It is a rare period of zazen, morning or evening, that is not punctuated by a siren passing by; this is the joy of living in the city. This evening we were also treated to Led Zeppelin's 'Communication Breakdown' from a passing car, which brought a big smile to my face as I have deep visceral responses to that song going back to when I was twelve - followed soon after by someone getting a good workout on their car horn as they slowly progressed down the hill. Only when we sit before seven in the morning at weekends is there less traffic noise. And then we get the interruptions from inside - this week, a cell-phone going off, a watch that beeps at the top of the hour, and I have been reflecting on how my response to these sounds is different to my response to the external events - because the people with the watches and the cell-phones (and it is, let's face it, a regular occurrence these days) are part of our activity, and share responsibility for creating the container of stillness in a way that a passing motorist is not, and thus I hope that they bring a mindfulness to that responsibility, and can less equanimous when they don't.
As anyone who has sat zazen at Tassajara can testify, heading deep into the mountains is not a guarantee of silence - between the creek in the winter, the guests in the summer, and the blue jays pretty much year round, there is always something going on that you can get affixed to and irritated by if you want.
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Any time someone talks about needing to go away someplace quiet, they're usually surprised to hear the jays at Tassajara (at least in July) made it probably the noisiest place I've ever sat, including City Center. =)
"Communication Breakdown" made me smile, too - it seemed to be synchronistically commenting on the silence within the zendo, And the - I assume - very angry man who managed to beep his horn for what seemed to be the length of the block...no stillness there.
Silence during sitting. What an interesting concept. Morning sitting here in Mexico is done on my back porch (no zendo or temple nearby) and is accompanied by the crying of the baby next door (“next door” being only a few feet away); the singing of children on the way to school on the next block; the remnants of the all night party from the nearby house full of kids from Mexico City on vacation, the calls of the street vendors selling bottles of water, gas, or fruit; the parrots screeching, the geckos coughing. I try to think of the sounds less as interruptions and more as contributions of the sangha of which I am a part. But sometimes I think silence might be nice too.
Wow, I have never heard geckos coughing...I think that once you get used to a certain level of activity around you, you can find peace in that. I also sat at Zen on Main in Northampton, Massachusetts one summer, and that was, as the name suggests, right on Main St, so you got used to the traffic and hubbub, but I do remember being quite startled one day by loud shouting directly below the open window...
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