned. And moreover, to stop envisioning or assuming what "love", "relationship", "sex", "gender", "partner", "love-life", etc, even mean is as fertile a ground as a freshly cut field in the shadow of an extinct volcano.

Can you have romantic love without sex? Can you really experience the depth of connection that comes between two people without that slippery in-and-out friction? Can spirits fall in love without the consent of the bodies? Is there just "friends" and "lovers", or is there something between that that's not so base and tawdry as "FWB", but more than "just friends"? Where does the idea of "partnership" go when boots are left outside the door, but not actively banging, yet those boots still like rubbing up against one another in a fashion? Can you get through life without falling off the tightrope of the preconceived notions of the onlooking masses?

I don't know.

But I'm down with finding out.

Let's see what happens...

Oh, and by the way, the pie chart is slightly wrong, at least in a zen context. The chances of something significant happening at any given moment in my life are, in fact, 100%. My bad.

Monday wabi-sabi...

2010-09-27T17:14:00.001-07:00

To be alone is a great burden. To be accompanied, a terrible one. To fear loneliness is to fear your true self. To want more than what already is is both ignorance and madness.

Friday morning...

2010-09-24T09:09:00.001-07:00

Embrace this day.

Embrace it now.

Then now.

Then now again.

Hold this day tight to you like a child once lost, now found and back in your arms again.

This, too, is your birthright.

You can't go home again...

2010-09-17T10:11:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm sitting here at a lovely La Quinta Inn in Milwaukee, WI--my old stomping grounds. It's been an extraordinarily interesting experience returning here after all these years. About seven, actually, but in all honesty, it's been more like ten. The last time back was for my father's memorial service. That was a blurry whirlwind of a thing that, while very formative to the second act of my life, actually has had its volume knob turned down one notch due to the significance of this trip.

I moved to Oregon in December of 1999, just a few weeks before the millennium. I was starting a new life in so many ways, and honestly, leaving an old life behind. I guess I'll say that that old life had become outmoded, outdated, and frankly, I'd out grown it. In a sense, I was running again. Running from pain, uncertainty, and as Neil Young so succinctly, eloquently (and both specifically and metaphorically) stated, the needle and the damage done. Addiction--both of mine and of others--had always been standing right beside me in that life. It was my constant companion, like a shadow whose feet I was always stepping on. Hmmm. Maybe "whose shoes I was always walking in" is more appropriate. Either/Or. Regardless, it was time to grow.

I left both hopeful and bitter. Wanting to heal old wounds, yet having taken great care to pack each wound carefully in order to take them with me. Each one wrapped in a protective wodge of psychic newspaper, lest they be damaged before I was able to open them up in the beautiful rain-forest I now am privileged to call "home". They made the trip fine, and were all in perfectly preserved shape upon arrival. Mint condition. As they were unpacked, each was dealt with in their own way, and in their own time, like nested dolls. The big ones seem to have been dealt with first, then in succession with what appeared to be smaller ones inside of the larger one before it, until they were all laid out before me. A nice little group of stuff to deal with.

"Home" became Oregon. The dolls were being tended to. Things were good. Progress made. There were bumps, and a few scratches and dings along the way, but over-all, the growth-spurt was successful, and the cutting took root (hell, everything can root successfully in Oregon). I didn't really look back. If anything, I waved to the "center coast" from the "left coast" and felt I'd made the right decision, no matter if I ran or not. I never really felt that I'd left anything behind.

But anything you leave behind, it doesn't actually cease to be. It's just simply out of your line of vision. Like a tomato plant start that is plugged into the ground, then forgotten about behind the weeds you should have been dealing with the whole time, it still grows, drops fruit, dies, and volunteers itself again in the spring. It does its thing whether you're watching or not. Life goes on, irrespective of the gardener's intentions, motivations, or even skill.

My mother (definitely one of the larger dolls) turned 80 a few days ago, and was the reason for this visit. Mom and I have had a hard, hard road over the years. So many self-inflicted wounds. Somehow, without much conscious effort, we got through it all. My oldest, dearest and best friend. My greatest confidant, my most ardent advocate, my most worthy enemy and my greatest pain. The pain's gone now. Like it so often is, there are scars, but no body gets through life without their share. I'm okay with our scars. In the truest sense, I wear them like war wounds that illustrate that we "have fought the good fight, have finished the race, have kept the faith"[1]. My mum has always had faith in me, and while mine may have wavered in her, for the years since my father passed, it has grown stronger than it's ever been. "Home" is mom.

I made a major point of getting three-dee with a number of old friends while I was back this time. I did mom's party on the day of my arrival, and gave myself three solid days to spend with friends. I rented a car I couldn't really afford in order to be able to see people without being a double imposition by constantly needing rides. This was a very good idea, but as is always the case, there's never really enough time, and people got missed. If it was you, I'm sorry. Know I'll be back.

I was able to have lunch with my old friend Ron. Talk about a hard road. He lost his beloved wife a few months ago. It still shows in his face, but at the same time, he has the strength of his faith, his family, and his beautiful daughters, and that drowned out the sorrow that lingers. We made good music together, he and I. We grew next to each-other. We helped each-other. We learned together, and taught each-other. We supported each-other in ways that only true friends do. We sat next to each-other in a tavern, just like we once did, and the differences we have in our lives didn't make a damn bit of difference, just like it should be. "Home" definitely has Ron in it.

Next: dinner and a show! No trip to Wisconsin would be complete for me with out a hook up with the master of intellectual disaster, the fermentor of discord and dissent, the pied piper of suburban subversion, the man who puts the "Qi" in "Cheesehead" and the motleyest of cows, Doctor Mark. Still (albeit ever-so slightly less) crazy after all these years. Glad you got the wires hooked up to the right terminals again, boss. MCEP and I have always had a very weird, very brotherly, and oddly (well, frankly, not-so-oddly) metaphysical connection. We speak the same language in many places (if I had a dime for every time either one of us said "I know you're going to understand this" the other night), and while we are a generation apart, we have similar touch-stones. He's always given me this really weird respect, even when I was a completely backwards, "you're doing it wrong" kinda intellectually loose canon. More than anything, I think he knew that I was aimed in the right direction, but was still trying to figure out how to stop walking sideways. He enjoys that. Wind 'em up, let 'em go, and watch them do their thing. It's all a grand experiment to Mark, and I--like he--resonate with both the lab coats and the lab rats. We're both waiting patiently for the resulting peer-reviewed paper, so we can finally hear what the rats have discovered about us white-coated monkeys. The best of fertilizers, Mark's good shit. That, and he knows that one of the best song-writers and story-tellers in history is John Prine, followed closely by Doctor Seuss, so I've always known I can trust him. Home has a decent dose of Doctor Mark. And tea. And shoes for industry.

On to my buddy Kevin's place. Man, how we've changed, yet stayed totally the same, eh Kev? Kevin is a great example of that whole "haven't talked in years, and picked it right back up like it was yesterday" dynamic. Kevin and I partied together, but always had trouble with that whole "I'm just here for the _____" because we tend to care too much about people. Yeah, what a failing, huh? Out of all my friends, Kevin was the only one to attend my father's memorial service, and his being there was huge to me, even though I only got to hug him, shake his wife's hand, and then get whisked away to be consoled by 498 people I either didn't know or didn't remember. To turn around and suddenly see one of my oldest and most trusted friends. Kevin will always be a big part of home to me. I gotta find me one of those chicken things, bro.

But one meet-up kinda surpassed them all. 24 years in the making. There's too much to be said about this, really, but words (while my weapon of choice) are weak. Interestingly, there's not much to report on. What do you say about someone whom you haven't talked to in twenty-some years, yet has never really left your side? It may have been my mom's birthday, but this is really why I went. We chased some ghosts. Trotted some demons out into the light. Dished a wee bit of dirt. Explained some things that got past both of us back then. Kim, the look on your face when I turned down River Rd... sheer excitement and abject nervousness, combined with a dash of existential nausea, then shaken (not stirred). You were right: I couldn't have done it with anyone but you there with me, either. You taught me so damn much about myself, and never really stopped. How you ever put up with my arrogant assholery back then, I don't know. You have explained it to me now a few times, and I still don't really get it, but in the end, I'm just grateful that you saw through all the smoke and mirrors. Kimberly, you have a big room in my home. You're the room full of madness and anarchy, whims and muses, revolution and fearless compassion. You are one of the most terrifying women I've ever met, and you are without question one of the most noble and true souls to ever be embodied in flesh.

All said and done, it was without question the best "home-coming" I've ever experienced. No, you can't go home again, because "again" implies that at some point in time, you've been anywhere else but "home".

We interrupt your regularly scheduled weirdness...

2010-08-27T14:22:00.000-07:00

...for another dispatch from The Fat Man...

A message from the Fat Man...

2010-08-22T11:51:00.000-07:00

This is a cross-post from my weight-loss blog, Fat Man in the Bathtub. As of this writing, I'm down about 27lbs since July 1st or thereabouts. But I needed to make a very hard decision regarding my diet and weight-loss. I switched over to a low-carb diet recently, and it's helping. But...

Well, no super weight-loss. Sorta plateau'd, but I'm not concerned really. Most of my clothes are starting to fall off, and belts are once again rather important. I like that.

The change. In one of my recent posts, I talked about strugling with the decission to eat animal flesh again, beyond fish.

Well, I am. At least for now.

About a week or so ago, I tried turkey bacon. I picked turkey bacon specifically so my girlfriend (who's an observant, reform Jew) could have some, too. It was good. I didn't faint from ecstasy or anything, but it was tasty. Then this past Wednesday, I made the decission to open up the floodgates and let chicken and pork back in. Pork was a less painful (for me) choice. I got some good, smoked-cured pepper bacon. Had it. It was good. Again, no spontaneous orgasm, but it tasted good.

There's been a ground-swell of a movement in the world--and here in Portland--regarding bacon. It's nearly cult-like. T-shirts, songs, festivals. All about bacon. There was that hideous KFC concoction, the "Big Infarction" (or whatever they called that monstrosity) that was nothing but fried chicken, bacon and cheese. Hell, we even have a punk vegan bakery here in town that has perfected a vegan bacon doughnut (which is in and of itself a clone of another Portland icon: the VooDoo Doughnut Bacon Maple Bar).

The Cult of Bacon reaches in deep, grabs people by the chitlins, and apparently won't let go. Personally, I blame Anthony Bourdain for this. But even cynical über gastronomes like Bourdain and Gordon Ramsay wind up being affected by the reality of the meat-making process. When you are faced with it personally, you can't not be. This is a life, and it would much rather live in its environment than have one of its muscles land on your plate for dinner. So it must be killed.

I have had some hard lessons over the years about food, animals, life and death. I won't go into them here and now, but suffice it to say that I have killed many, many animals over my lifetime. When I was a deer hunter, when I was a small-game hunter, when I fished. And beyond. Each and every death has affected me, and I carry the karma of those actions up to--and beyond--this very day. I am mindful of it. I will be for the rest of my life, be it a fat vegetarian life or a thinner meat-eating life. Death is very important to me, in a number of ways, and I can't, and won't allow myself to ignore, or be desensitized to it. Not for humans. Not for animals. This decision has been very hard for me. I have literally agonized over it for weeks. Some would say that's silly.

They can kiss my rump-roast.

I was chatting on-line with a close friend and dharma brother the other day, and I told him about my decision.

Me: Gotta say, eating meat again is really weird...

Dharma Brother: Yeah. It takes some getting used to. I know you're being conscious about it.

That acknowledgment took me by surprise, but I really, deeply appreciated it. Someone whom I really care for, look up to and respect, without prompting told me that they recognize that I'm different in my approach to this situation than I once was. That my heart is in the right place, and is engaged in the decision, and moreover, that this decision is hard for me. I wasn't looking for a pat on the back. I wasn't looking for consolation. But the recognition of the fact of the moment was very helpful to my mind and spirit. This comes as no surprise to a Zen practitioner. That's what we do. That's what we're all about: The recognition of the fact of the moment.

On that same bacon-fetching trip, I also bought some chicken sausages. I had them over the weekend with my girlfriend as roll-ups on low-carb flat bread. Again, good. Again, no loss of control or flesh-eating Nirvana.

Yesterday, I took the big jump and purchased some frozen chicken meat. Thighs and breasts. I haven't eaten chicken meat in... six years. I basted them in low-carb barbecue sauce (a southern mustard and vinegar "mopping" sauce) and did them over mesquite, pecan and cedar wood on my smoker, along with a Normandy mix of veggies. I sat outside, looking at the thigh meat on my plate. I said my meal prayer with a bit more solemnity than normal. I looked at the meat before I cut it. I looked at it after I cut it, on my fork, examining the sinew, the muscle, the tissues. I prayed that the life this animal lived at least got it further down the path towards enlightenment. I thanked it for its nutrition to my body, and acknowledged that it had died. Not just died, but was raised and killed. For ME.

Then I tasted it.

This tasted wonderful. Better than the bacon. Better than the sausage. Very, very good.

I worked on processing the guilt I felt. The niggling feeling of hypocrisy. I was a happy vegetarian. I was glad that I was reducing suffering in the world.

All suffering but my own.

I will be a vegetarian again. It's important to me. But right now, I need to take some drastic steps to bring my life back into balance. I'm 42, disabled, and morbidly obese. If I don't lose this weight--for real this time--I'll be dead far earlier than I should be. I have just finally found a trajectory for my life. I will not be able to follow this path to its fullest if I'm dead from a stroke at 54 or a heart attack at 56.

So I am asking the animals for help. This time, though, there is a change. A real change. I am no longer willing to be numb to the grave importance of this Great Matter. I refuse to blind myself to the truth of this very complex and nuanced issue.

I am okay with being looked at as a hypocrite right now. In the end, this is about me. It has to be. I will always respect vegetarians and vegans. It is without question the most compassionate and conscientious way to live and nourish yourself. But it is the greatest demonstration of personal strength to admit when you need help. I most certainly do.

The low carb diet is working. I'm not dropping weight left and right, but I know I'm building muscle and converting fat. I need that so desperately right now. I haven't been able to walk as much as I was, yet I'm not only not putting weight on even though I'm eating more, but it's still trickling off. This will be very helpful when winter comes and I can't go walking outside like I am now. I need to re-arrange my apartment so I can get a stationary bike back in here. I can't let circumstance or the environment stop this process.

Not until I'm done.

May all Beings be at ease, and may they forgive this dumb monkey for being so weak as to need their help again.

Rumours of my demise...

2010-08-05T16:56:00.001-07:00

No, I haven't been blogging here lately.

Yes, I'll start again soon.

Peace out...

Not into the Spammy-Sabbi...

2010-06-13T12:24:00.001-07:00

Seriously, Asian-based spammers, you will never get a post up here. My comments are moderated. Could you please knock it off?

Testing 1, 2... is this thing on?

2010-05-16T21:18:00.001-07:00

Just a post of some working files that people want to hear. Cary on...

Go To FileFactory.com

Keep Calm and Carry On...

2010-05-11T13:13:00.000-07:00

I spent the past Sunday up at the monastery. Very happy day. Gorgeous weather. Kids running around being kids, filling the air of this re-purposed grade-school with old, familiar sounds. Mother's day. The Buddha's birthday. A celebration. I drove home leisurely, stopping in Longview for a bottle of water and a stretch, watching the classic, puffy white clouds as they appeared to scrape the top of the Lewis & Clark bridge. I started to think about joy and entropy for some reason. I don't know why. Maybe something to do with the apparent impermanence of clouds. Note the word "apparent".

When I got home, I took off my malas and set down my wagessa on my altar. I'd just sat down at my laptop to answer an email when my phone rang. It was one of our most senior students. She asked if I could get down to the dharma center double-time. Then the horror. One of our sangha members--someone who looked up to me at times and who I had been helping learn and grow confident in a service position--had very suddenly and tragically died. The specifics are not for me to go into here, but the sadness I felt is something I can talk about.

And sad doesn't cover it. I felt like I'd suddenly had fifty pounds put on each shoulder. I didn't know this person very well, but that had been changing recently, and I was actively enjoying getting to know her. To hear of this abject tragedy was such a blow, it felt a bit disproportionate to the personal connection that had been between the two of us, at least intellectually. Sad as it was, what made it sadder still was that there was something unsurprising about this as well. There are things tied in with Mother's Day that make it sadder yet. I grabbed up my wagessa and other things and headed to the zendo.

Shussho was there, looking like someone had just punched her in the face. I wanted to hug her immediately--she looked like a dam about to burst--but the hugs would start flying soon enough, and I wanted to support her efforts at noble stoicism by not punching a hole in her just then. Within ten minutes of arriving, about a dozen of us were gathered, including our two teachers. I found it interesting, and somewhat reassuring that even in their noble bearing and upekkhā, something was radiating a perturbation, as if a unanticipated wind has disturbed the perfect rake marks of the sand of a rock garden.

We sat. We talked. We cried. We asked questions. A friend with a strong Christian background offered up a song, and I allowed myself to just be present with it, letting its universality touch me. Afterwords, we tried as best we could to simply go about the business of the night's service, which would be different than the regular sanzen because of the significance of the day.

The ceremony, a symbolic bathing of the baby Sidhartha with sweet tea under a bower of flowers, is always lovely, yet this time tinged with the sadness that someone who would typically be there that night, would not be pouring tea over the tiny statue with us, nor would she ever again. It was harsh.

After I made my bows and poured the tea, my sensei silently motioned for me to go take the doan spot. I often have this honor (and I do consider this an honor) because I have, as he has recently said to me, "a generally imperturbable nature in those roles", and the ability to 'wing it' rather well, which is helpful when a ceremony calls for something other than our boilerplate form. I sat down on the cushion, and waited for cues from the ordained monastic. But the perturbations were still ringing through time and space. It was a bit bumpy on the way out of the ceremony, but we got through, as we always do.

On the way home, I was thinking about entropy again. I stopped and thought about my lost friend in that light; how she was gone before she should have been, all because the Universe overwhelmed her. I thought about the Dharma, and how it has made my life so much more manageable, and suddenly, I started feeling an anger welling up inside me. If this worked so well for me, through my father's death, through my illness of mind and spirit, through the trauma of separation from my daughter, her return while in the throes of a serious addiction, my divorce after 9 years with someone... if the Dharma was so damn all-powerful, why couldn't it have changed this awful outcome for my friend and Dharma sister?

I sat a bit more when I got back. It presented itself to me readily. I posted it on my Facebook status, as is my practice after returning from the zendo, as a way to share that energy. Typically it's a pithy or quirky inside reference to something said in a Dharma talk, or a little insight I may have had about practice. But there was no pith here. This felt like something solid. Something carved in stone that I suddenly was faced with, as if I was walking a mountain path, turned a corner, and saw this carved into a giant edifice:

The Dharma cannot save you from pain and suffering. This is not because the Dharma is impotent; it is because 'to be saved from something' implies that there is someone to save, and something to be saved from. The distinction is subtle, but that distinction is true Dharma.

For the next few Thursdays, I will be taking over her service position, as a tribute to her. I will do my very best to encourage her on as she goes through the bardos to whatever her karma has aimed her towards, but it will be with a somberness that I haven't felt in a long time.

She hugged me the night of my 5-precepts ceremony, just a few days ago. It felt weird. Now I know why.

Goodbye, Asia. Move on. And may your next life go well.

As promised...

2010-04-24T11:01:00.000-07:00

Go To FileFactory.com

So I had this crazy dream about a week ago. I was DJ'ing in a club in Milwaukee way back in the day. It was your stereotypical late 80's rave, with lots of Hindu and Tibetan inspired themes. And while I was mixing, I looked out at the crowd and everybody who'd been dancing and thrashing about joyously were stopped in their tracks on the dance-floor, and were staring towards me. Towards me, not at me, as I soon understood. They were staring past me, transfixed. When I turned and looked at the white spandex projection screen behind me, projected upon it was an enso--a zen brush-stroke circle--and nothing else. Suddenly, as we all stared at this enso, a pair of hands faded into view, palm-to-palm, together in gassho, inside the enso. Everyone was transfixed by this image. A single shakuhachi note sounded, long and sparse, and everyone in the dream suddenly burst into a rain of cherry blossom petals. Then I woke.

It was the most vivid dream I've had in years and years.

I tend to listen to dreams like that. They mean something. I don't tend to subscribe to the idea that it's something outside of me being communicated; quite the contrary. When I dream like that, typically it's something trying to get out. Something in me is crying out to be made manifest.

I lay there, thinking about the good times I had in that environment, playing music in clubs, DJ'ing at both trendy spots in the city and in dive suburban bars in college. I remember what an incredible rush it was to make people move; what a deep spiritual connection I felt by not only moving their bodies, but their minds and hearts by playing just the right thing at just the right time and in just the right way.

I still mix, but for myself. If you put me behind the 1's & 2's right now, I'd sounds like a DJ falling down a flight of stairs, I'm sure. But my production skills are still there (mostly) and my musical mind is still 100%--probably better now than then because my musical vocabulary has expanded so much in the last 20 years--so I still have a few chops left.

And so I lay there, and thought "You know, I bet you I could still pull it off. I bet you if given the right people and the right resources, I could still produce a big-assed event. It would be easier now than then, because I wouldn't be trying to do it in a disused warehouse or leaky basement somewhere."

Then I did the crazy-assed thing.

I started to believe myself.

Then I did the unthinkable.

I decided to try.

So I got up, went to the laptop, got on Craigslist and posted this:

A newborn collective is seeking volunteers and collaborators for a two-night event whose proceeds will benefit a local Buddhist temple. Night one will be an all-ages event, and night two will be 21+. There will be no money made by artists this time around, but using this event as a test-run for a quarterly show may mean money down the road on a straight profit-sharing basis.

We are looking for the following types of artists:

[DJ's/Producers:]
Trance
Psy-Trance
Techno
Breaks
Down-Tempo
Chill-out
Dub

[Tech:]
PA owners/audio engineers
Light System owners (particularly tilts, lasers and other special effect illuminations)
Video projector owners
Video engineers
Riggers/Flyers
Security Staff
Support staff / Event runners

[Artists:]
Psychedelic fluorescent artists
Sacred Buddhist imagery and iconography (particularly Chan/Zen-inspired imagery from China and Japan)
Creators of sacred space, particularly Asian / Japanese / Buddhist-inspired.

[Musicians/Performers:]
Kirtan
Qawali
Conscientious Hip-Hop
Belly-dance

We are looking to hold an organizational meeting the 2nd week of May, with a target date of a show in late fall (Oct/Nov).

Mission:

The Pathos Collective is a group of like-minded and commonly inspired non-mainstream artists and musicians that are working towards making the community they live in a better place through art, performance and sacred spaces for adults and young adults alike. The Pathos Collective is the inspiration of DJ Pathos, a 40-something former live DJ who sees a need for positively-inspired and spiritually informed trance and dance music that appeals to a number of different demographics. DJ Pathos--a formal practicing Soto Zen Buddhist--is looking to get back in a live dance environment, and is using this opportunity to raise money for a local growing zen sangha. This is an opportunity for those artists, technicians, performers and owner-operators who may feel limited or shut out by the local trance production market to get in on the ground floor of a family of ethical, positive and spiritual people to make of themselves an offering to the community of positive music that affects and touches the spirit, expands the mind, and moves the body.

THIS IS A CALL FOR VOLUNTEERS. THERE WILL BE NO PROFIT MADE FROM THIS FIRST SHOW. 50% OF PROCEEDS GO TOWARDS A DONATION TO A 501 NPO, AND THE REST WILL PAY PRODUCTION EXPENSES AND BE BANKED FOR FUTURE PRODUCTIONS.

NO SCAMMERS, NO PROFITEERS, NO GOUGERS. BE POSITIVE, SPIRITUALLY MINDED AND COMMUNITY-ORIENTED. SERIOUS INQUIRIES ONLY.

Please consider helping this cause by bringing us your skills, your talent and your energy.

Blessings,

-DJ Pathos

I decided to resurrect my very first DJ moniker: DJ Pathos (<- very "goth" back then). It actually feels better and more appropo now than then, too.

Pathos is often associated with emotional appeal. But a better equivalent might be appeal to the audience's sympathies and imagination. An appeal to pathos causes an audience not just to respond emotionally but to identify with the writer's point of view - to feel what the writer feels. In this sense, pathos evokes a meaning implicit in the verb 'to suffer' - to feel pain imaginatively. Perhaps the most common way of conveying a pathetic appeal is through narrative or story, which can turn the abstractions of logic into something palpable and present. The values, beliefs, and understandings of the writer are implicit in the story and conveyed imaginatively to the reader. Pathos thus refers to both the emotional and the imaginative impact of the message on an audience, the power with which the writer's message moves the audience to decision or action.1

And moreover:

In the many works of Friedrich Schiller, "Sublime Pathos" (German, das Pathetisch-Erhabene) appears as a privileged aesthetic concept. According to Schiller, sublime pathos in the context of art demonstrates human freedom and triumph in the struggle against suffering. As such, pathos no longer refers to suffering itself, but rather an effect produced by overcoming suffering. Generally, Schiller links the experience of suffering to "grand ideas" - such as the idea of freedom; in this sense, pathos reminds one of Milton's Satan, when he cries out: "Hail, horrors, I greet thee!". Schiller's description of pathos continues to influence the use of the word today, in which such triumphant overcoming of suffering and other negative situations is seen as representing pathos.1

Yeah.

One of the things that interested me most about the dream was that if you've ever been to a rave/psytrance event, while Buddhism is very often represented, it is typically Theravadin or Tibetan. Zen is almost never represented, mostly because it lacks the visual "sex appeal" of other dharma lines. But the reaction of the crowd to the symbols of Zen; it was intriguing. I lay there and wonder "What would it take to bring Zen into that context?"

Well, I'm going to find out.

I have over two dozen responses to my Craigslist post, including two artists from a sister sangha. People are very interested in this idea, apparently.

The mix:

This is the beginning 30-or-so min of a 2-hour mix. I'll talk more about the nuts & bolts of it in another post. Hope you enjoy it. Every track it beat-matched and synchronized to the first track, the new Faithless single "You're The Sun To Me" from their up-coming release The Dance. The shakuhachi piece is one of my favorites. "Haunting" doesn't cover it. I wanted to start out with something "very zen" to put a real stamp on the mix. All the synthesizers layered over it are mine. The voice-overs are of Alan Watts. I will be putting a few more in from various places and people. The VO drop-in of "DJ Pathos: Zen Mix" is an anti-pirating technique.

Track list:

"Tsuru no Sugomori (Nesting Cranes)": Alcvin Takegawa Ramos
"You're The Sun To Me": Faithless
"Prayer to Rudra": Krishna Das
"Kese Kese (Bally Sagoo: Beast From Asia Mix)": DJ Cheb i Sabbah
"Body Machine": Trans-Global Underground
"Kara Kum": Banco de Gaia

Hope you all enjoy the mix so far. Feel free to leave comments. Just imagine yourself in a grand old ballroom with lots of darkness, glowy lights, video projectors, the occasional laser tunnel, sweaty bodies dancing in ecstatic fashion, and this playing so loudly and with so much bass that your spleen vibrates and dances along involuntarily.

And this is the logo for this crazy idea. Welcome to the story of The Pathos Collective..

285 (care of the sangha begins with me...)

2010-04-11T11:49:00.000-07:00

(This is a cross-post from my food-weight blog, Fat Man In The Bathtub... -a)

Been having a slightly better time of it lately. Body acceptance is still a challenge, but I'm trying to be kind to myself about this. Going to try a walk today while it's sunny. That may be a bit of a challenge, as I spent all day yesterday on my feet cooking a meal for about 25 people at the Intro to Zen Practice class. The food was hugely successful, and I received many thoughtful and enthusiastic compliments, which is always nice and gratifying. But I find it so queer; I can feed others so well, but when it comes time to feed myself I don't take as much care. Why is that?

Just so's you know, this blog will be delving (or devolving, depending on how one looks at it) into Zen as well. So, you've been warned.

Dogen-zenji, in his Tenzo Kyokun (or "Instructions to the Cook"), takes special care to reinforce the importance of the inter-related nature of food, mindfulness, and service. Of all the writings of Dogen, this one I affilate with the most. Admittedly, if you were to ask me a year from now, after my practice has yet deepened even further, it may be something else, but the Tenzo Kyokun really jumped out and grabbed me.

From ancient times communities of the practice of the Way of Awake Awareness have had six office holders who, as disciples of the Buddha, guide the activities of Awakening the community. Amongst these, the tenzo bears the responsibility of caring for the community's meals. The Zen Monastic Standards states, "The tenzo functions as the one who makes offerings with reverence to the monks."

Since ancient times this office has been held by realized monks who have the mind of the Way or by senior disciples who have roused the Way-seeking mind. This work requires exerting the Way. Those entrusted with this work but who lack the Way-seeking mind will only cause and endure hardship despite all their efforts. The Zen Monastic Standards states, "Putting the mind of the Way to work, serve carefully varied meals appropriate to each occasion and thus allow everyone to practice without hindrance."

Well, I'm certainly no realized monk. I guess I get close to "senior disciple". I had tea with one of our most senior students and sangha leaders this past Friday afternoon, and she said "Welcome to the roll of Senior Student!" I guess that's how that happens here in PDX. You find out over coffee at a little funky hole-in-the-wall that you're suddenly farther down the path than you yourself thought. Hrm. Anyway. [/digression]

But it does strike me how very important this food practice is. It may very well be the most important part of my personal practice. I really can't ignore these inter-twining issues any longer (which is why this is a double-blog post here and at FMITB). As Dogen-zenji clearly states: "Those entrusted with this work but who lack the Way-seeking mind will only cause and endure hardship despite all their efforts." If you take that from the broader context of sangha service and simply turn it towards a service of a sangha of one--me--it still holds completely true. If I entrust myself to my own care, but lack (or forgo) the Way-Seeking Mind, I will only wind up hurting myself and my progress in all areas.

This morning I laid in bed and practiced taking my final breath. I felt the clinging arise. Taking a deeper breath than I normally would, and exhaling more slowly. It wasn't a rellishment of the breath so much as a drowning man grasping futilely at straws. I thought about how many years it would be before this practice would be put to the test. Will I still be grasping?

I then thought about all the people yesterday that came to me, that took time and effort to tell me just how much they enjoyed the food, the flavors, the colors, the creativity, the obvious care and effort. Even my fellow students and friends took special care to express what a joy the food was for them.

I believe it was Ven. Thich Nhat Hahn that said--in essence--that the two most important practices are breathing and eating. After that, everything else. I think maybe it's breathing, eating and dying. Somehow, these three things are the most important things in our lives. I really want to understand better how they are interconnected...

Piss-ants and potty-talk...

2010-04-09T14:45:00.000-07:00

I have an ant issue here in my flat. This issue has been exacerbated by the fact that we had an unusually mild and dry winter here in Portland.

I was taking a leak.

There was an ant on the toilet-bowl rim.

Dissatisfaction arises.

I thought about pissing on it. You know... to "help it along".

I didn't.

It was bad enough that its life was about to be flushed down the toilet. No sense in being a bigger prick about it than was truly necessary, "conservation of effort/economy of motion" be damned.

I was an ant once, too.

Pray for the ants.

Poem

2010-04-06T23:39:00.000-07:00

Just let go and everything is alright.
Just let go and everything is okay.
Just let go and suffering dissolves.
Just let go and pain disappears.

Just let go.
Quit splashing and thrashing.
Let the water settle,
And all becomes clear.

Just let go and everything straightens out.
Just let go and everything smooths.
Just let go and stop chasing.
Just let go and start being.

Just let go.
Loosen your grip and your heart.
Choose to be supple,
And all becomes soft.

Just let go and everything is right.
Just let go and everything is just so.
Just let go and see it sharpen.
Just let go and feel it focus.

Just let go.
Know that you seek a birthright.
It has been gained before.
It is nothing new.

Just let go through space and time.
Just let go like the Honored Ones.
Bodhisattvas, Mahasattvas.
Just let go and Prajna comes.

Just let go.
All has been before.
And all will be again.
Wisdom beyond wisdom.

How sublime, this infinity.
How infinitely sublime.

Just let go.

The weight of being a hungry ghost...

2010-04-03T11:38:00.000-07:00

I haven't had time to write much lately. Well, to write much personal writing lately. Life's just ramped up a bit, and I'm getting pulled in a number of directions. Trying to keep all balls in the air.

But one ball keeps dropping to the floor. It's a ball that I've dropped often. My health, and specifically, my weight, exercise and eating habits. Lately it seems that when this ball drops to the floor, it inverriably lands on my toe. And it's apparently not a nice bouncy ball, but one made of lead. Or at least lard.

Back in early summer 2009, I was back down to a weight that helped. By today, I've put back on nearly twenty-five pounds.

This is really unacceptable. For many, many reasons.

No one thing contributed to this issue more than ME. I have added in a few animal-based things into my diet. But that's not the key to this problem. I have had access to a car again for the last two months, so I'm not walking like I used to. But that too is not the key. I have been eating from emotion and boredom again. Once again, not the sole issue.

The sole issue is ME.

And I must do something about it.

I was a rather strict vegan for about three years. In that period, I was at the lowest weight I'd been at since the beginning of high-school. I felt physically better than I had since I was in my 20's. I could do more with greater stamina. My blood-pressure was getting back in line. Everything was better.

Now it's not.

Two women I'm close to are dealing with very emotional issues that orbit around food right now. One is the woman I was married to for nearly a decade. One is a close and dear sangha friend who's dealing with food allergies. I have a great deal of respect for both of these people, as women, as friends, as fellow sangha members, and as people I love. To see them struggle hurts me. I want to support them in this struggle. And I have made a realization.

I can't do it by being like this.

One of my teachers--the founder of this particular branch of our lineage--is a well-regarded author, and her most recent book is on mindful eating. My former partner is even mentioned in her book. I have read the book. It is brilliant, and immeasurably helpful.

But then I promptly ignored nearly everything in it.

Because I wanted to feed my hungry ghost.

A hungry ghost is never satisfied. A hungry ghost is unable to be sated. There are a number of variants to this cultural meme all throughout the world (the New World has them too). It is a metaphor for the undying nature of greed. Well, that's just it. It's not greed per se. It's not merely greed. Obviously, back in the days when these stories and archetypes were being born, it was as obvious as greed. Greed is bad. How do we deplore greed? We tell people that if they're greedy, their spirits will carry that greed over into the great beyond after death, and the greed will be so great that it will be the factor that keeps them from moving forward into (The Pure Land/Nirvana/fully joinig with Kṛṣṇa/The Happy Hunting Ground/etc). Easy-peasy: greed bad. Check.

But what it really is about is not greed so much as desire. Clinging. Wanting. Desiring that which is currently not. More than anything, I believe it's about fear. The fear of feeling unhappy. The fear of feeling want. The fear of going without, of being denied, or the fear of feeling something you don't like.

Fear is so very powerful, and it has (miss-)informed and shaped my life for nearly its entirety. Frankly, I'm tired of it. I've said that many times before, and I'm aware that I've also said "this time it's different" many times before, to the point that it's probably one of my Top Ten All-Time Hits.

But the truth is, if I don't really and truly get a handle on this, it's going to kill me.

You'd think fear of death -via- my own stupidity would be enough of a motivator. Apparently not. Ghosts want more than that to chew on.

Back to the two women above. Both are very inspirational to me in any number of ways. I'd really like to show them my support. I'd like to show them that I'm behind them in their struggles and that I think they're doing something meritable and good, and that by doing so, they inspire me to try and be better myself.

I cannot do that by giving in and giving up, again.

The long and the short of it is this: having said all that gooey and good support-y type stuff, I am really needing to do this for myself and myself alone. I must. I have a desire for things above and beyond "gratisfaction" as I call it, and frankly, I must find a way to re-tune myself and my ethics to be greedy for THAT.

As of the moment of typing this, I weight 290lbs again.

I set no goal other than to TRY. No numbers. No points. No "I will do _____ every ____ until I reach ____". What I will do is this:

I will strive to treat my body with love and respect.
I will strive to be accepting of who I am now, but also strive to improve that person.
I will not judge myself too harshly when I fail.
I will try and seek support for this bad habit of desire from multiple sources.
I will reduce what I can, and strive to be more mindful.
I will trust in the tools that my linage and my faith have shown to be Good Medicine for all ills.

I will try to do these things because there is one overarching truth that applies to each and every one of us, fat, thin, healthy and unhealthy:

I am of the nature to grow old; there is no way to avoid growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health; there is no way to avoid having ill health.

I am of the nature to die; there is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me, and everyone I love are of the nature of change; there is no way to escape eventually being separated from them.

My deeds are my closest companions; I am the beneficiary of my deeds. My deeds are the ground on which I stand.

That is the simple truth of existence. And no matter what I want, no matter what I desire, no matter how I try and mollify these things with over-abundance and indulgences, the above remains forever true, until the candle of "want" is finally extinguished.

I also have a weight-loss blog: Fat Man In The Bathtub. I invite you all to check that out as well. The more people that are watching, the less likely you'll find driving down the street with a Twinkie in my mouth.

Good news is, I've always detested Twinkies. I was a Zinger's kinda fat kid...

How to offically defect from the Catholic Church...

2010-03-19T16:50:00.000-07:00

Before I start this, I want to say that I am being very mindful of this not turning into a "The Catholic Church is perverted, corrupt and evil" rant. This goes far beyond that.

The ongoing (and yes, apparently systemic) sexual abuse scandals again high up in the media spotlight is of truly grave concern to so many these days (and society in general). That is only obvious, and only right. I am saddened beyond words for those hurt by the actions of these offending people; not only those people who have suffered directly at the hands of abusers, but also for those of true faith and piety who must now experience the degradation of their deeply-held faith not merely -via- the actions of a few, but of the unconscionable and deceitful behavior of pastoral leadership that looked the other way (or tacitly enabled the offenders to continue on in pastoral duties behind the veil of a vast and secretive church bureaucracy).

As so often is the case when one decides to follow a new spiritual path or practice, one simply stops attending an earlier congregation or church, and begins to attend or pursue another. While this is of no true practical issue for most (very few spiritual organizations require you to formally or practically denounce or condemn a former faith to begin practice with them, although formal rites of initiation into a new faith often does, if not at least implicitly), it may be a tacit point of contention for the practitioner once they truly understand a few points.

Many (if not most) churches count their size (that is, the "official" size of their congregation) by their historical membership rolls. What this means in a practical sense is that if you do not "un-enroll" yourself, you are being counted as a supporting member of said church, and as an implication, a supporter of the church hierarchy and its leadership. Further, that means if you were merely baptized by a given church, and never even went to so much as a single service, you are still counted as a full and supporting member of the church, and its leadership. So, you are de facto still a supporting member, even if in name only.

Many, many people are now estranged from (if not disaffected and wholly offended by the actions of) a number of formal dogmatic churches due to sexual scandal and pastoral impropriety. They want nothing to do with a given church anymore, so typically they simply stop attending. But they invariably do not take the proper steps to totally sever ties with the offending church, mostly because the mechanism for such a formal severing of ties is not something most churches make abundantly clear. As such, they still are being counted. For many, this "latent affiliation" is not something they can have rest comfortably with their conscience either.

So:

To be fair, the Roman Catholic Church is not the only organized religion that has suffered sexual impropriety. Buddhist traditions all over the world, and throughout history, have suffered them also, as well as any number of other faiths east and west.
Any time a person of good conscience leaves a formalized and institutionalized spiritual organization (read "religion") due to any number of reasons (not the least of which should be an apparent or obvious pattern of unethical behavior within its ordained practitioners and/or leadership) they should take the time to have their name removed from the pastoral rolls and record.
One should take time to do so especially if the ethical issues in question seem to be systemic and/or have been actively hidden from public view.

What to do?

In the Roman Catholic Church (and the Anglican/Episcopal churches, as well I believe) there is a formal mechanism for completely leaving the corpus eclesiastica. It is called defection.

To defect, you simply need to write a letter to the archbishop of the diocese you were baptized in stating that you no longer wish to be counted as member of the church. You need to include:

the date you were born
the date of your baptism (if you have it)
the reason(s) why you wish to defect (incongruity of beliefs, church impropriety, etc)
an example of actions you have taken to distance yourself from the church (non-attendance, lack of tithe support, public denouncement of church dogma or public demonstration of another faith)
a statement of "sound mind" (that is; "I am making this decision with a sound mind after careful and rigorous consideration")
a statement that your decision is unilateral, final and irrevocable
a line that states that you appreciate the gravity of your decision and fully understand what your decision means, including its ramifications (if any)
an unequivocal denouncement of the "trappings" of the church in question
a demand to be removed from all pastoral records
a request to have your removal confirmed in return correspondence from the archdiocese
a signature and date

Depending on the church or the completeness of the information you provide, you may have to take one or two more steps. They may ask you for proof of baptism. There are mechanisms for that. You may or may not wish to comply with that request. The diocese may offer to have you speak with a priest. That is totally optional, and you can simply say that you respectfully decline that offer, and demand to have your unilateral defection recognized immediately.

As an example, below is my letter of defection:

I do this not as a way to either lash out at the Catholic Church, or encourage people towards any given spiritual direction, but simply as a way for all people of good and mindful deliberation to be able to act upon their desire to have their spiritual affiliations be either counted or not counted in accordance with their hearts and their conscience.

May those hurt find peace.

May those who have caused hurt find a way to make amends.

May all beings be free from suffering.

May all beings be at peace.

All evil karma ever committed by me since of old,
On account of my beginning-less greed, anger and ignorance,
Born of my body, mouth and thought,
Now I atone for it all.

May your life go well...

Karma of the father...

2010-03-19T11:08:00.000-07:00

I used to have a recording of one of my old bands and I performing this, but I can't find it, so you'll have to suffer the original. Always fabulous irony that Stevie Winwood looks like he's 11 years old in this. Still a stunning musician, but to think he was (literally) 18 or so when this was filmed. The Finnish (I believe) subtitles are simply icing on this YouTube kakusta.

I'm currently in the process of writing up a plan to form a men's dharma cohort for my sangha. We have had a very active women's cohort for well over a year. When I heard of it, way back when, I immediately felt something rise up inside me.

Hey. What about me?

An experience I had yesterday was very validating to me, or at least to my idea of this cohort. I was grabbing some things at my local grocery mondo-box ("mondo" is an interesting choice of words here). Anyway, I was there in line at the check-out, and I heard a low voice say "Zen Trixter" (yes, seriously that was said: some people do jokingly refer to me by my internet nom de keyboard.) It was a good friend from sangha, and we started chatting about sanghaish goings-on. I'd mentioned that I was working on this men's cohort idea. As we finished checking out, we continued to chat outside, and he mentioned a moment recently at a hosan (essentially a "group interview") where one woman in the sangha who was a member of the woman's cohort vocally validated another woman from that group, essentially saying "right on, sister!" He immediately felt something click in him; something they could do that he apparently could not. "I felt that I was being shown something that's missing. Something I can't do. Something I don't have access to."

Right on, brother.

And this brings me to what I've been working on. I have been doing reading in a number of different areas, including psychology, sociology, spirituality and religious investigations, on male roles and archtypes. The conclusion I have come to, at least for now, is this:

I have absolutely no idea whatsoever what it means to be a man--let alone a male dharma practitioner--in the early 21st Century.

There are a number of things that I do know. I do know that it's HARD being a man now. Probably harder than it's ever been. We suffer from a sh!tpile of bad press, terrible public relations and a history that is hard to live down. As many women rightly shout (or wear quietly on t-shirts) "The Patriarchy's The Problem", and to a great degree that's true. Whether or not that should be in the past tense, I don't know, but we as men are still bearing the karmic load brought on by--essentially--the sins of our fathers; the men that have built our cultural paradigm, designed our political machine, and insisted upon the institutionalization of a heteronormative operational model. Almost all men find themselves under this umbrella, at least in the modern west. We don't have much of a choice.

Or do we?

I believe that we do. But at the same time, how does a man in 2010 celebrate being a man without looking like he's reveling in the oppressive patriarchy of the last three millenia or so? Forgive me for being blunt (and awfully punny) here, but the nut of it is: how does he safely identify with the core of his manhood without coming off as a complete dick?

I don't know.

I'd like to.

I'm going to try...

But not like this...

And now, to close this very special episode of "Shaking Off The Weirdness":

Girls on Trampolines!

Thanks to Ludo for the outro. You can read the silly lyrics to this silly song here.

I can't say it any better than this...

2010-03-17T10:30:00.000-07:00

...so I won't try.

Please go support xkcd by visiting, worshiping and buying stuff.

Where I stop and you begin (II)

2010-03-09T17:10:00.000-08:00

“Where do you end
And I begin?”

It sounds so
romantic,

Until it’s
A dead cat
In the road.

Then it is
Most intimate…

This day, many moons ago...

2010-03-01T09:56:00.000-08:00

As I Develop The Awakening Mind I Praise The Buddha As They Shine
I Bow Before You As I Travel My Path To Join Your Ranks,
I Make My Full Time Task
For The Sake Of All Beings I Seek
The Enlighted Mind That I Know I'll Reap
Respect To Shantideva And All The Others
Who Brought Down The Darma For Sisters And Brothers
I Give Thanks For This World As A Place To Learn
And For This Human Body That I'm Glad To Have Earned
And My Deepest Thanks To All Sentient Beings
For Without Them There Would Be No Place To Learn What I'm Seeing
There's Nothing Here That's Not Been Said Before
But I Put It Down Now So I'll Be Sure
To Solidify My Own Views And I'll Be Glad If It Helps
Anyone Else Out Too
If Others Disrespect Me Or Give Me Flack
I'll Stop And Think Before I React =
Knowing That They're Going Through Insecure Stages
I'll Take The Opportunity To Exercise Patience
I'll See It As A Chance To Help The Other Person
Nip It In The Bud Before It Can Worsen
A Change For Me To Be Strong And Sure
As I Think On The Buddhas Who Have Come Before
As I Praise And Respect The Good They've Done
Knowing Only Love Can Conquer In Every Situation
We Need Other People In Order To Create
The Circumstances For The Learning That We're Here To Generate
Situations That Bring Up Our Deepest Fears
So We Can Work To Release Them Until They're Cleared
Therefore, It Only Makes Sense
To Thank Our Enemies Despite Their Intent
The Bodhisattva Path Is One Of Power And Strength
A Strength From Within To Go The Length
Seeing Others Are As Important As Myself
I Strive For A Happiness Of Mental Wealth
With The Interconnectedness That We Share As One
Every Action That We Take Affects Everyone
So In Deciding For What A Situation Calls
There Is A Path For The Good For All
I Try To Make My Every Action For That Highest Good
With The Altruistic Wish To Achive Buddhahood
So I Pledge Here Before Everyone Who's Listening
To Try To Make My Every Action For The Good Of All Beings
For The Rest Of My Lifetimes And Even Beyond
I Vow To Do My Best To Do No Harm
And In Times Of Doubt I Can Think On The Dharma
And The Enlightened Ones Who've Graduated Samsara

Where I stop and you begin... Oi!

2010-02-26T13:54:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I remember when I first realized that the world was bigger than my hometown. Points off for some grammar and attempts at defining beauty (seriously, lol). Craigslist dating angst FTW. I truly and heartfeltly hope this girl finds her emo, er, I mean boy...

You do not know who you are. You are full of ambition and do not know where to focus it. Existentialist crisis would not be a stretch. You are looking for someone to talk to about this with no expectation of reaching a conclusion. These conversations, you hope, will be one part lamentation, one part hope, and one part attraction. We will sit in my [or your] Nag Champa scented room watching “Waking Life”, making art and the occasional comment. We will listen to solo guitar on from Barcelona on vinyl, drink tea and make attempts and defining beauty. We are beautiful and we don’t know why, but we can feel it. We will read Bukowski. We will dance like fools. We will fall asleep on the floor, holding each other, just as confused as we were when we met but now we aren’t alone.

I do not know if you exist, but then, I hardly know if I exist. I am posting here because I have not found this person in my community and would like to meet people outside of it. A picture would be nice, because I do believe that ones appearance can be very telling of what is beyond it. And in case you didn’t gather this from reading, the above not only describes who I hope you are, but it describes me as well.

Looking for the next best thing on your own terms...

2010-02-19T14:26:00.000-08:00

"Selflessness is not a case of something that existed in the past becoming nonexistent. Rather, this sort of 'self' is something that never did exist. What is needed is to identify as nonexistent something that always was nonexistent."

-Tenzin Gyatso, His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama

Last night, after returning home from the zendo, I decided to go sit outside for a few minutes. Since I quit smoking (again, but it's going well this time) I haven't had occasion to do so much lately. We had an absolutely beautiful sliver of a moon, rolled over on its back with its points facing upwards, as if it could have held all the visible stars in it like a bowl. It was lovely.

And then it dawned on me. Not some over-dramatic thunderclap. No touching the ground before me as a witness. More like "Oh. Yeah. Duh."

Now, two my two Facebook friends, I mean this:

On one hand, you do do everything on your own terms. You are the one making the decisions. You are the one either leading, following or getting out of the way. On the surface, that appears completely true.

Appears.

To quote Warren Zevon:

Don Quixote had his windmills
Ponce de Leon took his cruise
Took Sinbad seven voyages
To see that it was all a ruse...

Once again, Warren-daiosho spells it out. Well, at least for me.

This idea of "me", "mine" "you", "us", "them", etc, etc, blah... where does it come from? And by that, I mean where? Obviously, it's at times a handy construct. It keeps me from waking up in YOUR bed next to YOUR partner, or driving off in THEIR car, going to THEIR parent's house for dinner, and so on. But honestly, this idea that any person is inherently different from anybody else really very quickly falls apart upon close inspection. I mean seriously, it is just a very fragile idea full of gaping holes that you can walk straight through without even turning sideways or stooping down.

The Buddha called the senses that we have to investigate with--as well as all things to be investigated--skhandas, or "aggregates". You can look at them as piles (in Sanskrit, the word literally translates into "pile", "heap" or "bunch") of things made up of other things. So, when you get right down to it, that's everything there is. In truth, all things are of dependent origination; that is, everything is dependent upon something else to bring it into existence. Even the Big Bang is--many now theorize--a result of another event (the ekpyrotic scenario of two branes touching). So this idea that there is a "base-level" of "stuff" that exists and cannot be reduced either in size or in linear time is false. It is convenient, but it is false. So even the things that are used to investigate reality with are inherently flawed, because they too are of composite build. This is of course addressed in the Heart of Perfect Wisdom Sutra.

...form does not differ from emptiness; emptiness does not differ from form. Form itself is emptiness, emptiness itself form. Sensations, perceptions, formations, and consciousness are also like this....

Even our senses, our thoughts, our very consciousness is empty.

Therefore, given emptiness, there is no form, no sensation, no perception, no formation, no consciousness; no eyes, no ears, no nose, no tongue, no body, no mind; no sight, no sound, no smell, no taste, no touch, no object of mind; no realm of sight… no realm of mind consciousness. There is neither ignorance nor extinction of ignorance… neither old age and death, nor extinction of old age and death; no suffering, no cause, no cessation, no path; no knowledge and no attainment.

Nothing to attain. No one to attain it. The fear that selflessness is some ego-destruction and transcendence is in itself flawed thinking.

You do not do zen on your own terms. Zen is zen, irrespective of "you", because there is no "you" to bring anything to it.

You are not "killing" the self. That's like killing a shadow.

There is just this.

It is just so.

And that's just fine...

Buttprints in the buckwheat...

2010-02-16T12:07:00.000-08:00

What kind of footprints do you leave when you're sitting still?

I just realized that it's about the 6th anniversary of my really stepping out onto the Buddhist path. I say "about" because I'm not entirely certain of the date. I'm pretty sure I need to write about that event sometime soon, but I won't be able to pull it off today. Suffice it to say that I'm pretty thankful that I took the direction I did.

My father loved this old gem. It gave him great comfort in his last years as he was dying of congestive heart failure. My old man carried a lot of grief with him, and the thought of his Lord carrying him in times of trouble gave him solace:

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was one only. This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints, so I said to the Lord, “You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”

The Lord replied, “The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.”

Admittedly, it's a sweet (and yes, some say "twee") sentiment. My mother and father even sent me a (so severely tacky it was almost precious) wind-chime sculpted from this motif. It never rang out in my life, because frankly, by the time it was given to me, it was already ringing hollow. I don't mean that to sound bitter, although I'm sure it does.

It's interesting to me, though; us Buddhists don't really have much by way of pithy wall-hanging-and-windchime-worthy stuff, do we? I mean, we have our kitch, don't get me wrong, but I think that the D.I.Y. aspect of our faith--and the conspicuous absence of a "savior"--tends to nullify the warm-fuzzy angle when it comes to marketing opportunities, dunnit?

More pith later...

Realizations and assumptions...

2010-02-11T22:12:00.000-08:00

Just came from teh zazen. Just had a lesson rightly taught to me. Prompted a very clear and powerful realization.

Making an assumption about anything is an inherently selfish act, even out of noble or helpful motivation. By doing so, you essentially are saying that you know what The Universe is going to send you.

Making an assumption is antithetical to Buddha-mind. Always. Nirvana must be one continuous utter marvel, wonder and amazement, because to think for a single instant that you know what's next or what may be asked of you is utterly arrogant, and not Buddha-mind. Each moment arrizing is a whole and total universe of miracles and surprizes. That is Beginner's Mind.

Or so I assume.

Thank you, sensei...

Scatterlings...

2010-02-10T10:35:00.000-08:00

Just a bit of a ramble today...

I find it really interesting noticing what is important -vs- unimportant to me now. I know this is probably an obvious observation by someone my age, but as the observer, I note it anyway. There are very few things I "geek" over anymore. It's so strange because there are actually very few things that I feel deeply connected to at all anymore.

That sounds awful, yet it's entirely true, and frankly, completely un-awful. It's not apathy. Its not some ennui or malaise. It's different. It's like internally my priorities either have been--or are being--reset. Sometimes I wonder if it's happening "against my will".

Then I question the validity of the concept of "will".

For a long time, I studied the idea of "passion". I now have a grasp of how errant that effort was. It's not a sad thing: it simply is what it is. Doesn't mean Kierkegaard was a douche for leading me astray. I can't blame Johannes Climacus for the state of reality. He put the work in. He gave it the old kollegium anstrengelse, but at the end of the day, you won't get the right answer asking the wrong question.

It's actually rather fascinating to me how much more valid people like Camus, Sartre and Nietzsche are than people like Kierkegaard and Kant. You really do have to kill off God to get down to brass tacks and do the good work of the Lord.

I really want to run away and build a little village of yurts for people to retreat to. $50 a night, and I'll make you breakfast. I'll even let you help in the garden...

Time sails on...

2010-02-09T10:23:00.000-08:00

Sunset and evening star
   And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
   When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
   Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
   Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
   And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
   When I embark;

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place
   The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
   When I have crossed the bar.

-Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Nothing to blog about...

2010-02-07T11:47:00.000-08:00

So my dharma sis Jomon recently blogged about why she blogs. This is a powerful question. Well, as powerful as any rhetorical question can be. It is, however, powerful enough that I too will take a crack at it.

When I started this blog a few years ago, it was mostly a place of personal (not that it's not still, but anyway) reflections. It was a place for me to do what most writerly types do best; blather on incessantly about their own thought processes as if the world at large gave two shits and a dime. At that time, I was a group list manager for a (in)famous soft-porn website, managing a number of discussion groups, including those on Medical Marijuana and Buddhism. When I decided to leave that site (mostly due to boredom, but also out of mindful adherence to the precepts), a few dozen people went "Where will I be able to read your stuff at? Whaaaa!!" That was very flattering, and as a writer, I'm all about being flattered. So I decided to start concentrating on writing here again.

Well, I quickly found out that the world--in point of fact--didn't really give any number or manner of defecations, stools, or bowel utterances of any kind, let alone cold hard cash! (I wish! Talk about mad skillz!) Anyway, a few old friends kept looking in on me (shout out to Nix & Tommy. Peace, mates) but for the most part, I was writing to myself. This really could be done with a spiral notebook and a biro, and as life was at that time really hitting a patch of snot, the whole thing went cold for a while.

But the snot was rather persistent. It didn't get washed away very quickly, and I found myself very alone and very adrift in my life. My marriage was ending. I was having to let go of nearly everything I'd grown accustomed to and "loved"; people, places, things. It was really hard, and very scary.

You'd think I'd have started writing about it.

I started writing about my practice.

I am not a lawyer. I am not a doctor. I do no play either on TV.

At roughly this time last year, I was in such a jam that I really didn't know what in the hell to do. I was broker than broke (no real change there), needing to strike out on my own for really the first time in my life, while at the same time try and help my daughter get clean and sober from a horrid addiction. I had vastly more obligations than resources, vastly less ability than fear, and a complete and utter need to get the job done. To say that it was sink-or-swim does not bring enough gravity to the feelings that I had about the circumstance.

So I came up with the idea that I'd pitch it all and go live at the monastery. Pursue zen full-time. Maybe work towards ordination. The rent was cheap and the food was good. I put in my paperwork and was being considered. Keep in mind that at this point in time, I was seriously considering living in my truck camper.

Well, my roshi took me aside and expressed some concerns over my brilliant plan. I was a bit put off by this (and still sort-of am, but that's another blog entirely), but after going on retreat in March of 2009, I came back knowing that I wasn't--in fact--ready for a life of blue jumpers and 5am zazen.

Yet.

So I started writing about it instead.

That's not wholly accurate.

I started trying to live it here instead.

And I write about it here as I do.

More people seem interested now.

And so here's the nut.

There are piles of blogs and websites just like this. All sorts of us Western folks trudging through this Buddhism stuff, trying to make heads or tails of this amorphous weird blob that is "existence" and all the metaphysical ramifications thereof. It is deeply personal, and very very hard to communicate to those people who aren't doing it as well.

So why spend time writing about it, of all things? If it's so inherently unexplainable and inexpressible, then why try?

Well, for me, there's a sort-of cohort aspect to it. There's a new generation of folks coming to Buddhism now. The X'ers and Y'ers are here, and they own these-here 'tubes. Not that there aren't many in generations before ours that don't have their digital say (word to the Dalai Grandma!) but by-and-large, it's a time of newness and growth in world Buddhist consciousness, and even moreso for Buddhism in America. It's encouraging and exciting, and I'm pleased and honored to be surfing this wave with so many folx.

But I think the thing most important to me about why I spend time blogging my tales of the inexpressible--and reading those of others--is that it feels good and helpful to attempt to share how this practice makes me feel, and what it is manifesting in my life. Admittedly, this is like trying to express why a poem moves you, or a melody sticks in your head. But those two examples get their share. I guess my Buddhist blather should be right up there as well.

Just like a weight-loss blog, a recovery journal on-line or a gardening forum, people find it helpful to hear news from those going through it as well. It's a way to feel less alone in a struggle, more connected to a group, and less isolated in your own head. I value this a great deal. I may love and rest in the Dharma, but it's a right-royal beeatch of a slog at times.

Now, with regards to those who find it useful to read such things, and the criticism that it really only interests other practitioners...

Well, duh.

Buddhist geeks are a thousand rupie a dozen. We tend to gravitate to each-other like all good geeks do. We just geek about something that's really hard to express (which too, is a mark of a geek or geekly thing), but like that Justice Potter Stewart oldie-but-goodie;

"I shall not today attempt further to define the kinds of material I understand to be embraced within that shorthand description ["good Dharma blogs" -ed]; and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it..."

— Justice Potter Stewart, concurring opinion in Jacobellis v. Ohio 378 U.S. 184 (1964) Emp. Add

It's sorta like the first day of high-school when you're trying to find a lunch-table to sit at. You don't really do so with your eyes. You do it by listening to conversations, and sitting close enough to be able to interject some little tidbit into the discussion to establish affiliation and credibility. But more than anything, you do it because you feel compelled to discuss this geeky thing you feel so passionate about.

Being passionate about a Buddhist practice sounds a bit antithetical, and on a few levels it is, I suppose. But I know that I am a happier person because of my practice. I know that I handle life much differently than I did a year ago, or two years ago, and that's only for the good. I know that the way I interact with people, including my family and loved-ones, has changed a great deal because of this "practice", again for the good. What's funny is that, on the one hand, I could give two shits and a dime (again with that, wth?) about what anybody thinks about my practice or my life, but on the other hand, I feel a responsibility to talk about these things. It finally occurred to me why that may be.

I have taken a vow (a number of times, actually, and will again many times) to aid everyone who needs help, in any way asked of me. Having the ability to help, or even the volition to attempt to help, put an onus on me to do so, or else I would be willingly withholding aid. If all I really have at this point in my life is the willingness to ramble on about this practice of mine, and the energy to do it, then not doing so is inherently wrong action. I look at this as part of my whole practice, and no part is more or less important than any other part. And just as pursuing this practice with as much energy and attention as I can muster is important to the overall health and well-being of the Dharma, so too are my weak and impotent attempts at communicating back what I find.

Beings are numberless: I vow to talk to them.
Illusions are inexhaustible: I vow to pooh-pooh them.
Dharma gates are boundless: I vow to post pix on Facebook.
The Buddha way is unsurpassable: I vow to blog about it.

We are Buddhist geeks, and we are not alone.

P.S., give Buddhist Geeks some of your rupees plz. KTHXBI.

Instant haiku. Just add itch...

2010-02-04T22:07:00.000-08:00

An itch on my nose.
Kinhin brezee rubs it gently.
Sangha F T W!

And the answer to last episode's quiz is...

2010-02-04T08:00:00.000-08:00

Fishing with John (featuring guest Willem Dafoe).

A hook gives you the body, not the fish...

2010-02-01T12:07:00.000-08:00

So an old friend shot me an email today asking for a zen take on ice-fishing to use as grist for his (mostly) weekly word-mill. Y'all do follow the Motley Cow, si? Anymoo, here's an abridgment snip-fest from my reply. One more thing: I really don't need to explain--nor was I actually explaining--zen to him. This is totally rhetorical...

Right, Mark? ;)

And bonus points to anyone who I.D.'s the photo...
------------

Letting down the line ten thousand feet,
A single breaking wave makes ten thousand ripples.
At night in still water, the cold fish won’t bite.
An empty boat filled with moonlight returns.

-Sensu Tokujo (Chinese, Chuanzi Decheng)

Letting down the line ten thousand feet,
A single break in the thick ice makes ten thousand cracks.
At night, under the shanty the cold fish won't bite.
An empty Skidoo filled with moonlight returns.

-me

--------------

Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.

-Henry David Thoreau

--------------

"Zen" is actually more rightly a verb. Zen is action. Zen is "to do", not "to be". Zen is not an extraordinary state of Being. Zen is being intimately in touch with the state of Being you're in right here, right now. Zen is both particle and wave. Zen is both ice and water. Zen is catching fish with a straight hook. Zen is mind- and ass-numbingly boring. So you're dead-on with ice-fishing ;)

Although I gotta say after thinking of it, there are major parallels that can be drawn between zen and ice fishing. Both see the newer practitioner in a cold, tiny space out in the middle of nowhere sitting still and mildly uncomfortable for hours on end with the mistaken impression that at some point, something should "happen" and that you should return to shore with some "thing" to show for it. Long-time practitioners know better, yet do it anyway ;) Yes, this is both a joke and the truth.

Last bit. Here's a quick story I just wrote borrowing more Thoreau, who was a zen muthafoker if ever there was one:

Deep in the middle of a hard Wisconsin winter, two fishing buddies met at a tavern just off of the Milwaukee River. They were talking ice fishing strategy, baits, where they auger their holes, and bragging about their voluminous catch the day before. One of them caught sight of a grizzled old man sitting in the corner, drinking a cup of tea. They asked the bartender who the mysterious man was. "That guy? That der's Old Man Bodee. He's the one that's caught the biggest fish ever pulled through the ice here, way back in 1972! Hasn't caught a fish since, but he's out on the ice every day." The two men grabbed their beers and walked over to the old tea drinker to introduce themselves. The old man nodded and invited them to sit down. He was amiable, but quiet as the two buddies talked fishing. Soon, a friendly wager was struck: whomever catches the most fish in one day's fishing wins $10. The next evening, the two buddies found the old man sitting at the same table with a cooler at his feet. They walked up and sat down, proudly saying that they caught so many fish they couldn't bring them into the tavern without a hand truck. They waited for the old man to show them his apparently meager catch. The old man smiled, opened his cooler, and took out a roast beef sandwich. As he unwrapped the sandwich, he said to the men; "You have much food to show for your efforts, but you have still not caught the fish." With that, the two men each took out a five dollar bill, laid it on the table, and were enlightened.

A gun gives you the body, not the bird. ~Henry David Thoreau

Forever in gassho...

2010-01-26T22:24:00.000-08:00

PRACTICE: "Notes on Gassho and Bowing"

Taizan Maezumi Roshi with John Daishin Buksbazen

Visitors to the Zen Center [of Los Angeles] often ask about the gassho and about bowing. What, they inquire, is the meaning of these gestures? Why are they done? And why is it necessary to do them so precisely and uniformly? These questions deserve careful consideration.

Although we are Zen Buddhists, it should be noted that the gassho and the bow are common to all sects of Buddhism, both Mahayana and Theravada. These two gestures date from the earliest days of Buddhism, or even earlier than that, and they have moved from India throughout the Orient, finally arriving recently in the Western world.

When Shakyamuni Buddha's enlightenment occurred, he went to see five of his former comrades with whom he had practiced various austerities and spiritual disciplines prior to his enlightenment. These five men, who were very devout monks, felt that their companion had gone astray when he abandoned their customary practices. "Come," they said to each other, "Let's not pay any attention to poor Gautama, he no longer is one of us." They were dismayed to find that he had seemingly stopped his spiritual practices, going so far as to even drink milk and take a bath (two forbidden acts according to their tradition). They could not understand why he seemed only to sit quietly, doing nothing of any value.

But when the Buddha approached them, it is reported that these five monks were so struck by the transformation of their former friend, by his serenity and the radiance of his personality, that they spontaneously placed their palms together and greeted him with deep bows. Perhaps it is a little misleading to say that they greeted him. More accurately, it should be said that they were bowing not to their old friend Gautama, but rather to the Buddha -- the Enlightened One.

What the Buddha had experienced was the Supreme Great Enlightenment (in Sanskrit, anuttara samyak sambodhi): the direct and conscious realization of the oneness of the whole universe, and of his own unity with all things. This is what enlightenment means. This very realization is actually in itself the act of being the Buddha. And it was to this enlightened state that the five monks bowed.

When the Buddha was enlightened, the first thing he said was: "Wonder of wonders! All sentient beings have the same (enlightened) nature!" What this implies is that in bowing to the Buddha, the monks were actually bowing to themselves, and to all beings. These monks were recognizing the great unity which their former companion had directly and profoundly experienced.

Let us examine the gassho and the bow more closely.

GASSHO:

The word gassho literally means "To place the two palms together". Of all the mudras (symbolic hand-gestures or positions) we use, it is perhaps the most fundamental, for it arises directly from the depths of enlightenment. Its uses are many, but most commonly it is employed to express respect, to prevent scattering of the mind, to unify all polarities (such as left and right, passive and dominant, etc.) and to express the One Mind -- the total unity of Being.

Although there are many types of gassho, in the Soto sect we are primarily concerned with these four:

1. THE FIRM GASSHO. The most formal of the gasshos, this is the one most commonly used in our daily practice. It is the gassho we use upon entering the zendo, and upon taking our seats. We also use it at least sixteen times in the course of a formal meal, and during all services. It is made by placing the hands together, palm to palm in front of the face. The fingers are placed together, and are straight rather than bent, while the palms are slightly pressed together so that they meet. The elbows are held somewhat out from the body, although the forearms are not quite parallel with the floor. There is about one fist's distance between the tip of the nose and the hands. Fingertips are at about the same height from the floor as the top of the nose. This gassho has the effect of helping to establish an alert and reverential state of mind.

2. THE GASSHO OF NO-MIND. This is the next most commonly used gassho. It is basically used in greeting one another or our teachers. In this position, the hands are held a little more loosely together, with a slight space between the palms, although the fingers still touch. The elevation of the elbows from the floor is not so great as in the Firm Gassho; forearms should be at approximately a 45-degree angle to the floor. This gassho has the effect of deepening one's state of samadhi.

3. THE LOTUS GASSHO. This gassho is used primarily by officiating priests on special ceremonial occasions. It is made like the gassho of no-mind, except that the tips of the middle fingers are held one inch apart. Its name derives from the resemblance of this hand position to the shape of a just-opening lotus bud.

4. THE DIAMOND GASSHO. This gassho is also known as the gassho of being one with life. Like the lotus gassho, it is used by officiants in services. Although the hands and arms are in basically the same position as in the gassho of no-mind, the diamond gassho is made with the fingers of each hand extended and interlocking, and with the right thumb on top of the left.

In each of these gasshos, we keep the eyes focused upon the tips of our middle fingers. But regardless of the style or variety of the gassho, and in whatever setting it is being used, the fundamental point of the gassho is to be one with the Three Treasures: Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha.

Of course, we can look at the Three Treasures from many perspectives, and with varying degrees of depth and clarity. At perhaps the most superficial level, the Three Treasures are seen as external objects of supreme reverence for all Buddhists. Unfortunately, in this view, the Three Treasures tend to be perceived as something other than oneself. But as our vision opens up, we experience that each of us is, in fact, the Buddha. We see clearly that everything we encounter in the world is none other than the Dharma -- the functioning of underlying enlightenment. And, realizing the oneness of all beings, we come to realize that the Sangha -- the all-embracing brotherhood of practice -- is simply all composite things, including each of us. Having this awareness we become -- or rather, we /are/ -- one with the Three Treasures.

So, joining our hands palm to palm, we simultaneously create and express the absolute, the oneness which goes beyond all dichotomies. It is from this perspective that we make the gassho, and that we bow.

It is no ordinary person who bows; it is the Three Treasures recognizing itself in all things. If anyone thinks of himself as "just ordinary", [they are], in effect, defaming the Three Treasures. And as we place our palms together we unite wisdom and samadhi, knowledge and truth, enlightenment and delusion.

BOWING:

Dogen Zenji once said: "As long as there is true bowing, the Buddha Way will not deteriorate." In bowing, we totally pay respect to the all-pervading virtue of wisdom, which is the Buddha.

In making the bow, we should move neither hastily nor sluggishly but simply maintain a reverent mind and humble attitude. When we bow too fast, the bow is then too casual a thing; perhaps we are even hurrying to get it over and done with. This is frequently the result of a lack of reverence.

On the other hand, if our bow is too slow, then it becomes a rather pompous display; we may have gotten too attached to the feeling of bowing, or our own (real or imagined) gracefulness of movement. This is to have lost the humble attitude which a true bow requires.

When we bow, it is always accompanied by gassho, although the gassho itself may not always be accompanied by bowing. As with the gassho, there are numerous varieties and styles of bowing, but here we will deal only with the two main kinds of bow which we use in our daily practice.

1. THE STANDING BOW. This bow is used upon entering the zendo, and in greeting one another and our teachers. The body is erect, with the weight distributed evenly and the feet parallel to each other. The appropriate gassho is made (see above). As the bow is made, the body bends at the waist, so that the torso forms an angle with the legs of approximately 45 degrees. The hands (in gassho) do not move relative to the face, but remain in position and move only with the whole body.

2. THE DEEP BOW (FULL PROSTRATION). This bow is most often used at the beginning and end of services, and upon entering and leaving dokusan. It is somewhat more formal than the standing bow, and requires a continuous concentration during its execution so that it is not sloppily done.

The bow itself begins in the same way as the standing bow, but once the body is bent slightly from the waist, the knees bend and one assumes a kneeling position. From the kneeling position, the movement of the torso continues, with the hands separating and moving, palms upward, into a position parallel with the forehead. As the bowing movement progresses, the backs of the hands come to rest just above the floor and the forehead is lowered until it rests upon the floor between the hands. At this point, the body is touching the floor at knees, elbows, hands, and forehead. The hands are then slowly raised, palms upward, to a point just above the ears. Then the hands slowly return to the floor. This action is a symbolic placing of the Buddha's feet above one's head as an act of reverence and humility. There should be no sharp, abrupt movements of the hands or arms, no bending of the wrists or curling of the fingers when executing this gesture. When the hands have been raised and lowered, the body then straightens as the person bowing gets to his feet once again and ends in gassho, just as he began. In kneeling, actually the knees do not touch the ground simultaneously, but in sequence; first, the right and then the left knee touches the ground. The same is true for the right and left hands and right and left elbows, in that sequence. In practice, however, the interval between right and left sides touching the ground may be so minute as to be unnoticeable. In bowing, movement should not be jerky or disjointed, but should flow smoothly and continuously without either disruption or arrested motion.

Master Obaku, the teacher of Master Rinzai, was famous for his frequent admonition to his students. "Don't expect anything from the Three Treasures." Time after time he was heard to say this. One day, however, Master Obaku was observed in the act of bowing, and was challenged about his practice.

"You always tell your students not to expect anything from the Three Treasures," said the questioner, "and yet you have been making deep bows." In fact, he had been bowing so frequently and for so long that a large callus had formed on his forehead at the point where it touched the hard floor. When asked how he explained this, Master Obaku replied, "I don't expect. I just bow."

This is the state of being one with the Three Treasures. Let us just make gassho. Let us just bow.

[HAKUYU TAIZAN MAEZUMI - Ordained as a Soto monk at the age of 11, Maezumi Roshi is Dharma successor to three major lines of Zen teaching, representing both Soto and Rinzai traditions: Kakujun Kuroda Roshi, Hakuun Yasutani Roshi, and Koryu Osaka Roshi. He [was] the Founder, Director and resident Zen master of the Zen Center of Los Angeles.

JOHN DAISHIN BUKSBAZEN was a former Vice President of the Zen Center of Los Angeles, and a student of Maezumi Roshi.

This article originally appeared in ON ZEN PRACTICE II, ed., Hakuyu Taizan Maezumi and Bernard Tetsugen Glassman. Zen Writing Series. 1976. Zen Center of Los Angeles, 927 South Normandie Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90006.]

Wherever you go, there you are...

2010-01-25T11:30:00.000-08:00

QOTD: "Do not think you will necessarily be aware of your own enlightenment." -Dogen Zenji.

This answers the question "Why should I bother practicing with a teacher?" rather nicely. One should not self-judge one's progress or place on the dharma path by constantly looking down, or they'll only see their own feet..

Stick a hari in my eye...

2010-01-24T11:54:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I participated in a “Life Vows” intensive class with my teacher, Hogen Bays. I was initially scheduled to attend the full Life Vows sesshin at Great Vow Zen Monastery, but a number of things came up, and I had to back-out of that. While having tea with my dharma sister, shuso-with-the-mostest and favorite sesshin nag Jomon (you ARE my favorite sesshin nag ;), she asked me why I wasn't there. I gave perfectly valid reasons.

Yet they all still felt inadequate. Very “blah blah blah”-ish.

I need to start going.

I need to talk to Hogen about it. And I need to do so outside of sanzen. This will take more time than sanzen will allow.

I was also signed up for the Mindful Eating workshop with Chozen-roshi, but swapped out of that as well; mostly due to money. I'm waiting on my tax returns. It'll be the last healthy tax return I'm going to see for the foreseeable future, and if the auto-deposit gets there in time, I may still try and go. As to the money, I really want to use some of it to fly back to Wisconsin and see my mom and some old friends. I haven't been “home” in nearly six years. I want to bank most of it. But I'm firm in that I also want to use some of it to pay for sesshin. Apparently, it's for sesshin that I won't suck it up and go to :|

Which brings me back to Life Vows...

First off, I've participated in the “class” (as opposed to sesshin) version of this offering once before, back when Hogen offered it over a series of weekends. I must say that I got a lot more out of it this time around, and I believe that is in no small part due directly to the reformatting of the offering into a one-day intensive. You are allowed to stay more focused and immersed in the process, as opposed to three hours of thinking that is followed by a 165-hour interruption before you get to continue. I will also say, though, that I'd like to have at least two periods of zazen (or quiet, reflective meditation for non-Zen/Buddhist folk) during the program. At least two people vocalized that in the wrap-up. I was unable to. I agree whole-heartedly, though. I felt that was missing, and I say that being a zazen-hater. In this format, you're expected to think and reflect on-the-fly, and I felt a bit rushed in that regard. I'd like to have had more time to really reflect and think about things before I was sitting in a group vocalizing about it. Having said all that, it was a very useful day, and I tried to make the most of it. I think I did a good job in that regard, because it's still ringing in me now, the morning after. But again, points for sesshin. If the intensive was helpful, and I want zazen to be included, doesn't a week's worth of this process sound good?

Anyway, vows. Yeah. Vows.

All the boiler-plate stuff was covered. How a vow is both similar to and different from a promise, a goal, an oath, etc. How a vow can help illuminate your path, inform your understanding of your own life, contextualize your vision of your own existence, etc. But a few things made themselves very clear to me through the process.

I really dislike vows
I still have motivational issues
I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up
The vow I feel inclined to make, and the direction I feel pulled towards, scare the bejebus outta me

Here is what distilled from this class:

Near-term vow(s):

To fulfill my ango commitment by attending every zazen period offered at the PDC (Tuesday mornings, evenings, Thursday evenings and Sunday sanzen)
To complete mock-ups for both the Heart of Wisdom e-newsletter and HoW booklett by the end of ango if not well before
To leave no task in an unfinished state (if at all possible) for the entirety of ango, and hopefully beyond

Mid-term vow:

To take the first five precepts in spring (on track for that), and then immediately ask to work towards jukai. That means committing to at least two week-long sesshin this year.

Long-term (Great Vow):

To live life in a fully genuine way, and to offer some kind of aid whenever asked.

That point above, where I say that "The vow I feel inclined to make, and the direction I feel pulled towards, scare the bejebus outta me"? I'll have to write about that at another time. Stay tuned...

Better than nothing...

2010-01-22T10:23:00.000-08:00

Last night I was (once again) very fortunate to get to hear preeminent Dogen scholar and artist Kaz Tanahashi speak at my zendo. We have him here at least once a year to teach and do a dharma talk. Kaz-sensei has been translating the Shōbōgenzō since his 20's when he was a Shinto adept. It's nearly ready for print. It is nearly a thousand pages, with a 100-page introduction, and three-hundred pages of footnotes, indices, sources-cited and bib. It's been his life's work, and most likely his scholarly magnum opus.

In the middle of the talk, he stopped and said "But let me tell you about getting to meet Bodhidharma..." He told us a story about visiting a monastery in northern Japan in the early winter. It was a huge temple-town, with a very high wall, and many buildings, and was considered one of the most important monasteries in the entire history of Soto. When he arrived, Kaz asked (as a formality) if there was room for him, the postulant who showed him through the gate said "No, it's fine. This abbot is very strict and most of the monks run away from him." Kaz began to notice that this huge monastery was--aside from a few laity tending to menial work--essentially empty.

Later, when Kaz was having tea with the abbot, the older priest asked Kaz "So, what are you doing? What is your practice?" Kaz answered "I'm translating Master Dogen's Shōbōgenzō into modern Japanese from the original Chinese texts." He expected the older monk to be thrilled, being that at the time, there were only three translations, and all were arguably less than effective conveyences of Master Dogen's teachings.

Now keep in mind that translating the Shōbōgenzō from Chinese to Japanese is effectively analogous to translating the entire Dr. Seuss cannon from English to Vietnamese (Actually, by word-count, it'd be a better analogy to say James Joyce's "Finnegans Wake", but not as many people are familiar with that, and even less understand the word-play there, so...). Both languages share an alphabet, but due to the very intricate word-craft and phonetic playfulness of the source material, "lost in translation" is a TOTAL understatement. Anyway, so he tells the abbot, expecting some excitement. The abbot, after taking a sip of tea, says "Well, it's better than doing nothing..."

And that's how Kaz Tanahashi met Bodhidharma...

From a very tired tenzo...

2010-01-09T23:18:00.000-08:00

Realization: The more a person thinks that they are different from everybody else, the more like everybody else they become.

Inverse Corollary: The more a person appreciates the commonality of the human experience, the more exceptional an individual they become.

One more year in review...

2010-01-03T17:45:00.000-08:00

Well, it's now 2010. I haven't been writing all that much lately, so a year-end wrap-up is probably in order. Especially this year. Without question, this has been the year of biggest change in my life since I moved to Oregon (literally over-night) back in Dec of 1999. So this wrap-up will be a year- and decade-in-review, I suppose.

But before I start, I guess I'll have to lead with a minor disclaimer: there will be vastly less specifics here than many would put in. Why? Well, more than anything, I guess it's because I'm discovering that life, or at least talking about it, requires less by way of specifics and more about general tone and tenor, and without question, that has changed in my life dramatically. The whys and wherefores really are only important to me.

[-edit-]

I started writing a chronology of my life here, including employment history, and a bunch of other stuff. Pointless. Here's a nutshell...

In 1998, I fell in love with someone very special. I moved to Portland to live with her, literally overnight. In the past 10 years that I've lived in Portland, I lived with her for nearly nine of them, and was married to her for nearly seven. We had many good times together, and I owe her a great debt of thanks and more for my life here, the love she showed me, and for putting in my life the young woman I now proudly call my daughter. In the end, though, there was an unspannable difference in our lives that was no one's fault. I know I disappointed her in a number of major ways, and yes, she most certainly did disappoint me as well, but not in any of the ways anyone may think. She is a great person, and I still feel very strongly about her. The one thing that I believe makes our life and time together a success is that we supported each-other through great and tumultuous changes in our lives. If we did anything for each-other, it was that we allowed each-other to grow into who we are now. We explored the truth of our spirituality, our love, our gender-roles and sexual identities, and our personalities in a very frank and honest way, and encouraged each other to be genuine. It is for that reason alone that I asked her to agree to end our marriage. We always thought that no matter what change may happen, the core of what we were as a couple would remain. It honestly never really dawned on us that this thing, this "us" that we counted on as an anchor would too change. But it did. It was without question the hardest decision I've ever hard to make, asking her for a divorce, but I made a promise to her that I'd do everything in my power to make her happy. I also made a promise to myself to live life in a genuine way. Those two things came to a point towards the end of 2008, and combined with my deepening Zen practice, forced me to make a decision. I know it was the right decision. We are both happier people because of it.

The 00's saw so much change. So very much. Between December of 1999 and 2009, both of us lost all our father figures (that'd be three of them), we lost the daughter we were raising together, not once, not twice, but three times, we lost a dear friend to cancer, then one of the most precious feline friends the world has ever known. A tumultuous move that was VERY poorly handled by me, the purchase of a house just before the bubble burst, a good friend going to jail for something he didn't actually do, then the loss of yet another of our beloved feline friends. We both were changing at a quantum level. Vegetarianism, veganism, Buddhism, weight-loss, re-evaluation of our core beliefs. The trauma of addiction raised its head again. At least I was able to take the lessons I'd learned from my own traumatic addictions and apply them in a way that saw some good come of it.

And then it was 2009. I'd gone from being a Roman Catholic semi-Libertarian fading neo-con Midwestern web designer to a Zen Buddhist rampant Liberal latent bi-sexual unemployed writer. Easy-peasy.

I got my own flat in April of 2009; a mother-in-law studio below a ranch-house on the slope of a cinder-cone volcano remnant. It felt so very odd that after 40+ years, this was my very first space that was exclusively my own. In the past, I'd always moved into someone else's space. It's tiny, but not as tiny as it could be. It's pricey, but not as bad as it could be. It's in a great part of Portland that I love living in. It has a nice view of the sun-sets. I like it. Eventually I'll want more rooms than just a bathroom and my closets, but for now, it's a good home.

When my former partner and I divorced, we were both seeing other people. Being that we were polyamorous, that was fine and above-board. And frankly, our polyamory is NOT the reason why we divorced. It would have happened regardless of whom we were respectively seeing. But anyway, I was romantically involved with a mutual friend of ours from about August 2007. That relationship was really a very positive experience for both me and the woman I was involved with. We, too, helped each-other grow, and helped each-other move into new chapters of our respective lives. She is still one of my closest friends, and greatest confidants. But it was a rather interesting thing to be getting divorced and yet still be partnered. I will admit that it it was probably more helpful to my ego, self-esteem and emotional stability, but it didn't reduce the sense of loss from my divorce. Trust me; it still hurt like hell.

In May, shortly after I moved into my current flat, I started seeing someone new. She was a "formal" acquaintance, and in a number of ways was something I'd always been looking for, so much so that I ended the polyamorous relationship I'd had since 2007 in order to pursue this relationship in depth. She struck-up a conversation on-line first (something I'm not really used to) and shortly thereafter, we began seeing each-other seriously. To say it was tumultuous is to minimize both the highs and the lows. We broke up a number of different times, and just before October, she decided to end it, but honestly, she did me a favor. She wasn't the right person for me for any number of different reasons, and she had a problem with honesty and trust. She didn't want to believe the core truths of both of our lives, and that made us completely incompatible. I wanted it to work for the most part, but as time passed, I was more and more grateful that it was over. I still wish her well, even though she has nothing but contempt for me now. I can't help that at all, and frankly I don't really care. I know in my heart that I acted in good faith at all times, and in the end, that's all that matters as far as karma is concerned. It does shock me, though, that I had read someone so completely and utterly wrong. Makes me wonder if my sensors are getting soft.

During one of the periods she (above) and I weren't seeing each-other, I had occasion to go on a date with a fellow polyamorous friend's girlfriend (yes, I know this gets confusing; need a score-card?) Anyway, he's married, in a quadrangle-shaped life with his wife, his primary poly GF and another GF (yes, he's very busy!) Anyway, I'd met his primary GF about 9mo earlier, and took an immediate fancy to her for a number of reasons. While "broken up" with my on-again/off-again, we went out for drinks and hit it off. A few kisses made us both know that we were very interested in each-other...

Then the on/off was back "on". More tumult. It was my mistake, honestly. I shouldn't have started it back up, but for a number of reasons (mostly due to the new-found desire to have a biological child--something I thought I'd said goodbye to in my life) I did. She and I tried again, and I didn't really speak to this new lady for quite some time while this summer relationship played itself out. After the dust of that crash-and-burn settled, and I'd recovered a bit of composure, I asked her out again. The attraction was immediately back as it was when we first saw each-other. This relationship is very easy. I won't say "effortless" because nothing is. But it's so gentile; so easy. It has a wonderful depth that comes from combining the lives of two people who have been around the block (or through the ringer, frankly) a few times and have truly lived and developed a maturity that only miles and past lives can produce. We've been seeing each-other since December 15th.

December 15th. The day back in 1999 that I hugged my late father goodbye, climbed aboard a Delta MD-80 and flew west to Portland, Oregon, with most of my belongings in two duffel-bags. A place I'd only been to twice before, knew very little about, and had no real expectations of. A place that I would soon learn was my destiny, and a place I could truly learn to be genuine in. A place I love. A place that I call home.

To everyone mentioned above; all the women whom I've been with, all my friends, all my family, and all those who know me here, even if we don't talk anymore, or are estranged, please take from this one thing: I hope and pray that you find the happiness and joy that you truly deserve from this life. Each and every one of you have helped shape me into who I am, and to each of you I say--without reservation--thank you.

May we all take more confident steps down the path in this coming year.

Gassho,

-Andrew

Stuff I wish I'd have said...

2009-12-16T17:40:00.000-08:00

This is just one more example of why--even with a few differences in approach and interpretation--I still really appreciate Brad-san's wisdom...

Couple of things in the news caught my eye. Last Friday the LA Times had a headline that said, "Some wars keep peace, Obama says." He is quoted as saying, "Part of our challenge is reconciling these two seemingly irreconcilable truths -- that war is sometimes necessary and war is at some level an expression of human beings."

I really liked that statement. Out here in Santa Monica it seems like every third car has a bumper sticker that says, "War is NOT the answer." But the sad fact is that those bumper stickers are not true. War is very often the best solution to complex human difficulties. That is the problem!

If you say that war is never the answer, you're just hiding from the facts. And hiding from the facts isn't going to solve anything. First start from the understanding that -- horrible as it is -- war is the answer many times, then try and figure out why that is and what can be done about it. After we come to truly understand why war works so damn well we can start to build a world where your bumper sticker is true. Wishing everyone could just join hands and sing Kumbaya won't fix a damned thing.

Too many people equate Buddhism with naive pacifism. Of course, Buddhism is all about trying to move humanity toward a more stable and peaceful situation. But it's also about facing the true facts as they are. War is bad. No doubt about it. But if you want to do something to end all war you need to acknowledge that, as things stand right now, wars are all too often necessary.

I wish war would go away too. But wishing ain't gonna cut it.

Yap.

The other thing I've been looking at in the news is all this fuss about Tiger Woods. Twitter contributor Shit My Dad Says quotes his 73 year old dad saying, "I like See's candy. Put me in a See's store, I'm eating candy. The whole world is Tiger's See's store, and the candy is vagina."

The plain fact is that no matter what he did or who he fucked it's really none of our God damned business. He's a golfer, for Christ's sake! What does any of this have to do with golf?

Feh. People are so fuckin' dumb sometimes.

(From Brad Warner's Hardcore Zen blog: Dec 14th, 2009)

Yapy-deux...

After all these years...

2009-12-12T18:58:00.001-08:00

All that you touch
All that you see
All that you taste
All you feel
All that you love
All that you hate
All you distrust
All you save
All that you give
All that you deal
All that you buy
Beg, borrow or steal
All you create
All you destroy
All that you do
All that you say
All that you eat
Everyone you meet
All that you slight
Everyone you fight
All that is now
All that is gone
All that's to come
And everything under the sun is in tune
But the sun is eclipsed by the moon.

I am not...

2009-12-09T16:13:00.001-08:00

Hero with a Thousand MP3's...

2009-12-09T15:27:00.000-08:00

This is a short music mix for a sangha project called "Hero With A Thousand Faces". I'll speak more to it in another post. Meanwhile, enjoy.

Go To FileFactory.com

A perspective on zazenkai...

2009-12-07T17:19:00.000-08:00

My dharma brother and friend Bansho, working on a zabuton after the

ZCO Winter Zazenkai, December 5th, 2009.

The dharma, incomparably profound and
infinitely subtle, is rarely encountered, even in
hundreds of thousands of millions of ages.
As we see it, hear it, receive and maintain it,
may we completely realize the Thathagata's true
meaning.

A good, cold morning. One of the first killing frosts here in SE Portland. People were in the PDC by the time I arrived at 7:05am. Everyone was greeted by Rinsan, Senryu and/or Bansho, all of whom were making final preparations for the days practice. By the time we were in place at 7:30, there were just about twenty of us.

Everyone settled in, and we began with the traditional morning service. At 8am, after chanting every name of our dharma linage, from the seven past Buddhas, up and through our Indian, Chinese, and Japanese ancestors, we settled into a quiet space, and began zazen.

This "quiet place" lasted approximately 3.72 minutes. The demolition project currently happening in (well, happening TO, I suppose) the parking-lot started promptly at 8am. Our ordained for the day, Ryushin, immediately reminded us to set aside any preconceptions of what this day should be, and mindfully practice experiencing what this day was becoming, moment by moment. I was interested and surprised that the sounds didn't seem to bother or distract me as much as I thought they would when I first heard the equipment start up. I attributed this indifference to being tired from lack of sleep.

The light in the zendo grew to make the windows glow, and warmed the space as we sat zazen. At 9am, I went downstairs to act as the assistant to the tenzo (cook) dharma-sister Shinju. She and I had worked together the previous days planning the menu and getting supplies and ingredients. It was the first time either of us had acted in this capacity (minus helping in the kitchen at Great Vow while doing work practice while on retreat) so we were both excited to begin our work. We lit the kitchen altar candles and presented incense, invoked the spirit of compassion and nurturing, bowed to each-other, and set to work in noble silence.

As noble as we'd intended to be, though, a very brief and blessedly minor comedy of "wherezit?" ensued. Where is the olive oil? Where is the can opener? Do we have X? This is less difficult to deal with when one can talk freely. We quickly understood that a bit of vocal communication was needed to get past this barrier. Shinju ran over to the Dharma Rain Dharma House to borrow oil and a can opener (a cache of which was found almost immediately upon her return), and I set to chopping root vegetables. Soon after, Shinju-san returned, and we started cooking in earnest. At one point, Shinju caught me staring very intently at a round orange-yellow disc I held in the sunlight. I smiled at her and very quietly whispered "I love the way a cut parsnip looks on the inside", bowed, and went back to making more lovely orange-yellow discs.

At 9:30, the first break period occurred, and people popped in and out of the kitchen to get tea cups and other items. Shinju-san and I continued on with the cooking, dancing about each-other in (mostly) silence as we each chopped, peeled, roasted, toasted and sautéed various root vegetables, beet tops, pecans, onions, turnips, rutabagas, and other ingredients.

At 10am, the day's work circle began. We began with a traditional chant and invocation while in circle, then each participant was assigned a work task. Many hands worked on the new (and lovely) zabutons in noble silence, while at the same time, the kitchen was assigned two assistants. Apparently, zen practice truly knows no rank, and dharma brother Fuho-san was gifted the chopping of the onions. My heart and eyes went out to him as I listened to him gasp and sniffle over his task. At 11am, zazen resumed, and Shinju-san and I were once again quietly orbiting around each-other in front of the stove. By 11:30, we were done, and headed back up into the zendo for a period of zazen ourselves before lunch.

Lunch was done buffet style due to the number of participants, but eaten communally and in silence at a long table set up in the lower zendo meeting area. After the meal-chant, we ate lunch: roasted winter vegetable stew, warm beet green salad with satsuma oranges, cranberry vinaigrette and toasted pecans and two kinds of bread. While we weren't eating oryoki, we did eat in noble silence. I just endeavored to experience this as oryoki-"lite", and appreciated the colors, flavors and textures as I slowly ate my food, trying to mindfully set down my spoon between each bite.

After we finished eating, Shinju and I were allowed to rest while the others cleared the dishes. Everyone was allowed a bit of a break between cleaning and more meditation. Some chose to walk outside in the cold-crispness of the late, sunny fall afternoon. At 1pm, we reconvened in the zendo, and began zazen again, sated, refreshed and grateful.

At 2pm, Ryushin gave a wonderful, heart-felt dharma talk and teaching, encouraging us all to truly value the precious nature of this practice and our participation in this zazenkai. Knowing that he would soon be leaving us for three months to participate in an ango intensive at a California monastery made his time with us seem a bit more precious and poignant. We have such a dharma champion in him! After the talk, more zazen, then we performed the Fusatsu ceremony, or the renewal of vows. In unison, we all chanted...

All evil karma ever committed by me since of old,
Because of my beginningless greed, anger, and ignorance,
Born of my body, mouth, and thought,
Now I atone for it all.

Then after the roughly 30min ceremony, we gathered for a semi-formal tea and closing circle. A number of nice cheeses were set out, along with cut apples and pears, and a lovely (and decadent) pan-style cookie topped with white-chocolate frosting. Now allowed to speak, we each had an opportunity to share experiences. We all generally agreed that while the demolition noises were nearly constant throughout the day, they didn't really seem to interfere with zazen all that much. A number of us mentioned just how grateful we were to have this truly strong and vast vessel to rest in.

And if I got anything out of this zazenkai (and I most certainly did) it was that. How limitless this wonderful sangha is, how universal this dharma is, and how truly vast this Buddha-practice, this container, this vessel is. It held us all, with ease and in joy as we shared this day, and after a cleaning of the temple, it saw us trickle out into the moonlit darkness of the cold night, one by one, taking this wonderful energy out into the world, waiting quietly for each of us to return once more and be held in the warmth and comfort of this hearth.

I highly encourage anyone reading this to consider participation in the next zazenkai, especially if life circumstances may keep you from currently participating in sesshin at Great Vow Zen Monastery. It is a wonderful opportunity to put down that which you normally carry, and give yourself a place to rest in the dharma and strengthen your practice. And even if you do participate in sesshin, please consider coming to the next Heart of Wisdom / Zen Community of Oregon zazenkai currently scheduled for April 17 at St. David of Wales church and supporting all who attend with your energy and presence.

Thank you to all who participated, and supported me in my own practice with your energy.

Yours in dharma,

-Andrew Montgomery

No pithy title...

2009-12-07T08:48:00.000-08:00

I do not desire to be relevant. I desire to be free...

I'm okay...

2009-12-02T16:50:00.000-08:00

...with being who I am. It's taken me years to be able to say that, and at times I still question weather I actually believe myself when I say it, but deep down, I do. Today's FB status...

The Zen.Trixter has had a very challenging day. He looks at the neon schmear of the sunset over the West hills, and suddenly hears words in his head. "Just cold gems set in memory..."

I have lived a very rich life. I've been able to go places and do things that many people dream about. Honestly, though, none of that actually matters as to who I "am". For a big chunk of my past, my motivations were very selfish. People were hurt by my actions, me included. I still bear that karma.

In this Buddhist practice, we have a concept/saying called "drop the story". It's a way of acknowledging that the past is the past, and the future's a fiction. That doesn't mean that the past are lies, or the future is a crazy delusion. All it is is a recognition that trying to deal with things that aren't right now is impossible.

I have often been stuck in the past or the future. Residing in the "now"--comfortably or otherwise--is something relatively new to me. And it sure is taking practice. Letting go of this idea that I am the sum-total of my past experiences is rather tricky. Aren't we all that we have done? To learn that the answer is "nope" is off-putting at first. It gets easier over time. I hope.

But if I've learned one thing, it's that I'm not truly anything other than what I am right now. This very moment. I owe no one a proof or explanation of the past, or a prognostication of the future. I simply owe this Universe my honesty, my compassion, and my attention. Everything good flows from that, and it is all I want from life.

Thoughts on the first Five Precepts...

2009-11-30T11:56:00.000-08:00

Note to non-practitioners: The below is a brief write-up required of all those who ask to take the first Five Precepts from the Zen Community of Oregon (my sangha). I posted this here because it's a Buddhist blog, but also because this understanding of the Precepts traditionally should be publicly illustrated.

Thoughts on the first Five Precepts

In the Abhisandha Sutta, the Buddha said that the commitment to live by the precepts is a gift to oneself and all others:

... This is the ... gift, the ... great gift — original, long-standing, traditional, ancient, unadulterated, unadulterated from the beginning — that is not open to suspicion, will never be open to suspicion, and is unfaulted by knowledgeable contemplatives and priests. This is the ... reward of merit, reward of skillfulness, nourishment of happiness, celestial, resulting in happiness, leading to heaven, leading to what is desirable, pleasurable and appealing; to welfare and to happiness.

I find this a very useful way to look at the first five precepts. I believe it was [my sensei] Hogen [Bays] who said that if each person were to undertake and live by just the first five precepts, the world would never know war, crime, rape or addiction. The universal begins with the personal, and the idea that this undertaking is a gift to the world—to the Universe and all beings in it—is a very powerful one. We all at times feel helpless and ineffectual, and remembering that you are able to do something to help the entire universe by virtue of the way you live your very life can help anchor you when you feel at the mercy of this existence.

I look at these principles and how they apply to my life in the following ways:

Do not kill: This seems so obvious, yet people do this every moment of every day. Bugs, mites, and all manner of tiny things end their existences every time I breathe, walk, shower, and eat. We tend to think only of the overt idea of killing (that is, taking of a human life) because that to us is the most obvious limit that humans should abide by. Many of us, however, take that practice to a greater degree. I am (primarily) a vegetarian. I have been for five years. I was a strict vegan for three. I decided that after thirty-some years of eating mostly animal products that I should no longer contribute to the suffering of animals simply because I like the way they taste. That decision made an immediate impact upon the world in which I live in a number of ways, not the least of which is that animals are no longer dying in my name. But it also changed who I am directly by making me more aware of suffering in general. The learning of the idea of ahimsa—of non-harming—directly manifested a growth of it in my life, and in many directions. I notice now that I am as aware of the killing of the experience of joy, or the killing of a person's spirit as I am that of a living being. I value this awareness very much. When I kill something, part of the Universe dies, and that is as much damage to myself and my own progress as it is the thing that has died, because the truth is, there is no difference.

Do not steal: I am always moved by the rephrasing “Be satisfied with what I have”. The drive to have, to posses, to acquire; these are all like essential nutrients to the weed that is “desire”. At times in the past, I have fallen into this. “To want what isn't” is what is needed to incite someone to steal. The practice of the acceptance of what is is the medicine the Buddha gave to heal the wound that is this desire. Choosing to steal only creates negative consequences that last long after the initial satisfaction or gratification of possession are gone. The karma of stealing will always outlast the mere thing that has been stolen. Acceptance and true appreciation of what one has will only foster positive things into the Universe, and help us all.

Do not misuse sexual energy: For many, this means to not stray from the bonds of marriage. To some, this means to be celibate. For me, the most important aspect of this precept is that of respect. “Encountering all creations with respect and dignity, this is the precept of Chaste Conduct” encapsulates this very well for me. Not only should we live in a way that shows respect for all the people we encounter and have relations with throughout our lives, but we should remember to include ourselves in that number. Constantly doing whatever it takes to satisfy sexual urges—be it allowing ourselves to stay in unhealthy or dysfunctional relationships, enticing someone romantically simply to satisfy a desire for sex, or withholding our sexual energy as a way to punish someone for some perceived wrong—is also damaging. Allowing yourself to be a slave to your sexual desires is possibly the greatest misuse of sexual energy, and is most certainly the cause of any other damaging sexual misconduct. If one understands that sexual energy must always be rooted in right action, then all sexual conduct that follows will always be in accord with the precepts.

Do not lie: Again; simple on the surface, but more nuanced than first appears. Obviously, lying is bad, and generates negative karma. One should always observe right speech. I tend to turn this precept back upon myself, as I have a tendency to lie to myself. When things aren't going as I'd like, I will tell myself that they are, instead of working with the idea “Why am I dissatisfied?” or “Who is it that feels this way?” When I inadvertently hurt someone by word or deed, I may say “They didn't notice” or “It's not important” when I know full well that they did or it, in fact, is important. These kinds of lies are just as damaging as bold-faced lies to the public, because they kill off the truth from inside, and allow a self-delusion to persist. Accepting lies in one's life is not acting as a Bodhisattva, no matter where the lie occurs or how “big” it is. As we often interpret it, “Listening and speaking from the heart” is the medicine to keep lies from further damaging the world.

Do not be intoxicated: Ah, the sticky one. For me, this is all about motivation. As I am openly and legitimately on the Medical Marijuana program here in Oregon, many would think that I come at this precept from a slightly more challenging position, but I do not see it as such. I am anything but intoxicated while using cannabis. In fact, I am ever mindful of its effects on both my body and my mind. I use just enough to alleviate my physical symptoms. In this way, I am probably more mindful of its presence in my life than, say, someone given a prescription for an anti-anxiety medication, or a narcotic pain-killer. For me, intoxication has less to do with a given substance than it does the desire for mind-states that are not the state one's mind is currently in. In that way, anything can be an intoxicant, and I personally believe that to be true. It would be of wrong motivation to tell someone not to take an opiate pain-killer if they legitimately needed one merely because one of its side-effects is a distortion of perception or a feeling of euphoria. In the same way, it would be wrong to take said pain-killer merely to experience the side-effects because one is bored, lonely or otherwise unsatisfied with their current connection to the present moment. In that way, constantly watching TV, playing video games, or eating when not hungry are as intoxicating as any drug or alcohol. It is the desire to distract oneself from the direct experience of the current moment that is of poor and unhelpful motivation. “Cultivate a mind that sees clearly” is something I've used while volunteering and helping the terminally ill many times, as these people are very often heavily sedated. One can most certainly still practice “seeing clearly” when one is experiencing the side-effects of a given substance. One can never see clearly when they are willfully distracting themselves from reality merely as a cure for boredom or to escape what they see as a negative experience or circumstance. With the former, one is striving for a connection to the now, while the latter is trying to escape. As with all actions, karma is generated. The former will always generate merit, even if one fails; the latter can never do so, no matter what comes of the experience. For me, there will always be a distinction between use and misuse, and while that mindfulness is not something I have always had, I now value it greatly.

Teach your children...

2009-11-27T16:57:00.000-08:00

(Re)Spotted on the excellent Monkey-Mind blog of UU Minister James Ford.

What more is there to be said of this without dropping down into self-righteous snark?

Actually, I feel sorry for the girl. Digital karma gonna get you...

-le' sigh-

On bitterness: an oldie but a goodie...

2009-11-27T16:26:00.000-08:00

As I was walking to and from the bus today while running a few errands, I saw and navigated lots of mud puddles from yesterday's mondo rain-o. All the puddles made me think of one of my very favorite Zen parables, and in remembering that parable, I realized that I have been dealing with this very topic a lot the past few months. But by "dealing with it," I'm happy to say that that infers more success than failure. For some reason, things are easier to let go of now. Don't know if it's my practice or just my age. Either way, it's just one more thing to be grateful for.

One day two traveling monks reached a town and saw a young noblewoman waiting to step out of her sedan chair. There were deep, muddy puddles and she couldn’t step across without getting mud on her silk robes. She impatiently scolded her attendants, who were burdened with heavy packages.

The younger monk walked by the young woman without speaking. But the older monk stopped and picked her up on his back, carrying her across the mud. Not only did she not thank the monk, she shoved him out of her way when he put her down and scurried by him haughtily.

As the two monks continued on their way, the younger monk was brooding. After a long time, he finally spoke out. “That woman was so rude but you picked her up and carried her! She didn’t even thank you.”

“I set the woman down hours ago,” the older monk responded. “Why are you still carrying her?”

Très intéressant...

2009-11-25T11:41:00.000-08:00

It's really interesting when you stumble through old (or even recent but forgotten) writing and see what you discover.

Look at me with eyes that wish to see the truth.
Look at me with eyes that will see me for who I truly am.
Look at me with the desire for honesty and compassion.
Look at me with the longing for connection.

Look at me as the man I am,
And I will look at you, always and forever,
As someone I can trust.

I'm really happy that I'm okay with who I am in my life now. There is no substitute for honesty, especially about oneself.

Really briefly...

2009-11-23T11:48:00.000-08:00

The wagessa passed on first inspection.

Jasmine is turning into a rather playful kitty. We have developed a nice routine.

I am having a ridiculously large 1080p DLP TV delivered today.

...the day after my sensei suggested that I renounce watching television.

I'm beginning to understand why one of the oldest traditions in Zen Buddhism is for the abbot of a monastery to scream "Go AWAY!!!" at anyone who stands outside the gate asking to be allowed in for refuge and training...

:)

Behind one wave, but ahead of the curve...

2009-11-19T10:03:00.000-08:00

Well, The Precepts Ceremony was a month ago. As I said, I dropped the ball in that regard, mostly due to my not getting my wagessa finished. Well, it's finished now. At least I think it is. It now goes to our "head of precepts" director for approval, and if it's approved, she holds it until such time that I am allowed to take the first five precepts, most likely this time next year.

It's really interesting to me: I had such a hard time with this, but honestly not for any true physical issue. Admittedly, I had to sew it with limited use of my right hand, but that really didn't affect me all that much, even though I may have said so, and even believed so. I know now that I was blocked mentally and emotionally, which is quite a bit trickier than merely not being able to sew in a straight line.

When I first began pursuing Zen, I was married. I had flirted with Buddhism off and on (mostly off, actually) for the better part of twenty years before then, but always kept myself at a safe distance for some reason (a reason I am now more aware of, and will speak to in a moment). She jumped right in, head first. I was really very pleased to see this, and was happy for her. I knew it was a very genuine thing for her, that it truly resonated with her, and I would support her pursuit of a deeper connection with it without any kind of problem.

However, a problem of sorts did arise. Eventually, my pursuit of Buddhism--or more specifically, the speed at which I pursued it--started getting some scrutiny. She questioned why I wasn't taking to participation in the sangha and zazen. I tried to explain that at that time, I didn't feel it in me, and encouraged her to just keep on with her own path. That was met with a bit of disappointment, but it was left at that.

I later tried to explain that I knew deep inside that this was actually a momentous quantum change in my life, and that I needed to be sure in my heart that it was what I wanted. Up until that time, I was a returned-to-the-fold practicing Catholic (a rather devout one) and had just written off that faith after the scandals. I was now an adrift agnostic.

In my life up until that point, I had at various times been a Catholic, an Evangelical, a Unitarian, a Christian Fellow, a pagan, a Thelemite, and still to that point (and to this day) somewhat of a shamanic practitioner as well as a Taoist. Read differently: I'd always been a spiritual seeker.

But there was always something about Buddhism that on one hand deeply resonated with me, but sort of disturbed me at the same time. It felt sticky in a way that unnerved me, not unlike how one may have felt as a kid getting caught in a fib. "Uh-oh. The Truth. You can't talk your way outta this one."

When my father died in 2004, I had a very powerful experience. I had just started pursuing Buddhism in a bit of a non-sectarian fashion shortly before he died, and when he left, I felt something inside me that said "This is the moment." Buddhism got me through that experience, and what came out on the other side was a very different person.

Yet still, I was hesitant. We began pursuing and studying Zen. I had always been attracted to Vajrayana Buddhism, and had done quite a bit of study on Tantra. Zen was really very foreign to me. Not only foreign, but actually unappealing to me in a number of ways. It seemed (on the surface) rather dull, boring, and actually sort of depressing and nihilistic. Yet there was something there that began to pop up above the surface of my misconception.

But I just wasn't sure. I tried to explain that, for me, each person was on their own path, and that you cannot walk that path for anyone else. Up to that point, I'd been a believer in the idea that you could walk a spiritual path hand-in-hand with somebody, and that is something that I still to this day believe in, but the base truth is, you are on your path by yourself, alone. There are times when paths run parallel, and may even cross over, but in truth, they never truly converge. You have your path. You walk it. But you cannot walk at any speed other than your own. If you try and walk faster or slower, or alter directions in response to anyone other than yourself, you're making an error that will impede your progress.

Please don't think that I am angry about any of this. I'm not saying that she pushed, or that any harm was done. If anything, her forging on set a great example for me, and encouraged me to do the same. But it took me a while to decide, and that was something I had to insist upon for myself. I was not about to pursue Zen out of any kind of "must do" motivation other than my own internal compass telling me to walk that way. I had so many questions; frankly I still do. I knew though that I had to think and feel my way through to a place of clarity.

I took a year off from sangha-based zen practice. I sat at home. I still paid membership dues to the sangha that entire time and still considered myself a member of the sangha, but at the same time, I kept myself outside the actually practice body. I needed to know that this was where I needed to be. I needed to know that this is what I was supposed to do, and where I was supposed to go. I would not take up another spiritual practice unless I knew deep down that I should be there. I needed to know.

In 2008, my marriage started to wind down. My beloved elder cat passed away after a painful decline. There was quite a bit of trauma and tumult to that year, but the call to Zen began to ring inside me. That sounds so ethereal and mystical, but it's not. It's less like a soul-peeling strike of lightning and more like a persistent itch that you can't quite reach (zen practitioners all know about itching). It was just something that nagged me from the inside. It was The Truth, I knew that it was, and it had me pinned to the wall.

And that really was it. I've tried to explain this to people a number of different times, but typically wind up with the same anemic wording.

Q: Do you "like" zazen?
A: Not particularly. Many times I find it irritating, but mostly just boring.

Q: Do you get a deep sense of peace, satori, kensho, or feel more connected to the Universe?
A: Not anymore than I have at other times through other means.

Q: Do you find that Buddhism is what makes you a better person these days?
A: Probably, but I'm sure I could be a good person without it.

Q: Then if this is all a series of non-pluses, and you can take it or leave it, then why do it?
A: Because every time I "do it", no matter what may happen during the "doing it", when done, I feel measurably better than were I to not have "done it", and there's nothing in my life up to this point that I can say that consistently of.

So, I'm sort-of a defacto Zen practitioner. I pursue Zen in the same way that a physicist pursues the Higgs boson: I tend to be after facts and truths, and want to know things about life. I want to be intimately connected to what's real. I've spent a not-insignificant chunk of my life distracting myself from the truth because it wasn't how I wanted it to be (read: "death and taxes") or Existentially mollifying myself via Sartre's self-deception because the truth made me feel bad about myself or the world around me. But as I've grown older, my desire for a genuine life has only grown. It's grown beyond the life of relationships, careers, loved-ones, homes and all other manner of measure. It's grown in ways that I find upsetting but at the same time affirming. I want the Truth.

Ahhh. The Truth. Knowing the Truth.

That is what finally kicked me in the existential nuts. At about the same time as I started seriously pursuing Zen, a sangha friend started using as a tag-line a zen answer from something I had just read on my own.

Fayan was going on pilgrimage.

Dizang said, "Where are you going?"
Fayan said, "Around on pilgrimage."
Dizang said, "What is the purpose of pilgrimage?"
Fayan said: "I don't know."

Dizang said, "Not knowing is most intimate."

"Not knowing is most intimate." This really was the thing that slapped me right in the face. And to relate this back to the physicist and the Higgs boson, just because you're searching for "the truth" doesn't mean you can't do so with a sense of wonder. We tend to dumb things down as far as the physical and metaphysical realaties of existence goes. What's so different about someone sitting zazen staring at a white wall versus someone at the LHC staring at reams of data? I finally understood--or comprehended--that there really is no difference.

And there it was. There is no difference. There is no separation between the scientific and the metaphysical. There is no difference between the truth and The Truth. There is no difference between knowing and not knowing. All differences are illusions.

I'll probably tidy this thought thread up later. The kid needs coffee...

See? There's The Truth.

Boil water. Make coffee.

Welcome to the deep mystery that is Zen.

Settling into winter / ZBR me ASAP...

2009-11-12T14:05:00.001-08:00

Fall always seems so brief here in the Pacific Northwest. We seem to go from summer nearly instantly to winter, with only a scant few days of "fall". A week of colorful foliage, then a hard rain quickly stripping the "color" off the trees, plugging up the storm-drains and causing lower Hawthorne Blvd to flood, leaving the world a palate of wet browns and shiny grays. Not that that's "ugly"; As Ray Stevens reminded us in the 70's, "everything is beautiful in its own way". Very true, Ray.

Ms. Jasmine is growing more and more comfortable in her new digs. I'm very happy about that. She is so much more social than she was last week. Every day I get greeted now with little soft paws on my leg. She hops up to be with me now, on my desk or at times in bed, which was quite a surprise. Still not much of a snuggler, but what I do get is nice.

I was supposed to be headed to Great Vow next week for a Generosity Sesshin, but this cold I've had the past week has developed into a respiratory infection (but NOT pneumonia--I was rather smart enough to have gotten vaccinated for that about 6 weeks ago) and while it's not contagious, I am still hacking and coughing, and I really don't want to bring that level of distraction to the monastery for my first major sesshin. I am actually really annoyed that this happened now. I took great care to make sure that I got all my vaccinations this fall (seasonal flu, pneumonia and H1N1) as early as I could, and I still wound up getting sick! Not only that, but I really need to start doing sesshin practice. I think I'll go up in December to the Beginner's Mind retreat again to dip my toe back in, then go to the Life Vows Sesshin in January. I was asked to transcribe a recorded talk by Hogen from last years' LVS, and it was very powerful. I took the Portland-based weekend class he taught a few years ago, and found it very enriching.

I still get nervous about sesshin practice. I've spent many weeks at a time alone and by myself in silence, but there are a few outstanding issues regarding my participation in this very important practice that I want Hogen-sensei to address before I commit myself to it.

On other fronts, though, I have made great progress on my wagessa! The entire body has been sewn, and I even took a swipe at the invisible ladder stitch used to close it up, with some non-ugly level of success! It's rather odd: this gave me so much trouble at first (even taking two attempts) but once I realized that my problem wasn't so much the physical sewing of the wagessa with the limited motor skills of my right hand, but a mental block I've been having regarding my practice and this past year, it suddenly came together in less than a week. I'd take it with me, and work on it at the laundromat, or simply sitting here with the cat in her bed on my desk, and some music playing while I recited the Verse of the Kesa to myself. Well, I suppose Jasmine would say I was chanting it to her. But it felt very good to work on this time.

I didn't feel the pressure to "get it done," "that stitch is messy," "you're running out of time," and the ever-present inner-critic chart-topping hit "YOU SUCK". None of that was there this time. It was already "too late". I'd already "screwed it up" three times. I was finally aware that I was only doing this for me. On one hand, yes, certain people were looking at me to get this done, not for any reason other than they want to see me walk this path further; My teachers, my sangha leaders, my fellow dharma brothers and sisters want this for me, that's true, but nobody was drumming their fingers waiting for me to get this done. The expectation was there that I would because these people know how deeply this practice resonates with me. These people just want to see me happy. They know what I've gone through this past year, and all they want for me is peace, and progress on my path. It feels like dozens of people reaching out to hold my hand when I need it the most. "Humbling" is so anemic when it comes to describing how this makes me feel.

All that from a silly blue cotton ribbon. A Zen Blue Ribbon, I suppose.

Truly vast is this robe of liberation...

Of cats, coffee and patience...

2009-11-08T10:30:00.000-08:00

Jasmine is starting to settle in. She is still very skittish and spends most of her days behind the sofa. We've blocked off her ability to get deep under the bed as well as under the reclining portion of the sofa, and that seems to have helped a bit. I think part of it is also her simply learning that we're not half bad animals. She gets fed every day twice a day, her box is always clean, and this little flat is about 250 times as large as her space at the shelter. Things are looking up to her apparently.

I get the majority of her social attention right when I get up. She is very nocturnal, and spends her "day" creeping around the flat in the dark of night. When I get up in the morning and start making coffee, she's just winding down, and will creep over to me and demand to be petted. She was declawed (fronts only) by a previous owner, so her paws are very, very soft, but she still has the pad and knead desire and reflex. It's actually very cute. I'll sit down at my desk, and within a few minutes I'll feel my butt being kneaded, and she'll be there standing on her hid legs, demanding my attention. We have pets for about 10min, then she gets rather bored of me and my monkey ways. But it's nice to have something that comes and says hello to me every day. I am certain now that I won't be returning her. Even if she's never a snuggle kitty, she's a good little Buddha and deserves a stable home. I have that, and she's welcome to share it with me.

I actually still feel a bit guilty for wanting to give up on her so quickly. What would have happened in my life if that were people's attitudes towards me? "Sticking with it and seeing it through" has been a life-long learning experience for me; a practice that I still to this day struggle with. Whenever it doesn't fit the idea I have in my head, I go "this isn't what I wanted!" and go for the wholesale change way of dealing with things. I have been getting better lately of simply being with what is. Still a lot of practice to do there, but I am beginning to see that it, and it alone is the only way to find peace.

Mu-ow...

Rejection is a state of mind...

2009-11-04T08:47:00.000-08:00

Well, I awoke to a different cat this morning. Still skittish, but is currently near my feet under my desk. We have had pets, and haven't jetted off into the dark distance after being picked up either.

I will have to give her more time. Yes, I still think I made a bit of a mistake by picking an all-black female cat, but whose fault is that? Not hers. She still needs a forever home. She's still a well-tempered animal. If I want a snuggler, I may just have to get another cat in the future. Meanwhile, I made a commitment that I would do everything I could to make this relationship work. I have 30 days to return her, and I was ready to give up after four because she wasn't being the cat I wanted. No, she's not. She's being just what she is. Isn't that what I spend hours practicing every flippin' week?

And the education goes on...

The pain of rejection...

2009-11-03T15:47:00.000-08:00

This has been a very interesting few days, and what it has revealed to me.

So I'm technically not supposed to have pets in my apartment. Right when I moved in, I asked after this to my land-lord, a dog lover. I told him that I suffered from depression, at times severely, and that I was hoping to have a cat at some point (at that time hoping I could take one of my then-current cats with me: specifically, the one that I rescued and named). I told him that me without a cat would be like him without his dog, to whit he replied "That bad, huh?" He assured me that I could have a cat if I really wanted one.

It was decided that the cat I had in mind wouldn't be able to come live with me. I understated or under-appreciated just how much this hurt me at the time. She was one of the few sources of joy and emotional support that I had while going through the deep pain of my divorce; something I did essentially by myself while at the same time having to keep a brave face while being an emotional protector and recovery aide to my step-daughter. The cat was always there, always wanting me to hold her, snuggle her and be near her. Most importantly, she was my constant companion through what felt like countless cold and lonely nights, always hopping into bed shortly before or after I did, ready to snuggle down with me under the covers as the winter wind howled, and I ached inside.

When I had to leave her behind, I knew it would hurt. I told myself it was for the best, and on one level that was true. But on another, I didn't care. I was giving up so much, and to add insult to injury, I had to give up the cat I brought in off the street and named myself. The one who bonded with me. The one who seemed to always love me when everything else seemed to be going to hell. The one I loved so much.

The summer/fall has been one of great tumult, to say the least. Great emotional highs and lows. Things are leveling off, and I feel better to a degree, but I know that with winter comes S.A.D for me, and this year may be harder than before for a number of reasons, but mostly due to the fact that I have no car of my own right now, and will be stuck in my apartment quite a bit of the time. So while on a recent run-about project with my landlord, I asked agan about getting a cat. The issue has never been him; it's been his wife. She hates cats. But he says "Well, it seems that my name is on the house, and she got that name from me, so if I say you can have a cat, just get one. If we get caught, I'll deal with it."

So with money I didn't have, I went down to the Cat Adoption Team shelter in Sherwood last Friday. I'd seen an all-black cat (a soft-spot of mine) on their site that was listed as very friendly once she warmed up if given a quiet space. Well, my flat is pretty much the epitome of that, and since she'd been declawed by a previous owner, I figured the furniture and carpet was safe. So I picked up Jasmine last Friday afternoon.

I was so looking forward to having cat energy back in my life. To say that I'm a "cat person" is like saying "I like music" about me. Dramatic understatement. One of my greatest joys in life the past ten years was moving out here and living with someone who loved cats as much as I did. I'd only had cats as a child, and they were farm cats: indoor/outdoor mousers to whom tragedy would almost always befall. I'd not had a cat of my own since about age 10 or so. I had a wonderful dog for many years, and had recently tried life with a dog again that went terribly (just the wrong dog at the wrong time--I did find him a great home) so I was keen to have a cat again to fill the void left in my life by having to let go of my kitties from my marriage.

The short form is: this ain't working, and is actually making me feel worse.

Jasmine has been here since Friday afternoon. She refuses to socialize at all. She'd much rather hide in the darkness. She will never come out of her hiding-places, even though she seems to like being petted. She doesn't like being held. She doesn't like to be near people, and only barely tolerates people approaching her. She is eating and using the box fine, but aside from that, has very little use for me or my daughter. This feels more like tennancy in a sub-let situation. It's actually rather upsetting.

I didn't anticipate this at all, but I see it clear as day now why this is so upsetting to me. I'm well aware that rescue cats often take time to warm up and establish a report with new owners--even those that are true-blue cat people. I've been fortunate enough to have helped save a number of cats from the street over the past 10 years--and have been blessed to have grow close to two of them. And therein lies the rub. Jasmine is the spitting image of my former black-cat snuggle partner. I made the mistake of adopting a kitty that looks JUST like my old cat that I miss so much. Obviously, I did this as a subconscious expression of my missing and wanting my old kitty back so much. But this is like the cloning paradox: you may be able to have the physicality of something again, but the personality is something wholly and totally different.

This cat hurts me to be around. It looks so much like my old cat, yet wants nothing whatsoever to do with me apart from keeping the food dish managed. It doesn't hate me, or hiss at me or anything overt, but at the same time its manner and want of attention is so drastically different that it makes me feel like my old cat that I miss so much is back in my life, but wants nothing to do with me anymore. This is like a strange cat-lover's nightmare, except that Rod Serling never shows up to give some twisted explanation.

I have made arrangements to return Jasmine to the shelter tomorrow. I know that part of me is sad for her: I am a very tolerant, understanding and accepting cat person, and there's part of me that knows that if a cat doesn't respond to me (seriously, all cats seem to love me) the chances are slim that she will be well suited to anyone else. At the same time, though, I have faith in the C.A.T. and know if Jasmine has any kind of chance to find happiness, it'll be through them.

It has been an odd and upsetting, but powerful and over-all positive practice lesson regarding preconceptions and attachments, and I bow to the Bodhisattva that is Jasmine for teaching me that you can't go home again, and that being steered there via emotional auto-pilot is something to be ever wary of.

Dev says I should go orange. We'll see...

Postcards From Cambodia...

2009-11-01T12:03:00.001-08:00

It's interesting to me that I have a blog, yet there are more and more things I can't talk about here. Hmmm...

I'd write a poem, but all I'd be doing is steal words that already float through the air. Everything's either borrowed (if you're righteous and kind) or simply stolen in this world. I chose to borrow.

"Postcards From Cambodia"
By: Bruce Cockburn
From: You've Never Seen Everything (2003)

Abe Lincoln once turned to somebody and said,
"Do you ever find yourself talking with the dead?"

There are three tiny deaths heads carved out of mammoth tusk
on the ledge in my bathroom
They grin at me in the morning when I'm taking a leak,
but they say very little.

Outside Phnom Penh there's a tower, glass paneled,
maybe ten meters high
filled with skulls from the killing fields
Most of them lack the lower jaw
so they don't exactly grin
but they whisper, as if from a great distance,
of pain, and of pain left far behind

Eighteen thousand empty eyeholes peering out at the four directions

Electric fly buzz, green moist breeze
Bone-colored Brahma bull grazes wet-eyed,
hobbled in hollow of mass grave
In the neighboring field a small herd
of young boys plays soccer,
their laughter swallowed in expanding silence

This is too big for anger,
it’s too big for blame.
We stumble through history so
humanly lame
So I bow down my head
Say a prayer for us all
That we don’t fear the spirit
when it comes to call

The sun will soon slide down into the far end of the ancient reservoir.
Orange ball merging with its water-borne twin
below air-brushed edges of cloud.
But first, it spreads itself,

a golden scrim behind fractal sweep of swooping fly catchers.
Silhouetted dark green trees,
blue horizon

The rains are late this year.
The sky has no more tears to shed.
But from the air Cambodia remains
a disc of wet green, bordered by bright haze.
Water-filled bomb craters, sun streaked gleam
stitched in strings across patchwork land and
march west toward the far hills of Thailand.
Macro analog of Ankor Wat’s temple walls
intricate bas-relief of thousand-year-old battles
pitted with AK rounds

And under the sign of the seven headed cobra
the naga who sees in all directions
seven million landmines lie in terraced grass, in paddy, in bush
(Call it a minescape now)

Sally holds the beggar's hand and cries
at his scarred up face and absent eyes
and right leg gone from above the knee

Tears spot the dust on the worn stone causeway
whose sculpted guardians row on row
Half frown, half smile, mysterious, mute.

And this is too big for anger.
It’s too big for blame
We stumble through history so
humanly lame.
So I bow down my head,
say a prayer for us all.
That we don’t fear the spirit when it comes to call.

"Just enough" on weight-loss...

2009-10-20T14:35:00.000-07:00

For those who don't know, I also have a weightloss blog called "Fat Man in the Bathtub". This is a cross-post from that blog because it involves some zen things that I think may be pertinent here. If I've learned anything about my life and my desire to become healthier, it's that my "practice" (read: "my Buddhist path") and my weight-loss path are inextricably linked. The word "inextricable" often has a negative connotation to it (as in "a morass of confusing connections one can never hope to figure out") but for me, this isn't the case, at least not in this sense. For me, "inextricably" means "apparently very complicated and nuanced". I am starting to understand that while it may appear that way to me at times, it is more likely that it is less complicated that it really is. There is a dramatic difference between "complicated" and "complex". Anyway...

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The changes I've been making are once again working. It's always the two things: diet and exercise. Always. I have been riding the exercycle almost every day. 20min sessions. Typically at least two sessions, but my stamina is back up, so often it's three, so that's 60min on the bike. It's beginning to make a few funny sounds and some grinding, so I think maintenance is in order. The last thing I need is for that thing to "grind to a halt". The rains are here now, and soon it will be really hard for me to get out of this flat, so that bike will be an indoor life-line to exercise when I can't get out and walk.

I'm back to having more energy, which is nice. It's amazing what that 15lbs feels like on me now and what it does to me. I'm really looking forward to getting back into the 250's again. My "goal" is the same: 250 by the new year. That's actually pretty reasonable (again). If it's so damn reasonable, then why haven't I ever made it? Hmmm?

The 266 may or may not be real, but at least is appearing to be for the past few days. I've had a few "cheese parties" the past three days or so, but at the same time, I've been very conscious of what I've had, and make sure to do 60min bike totals the days after. Fortunately, the cheese is now gone... ;)

Interestingly, my sensei hit me with something this past Sunday while doing my sanzen interview. I'd told him that I was doing okay, and wanted to ask him if I could start practicing with a koan. He said "I understand why you want to, but right now, I think the best thing for you to do is start being mindful of food." This really struck me, because I had actually begun that very practice about a week before-hand. "If you want to couch it in a koan form, ask yourself this: 'Who is it that craves? Who is it that hungers?' Explore that..."

And that is a very powerful practice, and one that I have wrestled with my whole life. It will be interesting to see where it leads me. I have an intellectual answer that jumps to the front of my mind, but as is typically the case, it's almost always the "not right" answer.

I am signed up for a week-long seshin the 3rd week of November. It's a "generosity seshin", and everything eaten is donated. I plan on making 48 seitan sausages (both links and patties) to contribute, along with dry goods.

I am looking forward to the ōryōki meals again. It's so nice to eat this way. Eating as a team. Eating as one hunger, with all needs met by your dharma brothers or sisters handing you everything you need, and you passing it on. All you have to do is focus on the sensations and flavors, and rest in the support that the sangha provides. Talk about gratitude.

This kind of generosity is more humbling than I can possibly describe....but know I deserve. That's because we all deserve this.

How sad that we have allowed ourselves to forget what is truly our birthright: Health, happiness, peace, joy and the support of family/sangha. I won't lie and say that I'm not looking for the weightloss aid that a week at the monastery will help out with, but honestly, as nervous as I may be about my first week-long seshin, what I look forward to the most is simply being held in that great vessel--that safe place--where, no matter what, I will be with those who love and care for me, and support me simply for who I am, and my willingness to be there as part of something greater than any of us alone. Everything you need is there, and in just the right amount. Truly. "Just enough..."

Friday haiku...

2009-10-16T10:43:00.000-07:00

Four birds on a wire
Three facing due west, one east
In showering skies

Karma...

2009-10-15T10:06:00.000-07:00

It's really interesting to me now that I look at it. I was told this was all about karma. MY karma. I didn't really see it then, but I sure do now.

I've lived my life in various states of denial and acceptance. There was a time in the late 80's where I was so in denial that I actually tried to run from everyone and everything. I took a number of huge risks with my life, and was nearly killed as a result, not once but twice. I was out on my own, doing "what I wanted to do", but it was mostly just to try and distract myself because of a deep loss I'd suffered a few years before, losing two people I deeply loved. Now I see that those choices' ripples are catching up with me in very interesting ways. It's starting to teach me how karma works. It's not nearly as simplistic and obvious as as everyone thinks. It's far more subtle than that. And vastly less predictable.

Fayan was going on pilgrimage.

Dizang said, "Where are you going?"

Fayan said, "Around on pilgrimage."

Dizang said, "What is the purpose of pilgrimage?"

Fayan said: "I don't know."

Dizang said, "Not knowing is most intimate."

Today's lesson...

2009-10-15T08:52:00.000-07:00

In the end it doesn't really matter about who believes you. The only thing that matters is telling the truth. Belief is something you can't control...

Dance anyway...

2009-10-11T17:08:00.000-07:00

Well, back again with this. I could blather on about it--either in abstraction or in detail--but there's no real point. I know that sounds nihilistic; honestly I don't mean it that way. What I mean is that there's no point in me enumerating the whys and wherefores. The main point is, I got my hopes up. I really and truly felt that my life was being blessed. That something wonderful fell in it, and that more wonderful things were going to happen as a result, but it didn't work out that way. I suppose I could chalk this pain up to "not being in the moment", but frankly, that's for roshis, and I'm about as far away from roshidom as I am from the moon. Make that Mars. The moon's only a quarter-million miles from here.

The thing that hurts me the most about the whole thing is that I was really trying.

Actually, no. What really hurts is the fact that the way I felt was real. I'm more sure of it than I've ever been. But that doesn't really matter when you can't see the other side of the equation. My side may be a "1", but if I don't know the definition of "x", it stays a variable, and it's damn hard to have a working relationship with a variable. Ask any equal sign. They'll testify.

The other hard thing is that there was a time when part of it I was scared of. It took a lot of hard thinking and meditation, but I saw that fear for what it was. Just fear. Merely fear. Once I got past that, I was really surprised to find not only acceptance on the other side, but anticipation, hell even excitement over the thing I'd been fearing. Then to have it all taken away in an instant just sort-of knocked the wind out of me. But that's what happens when the rug gets pulled out from under your feet I suppose. I don't believe it was done maliciously. I really don't. But its suddenness and unilateral-ness (no, I'm not sure that's a word, but I didn't think "unilaterality" was either) really has knocked me back. And it hurts. And it saddens me. It is VERY challenging practice to be with this feeling. Practice makes... well, frankly, it just makes for more practice. That's not bad. It's just what it is. Frankly, practice is all I have. It's all any of us have. Sometimes I (allow myself to) forget that.

Sorry for not making much sense right now folks, at least to most of you. I'll be okay. I know I will. But right now the hurt is louder than the music. But you dance anyway. As Shiva teaches, you either dance or you die...

Oṃ śāntiḥ śāntiḥ śāntiḥ...

Sunday haiku...

2009-10-11T11:10:00.000-07:00

There's no greater pain

Than feeling loved and wanted

Then feeling that void

Sitting zazen...

2009-10-06T13:07:00.000-07:00

Distraction.

Hatred.
Distraction.
Anger.
Distraction.
Love
Distraction.
Longing.
Distraction.
Sadness.
Distraction.
Want.
Distraction.
Hunger.
Distraction.
Fear.
Distraction.
Envy.
Distraction.
Joy.
Distraction.
Loneliness.
Distraction.
Sound.
Distraction.
Sight.
Distraction.
Taste.
Distraction.
Smell.
Distraction.
Pain.
Distraction.

From what?

Decisions, decisions, decisions...

2009-10-05T12:48:00.000-07:00

Here's a new comment to keep people from thinking a) I'm dead, b) I've been abducted, c) still scared of change. Well, one of those things is still true.

I make decisions -via- a long and complicated process that involves the entrails of wombats and a complicated system of wheels and pulleys. But when I say "I've made up my mind" it actually means I've come to a decision. That doesn't mean to etch the answer in stone--no decision is ever final and unchanging for all time--but you can at least count on the fact that I've thought long and hard, weighed the scales, checked the ledger, done the math, and come to some kind of actual answer that I'm comfortable with.

And yes, I do take fear into account when making up my mind about things. Quite honestly, you can't not take your fears into account when making large life decisions, and people who say they don't are full of it. Quite often, fear is a healthy thing. Ask any snack-shaped animal what they think about fear, and they'll say "Love it! (See ya!)" and live to answer more questions another day from a far and safe distance.

But fear can't be the only factor when making up one's mind, or even the majority of it for us monkeys with the ability to look off into the future, and sometimes, you simply have to have faith that you grabbed the parachute and not the nap-sack when you jump. And jump you often must, lest life become "as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean".

I made a decision a few weeks ago. I let myself look into the future and visualize something that really warmed my heart and made me excited. I allowed myself to feel something I had sworn off for years. In the end, I know that all I got out of it was the truth of who I am, no matter what does actually happen in the future, and that is never a bad thing. Is it what I actually was visualizing? No. Then again, nothing ever is, and the misconception that you will ever have life happen exactly as envisioned is the greatest thorn dukka has on its spiny branch.

The here-and-now has less spikey bits on it that the future or the past, or so it seems. I still marvel at how hard it is to be at peace with the ground of our existence, but I do know that it's a helluva lot easier than anguishing over the past or trying to shape or predict the future.

Thanks to all my friends for checking in with me. Sorry for the spacey and philosophical tone of this post. We now return you to your regularly scheduled weirdness, already in progress...

Well...

2009-09-23T21:26:00.000-07:00

...I haven't been this confused and upset in a long time. To my friends all over, please don't send me the thoughtful "dude, wuzup?/hang in there bro" inquiries. I love you all, but it'll only muddy the waters for me. It'll all be spelled out in time, I suppose. Or not. I just needed to voice this to the Universe because frankly, I don't have anybody else to talk to right now...

I hate fear...

September starts...

2009-09-13T18:15:00.000-07:00

...in an odd way. More endings and beginnings. The woman I've been seeing and I have decided to not see each-other anymore. This time, it's a more bilateral decision. She is a really wonderful woman, and I feel blessed to have had that relationship with her, but we have different wants and desires for the future, and it simply makes our lives incompatible in a number of really important ways. So we've decided to dial it back to a friendship. I'm thankful that we're going to try and foster a friendship after all is said and done: she's a person I want in my life.

I really need to focus on myself right now. I know that sounds selfish, but honestly, I won't be very attractive to anyone (myself included) if I don't get my crap in a pile. I have a lose goal of having my B.A. by 2012, and my M.A. by 2014, so I can get twenty solid years of teaching and writing in before I retire. I think it's do-able. I have more credits than I thought that transfer, so I think by the time I get my maths & sciences out of the way, I should only have about a term's worth of 300-400-level work to do before I get my degree.

Part of that degree will hopefully be a certification in E.S.L. (English as a Second Language) teaching. I haven't pitched the dream of mine that I've had for a long time to go teach abroad in someplace like Vietnam, Thailand or India. We'll see what the world has in store.

But all that said, I now know that school needs to be put off until the winter '10 term due to finances. I have about $5k in grants available to me every year, but I started too late in the year to get financing in place, so if I went this term, I'd have to pay for it out of pocket, which I simply can't do. So I'll just wait and hit the ground running in Jan/Feb '10.

Anyways, a brief update from the field. Watching the Packers play the Bears while getting ready to go do Sunday Sanzen service. Nice and cool tonight.

I love Fall...

Ennui nui nui all the way 'ome...

2009-09-08T12:53:00.000-07:00

Not sure where I am at the moment. Motivated, yet demotivated. Anxious, yet at ease with where things are going. Wanting to start yet being nervous about things all over again. Man, I wish I could get a handle on things. This is definitely not ennui. Feels more like angst. Good old fear of change, and fear of changing.

I leave in about three hours to go talk to an admissions counselor at the school I've been accepted to, then take some admissions tests. I thought about brushing up on math stuff, but frankly, that seems a bit stupid. I'd rather know where I really am right now. I know I'll need to start out in pre-algebra at best, if only to knock the rust off the chain as I get back on the bike. I'm okay with that; low and slow to start out is fine by me. I only want to start classes part-time right now.

Frankly, though, I think that maybe full-time may be better. Just throw myself back in up to my neck. It worked really well last time. Made me focus. Helped me excel (at least in the things I enjoyed). And quite honestly, the clock is ticking. I have 67 credits from my old college and a 2.9 GPA. I need to get my degree done and completed by 44 at the latest so I can start teaching before I'm 45. Even if I go over-seas to teach, I need to get a good 20 years in in order to have any kind of decent retirement, so it behooves me to get my ass crackin' and take as many credits as I'm comfortable with.

The "comfort"'s the thing, though. I'm just nervous, especially because I need to concentrate on classes and subjects that I wasn't very good at last time around. Admittedly, I "wasn't good at them" because I found them boring. Now my motivations are different. I'm out on my own. I have no back-up or support like I did back in my 20's. I need to make this work. Moreover: I think I want this to work in ways that I didn't want before.

Urgency is its own Prime Mover.

Healthcare for all, beginning with me...

2009-08-26T09:56:00.000-07:00

It's all about health-care lately. Who pays for what. Where you can go. Who gets to "off" grandma and so forth. For the record, I'm a complete socialist in this fight. But enough about them. Let's talk about me, shall we?

After my divorce back in Feb/Mar, I needed to get health-care arranged for myself. I've been disabled since I was 15, and on Medicare since 1993, although I've never once used the benefit. I've always been covered by near-full-boat health insurance--either someone elses' or my own through an employer--so there was never really a need.

I remember going to the doctor as a kid, and never having to pay for anything out-of-pocket. I didn't know what a co-pay was until the 90's. My father's insurance was very comprehensive (being a supervisor in a massive Midwestern factory that had lots of work from the auto industry) . Oddly enough, a few months ago, a family member sent me an envelope full of all the bills and insurance paperwork from my diving accident and resulting hospitalization/recovery/therapy. In 1983/84, this bill was approximately $120,000 all said and done. Of that, it appears that my father paid roughly $2200 out of pocket. Today, using the Consumer Price Index, the bill would be roughly $260,000, with (an assumed minimum) doubling of out-of-pocket expenses equaling roughly $4400 or so. I'm certian that in this day and age of HMO cost-cutting and buck-passing, the out-of-pocket number would actually be much higher. Were we to have been under-insured like so many today, it could have easily destroyed our family financially. Thankfully, that wasn't the case.

Back to the now.

I don't have too many lingering health issues with regards to my disability. It'll be a limiting factor the rest of my life--true--but it's not like it requires much by way of medication or treatment. The chronic conditions I do need to be treated for are, unfortunately, of my own making. High blood pressure from being obese, arthritis and tendinitis aggravated by the same. The things I really need are simple maintenance and preventatives like any guy my age. Prostate check, annual physical, vaccinations, etc. Really boilerplate stuff. That and access to my psychotherapist. So I just didn't see the big whoop about starting out using my Medicare.

Man, was I wrong.

I started out trying to see my psychotherapist. She was helpful in suggesting that we do a "dry run" billing to see if Medicare would accept it, then if they did, I'd just come in and use the time already approved. Well, that very quickly failed. She was told that there was no ability to authorize me because I wasn't "in the system". I was a bit dumbfounded by this because the little card in my wallet said I'd been "in the system" since 1993. Many calls later, my level of frustration was at an apex. I was getting nowhere, and ran up a $60 overage on my cell-phone bill by sitting on hold talking to no one! I decided to go to a local volunteer organization that aids seniors and the disabled by helping them navigate Medicare and other social services. The following is an excerpt from the email I sent my therapist:

I met with a SHIBA representative yesterday, and while he was extraordinarily UNHELPFUL (the guy knew less than I did, and seems inordinately preoccupied with breathing through his mouth), he did have a secret number to a red phone somewhere in the Medicare bunker that got me to the friend of an uncle of a Medicare person who quickly explained that I needed to inform a small gnome hidden under the basement stairs of the annex of a derilect building Medicare no longer uses in a box marked "BEWARE OF PUMA" that I was no longer covered by [my former insurance plan]. It now looks like Medicare should cover at least 50% of the cost. They said wait 14 days from the call, so after the 1st should work. Let me know what the bastards say...

And we have yet to hear back. Seriously, I've gone through every stitch of literature that I could find--both in print and on-line--on starting this coverage, and nowhere does it say that you have to inform them that your old coverage is gone. I asked the representative referenced above about it, and they said "Oh, it's probably not available to you. It's just our policy..."

What the Effin' F?

Seriously. This level of bureaucracy just stuns me. You're expected to comply with some rule you've never heard of from an agency that won't tell you about it until you call a secret number that isn't actually listed anywhere?

Anyway, the short form of this is, it looks like my primary coverage by Medicare is actually starting up. I will still be paying for Medicaid (Supplemental Insurance) out of pocket, but that has hoops to be gone through. Actually, while writing this blog, I tried to apply for Medicaid and Oregon Health Plan, but two iterations of application attempts and botched PDF submissions later, their on-line system failed me, so I just called to have a hard-copy application mailed to me. Meanwhile, the decission on school is also in process, and will have its own blog post shortly...

And now a word from "the now"...

2009-08-19T16:21:00.000-07:00

Sorry for leaving this all hanging here. Just a brief blurb to say that things here are much better. She and I worked a lot of it out, and are trying again, this time with much more understanding of what each of us did that contributed to make such small issues appear so huge. It never ceases to amaze me just how much you miss when you stop listening and just react.

There is a great misconception regarding Zen and things like action. Everybody knows the beat-to-death addage of the Zen master, the chopsticks and the fly. First off, I call bull-sh!t Secondly, nearly no-one ever gets this story right. C) Whatever. Point is, people have this idea that by "being all 'zen' n' stuff" you can simply react as if there is no thought needed, as if instinct alone will guide your body (or your mouth).

Uh. No.

We are constantly thinking. Constantly. Even when us Zen-types are trying our damnedest not to, the gears are grinding away between the ears, trying like hell to keep the machine going. Part of this is a good thing. Stopping all thought tends to lead to things like a permanent case of "death". But when strife or tumult happens--say, an argument--what happens with the brain and reaction?

When you stop listening, everything crashes. Every time. You start reacting from your own place of fear and insecurity. Why? Because you're no longer dealing with the other person. You've purposefully disconnected from them, and ergo, from the whole dynamic. You now have no ability to understand any further, because you don't know what's actually being said, and from that point on, you are acting unilaterally. You may think you're picking flies out of the air with chopsticks--reacting effortlessly from "instinct"--but in actuality, what you're doing is setting yourself up for much more grief than you'd have by being wholly present and dealing with the person by listening to what they're saying, even if you don't agree with them.

One of the key techniques/practices of Zen is "inquiry". Here's a tip: you can't "not think" and "inquire" at the same time. Apparently, thinking is important after all. Being able to inquire of yourself while strife and stress are happening in real time is damn handy. And it would have been really handy were I to have actually done any of it while dealing with this issue with my partner. Inquiries like "Who is feeling this frustration?" "Who is reacting?" "Where is the fear?" "What is my body feeling?" etc, can actually keep you more present, and defuse a lot of the "instinct" to react, because honestly, the human instinct in situations like that is almost always sure to be good-old "fight or flight". That is human instinct. And that is never helpful when it comes to understanding.

By the bye, in the chopstick story? The monk gets decapitated.

Stop.

Breathe.

Listen.

And by all means, keep your head.

The truth does in fact hurt, but it's better than the alternative...

2009-08-02T13:27:00.000-07:00

I hurt someone the other day. Badly. I tried my best to minimize the pain, but as is often the case, it didn't work out that way. What happens when you just realize that it's not right? What do you do?

When my marriage was struggling, I tried very hard to allow for the fact that what I was reacting to was the fear of change. I wanted very badly for things to stay the way they were. But I saw that the special person I loved so much needed to be allowed to change into who they needed to be. She needed to be authentic, and I needed to allow that. As painful as it was (and at times still is), it really was for the best. I tried to simply be with the change and accept it as one more turn in the wheel inside the machine that is the Universe. At least we still talk.

The person I hurt a few days ago is also a very special person. She is many things I wanted to be with, but in the end, I suddenly realized that--for a number of reasons--it wasn't right. A number of these reasons were about me and what I was either bringing, or not bringing, to the relationship. But unfortunately, I blind-sided her with my decision. I truly wish I could have done things differently, but it suddenly burst from me. I feel terrible about it. She lashed out with some very venomous word-attacks, and no matter how much they hurt me, I simply let them hit me. I had to. She has a right to feel that hurt.

My teacher says that when this happens, the karma is mostly decided by the intent behind the action. That's no real comfort to me right now. This woman has been openly criticizing me as a Buddhist, and the path in general. I can't really do anything about that, but it still bothers me. I know that I would not have been able to fulfill her needs, nor she mine. I want her to find the person that can be wholly and totally what she needs, and sooner rather than later. I didn't want to be wasting her time anymore. Not that my time with her was a waste (contrary to what she accused me of) but at the same time, working on something you know won't work is by definition a waste of time, and she deserves better than that.

Me? I think being alone is what I need right now. Not in that pathetic sort-of way. More along the lines of "chop wood, carry water".

I just wish I hadn't cut someone in the process...

I'm pretty sure that, as of this moment...

2009-07-31T15:22:00.000-07:00

...I am the biggest asshole on earth. This is what it feels like to implode; I remember it well. But I shouldn't be hurting someone else when this happens. This is heavy karma, and it blew right up into my face.

As it should...

Garage sale, anyone?

2009-07-24T11:24:00.001-07:00

So, by my math, for the price of one F-22 Raptor aircraft, you could buy about 15,360-some Toyota Priuses, or roughly 25,037 or so Smart Cars...

Just a thought...