Extra Hours

I always have the feeling during interim that there are more hours in the day, as I am not obliged to spend three of them following the schedule morning and afternoon. I have also been having longer days - yesterday I woke up at four and remembered that I hadn't put the instructions for the interim doan at the seat, so I went and did that, and found it impossible to get back to sleep afterwards, though since I ended up watching English football highlights, I didn't feel like I was really suffering.
After I managed to wrap up a number of loose ends at work yesterday, we had a large and lively Young Urban Zen meeting, and several of us took the usual after-party conversation down to a neighbouring cafe, with the result that I didn't get to bed until midnight. I still woke up this morning early enough to take down my art show and pack my bags for Tassajara before breakfast.
I am, for the first time, trying to get down to Carmel on various trains and buses, which I feel a little unsure about, but rides did not materialise in the end. I look forward to being there in time for dinner, and assuming I am able to get out again, I will be back in the online world in time for the Saturday program.

Work, Rest and Play

I have been noticing a paradox during my working hours, which I was tempted to call the horns of a dilemma, but that would be overstating it: some days it seems like I never get away from sitting at my desk looking at the computer, fielding e-mails and occasionally phone calls; I look at the list of projects that I keep on hand, and it feels like I never get anything done. Conversely, when I block off time, as I did on Friday, to empty out the cupboard in the ino's office which holds the City Center talks archive on cassette (so many illustrious names from the past, and how will we ever get to listen to them again?), to realign the shelves so I can store the gear we use for our audio-visual enterprises these days in the lockable cabinet that previously contained the old sound system, while it felt like a most useful accomplishment, also left me feeling like I had been neglecting my 'real' work.
I also need to remind myself constantly that part of my 'work' is just attending the activities I am supposed to be at: the morning and afternoon schedule, the dharma talks. But then, even though I offered to do the sound for the entertaining poetry reading on Friday night, I didn't consider that work, since I hadn't promised to do it beforehand, and hadn't expected to until I decided it would be the best way to spend the evening, which it probably was.
There was a less pleasant consequence to the event, though. Having removed the microphone and receiver from the Buddha Hall so that both Matthew Dickman and Matthew Zapruder could read with clip-on mics - and mostly the new sound system was excellent - and having replaced them after the event, at ten o'clock on Saturday morning, coming up from zazen, I felt I should just check that the mic was working in the Buddha Hall again, and the fact that it didn't made me sweat. Even more so when the people who were in the dining room said they could hear it. If I had had five quiet minutes to think it through I would have figured out the source of the problem, but I didn't - I needed to go and pee, which is not a simple operation when you are in an okesa (and nor is poking around in the sound system cabinet), and everyone was waiting for the talk to begin. The speaker, Eugene Bush from Santa Cruz, had already requested that we not record the talk - which is a shame as it was wonderful - so I just had to ask him if he was willing to speak unamplified, which, graciously he was. As a long-time school teacher, he had no problem being heard throughout the room, and while he was talking I worked out exactly why there was no sound reaching the speakers of the Buddha Hall (I had inadvertantly pulled out a cable along with the receiver).
We are now heading into interim week, which I would perhaps have benefited from more if it had followed directly after the intensive, but which is welcome nonetheless. I am hoping to make it to Tassajara for a few days, although I am unsure how I am actually going to be getting there, and I am expected to return with some photographs.
We marked the beginning of this relaxed week last night with a party at one of the apartments up the street, to celebrate Tanya going back to school. It was a classic Zen Center party, where everyone knows each other, and people were either talking or dancing. Of the two activities I decided I would rather be dancing - along with Renee who was leading the fray, and Blanche who was gamely joining in when the music was more to her taste. Nadia and I were sharing DJ duties, which turned out to be a lot of fun.
I may have been optimistic about the weather the other day; I rode this morning through more drenching fog than clear skies, though it was nice enough here by the time I got back that I could spend a happy hour in the hammock on the roof reading a book, something that doesn't happen nearly enough.

Study Hall

"At present I cannot avoid talking in these terms simply because I fear the collapse of Buddhism and the extinction of the sun of wisdom. That is why I am forced to draw distinctions, to convey this information to all people. Our true teaching does not make an issue of whether one is a monk or a layperson, a male or a female; it does not choose between the aristocrat and the commoner or the old and the young. It's not a question of great or small faculties, of being smart or slow. As long as they have a great heart, ultimately none fail to succeed.
So believe deeply in this Dharma and urgently seek liberation. Set out as best you can; don't talk about the distance of the journey. The Combined Treatise on the Flower Adorment says, 'To whom is this scripture entrusted? This scripture is entrusted to ordinary people with great hearts'" - Torei Enji's The Undying Lamp of Zen.

Summer's Lease

Since study hall is having to compete with the Vuelta a Espana this week, a few photos instead - we are possibly into the second half of our summer here, after the fog months. Yesterday was balmy, and there were clear skies overnight, and more sun today:

Yesterday evening

The moon this morning before zazen

I snuck upstairs to take this before service

After breakfast

Sangha As The Perfect Life

I had a brief but illuminating chat with Myoki the other day. Apart from working hard in her new role as Myogen's assistant, which meant she had a lot to do for the AZTA, she told me she had just been asked to take over as the third floor women's bathroom co-ordinator. She was not happy that residents had already come up to her to let her know exactly which jobs they were not willing to do...
I thought it was just the guys. I am used to cleaning up after one or two of my fellow bathroom users who seem to me not to pay attention to this kind of thing, and we all notice when the toilets or the floor do not get cleaned regularly. This is the kind of place where my compassion meets my you-must-try-harder streak, though I try to restrict my comments to occasional encouragement of our bathroom co-ordinator to lean on the less industrious among us.
This kind of matter probably strikes a chord with anyone who shares a household, and though it might seem like a trifling matter in the overall operation of Zen Center, really I feel that you can't make those kind of distinctions. We are practising paying attention to every detail and making our best effort on each moment, as Blanche is fond of quoting Suzuki Roshi as saying. I was tempted during sesshin to put up a sign in one of the toilet stalls along the lines of 'leaving the toilet roll holder empty because you cannot be bothered to change the roll or pick it up off the floor fails to be bodhisattva activity'.
I am also reminded of the phrase used by Shundo Aoyama, which I have quoted before: 'When the abbot or any of the teachers is away from a temple for a week or so, the novices think nothing of it. But if there were no toilet paper, they would quickly feel its absence'. The devil, as they say, is in the details.

Filling In

Since other people were taking care of the details required for the running of the AZTA conference, I have been feeling myself relaxing this week, and I noticed that in part by how I responded to being asked to do any extra things I wasn't expecting to do. Mainly I got to catch up on the backlogs of talks - I put seventeen up at the end of the week, which was a day and a half's work - and taking care of what the French call le train-train quotidien, one of my favourite phrases.
I ended up being doshi three evenings in a row, as well as for the 9:25 sitting on Saturday. I was also kokyo on Saturday morning, which I was glad to do. The visiting teachers certainly lent volume to our morning services. As kokyo you are something of a conductor for the energy of the chanting, and it felt great to be leading such a strong group, helped along by Ken setting nice fast tempos on the mokugyo. The names of the Buddhas and male ancestors ended up much slower than I can usually tolerate, but what I felt this time was not a lack of energy, but rather a careful and respectful reading of the names. Of course I could just be imagining that and perhaps I was just swayed by the sight of six brown robes in the front row across from me, all of different hues.

Study Hall

"In the present time there is also a type who tends to conceive easy views of the koans of the ancients. All alike they look at them and say, 'An iron bar has no flavor - ah, ha, ha!' They're like blind men asking about the color of milk: when told it's like a conch, they interpret in terms of sound; told it's like snow, they interpret in terms of cold. Now, an 'iron bar' does not mean there is no flavor; it means there's nothing you can get your teeth into - this is what's called an iron bar. Just arouse an intense attitude of great fortitude, where there is nothing to get your teeth into and chew vertically, chew horizontally, chew and chew unceasingly, and suddenly you'll chew through. Once you've chewed through, you will find the inexhaustible flavor of Dharma in there. This is called an iron bar - later people didn't understand and misinterpreted it to mean flavorless" - Torei Enji's The Undying Lamp of Zen.

New Roles

Unlike the morning, afternoon zazen yesterday was rather sparsely attended; I counted twelve of us at service, half of whom were on the doanryo...the kokyo had called ahead to say they weren't going to be able to be there, so I was expecting to do that, but then there was no doshi either. I whispered to Dennis inviting him to be kokyo as we got up from sitting. I was thinking that it would his debut, and if so, it was at least a low-pressure occasion, but he acquitted himself admirably. We also had Roger and Robert on the doanryo, which brought to mind this Thursday a few months ago.