Taking the Precepts on May 11, 2024

Matt Hass, Anne Fine, me, Alan Richardson, Rich Stretifeld and Ty Burr
photo by Corwyn Miyagishima

I'm still enjoying the glow of our recent precepts ceremony (jukai) last Saturday. We were able to celebrate at the Temple in person, and also on Zoom. Dharma Holder Michael Herzog was away in Florida celebrating Mother's Day with his mom, and David Roshi was recovering from a cold, so they both joined us in the zoom zendo. Along with the 40 folks in person, we had another 40 online, including a number of surprise guests, invited by some of the initiates: my own teacher James Ford Roshi, his wife and longtime practitioner Jan Seymour Ford, my dharma heir Bob Waldinger Roshi, and my old dharma friend Mu Soeng. They all shared some inspiring words, and then Dharma Holder Alan Richardson and I conducted the ceremony in person.

One of the features of our precepts ceremonies in Boundless Way Zen Temple is that we ask all the initiates to share their own reflections on each of the sixteen bodhisattva precepts. All four of the initiates, pictured here with Alan and me, demonstrated their insight into these guidelines for ethical behavior with depth and wit. We literally laughed and cried. And were inspired.

We also had the help of three of our Boundless Way Priests: Rev. Corwyn Miyagishima, who prepared the Temple for the ceremony, assisted by Rev. Paul Galvin and Rev. Ray Demers. And on Zoom, Assistant Teacher Jenny Smith provided technical support. I'm so grateful to all of them for fulfilling their own bodhisattva vows in this tangible way.

Below are the names of the initiates, along with their names in Japanese romanization, kanji and the English translation. Congratulations to all!

Ty Burr (Kanmu): 寛夢 Generous Vision

Rich Streitfeld (Kо̄ji): 荒慈 Wild Compassion

Anne Fine (Jingyо̄): 仁行 Benevolent Action

Matt Haas (Seikon): 誠魂 Sincere Spirit

Don't let us get sick

 I've recently become enchanted with a song that wasn't familiar to me, but that now is a favorite.  It's by Warren Zevon, and it was written a few years before he died in 2003, too young  I only knew his work through the delightful song "Werewolves of London" and it turns out that delight was a habit for Zevon, who was eccentric and plain speaking.  "Don't Let Us Get Sick" is from an album called "Life'll Kill Ya."

David and I heard the song on an episode of "Resident Alien" -- yet another source of delight -- a tv comedy about an alien who takes on the form of a human being after crash landing on earth and has to learn what it means to be an earthling.  The song has taken on a life of its own for me -- reflecting my own longing, after turning 70 and being sick quite a lot this winter, to avoid the first four of the Five Remembrances:

I am of the nature to grow old; There is no way to escape growing old. 

I am of the nature to have ill health; There is no way to escape 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 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. 

Zevon sings: "Don't let us get sick; don't let us get old; don't let us be stupid, ok?"

A great mantra for the moment -- it feels so important to accept that all of us want to deny reality, most of the time.  And Zen practice helps us to accept both the reality and the denial, in order to be complete human beings.   And maybe more important -- to not be stupid about it all.

"Through Right and Wrong" February Sesshin 2024

 In February we had a wonderful sesshin, in person at Boundless Way Zen Temple, and on Zoom.  Although I am writing now in the spring, I recall this deep experience with wonder.  I feel so lucky to be a part of this sangha!

Beginning again

Younger me

 For the past few years, I haven't been posting to this blog, except for photos and brief comments from our Zen sesshins (retreats) at Boundless Way Zen Temple.  I realized the other day that it would be a good idea to start writing again.  

I recently turned 70, and my accumulated years have given me a new perspective, not only about myself, but about the world. So much pain in the world, and in my own life, seems to come from making divisions and holding tightly to opposing views.  

A few weeks ago I accidentally encountered a former colleague who had caused me, and many people I care deeply about, quite a bit of pain a number of years ago.  When we saw each other, we exchanged surprised hugs.  I looked inside myself and could detect nothing angry, sad or afraid in my inner emotional field.  An exclamation,  a hug, smiles, and good-bye.  So simple, and such a relief!

The endless stories of distress and divisiveness that we hold on to so tightly are ways we humans use to cling to certain views that prevent us from seeing the underlying wholeness of life.  This wholeness is available all the time, and becomes detectable and sometimes vividly apparent through dedicated Zen practice.  Being with what is, without moving or looking away, allows the constructions of the mind to begin to dissolve and reveal what we miss when we are preoccupied with maintaining them.  

As Eihei Dogen, my 13th century Japanese Zen ancestor, says in his work "Genjokoan (the Way of Everyday Life)": "To study the Way is to study the self.  To study the self is to forget the self."  This forgetting, this dropping away, is only possible when we allow our attention to be with whatever the self has created to keep itself going.  Once that is done, it drops away on its own.  We can't make that happen, but we can set up conditions for these tastes of freedom.  Following these moments, something else will come along to cling to after the spaciousness wears off.  We don't turn into unfeeling Zen robots who never feel anything.  This practice is an endless series of being with, staying with and allowing of a dropping away of what binds us.  No forcing is required.  

May you find this easy, gentle way to release from the tight, twisted narratives that plague us all individually and as a planet.