And Yet

 

The Japanese poet Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827) wrote the following poem after his two year old daughter died:

tsuyu no yo wa 

tsuyu no yo nagara 

sari nagara

This world of dew

is a world of dew.

And yet ... and yet ....

Later, commenting on this poem, he wrote, "I knew that it was no use to cry, that water once flown past the bridge does not return and scattered blossoms are gone beyond recall. Yet try as I would, I could not, simply cut the binding cord of human love."  

Last week I lost a dear friend, who died after a full life at the age of 98.  I was lucky enough to be able to be with her the day before she died, holding her hand, breathing with her and quietly singing old jazz standards that both she and my mother and I had loved.  She and my mother had been best friends, and when my mother died 35 years ago, she became a second mother to me.  The two women had been pregnant at the same time, and both gave birth to daughters:  me and my oldest friend.  We four were all together when my mother died, and here we were again, only the three of us,  as one of us again passed from this world to whatever lies beyond.   As she lay dying, she kept saying, "I've been here a long time!" 

So many parts of this experience reflect the teachings of Zen.  We were facing impermanence and death and loss, and at the same time crying together and feeling our love for each other.  This world of dew, where everything vanishes like dew on a leaf in the morning sun, is indeed a world of dew.  There's no arguing with impermanence.  As much as we'd like it to be different, everything comes and goes.  So my friend was once alive, and now she is no longer on the planet in bodily form.  

Issa's "and yet...and yet" is the other side of this logical understanding.  We cannot "cut the binding cord of human love."  Our hearts break regularly.  As the recently deceased songwriter Stephen Sondheim sings "Sometimes people leave you, halfway through the wood."  It's just the way it is.  And yet...and yet.  

I miss my friend, and will continue to heal from her passing as time goes on, and her death recedes further and further into the past.  But she lives on in my heart, as do all my other loved ones who have left me in various ways.  Impermanence goes hand in hand with love and connection.  It's a mystery -- the great paradox of living a life in Zen -- facing into whatever arises and being as present as possible.  

Great Dreams Sesshin

 

The Boundless Way Temple sangha just completed the last online sesshin of 2021, the Rohatsu Distant Temple Bell Sesshin.  Our tanto, or "head seat" Rev. Corwyn MIyagishima, who organized and was the main support for the students taking the retreat, gave it the name "Great Dreams."  Rev. Corwyn in turn was supported by a wonderful team of "officers" who lead sesshin, doing timing for sitting and  and walking meditation, helping the teachers meet with students individually, and leading chanting and yoga.  My grateful thanks goes to them all:  Senior Assistant Teachers Rev. Paul Galvin, Jean Erlbaum, Michael Herzog,  Dharma Holder Alan Richardson and Jenny Smith, who was also the registrar.  

Zen communities everywhere traditionally hold a sesshin (Japanese for "to touch the heart-mind") every December.  This retreat honors the awakening experience of our original teacher, Shakyamuni Buddha, 2600 years ago, as he sat through the night and saw the morning star at daybreak.  (Rohatsu, in Japanese, means December 8, the traditional date on which this moment of clear understanding is celebrated as "Bodhi Day." ) 

We took up a Zen teaching story, or koan, in the Gateless Gate collection: Case number 25, about a dream that a teacher named Yangshan had in which he went to the heavenly realm of the future Buddha, Maitreya, and was asked to give a talk.  The collector of the Gateless Gate, Wumen, wrote a poem about Yangshan's experience, which contains the line, "he dreamed a dream within a dream."  Dreams of all kinds were mentioned in Dharma talks given by the four Guiding Teachers of Boundless Way Zen, Bob Waldinger, Sensei, Mike Fieleke Sensei, David Rynick, Roshi and myself, along with encouragement talks from Alan, Michael Herzog, and Rev. Corwyn.  

In this time, full of uncertainty in the face of the world situation and the ongoing pandemic, it can indeed feel like we are living in a dream.  Shakyamuni Buddha woke up from his own dream, and our practice together, now on zoom, and in the future in person (perhaps with an online component) is designed to help us awaken.  Join us when we come together again in February for another zoom sesshin.  Registration information will be found soon at Boundless Way Temple.

Mindfulness and Music

I recently received a recording of a piece of music composed and created by Dylan Galloghly, a musician from Australia.  In 2008, Dylan attended a training I taught in Adelaide, Australia for people who wanted to learn how to teach Mindfulness Based Cognitive Therapy.  One of the hallmarks of modern mindfulness as taught by Jon Kabat-Zinn, with whom I worked for twenty years at the Center for Mindfulness at the University of Massachusetts Medical School,   is the use of guided meditations.  In Zen practice we sit in silence, but in modern mindfulness practice we listen to a teacher guide and instruct us during the meditation period.  Dylan recorded me leading a basic breath meditation practice, and wove in various sounds to create the following piece of music, which Dylan gave me permission to share:  making music from mindfulness

Enjoy!