Do Not Try This At Home

This video was posted on YouTube by Mercedes-Benz Japan, with the following note: 

"As Mercedes-Benz Japan demonstrates in their newest video, even the Buddhist monks well trained in the art of Zazen are shaken by the high-performance of the #A45AMG 4MATIC. Do you think you could keep your composure around the world’s most powerful 4-cylinder series production engine?" 

So, my question is, how bizarre is the modern world?  

My answer:  "Please see for yourself!"

Seeing the Face

Buddha with bodhisattvas, 5th century China, Worcester Art Museum

Last Wednesday I gave my first gallery talk at the Worcester Art Museum.  I sketched in the basics of Buddhism and Zen, and guided everyone in contemplation of the two stone carvings of the historical Buddha.  The photo at the left is of the first statue we contemplated, and below is the second.

Sitting in silence, with eyes closed...and then opening to receive the face of these carvings, done so many centuries ago in China by other human beings who had realized for themselves something that we can encounter today.  The group that had gathered for the talk all had interesting experiences, from feelings of resistance to a deep peacefulness, and everything in between.

Zen Master Wumen once said, "Seeing the face is better than hearing the name."  Of course, he also said, "Hearing the name is better than seeing the face."  To resolve this matter, I recommend reading the poem below by David Whyte.  (Suggested by Betty Spargo -- thanks Betty!)

The Faces at Braga
by David Whyte

Head of Buddha, 6th century China, Worcester Art Museum 

In monastery darkness
by the light of one flashlight
the old shrine room waits in silence.

While above the door
we see the terrible figure,
fierce eyes demanding.  “Will you step through?”

And the old monk leads us,
bent back nudging blackness
prayer beads in the hand that beckons.

We light the butter lamps
and bow, eyes blinking in the
pungent smoke, look up without a word,

see faces in meditation,
a hundred faces carved above,
eye lines wrinkled in the hand held light.

Such love in solid wood!
Taken from the hillsides and carved in silence
they have the vibrant stillness of those who made them.

Engulfed by the past
they have been neglected, but through
smoke and darkness they are like the flowers

we have seen growing
through the dust of eroded slopes,
their slowly opening faces turned toward the mountain.

Carved in devotion
their eyes have softened through the age
and their mouths curve through the delight of the carver’s hand.

If only our own faces
would allow the invisible carver’s hand
to bring the deep grain of love to the surface.

If only we knew
as the carver knew, how the flaws
in the wood led his searching chisel to the very core,

we would smile too
and not need faces immobilized
by fear and the weight of things undone.

When we fight with our failing
we ignore the entrance to the shrine itself
and wrestle with the guardian, fierce figure on the side of good.

And as we fight
our eyes are hooded with grief
and our mouths are dry with pain.

If only we could give ourselves
to the blows of the carver’s hands,
the lines in our faces would be the trace lines of rivers

feeding the sea
where voices meet, praising the features
of the mountain and the cloud and the sky.

Our faces would fall away
until we, growing younger toward death
every day, would gather all our flaws in celebration

to merge with them perfectly,
impossibly, wedded to our essence,
full of silence from the carver’s hand.


from “Where Many Rivers Meet”
Many Rivers Press
Langley, Washington
davidwhyte.com

Thoughts on Zendo Etiquette Forms

A koan asks, "The world is vast and wide.  Why do you put on your 7-piece robe at the sound of the bell?"  Why do we have guidelines for practice forms in Boundless Way Zen? 

One of the answers to this question lies in the nature of the heart-mind, which is like a fire, uncontained.  Practice and its forms help us to create a container for this fire, which then becomes a form of energy that helps us to see more clearly and act with compassion. 

Another answer lies in the way we encounter each other as a Sangha, a community of persons of the Great Way.  We are all meeting the world through our own particular, ego-centered viewpoint.  In following forms, we bow and surrender to something greater than our small view.  We allow ourselves to feel the support of others in the community, and learn to act as one body, for the sake of all beings, not just for our own selfish needs. 

Yet another view of surrendering to practice forms lies in the teachings of one of our ancestors, Eihei Dogen, who encourages us to see our life of practice and the forms of practice as one.  When we bow, our awakened nature is bowing.  When we walk, our awakened nature is walking. 

Our forms are meant to be guidelines, not rigid rules.   They are intended to contain, unify and express our practice.  Zen is not about right and wrong, but about learning the true meaning of being human. 

Squandering Ourselves

Rev. Ray Ryudo Yushin Demers, Rev. Karen Ryudo Do'on Weik, Rev. Melissa Keido Myozen Blacker, Rev. Diane Ryudo Shoshin Fitzgerald, Rev. Robert Ryudo Tetsumu Waldinger and Rev. Michael Ryudo Shoryu Fieleke.  photo by Kate Hartland

Last week, during our Boundless Way Zen October sesshin, we held an ordination ceremony for Rev. Diane Ryudo Shoshin Fitzgerald, seen here with some of her fellow Boundless Way Zen priests  It was a joyous occasion.  I have had the privilege and pleasure to ordain everyone in the picture above, who received my priestly family name "Ryudo" which means "Dragon Hall."  

Boundless Way priests generally live in the world, and have jobs and families. In choosing to ordain, we demonstrate our commitment to the Great Way through our common knowledge that serving the Dharma lies at the core of our being.  We don't favor priests over laypeople in Boundless Way, and recognize that taking public, formal vows of service is not for everyone.  But for the few who decide that this makes sense on the deepest level, we offer this ceremony and path.  

Today, my daily calendar quotes John Mason Brown, an American critic and writer: "The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose."  It seems like a pretty accurate definition for this particular path of service.   

The Voice, Kindness and Grace

Adam Levine, CeeLo Green, Christina Aguilera and Blake Shelton

One of my secret pleasures -- well, now that I'm writing about it on my blog, not so secret -- is watching the television show "The Voice."  My daughter, who is a professional singer, recommended it to me.  She was impressed with how the four singers who act as coaches to aspiring performers offer real wisdom about singing.

Even though it's a reality show, with all of the strange, scripted manipulative moments and hooey that this implies, there are moments that make me  genuinely laugh and cry.  The Voice is saturated with a sense of respect and appreciation -- for human beings who stand up on a stage and expose their hearts to criticism and judgment.  Unlike other singing competition shows I've seen (briefly, because they're so painful to me), there is no cruelty or mockery.  The coaches seem to go out of their way to say what's true, even if it's direct criticism, and always offer encouragement to the rejected competitors to keep on with their training and performing.  And the eliminated contestants themselves bow down with grace and humility as they leave the stage.

Kindness and grace are rare in the world these days.  Many people seem to make a regular practice of finding fault with others.  Although it's sometimes hard for me to understand why the climate of criticism in popular culture has become so pervasive,  I have come to realize that even cruel comments are simply a demonstration of the desire to connect, to be part of the conversation.   It's so easy to find fault, that making a practice of commenting and also being kind is a rare and valuable action.

As Torei Enji reminds us in his Bodhisattva's Vow: "Even though someone may be a fool, we can be compassionate.  When someone turns against us, speaking ill of us and treating us bitterly, it's best to bow down.  This is the Buddha appearing before us, finding ways to free us from our own attachments, the very ones that have made us suffer again and again and again."

Does this mean that the judges on "The Voice" are Buddhas and Bodhisattvas?  Sure -- and if Christina Aguilera, Adam Levine, CeeLo Green and Blake Shelton can lean into being direct and  kind,  than so can we all.

Wash your bowl and make your bed

The other night I was watching the quite amazing television show, "The Bridge,"  an adaptation of a Danish/Swedish show, set on the Mexican/Texas border.  The Bridge is fairly violent, but never shies away from the heart-crushing effects of violence on human beings.  Please be warned, the violence on the Bridge feels more real than in most television programs, and can be quite shocking to watch.  I am lucky enough to know, whenever I watch television or a movie, that the people doing the violence are actors, on sets, speaking lines, enacting stage directions.  Show me a news report about Syria, or Kenya, or a football game, and I have to look away...I have no capacity for watching real violence.

One of the heroes of The Bridge is an El Paso police detective, Sonya (played by Diane Kruger), a woman with difficulties relating to others, who may or may not be on the autism spectrum, still coping with the brutal death of her sister many years ago.  Her Mexican partner, Marco (played by Demian Bichir), is grieving his son's recent murder by a serial killer.   Sonya is barely capable of friendship or real relationship, but she and Marco have learned to function well as a team, and Sonya is also devoted to her boss, Hank, who treats her with respect and as much affection (very little) as she can tolerate.  Hank has encouraged her to reach out to Marco in his grief.

Marco has been holed up in his Juarez home for a month, deserted by his wife and other children, sleeping, drinking and growing a very admirable beard. After rescuing him from a bar the night before, putting him to bed, and then cooking him eggs for breakfast, Sonya asks him, "Did you make your bed?"  Marco responds, "What are you, my mother?" And Sonya says, "When my sister died I stayed with Hank and his wife for a while.  Carmen had one rule for me:  'Always get up and make your bed.'  No matter how bad I felt, I had to face the day."

Many people know the koan, case 7 in the Gateless Gate,  where a young monk comes to study with the great Chinese teacher Zhaozhou, who,  in response to his request for teaching, asks "have you eaten your rice gruel?"  When the monk says yes, Zhaozhou says, "Wash your bowl."

Life is full of difficulty and suffering, and the discursive mind loves to figure out what to do, to interfere and make theories.  But the life of the heart is deeply and simply connected to the life of everyday activities.  Fully engaged in moving along, no matter how we feel, facing the day -- this is what is required.  So simple.  So healing. So human.

Wash your bowl.  Make your bed.  Stay connected.

Inspiring words from Ramana Maharshi

My dear friend Amy Zoll sent me the following quote from Ramana Maharshi, the beloved 20th century Indian sage.  I've always believed that what we do in the world is not so much about the words we use or even what we actually do, but about how we are, and that our presence is a direct reflection of our sincere devotion to our meditation practice.

Annamalai Swami, in his book "Living by the Words of Bhagavan",  writes:

"Bhagavan taught that one should reform oneself rather than find fault with others.  In practical terms this means that one should find the source of one's own mind rather than make complaints about other people's minds and actions.  I can remember a typical reply that Bhagavan gave on this subject.

A devotee , who was quite intimate with Bhagavan, asked him, 'Some of the devotees who live with Bhagavan behave very strangely.  They seem to do many things that Bhagavan does not approve of.  Why does Bhagavan not correct them?'

Bhagavan replied, 'Correcting oneself is correcting the whole world.  The sun is simply bright.  It does not correct anyone.  Because it shines the whole world is full of light.  Transforming yourself is a means of giving light tot he whole world.'