Still enjoying Katagiri Roshi's Each Moment is the Universe enormously: "If you want to deepen your life, and satisfy your profound human desire to know the fundamental truth, what should you do? First, accept that your life is produced by the full commitment of the cosmic universe to movement. Buddhism explains the structure of the human world based on the functioning of interdependent co-origination, which means that everything is moving dynamically.
Interdependence is not the usual idea of relationship. It is a place where everything is empty and interconnected, beyond human speculation. Then, at that time, interdependent co-origination comes into existence as the contents of emptiness, and a new moment arises. Co-origination is working constantly, so from moment to moment your life is dynamically arising from the source of existence. That is kiya: just arising, the energy of time, impermanence appearing as your life. So accept it, demonstrate full commitment to life, and just be there.
Your life constantly gives you a chance, a great opportunity to touch the truth. If you touch it, everything becomes alive in a refreshing way. This refreshing life is called flexibility, fluidity, or freedom. At that time, you can really do something - something more than what you would have thought".
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
Ceremonial Objects
With the run of ceremonies we have just had, I have been getting good use of my favourite ceremonial objects. Long-time readers will know how I feel about my bessu - and it was nice of Wendy a couple of weeks ago to use a photo I took of them on the Zen Center website. Today the tsui-ching had another outing, with Joan's departing ceremony.
This had a strong feeling to it, as I met Joan's focused and vibrant presence across from me as I made the announcement; there were lovely exchanges with Christina, Blanche and Paul, and then, after we left the zendo, seeing Joan walking tall through the open double doors up from the gaitan really encapsulated the moment.
Some time ago, writing about departing ceremonies, I noted that I came up empty-handed when I googled tsui-ching. Well, perhaps by posting this picture I can change this. Choro, my ino colleague in Chapel Hill, had asked for a picture of the one we have, which is built differently to the one at Tassajara, so here is one of the photos I took (don't worry Choro, I will send you the others too). It is not in its usual place; I wanted it closer to the window to make the most of the light.
Since we were doing the Suzuki Roshi Memorial yesterday morning, I was kicking my heels until eight o'clock - though when I did get out on my bike, it was already deliciously warm out there. I made the most of the opportunity to take some pictures of the White Tara in the Buddha Hall, who has, as we have noticed this past week, been getting bathed in sunshine just before seven, when we are usually wrapping up morning service.
This had a strong feeling to it, as I met Joan's focused and vibrant presence across from me as I made the announcement; there were lovely exchanges with Christina, Blanche and Paul, and then, after we left the zendo, seeing Joan walking tall through the open double doors up from the gaitan really encapsulated the moment.
Some time ago, writing about departing ceremonies, I noted that I came up empty-handed when I googled tsui-ching. Well, perhaps by posting this picture I can change this. Choro, my ino colleague in Chapel Hill, had asked for a picture of the one we have, which is built differently to the one at Tassajara, so here is one of the photos I took (don't worry Choro, I will send you the others too). It is not in its usual place; I wanted it closer to the window to make the most of the light.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Not Always So
I should know better than to spend time reading internet chat forums, but when I was looking for a new camera, I did a fair amount of research before buying the Fuji X10, and occasionally I go back to popular digital camera sites to see what people are saying. In the few months since I got it, I have taken about 3500 photos, and overall I have been extremely happy with it; there are a couple of quirks that have momentarily frustrated me, but people have commented on the visible improvement in the shots I take. If I were to believe what I read online, however, the camera is a disaster because it has a flaw in the sensor under certain light conditions - which so far has not impacted any picture I have tried to take - and the company should be hounded out of business for failing to deal with the inadequacy in a fitting manner. Definitely no right-minded person would fork out the $600 to buy such a defective machine. Oh well. Sometimes it seems like this is a particular kind of hell realm, resounding with the constantly re-iterated din of certainty. Perhaps one day I will curse this camera, but for now, I am enjoying it, flaws and all.
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Wednesday, February 29, 2012
A Week Of Goodbyes
I would say that things are fairly quiet at the moment, though if I list the ceremonies coming up in the next ten days - the Katagiri memorial, the Suzuki Roshi memorials, the Mahapajapati memorial, and the Full Moon Ceremony, oh, and a chosan - it might not seem like it. None of them are likely to cause much me stress, though, except perhaps the chosan.
What is most unusual is that we are also doing three departing ceremonies in the space of seven days, and for senior people in the community. Yesterday, it was the turn of Bernd, subject of one of Greg's first posts - and if there is a better picture of Bernd, I haven't seen it. I think I first met Bernd during a Tassajara practice led by Reb in 2003, and he has been around much of the time since then, with occasional returns to Europe, where he is now heading to teach at the forthcoming Akazienstrassen-Zendo in Berlin. We have spent a few years on senior staff together, and I appreciate his gentle but insistent spirit of enquiry in all matters.
The ceremony was most intimate, in a way that would be churlish to write about - just little moments of meeting, and exchanges that reveal the closeness of the sangha, and of teacher and student.
Today, Michael, who has been here even longer, but whose move is only across town. Michael co-led the first practice period I lived here for, back in 2000, and was full of helpful teachings and guidance. He has always had completely his own way of doing things - he could often be relied upon to punctuate a talk he was giving with a sudden shout, so it was no surprise to hear a fully-voiced one today, answering Paul's question almost before he had finished asking it. This was a more emotional ceremony, reflecting his forty years of commitment and the long relationship with the many senior people in the zendo this morning. He has been a pillar of Zen Center in so many ways, while having a very clear and firmly articulated sense of what is most important.
On Monday, it will be Joan; this morning a stack of boxes appeared outside her room. Again, she is someone who was here when I arrived in 2000, though she went to Tassajara soon afterwards, and then we were there together for some time as well, so she has often been an older sister in the dharma for me. She is another one not afraid to speak her mind and to do things her own way, but strongly guided by wishing to share the dharma with all who need it.
All three of them are setting up and leading their own groups; knowing that they are doing this to help spread the teachings widely helps to soften the blow of their loss.
What is most unusual is that we are also doing three departing ceremonies in the space of seven days, and for senior people in the community. Yesterday, it was the turn of Bernd, subject of one of Greg's first posts - and if there is a better picture of Bernd, I haven't seen it. I think I first met Bernd during a Tassajara practice led by Reb in 2003, and he has been around much of the time since then, with occasional returns to Europe, where he is now heading to teach at the forthcoming Akazienstrassen-Zendo in Berlin. We have spent a few years on senior staff together, and I appreciate his gentle but insistent spirit of enquiry in all matters.
The ceremony was most intimate, in a way that would be churlish to write about - just little moments of meeting, and exchanges that reveal the closeness of the sangha, and of teacher and student.
Today, Michael, who has been here even longer, but whose move is only across town. Michael co-led the first practice period I lived here for, back in 2000, and was full of helpful teachings and guidance. He has always had completely his own way of doing things - he could often be relied upon to punctuate a talk he was giving with a sudden shout, so it was no surprise to hear a fully-voiced one today, answering Paul's question almost before he had finished asking it. This was a more emotional ceremony, reflecting his forty years of commitment and the long relationship with the many senior people in the zendo this morning. He has been a pillar of Zen Center in so many ways, while having a very clear and firmly articulated sense of what is most important.
On Monday, it will be Joan; this morning a stack of boxes appeared outside her room. Again, she is someone who was here when I arrived in 2000, though she went to Tassajara soon afterwards, and then we were there together for some time as well, so she has often been an older sister in the dharma for me. She is another one not afraid to speak her mind and to do things her own way, but strongly guided by wishing to share the dharma with all who need it.
All three of them are setting up and leading their own groups; knowing that they are doing this to help spread the teachings widely helps to soften the blow of their loss.
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| Michael playing harmonica during a wonderfully silly song at skit night a couple of years ago |
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| Joan after her shuso ceremony, between Blanche and Darlene |
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Study Hall
In advance of this week's memorial for Katagiri Roshi, I went to the library to take out Each Moment is the Universe, which I think I tried to read when it was first published, but as with Returning to Silence, found it hard to crack. This time round I am enjoying it immensely. Here is a section from the end of the first chapter, and there will be much more to follow:
"Buddhism is really hard, particularly Dogen's teaching. He gives you a very hard practice: Keep your mouth shut and look directly at impermanence! This living practice is called zazen. Zazen is not a way to escape from life by being mindful of something that is apart from the human world; it is the practice of being present in the real stream of time and looking directly at life itself. Zazen enables you to plunge below the surface and leads you to touch the core of your life. It's not so easy. But even so, you have to do it, because spiritual life originates from the direct observation of impermanence.
Observation shows you that you don't have to be upset and try to escape when you realize that time constantly cuts off your life, because there is another aspect of time. One aspect of time is to separate; the other is to connect. The aspect of time that separates you from others is the human world. The aspect of time that connects you to others is universal truth. You are connected with all beings in time, which permeates into every inch of the cosmic universe, and space, where everyone and everything exists together in peace and harmony. So you are you, but you don't exist alone; you are connected with others: to dogs, cats, trees, mountains, the sky, stars, Dogen, and Buddha.
Having the two aspects of separation and connection is called impermanence. It is called moment. This is the original nature of time. When you see this, you feel deep relief and live with a warmhearted feeling, because you understand yourself very deeply. You understand what a human being is. And you understand the one place, called the domain of impermanence, where you live alone and at the same time live together with all beings in peace and harmony. This is spiritual security".
"Buddhism is really hard, particularly Dogen's teaching. He gives you a very hard practice: Keep your mouth shut and look directly at impermanence! This living practice is called zazen. Zazen is not a way to escape from life by being mindful of something that is apart from the human world; it is the practice of being present in the real stream of time and looking directly at life itself. Zazen enables you to plunge below the surface and leads you to touch the core of your life. It's not so easy. But even so, you have to do it, because spiritual life originates from the direct observation of impermanence.
Observation shows you that you don't have to be upset and try to escape when you realize that time constantly cuts off your life, because there is another aspect of time. One aspect of time is to separate; the other is to connect. The aspect of time that separates you from others is the human world. The aspect of time that connects you to others is universal truth. You are connected with all beings in time, which permeates into every inch of the cosmic universe, and space, where everyone and everything exists together in peace and harmony. So you are you, but you don't exist alone; you are connected with others: to dogs, cats, trees, mountains, the sky, stars, Dogen, and Buddha.
Having the two aspects of separation and connection is called impermanence. It is called moment. This is the original nature of time. When you see this, you feel deep relief and live with a warmhearted feeling, because you understand yourself very deeply. You understand what a human being is. And you understand the one place, called the domain of impermanence, where you live alone and at the same time live together with all beings in peace and harmony. This is spiritual security".
Monday, February 27, 2012
One Word
Thanks to the powerful analytic tools available to the common-or-garden blogger, I can proudly announce that this is the 500th post on the Ino's Blog. This announcement comes with a little asterisk, in that not all the posts have been published. Greg actually left a couple of posts in draft form, and lovely as they are, I am going to keep them unpublished and let those who search for his hidden gems sometime in the future come and uncover them.
And since 500 posts amounts to a lot of words, especially if you are factoring in a thousand for each photograph - alas a word-counting tool is not at my fingertips - and bearing in mind the 'not dependent on the written word' thing that we hear about in these parts, it seemed only appropriate that this post should be one of the four or five drafts I have left lingering in the archive as I hadn't got round to putting it into the shape I wanted:
With all due deference to every precious word of the Tenzo Kyokun, sometimes I feel that the work of the tenzo can be boiled down to one word: offering.
Blanche has said that Mel asked her to be tenzo because he knew her tendency to want to keep everybody happy, and as tenzo you are never able to please everyone. When you are feeding fifty people, they cannot get what they want all the time; living here, people have to relinquish choice and control around food, which can be an emotional issue for some, but I think a palpable sense of offering goes a long way to mitigating that.
So what is the word for the work of the ino? Right now I would say encouragement. I want people to feel encouraged to do their practice. I am reminded that Greg often starts his dharma talks with this intention. Since I am still not very skillful in my feedback at all times, it is easier for me to try to offer my own practice as a way of doing this. And I hope this blog, warts and all, sometimes encourages people as well.
And since 500 posts amounts to a lot of words, especially if you are factoring in a thousand for each photograph - alas a word-counting tool is not at my fingertips - and bearing in mind the 'not dependent on the written word' thing that we hear about in these parts, it seemed only appropriate that this post should be one of the four or five drafts I have left lingering in the archive as I hadn't got round to putting it into the shape I wanted:
With all due deference to every precious word of the Tenzo Kyokun, sometimes I feel that the work of the tenzo can be boiled down to one word: offering.
Blanche has said that Mel asked her to be tenzo because he knew her tendency to want to keep everybody happy, and as tenzo you are never able to please everyone. When you are feeding fifty people, they cannot get what they want all the time; living here, people have to relinquish choice and control around food, which can be an emotional issue for some, but I think a palpable sense of offering goes a long way to mitigating that.
So what is the word for the work of the ino? Right now I would say encouragement. I want people to feel encouraged to do their practice. I am reminded that Greg often starts his dharma talks with this intention. Since I am still not very skillful in my feedback at all times, it is easier for me to try to offer my own practice as a way of doing this. And I hope this blog, warts and all, sometimes encourages people as well.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Son Et Lumiere
The weather has been delightfully warm again, and with the days getting longer, it has been a nice time to sit in the zendo in the evening. Yesterday the light gently subsided over the course of the period, leaving a golden glow by the time we got up for service, it seemed. We have been getting good numbers in to sit as well, and some people I have been very happy to see: a few members of YUZ; Brian, who was at Tassajara when I was a few years ago, just in town for a few days; a well-known local writer who more usually comes to sit on Saturdays; a producer from one of our favourite city websites, just getting back into some sitting, as well as our more familiar regulars.
In the mornings too, there is a spring-like feeling - the nesting birds are chirping again. I was just looking for this post, and had I written this yesterday when I was thinking about it, it would serendipitously have been exactly a year later... There is a new sound I am noticing most mornings now, a yappy dog being walked just around six o'clock, who seems to take exception to many things it encounters. We are probably all doing the same in zazen, but not so vocally.
In the mornings too, there is a spring-like feeling - the nesting birds are chirping again. I was just looking for this post, and had I written this yesterday when I was thinking about it, it would serendipitously have been exactly a year later... There is a new sound I am noticing most mornings now, a yappy dog being walked just around six o'clock, who seems to take exception to many things it encounters. We are probably all doing the same in zazen, but not so vocally.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Everyone Can See How You Are...
...you might as well see it for yourself. I know I have quoted this saying of Blanche's more than once, but a little repetition never did anyone any harm.
It's a truism that nobody likes the sound of their own voice, and I have been putting it to the test recently. There have been two waves of this - a couple of weeks ago I went and listened to the talk I gave at Hartford Street in November (I'm going to come over all self-deprecatingly coy and not give you all the links for this stuff - you can find it easily enough if you want), and also to the Full Moon Ceremony for which I was kokyo during Rohatsu. It was actually a bit of a revelation: I found that the lecture sounded pretty coherent, even though I did notice the two places where I knew I had wanted to make a summarising point but didn't; apart from that, I was relieved to discover that I still sound English. My kokyo voice, however, which I had thought of as strong and fierce that day, just sounded narrow and curiously unharmonious. This was certainly a blow to my ideas about my chanting voice, which I have talked about before.
This week I looked at some of the Livestream footage from the Mountain Seat weekend - someone had told me there were overtones in my kokyo part for the Stepping Down Ceremony, and I could just about hear what they meant, although some parts of it still made me cringe. I also took a look at the announcements I made after Hoitsu's lecture, which for some reason were also recorded, as someone had commented to me about them. This was not helped by the audio and video being slightly out of sync (for technical reasons I caused myself that I can explain to anyone who actually wants to know), but again, at least my accent sounded unimpaired, and I was glad that I managed to make people laugh; I do also appreciate that the feedback I have had from people attending the talks that I speak very quickly is quite justified.
Since my multi-media stardom knows no bounds these days, I also wanted to put in a plug for Nancy's blog, which has been up and running for a couple of weeks, and which features me being all English, in written form this time. As people here who have read the blog agree, Nancy definitely sounds like herself in her writing. It's just a shame you can't hear her laugh.
It's a truism that nobody likes the sound of their own voice, and I have been putting it to the test recently. There have been two waves of this - a couple of weeks ago I went and listened to the talk I gave at Hartford Street in November (I'm going to come over all self-deprecatingly coy and not give you all the links for this stuff - you can find it easily enough if you want), and also to the Full Moon Ceremony for which I was kokyo during Rohatsu. It was actually a bit of a revelation: I found that the lecture sounded pretty coherent, even though I did notice the two places where I knew I had wanted to make a summarising point but didn't; apart from that, I was relieved to discover that I still sound English. My kokyo voice, however, which I had thought of as strong and fierce that day, just sounded narrow and curiously unharmonious. This was certainly a blow to my ideas about my chanting voice, which I have talked about before.
This week I looked at some of the Livestream footage from the Mountain Seat weekend - someone had told me there were overtones in my kokyo part for the Stepping Down Ceremony, and I could just about hear what they meant, although some parts of it still made me cringe. I also took a look at the announcements I made after Hoitsu's lecture, which for some reason were also recorded, as someone had commented to me about them. This was not helped by the audio and video being slightly out of sync (for technical reasons I caused myself that I can explain to anyone who actually wants to know), but again, at least my accent sounded unimpaired, and I was glad that I managed to make people laugh; I do also appreciate that the feedback I have had from people attending the talks that I speak very quickly is quite justified.
Since my multi-media stardom knows no bounds these days, I also wanted to put in a plug for Nancy's blog, which has been up and running for a couple of weeks, and which features me being all English, in written form this time. As people here who have read the blog agree, Nancy definitely sounds like herself in her writing. It's just a shame you can't hear her laugh.
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