The most notable thing about the transition into the “outside world” from the monastery is that Life-- the inner world--is unchanged: there is still the unyielding continuity of time, great swaths of forgetfulness about the basic truth of reality, and then moments when the truth punches through, and the world is fresh and real and unshrouded for a short time.
Last week, Rob and I were mired in two to three days of frustration and frequent conflict. I am reminded yet again of the power of the various “voices” that comprise personality: they were moving about near the surface, and occasionally a fearful child or angry parent would breach the barrier and assert itself.
Finally we had a real “fight”, meaning the voices were consciously aired and heard. Somehow we were able to say what was going on internally--why we were hurt, for example-- while maintaining a broader knowledge that the voice was only telling a small and very subjective part of the story.
Importantly, we were also quite remorseful about our hurtful thoughts and actions. How could you not regret the sad and unflattering stuff that’s been dwelling inside, waiting to be triggered by upheaval and misunderstanding? Without that recognition and regret, the psychological hurt would be much more persistent.
In the wake of that event, both of us have had tremendous energy, just as a person does after a formal Voice Dialogue session (where the various subpersonalities are allowed to air their views without being squashed--or believed without question). It seems easy to get things done, and life is much smoother than before. Initially, it would take all day to run errands that amounted to almost-nothing!
Even before this clearing-of-the-psychic-crap, both Rob and I had begun to notice a real change in one another: our skin is rosy; our eyes are bright; our lips are red. We look beautiful, in other words. Must be all that sleep. And access to tremendous, fresh, organic food!
Now if we could only get internet service....
The far more mysterious issue is what I’m actually going to DO with my time here, especially in terms of making money. I bought a computer so I could do freelance writing, editing, and web design.
The low-budget alternatives didn’t make much sense, so now I’m the proud owner of a (beautiful) new Macintosh iBook. Which I now need to pay for! And so the cycle begins anew, as they say on the nature shows.
I am continually reminding myself that the goal of this sojourn in Corvallis, however long it lasts, is to determine direction for the next stage of this life.
The overally direction is clear, with no question other than “how?” Unfolding the Dharma --those deep truths that Buddhist practice uncovers with shocking effectiveness--is the foremost matter, the foundation, and the reason for being here.
But how to live it? How best to employ this life energy in the manner that is most suitable and necessary to the world? I know the answer must necessarily be right in front of me, but I can’t quite make it out. Or admit to it.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Monday, August 29, 2005
Rob's Fridge Poetry
We have a fridge now. and on it are many little word-magnets. We live with Mushin, and all of us love poetry. Here's what Rob composed:
leap over Self
be thousand Summer Mad Friends
see Thus True Stuff
leap over Self
be thousand Summer Mad Friends
see Thus True Stuff
Saturday, August 27, 2005
On Being a Woman with Very Little Hair
I could have grown my hair in anticipation of leaving the monastery, but I find that I prefer to have super-short hair. Besides being far easier and cheaper to care for than a regular hair "do," it also frees me from a certain kind of self-beautifying behavior which I don't particularly want to cultivate. And it conveys a certain sense of difference, indicating that I am not exactly like everyone else.
When I lived at the monastery, I gradually became comfortable with being looked at when I went to town. even in this university town, people look at me. But, unlike the rural Scandanvian folks around Clatskanie, some Corvallians actually keep looking at me.
Perhaps it’s not actually about me at all? They could just be spacing out--and I happen to be wandering through their line of sight. Even so, being in plainclothes in the world entails a loss of advertised identity, which forces me to contemplate who I am-- and who I want others to think I am.
When I was wearing samue (the little kung-fu work jacket that is the semiofficial monastery uniform), it was clear that I was in some sort of “club”-- or possibly a cult! The monastery is part of the local color in the tiny burg of Clatskanie, and is pretty well-known in the surrounding region. So although people may look, and look away, they know who they’re looking at.
Wearing the samue, I knew that my behavior reflected on the monastery, and on Buddhism. Any openness, generosity, or kindness I manifested also had an educational benefit. Now I am how I am, without obviously being a public-relations advertisement.
After so long as the public face of a zen monastery, now I embody the practice without anyone knowing what I am. Beyond being anonymous; I’m unrecognized. And my own sense of myself as a practitioner is no longer reinforced by others’ recognition.
Now, recollecting my vows and practice must come from the inside, because nobody around here knows me from a cute lesbian chick.
When I lived at the monastery, I gradually became comfortable with being looked at when I went to town. even in this university town, people look at me. But, unlike the rural Scandanvian folks around Clatskanie, some Corvallians actually keep looking at me.
Perhaps it’s not actually about me at all? They could just be spacing out--and I happen to be wandering through their line of sight. Even so, being in plainclothes in the world entails a loss of advertised identity, which forces me to contemplate who I am-- and who I want others to think I am.
When I was wearing samue (the little kung-fu work jacket that is the semiofficial monastery uniform), it was clear that I was in some sort of “club”-- or possibly a cult! The monastery is part of the local color in the tiny burg of Clatskanie, and is pretty well-known in the surrounding region. So although people may look, and look away, they know who they’re looking at.
Wearing the samue, I knew that my behavior reflected on the monastery, and on Buddhism. Any openness, generosity, or kindness I manifested also had an educational benefit. Now I am how I am, without obviously being a public-relations advertisement.
After so long as the public face of a zen monastery, now I embody the practice without anyone knowing what I am. Beyond being anonymous; I’m unrecognized. And my own sense of myself as a practitioner is no longer reinforced by others’ recognition.
Now, recollecting my vows and practice must come from the inside, because nobody around here knows me from a cute lesbian chick.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Article for Northwest Dharma News
A Dharma “Family” Gathers
Over three days in mid-May, Zen Teachers in the lineage of Taizan Maezumi Roshi gathered at Great Vow Zen Monastery in Clatskanie, Oregon. This “White Plum Sangha,” now includes 44 teachers spread over four “generations.” These teachers meet annually in order to support one another, and to reinforce an affinity born of long years of practice together. This year, about half of them converged on the fledgling Great Vow Zen Monastery, founded three years ago by Chozen and Hogen Bays, themselves disciples of Maezumi Roshi. Notably, this year’s meeting coincided with the tenth anniversary of Maezumi Roshi’s death on May 15, 1995. A memorial ceremony was held to mark the occasion, and to celebrate this visionary teacher’s legacy and his vow to plant the seeds of the dharma in the West.
Maezumi Roshi came to the US in 1965 to minister to Japanese-Americans in Los Angeles. He established Zen Center of Los Angeles in 1967 and eventually ordained 68 Zen priests and gave jukai (lay ordination) to over 500 individuals in the US. Bill Yoshin Jordan, a White Plum teacher who lived at the center for fourteen years, remembers the atmosphere in the 70s and 80s as “very alive and very, very dynamic.” Sesshin (weeklong retreats) in that era sometimes included a hundred people, and over a hundred Sangha members lived at the center or in the immediate neighborhood.
Jordan notes that the “extraordinary sense of exploring a new world” has today given way to “a much more mature and adult practice” in the wake of reorganization and renewal in the late 80s. Today, ZCLA, also known as Buddha Essence Temple, is under the guidance of Roshi Wendy Egyoku Nagao. From the central spiritual touchstone of this “mother temple”, Maezumi Roshi’s disciples have developed innovative teaching techniques and a number of skilful means to bring the dharma to life in the West. Roshi Egyoku lauds the wonderful ability of her fellow teachers to both experiment and “to support each other in their own unique evolution.”
And unique they are. Among those in attendance at the May gathering was Roshi Bernie Tetsugen Glassman, head of the Zen Peacemaker Order, the founder of several community-oriented businesses providing employment and job training to underserved communities-- and a practicing clown. Roshi Dennis Genpo Merzel, president of the White Plum Sangha, has packaged a taste of enlightenment into a workshop format bringing the experience of “Big Mind” to thousands of novice meditators. Father Robert Kennedy, a Jesuit priest and lay dharma teacher, practices as a Catholic enriched by Zen insight and is a prominent figure in interfaith dialogue. Barry Kaigen McMahon is an airline pilot as well as a Zen teacher; Charles and Ellen Birx’s spiritual quest together began as a young couple living among the Navajo. Each of these teachers embodies a new and developing aspect of Maezumi Roshi’s heritage. Chozen Bays called it “genius… his ability to see the Buddha nature and the teaching potential in many different kinds of people.”
In the ceremonial core of the meeting, this collection of individuals merged into a whole: joined by their hosts and the ordained novice priests at Great Vow, the White Plum disciples honored their teacher in a memorial service that was traditional, poignant, and momentarily humorous. To have come to this time—and to be the leaders of the largest Soto Zen body outside of Japan—seemed cause indeed for gratitude and reflection.
The gala climax of the meeting was a gourmet dinner served on fine silver and china in the monastery dining hall. After the plates were cleared and dessert was served, the assembly was treated to a beautiful documentary of Maezumi Roshi’s life and times, prepared by Yoshin Bill Jordan’s students at the Santa Monica Zen Center. This short piece featured rare images from his years in Japan and the US, as well as photographs from the early years of ZCLA which showed much-younger versions of many faces in the audience.
A cadre of monastery residents rounded out the evening with an atypical flourish that is fast becoming a Great Vow trademark: a rousing ensemble performance on the marimbas, West-African xylophones which produce exhilarating music. Everyone cheered and clapped along, quite at home with the joys and juxtapositions of present-day Zen practice.
Supporting the teachers of today, inspiring the teachers of tomorrow
This is the third national gathering of Zen teachers hosted by Great Vow Zen Monastery in the last two years. In 2004, the American Zen Teachers’ Association (AZTA) and the Soto Zen Buddhist Association (SZBA) both held their annual meetings at this young and vibrant training temple. The monastery’s beautiful views, rural setting, and twenty acres of meadows and woods make for a relaxing and invigorating retreat. The guest wing of the main building sleeps forty people easily, although in summertime many opt instead to sleep outdoors in tents.
Abbots Chozen and Hogen Bays emphasize welcoming guests of all sorts, and Great Vow Zen Monastery holds a steady sequence of weekend workshops, weeklong meditation retreats, and special events such as a Pan-Buddhist 4th of July Picnic and the 24-hour Interfaith Chant for Peace. Teachers’ meetings are a special treat: the mood is informal, and conversations start readily. Sometimes they merely satisfy one’s curiosity, but often they take a turn into some profound and powerful territory. Talking with them gives today’s young monastics a sense of the incredible dedication and fortitude that is asked of those who follow this path.
Originally trained as a research scientist, Shugetsu D Garigan is re-entering lay life after two and a half years as a resident at Tassajara Zen Mountain Center in California, and Great Vow Zen Monastery in Oregon.
Over three days in mid-May, Zen Teachers in the lineage of Taizan Maezumi Roshi gathered at Great Vow Zen Monastery in Clatskanie, Oregon. This “White Plum Sangha,” now includes 44 teachers spread over four “generations.” These teachers meet annually in order to support one another, and to reinforce an affinity born of long years of practice together. This year, about half of them converged on the fledgling Great Vow Zen Monastery, founded three years ago by Chozen and Hogen Bays, themselves disciples of Maezumi Roshi. Notably, this year’s meeting coincided with the tenth anniversary of Maezumi Roshi’s death on May 15, 1995. A memorial ceremony was held to mark the occasion, and to celebrate this visionary teacher’s legacy and his vow to plant the seeds of the dharma in the West.
Maezumi Roshi came to the US in 1965 to minister to Japanese-Americans in Los Angeles. He established Zen Center of Los Angeles in 1967 and eventually ordained 68 Zen priests and gave jukai (lay ordination) to over 500 individuals in the US. Bill Yoshin Jordan, a White Plum teacher who lived at the center for fourteen years, remembers the atmosphere in the 70s and 80s as “very alive and very, very dynamic.” Sesshin (weeklong retreats) in that era sometimes included a hundred people, and over a hundred Sangha members lived at the center or in the immediate neighborhood.
Jordan notes that the “extraordinary sense of exploring a new world” has today given way to “a much more mature and adult practice” in the wake of reorganization and renewal in the late 80s. Today, ZCLA, also known as Buddha Essence Temple, is under the guidance of Roshi Wendy Egyoku Nagao. From the central spiritual touchstone of this “mother temple”, Maezumi Roshi’s disciples have developed innovative teaching techniques and a number of skilful means to bring the dharma to life in the West. Roshi Egyoku lauds the wonderful ability of her fellow teachers to both experiment and “to support each other in their own unique evolution.”
And unique they are. Among those in attendance at the May gathering was Roshi Bernie Tetsugen Glassman, head of the Zen Peacemaker Order, the founder of several community-oriented businesses providing employment and job training to underserved communities-- and a practicing clown. Roshi Dennis Genpo Merzel, president of the White Plum Sangha, has packaged a taste of enlightenment into a workshop format bringing the experience of “Big Mind” to thousands of novice meditators. Father Robert Kennedy, a Jesuit priest and lay dharma teacher, practices as a Catholic enriched by Zen insight and is a prominent figure in interfaith dialogue. Barry Kaigen McMahon is an airline pilot as well as a Zen teacher; Charles and Ellen Birx’s spiritual quest together began as a young couple living among the Navajo. Each of these teachers embodies a new and developing aspect of Maezumi Roshi’s heritage. Chozen Bays called it “genius… his ability to see the Buddha nature and the teaching potential in many different kinds of people.”
In the ceremonial core of the meeting, this collection of individuals merged into a whole: joined by their hosts and the ordained novice priests at Great Vow, the White Plum disciples honored their teacher in a memorial service that was traditional, poignant, and momentarily humorous. To have come to this time—and to be the leaders of the largest Soto Zen body outside of Japan—seemed cause indeed for gratitude and reflection.
The gala climax of the meeting was a gourmet dinner served on fine silver and china in the monastery dining hall. After the plates were cleared and dessert was served, the assembly was treated to a beautiful documentary of Maezumi Roshi’s life and times, prepared by Yoshin Bill Jordan’s students at the Santa Monica Zen Center. This short piece featured rare images from his years in Japan and the US, as well as photographs from the early years of ZCLA which showed much-younger versions of many faces in the audience.
A cadre of monastery residents rounded out the evening with an atypical flourish that is fast becoming a Great Vow trademark: a rousing ensemble performance on the marimbas, West-African xylophones which produce exhilarating music. Everyone cheered and clapped along, quite at home with the joys and juxtapositions of present-day Zen practice.
Supporting the teachers of today, inspiring the teachers of tomorrow
This is the third national gathering of Zen teachers hosted by Great Vow Zen Monastery in the last two years. In 2004, the American Zen Teachers’ Association (AZTA) and the Soto Zen Buddhist Association (SZBA) both held their annual meetings at this young and vibrant training temple. The monastery’s beautiful views, rural setting, and twenty acres of meadows and woods make for a relaxing and invigorating retreat. The guest wing of the main building sleeps forty people easily, although in summertime many opt instead to sleep outdoors in tents.
Abbots Chozen and Hogen Bays emphasize welcoming guests of all sorts, and Great Vow Zen Monastery holds a steady sequence of weekend workshops, weeklong meditation retreats, and special events such as a Pan-Buddhist 4th of July Picnic and the 24-hour Interfaith Chant for Peace. Teachers’ meetings are a special treat: the mood is informal, and conversations start readily. Sometimes they merely satisfy one’s curiosity, but often they take a turn into some profound and powerful territory. Talking with them gives today’s young monastics a sense of the incredible dedication and fortitude that is asked of those who follow this path.
Originally trained as a research scientist, Shugetsu D Garigan is re-entering lay life after two and a half years as a resident at Tassajara Zen Mountain Center in California, and Great Vow Zen Monastery in Oregon.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Taking Leave
I'd like to say that I'm packing and getting all my things ready to move down to Corvallis next week. In reality, I'm much more focused on wrapping up all the work-related projects I've taken on at the monastery. This actually feels fine; there doesn't seem to be much barrier between personal and work tasks. Given the choice, I would prefer to do the various things that count as work. Then, when it's time to stop, I stop.
I know I can throw all my things in the truck if time is short. I can't just throw ZenWorks orders--and the linen closet and the piece I'm writing for NW Dharma News--away over my shoulder as I drive off into the Willamette Valley for nine months or forever.
This acceptance of work as what I'd like to be doing anyway is part of a new trend. I've also noticed that I'm just not upset by the million things that used to yank my chain. Creepy visitors to the monastery; last-minute changes of plan; coyotes attacking the neighbor's cows while I sleep nearby; telephone rudeness; strange behavior by the usual suspects-- it doesn't seem to faze me. Once it's over, I idly realize that the exact same situation would have me belching flames a couple of months ago.
I don't know how long this will last, but I have to say: it's sure a lot less trouble than getting pissed off all the time!
I know I can throw all my things in the truck if time is short. I can't just throw ZenWorks orders--and the linen closet and the piece I'm writing for NW Dharma News--away over my shoulder as I drive off into the Willamette Valley for nine months or forever.
This acceptance of work as what I'd like to be doing anyway is part of a new trend. I've also noticed that I'm just not upset by the million things that used to yank my chain. Creepy visitors to the monastery; last-minute changes of plan; coyotes attacking the neighbor's cows while I sleep nearby; telephone rudeness; strange behavior by the usual suspects-- it doesn't seem to faze me. Once it's over, I idly realize that the exact same situation would have me belching flames a couple of months ago.
I don't know how long this will last, but I have to say: it's sure a lot less trouble than getting pissed off all the time!
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Shugetsu Dharma Talk
This is pretty much what I said in the dharma talk this morning.
Almost everyone from the monastery is in Japan, on a pilgrimage. In Japan, you are automatically a Buddhist. In the US you become a Buddhist. It’s a conscious act, and an unconventional one.
Christianity suffuses our consciousness. Everybody here recognizes Noah’s Ark, or Adam and Eve. If I say, “Jesus died for your sins,” you recognize that. I want to talk today about what Buddhism has to offer Christians and other religions, but first I want to talk about what it means to be a Buddhist.
Being a Buddhist means the Buddha is your teacher. You follow the teachings of Shakyamuni Buddha, a man who lived 2500 years ago in what is now northern India. Even at the time of the historical Buddha, there were people who wanted to be his disciples who had never met him. To become a disciple—this was before the days of the precepts and whatnot—to become a disciple of the historical Buddha, you recited the refuge vows. You solemnly intoned, “I take refuge in the Buddha. I take refuge in the Dharma. I take refuge in the Sangha.”
You can consider all the things we conventionally tend to take refuge in: the arms of a lover, money, or material possessions. And everybody here knows on some level that a shiny new car doesn’t really solve any of the world’s problems, at least not for long. And life has a way of taking it all away from us. Sixty years ago, on a hot summer morning, nobody in Hiroshima had any idea their world was about to change. One flash and everything’s gone. They thought it was a weather reconnaissance plane; they didn’t even bother to strafe it.
All we can do is to take refuge in what is really true. The inner experience of taking refuge in the Buddha is one of returning to our own enlightened mind, to clarity and compassion. Taking refuge in the Dharma is relying on our own capacity for understanding and generating language, for using it to understand the truth and share it with others. Without the capacity for language, both silent and spoken, we would not be human, and we certainly could not address the ideas that take us beyond suffering. Finally, we take refuge in the Sangha, in the truth of this physical body, the vehicle for our practice. We feel the truths of experience through the body, as the body, which feels so much joy and suffering. So taking refuge in the Three Treasures of Buddha, dharma and Sangha, means to take refuge in the purified aspects of mind, speech and body. Acting from that place, we create karma that is wholesome.
The purpose of this talk is to discuss what Buddhists can do for the world, how to bestow the three treasures upon the world. I don’t claim to have any final answers in this regard; these thoughts are very much a work in progress, something that I’m working with and trying to figure out for myself.
Turned outward, the Buddha treasure is our own calm mind, unruffled and brave. We can remain stable and clear in difficult situations, and help others to remain calm and see the truth of the matter.
The Dharma treasure is our ability to share the truth with others. There is so much in the Buddhist teachings that is of benefit to everybody, and it need not be presented to them within the context of the religion that preserves and protects the truths. Impermanence; Indra’s net, the interconnectedness of all things; the four noble Truths; the searing fact of karma, are tools that anyone can benefit from, especially people who want to work for positive change in the world, regardless of what form they hope it will take.
Our unpurified mind, speech and body don’t always bring about positive results, in spite of our good intentions. The gift we offer is born of our own practice, of cultivating the ability to look deeply at things, and to calmly hold and feel the great pain and contradictions of this world. By our continual activity of cultivating our mind, we increase the chance that our responses to things will be skilful, rather than fraught with fear, anger, or self-interest. So often, idealistic action doesn’t always lead to the best of consequences: at the very least, people burn out; at the worst, they actually cause a painful situation to deteriorate further.
Ideally, we should be able to offer people of all backgrounds a view that goes beyond the polarity of “good” and “evil.” We’ve all heard rhetoric about punishing evildoers, or that this other group is evil and must be destroyed. We should be able to offer an understanding of a situation as having arisen in dependence on myriad factors. An individual’s action can be evil, but not the person. They act as they do because of the events of their life and the choices they have made, whether consciously or out of habit. And their habits themselves are a result of cultivation. The predilections one is born with—which we tend to see as biological—are classically described as the result of karma generated in previous lifetimes.
It’s important that this softening of a polarized identity extend to ourselves. We all know how easy it is to imagine that we are “good,” and that by doing the right things, whether it’s recycling, or our favorite activism, or really working hard at practice, we will assure ourselves a safe and favorable outcome. This is exactly the problem of fundamentalism that leads to violence. Years ago, it seemed that we were in a rational age, that religious conflicts were relics of the past. We thought we were in an age of reason, that you could think of the Crusades from a geopolitical perspective. Now we see that religious violence is the wave of the future. Beyond the reasons governments have for encouraging violence, humans on their own are willing to hurt one another for the sake of religion.
People are so convinced of the necessity to preserve a religious tradition, and the values system and cultural lifestyle that it represents, that they are willing to do terrible things in order to make the world safe for their religious tradition. We have to see that this tendency extends beyond the players in the nightly news, and is found within each one of us. I spend a lot of time with progressive-minded folks, and I can tell you that the progressive, liberal version of this delusion is to believe that, when the revolution comes, we’ll be spared because we voted the right way and sympathized with the right causes. As if somehow life won’t hurt us if we just do all the right things, whatever we want to believe those are.
It is extremely important that we look at ourselves and identify our own myths about virtue and rightness, and how we’re going to escape suffering and create a controllable world one day when everything goes our way. And we have to be able to see who we have stereotyped as evil. Recently I was showing a group around the monastery, and we came to a huge truckload of really beautiful topsoil that had been donated to the garden by Longview Fiber. Several people didn’t quite know how to comprehend that Longview Fiber could do such a thing—they’re evil because they kill trees! This is not to say that killing trees is good, but that whole scope of things is much more complex and interesting that we want it to be.
In zazen, we are able to touch a deep place of true safety and stability in an uncertain world. The Zen tradition is held within the context of Buddhism, and other religions contain within them contemplative traditions that lead practitioners to that same deep place. It makes me extremely sad to hear Muslims being typecast, or Christians being demeaned, because everyone is yearning for that deep place, and valuing the tradition that helps them find it. Followers of those traditions, the vast majority, would be shocked and stunned to think that others think of them as violent, terrorists, baby-murderers.
We need to really be honest with ourselves about the myths we use to make ourselves feel good and safe.
And then we come to the question, “what do I actually do in the world?” I don’t know, but I have a sense that what is needed is always right in front of us, if only we are willing to see it. If our motivation is clear and not self-serving, whatever will undertake will have a wholesome quality to it. We may not ever see it turn out the way we’d expect, but hopefully we’ll have no regrets either.
Almost everyone from the monastery is in Japan, on a pilgrimage. In Japan, you are automatically a Buddhist. In the US you become a Buddhist. It’s a conscious act, and an unconventional one.
Christianity suffuses our consciousness. Everybody here recognizes Noah’s Ark, or Adam and Eve. If I say, “Jesus died for your sins,” you recognize that. I want to talk today about what Buddhism has to offer Christians and other religions, but first I want to talk about what it means to be a Buddhist.
Being a Buddhist means the Buddha is your teacher. You follow the teachings of Shakyamuni Buddha, a man who lived 2500 years ago in what is now northern India. Even at the time of the historical Buddha, there were people who wanted to be his disciples who had never met him. To become a disciple—this was before the days of the precepts and whatnot—to become a disciple of the historical Buddha, you recited the refuge vows. You solemnly intoned, “I take refuge in the Buddha. I take refuge in the Dharma. I take refuge in the Sangha.”
You can consider all the things we conventionally tend to take refuge in: the arms of a lover, money, or material possessions. And everybody here knows on some level that a shiny new car doesn’t really solve any of the world’s problems, at least not for long. And life has a way of taking it all away from us. Sixty years ago, on a hot summer morning, nobody in Hiroshima had any idea their world was about to change. One flash and everything’s gone. They thought it was a weather reconnaissance plane; they didn’t even bother to strafe it.
All we can do is to take refuge in what is really true. The inner experience of taking refuge in the Buddha is one of returning to our own enlightened mind, to clarity and compassion. Taking refuge in the Dharma is relying on our own capacity for understanding and generating language, for using it to understand the truth and share it with others. Without the capacity for language, both silent and spoken, we would not be human, and we certainly could not address the ideas that take us beyond suffering. Finally, we take refuge in the Sangha, in the truth of this physical body, the vehicle for our practice. We feel the truths of experience through the body, as the body, which feels so much joy and suffering. So taking refuge in the Three Treasures of Buddha, dharma and Sangha, means to take refuge in the purified aspects of mind, speech and body. Acting from that place, we create karma that is wholesome.
The purpose of this talk is to discuss what Buddhists can do for the world, how to bestow the three treasures upon the world. I don’t claim to have any final answers in this regard; these thoughts are very much a work in progress, something that I’m working with and trying to figure out for myself.
Turned outward, the Buddha treasure is our own calm mind, unruffled and brave. We can remain stable and clear in difficult situations, and help others to remain calm and see the truth of the matter.
The Dharma treasure is our ability to share the truth with others. There is so much in the Buddhist teachings that is of benefit to everybody, and it need not be presented to them within the context of the religion that preserves and protects the truths. Impermanence; Indra’s net, the interconnectedness of all things; the four noble Truths; the searing fact of karma, are tools that anyone can benefit from, especially people who want to work for positive change in the world, regardless of what form they hope it will take.
Our unpurified mind, speech and body don’t always bring about positive results, in spite of our good intentions. The gift we offer is born of our own practice, of cultivating the ability to look deeply at things, and to calmly hold and feel the great pain and contradictions of this world. By our continual activity of cultivating our mind, we increase the chance that our responses to things will be skilful, rather than fraught with fear, anger, or self-interest. So often, idealistic action doesn’t always lead to the best of consequences: at the very least, people burn out; at the worst, they actually cause a painful situation to deteriorate further.
Ideally, we should be able to offer people of all backgrounds a view that goes beyond the polarity of “good” and “evil.” We’ve all heard rhetoric about punishing evildoers, or that this other group is evil and must be destroyed. We should be able to offer an understanding of a situation as having arisen in dependence on myriad factors. An individual’s action can be evil, but not the person. They act as they do because of the events of their life and the choices they have made, whether consciously or out of habit. And their habits themselves are a result of cultivation. The predilections one is born with—which we tend to see as biological—are classically described as the result of karma generated in previous lifetimes.
It’s important that this softening of a polarized identity extend to ourselves. We all know how easy it is to imagine that we are “good,” and that by doing the right things, whether it’s recycling, or our favorite activism, or really working hard at practice, we will assure ourselves a safe and favorable outcome. This is exactly the problem of fundamentalism that leads to violence. Years ago, it seemed that we were in a rational age, that religious conflicts were relics of the past. We thought we were in an age of reason, that you could think of the Crusades from a geopolitical perspective. Now we see that religious violence is the wave of the future. Beyond the reasons governments have for encouraging violence, humans on their own are willing to hurt one another for the sake of religion.
People are so convinced of the necessity to preserve a religious tradition, and the values system and cultural lifestyle that it represents, that they are willing to do terrible things in order to make the world safe for their religious tradition. We have to see that this tendency extends beyond the players in the nightly news, and is found within each one of us. I spend a lot of time with progressive-minded folks, and I can tell you that the progressive, liberal version of this delusion is to believe that, when the revolution comes, we’ll be spared because we voted the right way and sympathized with the right causes. As if somehow life won’t hurt us if we just do all the right things, whatever we want to believe those are.
It is extremely important that we look at ourselves and identify our own myths about virtue and rightness, and how we’re going to escape suffering and create a controllable world one day when everything goes our way. And we have to be able to see who we have stereotyped as evil. Recently I was showing a group around the monastery, and we came to a huge truckload of really beautiful topsoil that had been donated to the garden by Longview Fiber. Several people didn’t quite know how to comprehend that Longview Fiber could do such a thing—they’re evil because they kill trees! This is not to say that killing trees is good, but that whole scope of things is much more complex and interesting that we want it to be.
In zazen, we are able to touch a deep place of true safety and stability in an uncertain world. The Zen tradition is held within the context of Buddhism, and other religions contain within them contemplative traditions that lead practitioners to that same deep place. It makes me extremely sad to hear Muslims being typecast, or Christians being demeaned, because everyone is yearning for that deep place, and valuing the tradition that helps them find it. Followers of those traditions, the vast majority, would be shocked and stunned to think that others think of them as violent, terrorists, baby-murderers.
We need to really be honest with ourselves about the myths we use to make ourselves feel good and safe.
And then we come to the question, “what do I actually do in the world?” I don’t know, but I have a sense that what is needed is always right in front of us, if only we are willing to see it. If our motivation is clear and not self-serving, whatever will undertake will have a wholesome quality to it. We may not ever see it turn out the way we’d expect, but hopefully we’ll have no regrets either.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Fearless Life
"...One of the keys to going ahead and conquering fear is to ignore your moods.
Ignore it when you feel like you really don't want to do whatever it is today. Ignore it when you feel like you can't be bothered. Forget all that because often you start the day feeling bad-- feeling like you don't want to do something or you are treading water and getting nowhere or you can't keep going-- and the day turns out to be one of the best you're ever going to have.
You have to leave yourself open to possibility. By staying in the moment regardless of how you actually feel, you leave yourself open for surprises, on both a big and small scale.
That was my first lesson."
Christopher Reeve, 1952-2004, from a speech at the Omega Institute
Ignore it when you feel like you really don't want to do whatever it is today. Ignore it when you feel like you can't be bothered. Forget all that because often you start the day feeling bad-- feeling like you don't want to do something or you are treading water and getting nowhere or you can't keep going-- and the day turns out to be one of the best you're ever going to have.
You have to leave yourself open to possibility. By staying in the moment regardless of how you actually feel, you leave yourself open for surprises, on both a big and small scale.
That was my first lesson."
Christopher Reeve, 1952-2004, from a speech at the Omega Institute
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Losing Everything
I started a post last week, talking about everything I've been losing lately. Not losing in the metaphysical or psychological sense, but literally misplacing.
I spent a week mourning the loss of my diary. Without it, I'm just a lumbering body and mind with no recollection of ever having said or thought anything wise or insightful.
After going back to Portland to track it down, and giving many kind folks the opportunity to help me, I found the diary. Somehow it had crawled under the seat in Rob's car. It seemed OK for its week in the dark, although it did get stained when I spilled tea everywhere while pulling out of the driveway.
My wristwatch is still gone, but I have hope. Putting a little note asking for its safe return on my altar is as effective as any other strategem. Certainly, looking everywhere for it hasn't borne any fruit.
There is a more profound and important sense of loss happening, and it's begun since I drafted that first post. Then, I mused in a sort of half-hearted way, wondering what would be next. My hat? My camera? Deep inside, I was thinking, "My life? My friends? Rob? Hikari? Meave or Ann or Dan?"
Finally, we lose everything. Loss of these tiny items is preparation; their return to us is an aberration. One day, nothing will come back to us. Our health; our loved ones; our memories; our very lives are all about to be mislaid, permanently assigned to some other time and place.
Right now, most of the monastery residents are away in Japan. There is only the slightest clue of their lives: a few pictures on a blog; an email here and there. Hogen called today, and my heart welled up at having a familiar conversation with a person of whom, I realize, I am quite fond.
The monastery building still bears the imprint of their lives here. It's like a scent in the air, this feeling that the room is full, that the dorm has bodies in it, that I am not meditating alone. But slowly this is fading, too. First the bodies go, and slowly the psychic energy fades, and then what? In fifty years, the building may be demolished, or home to another group, and all memory of these people I know so well will be lost forever.
In the meantime, I dedicate noon service to those on the pilgrimage in Japan, and wait to see which things return and which things, once lost, stay that way.
I spent a week mourning the loss of my diary. Without it, I'm just a lumbering body and mind with no recollection of ever having said or thought anything wise or insightful.
After going back to Portland to track it down, and giving many kind folks the opportunity to help me, I found the diary. Somehow it had crawled under the seat in Rob's car. It seemed OK for its week in the dark, although it did get stained when I spilled tea everywhere while pulling out of the driveway.
My wristwatch is still gone, but I have hope. Putting a little note asking for its safe return on my altar is as effective as any other strategem. Certainly, looking everywhere for it hasn't borne any fruit.
There is a more profound and important sense of loss happening, and it's begun since I drafted that first post. Then, I mused in a sort of half-hearted way, wondering what would be next. My hat? My camera? Deep inside, I was thinking, "My life? My friends? Rob? Hikari? Meave or Ann or Dan?"
Finally, we lose everything. Loss of these tiny items is preparation; their return to us is an aberration. One day, nothing will come back to us. Our health; our loved ones; our memories; our very lives are all about to be mislaid, permanently assigned to some other time and place.
Right now, most of the monastery residents are away in Japan. There is only the slightest clue of their lives: a few pictures on a blog; an email here and there. Hogen called today, and my heart welled up at having a familiar conversation with a person of whom, I realize, I am quite fond.
The monastery building still bears the imprint of their lives here. It's like a scent in the air, this feeling that the room is full, that the dorm has bodies in it, that I am not meditating alone. But slowly this is fading, too. First the bodies go, and slowly the psychic energy fades, and then what? In fifty years, the building may be demolished, or home to another group, and all memory of these people I know so well will be lost forever.
In the meantime, I dedicate noon service to those on the pilgrimage in Japan, and wait to see which things return and which things, once lost, stay that way.
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