
Ocean Heart Zen
Kaishin, or "Ocean Heart" is the Dharma name given to me by my teachers, Reverend Jay Rinsen Weik and Reverend Karen Do'on Weik, founders of the Toledo Zen Center. This blog grew out of an Aikido / Zen blog I was doing. My purpose here will be to express what I am experience in my Zen practice. This is also a way for me to connect with the TZC Sangha. Here is life as I see it.
Monday, December 12, 2011
The Matrix

Saturday, November 12, 2011
My Ducks

Recently I was able to attend a Sunday service at TZC. The format usually makes for a fairly short talk, but this one was one of the more notable ones I have heard in a long time.
Rinsen spoke of ducks.
The gist of it was the nature of ducks vs. our tendency to want our ducks to be in a row. As he explored this, my mind tried to identify it's ducks. (given that the mind is one big duck to begin with) Today however, I found one of the more disorderly bunches of ducks that I have been hanging with. Collectively, they are my house.
In August we had some flooding in our basement and the repair work (covered by insurance) has been very slow. The contents of our basement were moved to our living room and our garage. The short of it is that our living space consisted of a kitchen, 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms for 3 months. I have been very stuck in the mind that says "I'll be happy when all of this is done and I have my house back". Although I am happy that the repairs are almost done, I can see that I have been playing a very dangerous and unhealthy game with my own mind.
As drastic as the damage to the basement was, I have to recognize that even now there are issues. Things to be worked on and repaired. The new paint and carpet will get dirty or chipped. The idea that there is a perfect way for my basement to be, is a static view of a dynamic situation. Even as the ducks seem to be coming into line, I have to recognize that they will drift apart again.
This was basically what Rinsen was getting at, but it is much more useful when these things can be seen in our own lives and not just as abstract concepts.
I am going to go downstairs now and play with my ducks.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Why Me?
Lately I have been going through some minor plagues. Nothing major, just a torn calf muscle and some colds and flu's. But for most of the time I was going through it, it FELT major. It felt terrible. I felt terrible. I felt like my entire life was crumbling around me. It took some time to create the space I needed to work through it, but once I did, I spent some time thinking about how situations like this arise.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Parks and Rec
Friday, September 30, 2011
Full Body Scan on the First Date

Blogging on the Fly

Julie and I are on our way to Cranbrook BC for our friend Dave’s wedding. There are a lot things to be excited about, including not being at work on a Friday, having a 3 day vacation with Julie, Dave getting married, but the thing that I always get a huge kick out of is flying.
Despite the seeming drudgery of waiting in the airport and sitting still in public for long periods of time, flying excites me. To borrow from Louis CK, after all, you are sitting in A CHAIR IN THE SKY!
For all of that amazement, it is moving through the airports that I find amazing. If each person is a thread in the fabric of life, the weave is tightest and brightest in the airport. I am overwhelmed by the infinite number of stories, or at least possible stories, that each person carries.
- The 30 year-old, red-blooded hunter, off tocash in on his moose tag.
- The tired businessman en route to the meeting he could not care less about.
- The thin, grey haired woman on her way to Africa to build schools for the poor.
- The university grad with the backwards cap, heading to visit friends in Fort McMurray, while he contemplates what to do with an English Lit. degree.
- The young family travelling back home to visit a grandparent who probably won’t see their granddaughter
’s next birth day.
I know I don’t know these things, but ultimately, they are true. Across this world, millions of people are bored in airport terminals, watching in-flight movies, and sleeping on undersold flights.
We are travelling. Infinite destinations, infinite purposes, infinite stories. Being infinite, they are baseless, and at the same time an accurate picture of reality.
Like the Heisenberg uncertainty principle, I can know the velocity of that story, but can’t localize the story without its blurring.
All I can do is hop on a horizontal escalator and weave my thread toward the Western shore of this fabric.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
It COMES with fries

Earlier this week, while I was walking from my car into the place where I work, I saw an airplane taking off. It was a cold and grey morning. The ground was dry, but the air held a certain promise of rain. The plane pulled my attention away from the too many things that I was carrying, as it prepared to break through the clouds and disappear.
For a moment, I was seized by the notion that I wanted to be on that plane. I wanted to be going where they were going, and not into work.
Planes taking off have always held an exotic mystery for me. Uncertain of their destination, I am able to imagine that they are going to the exact place I would like to go myself, even if I can't name it at the moment. On cloudy days, I know that they will soon reach a world of white, billowing carpets, blue skies and blinding sun, leaving me in this grey, unfinished basement.
But really, where am I? I am in the circumstances of my choosing. Whether I have chosen through spectacular actions,
"Julie, would you marry me?"
"Mom, we're moving home."
or by the the equally powerful in-actions that keep me working on what is in front of me, I have chosen this path.
I could have dropped my things, walked back the car, gone to the airport and got on a plane. But even then, I could never actually step away from where I am.
Even if I had the power to jump into other lives, that then would be my life, and that life would be different from all of the other possibilities.
Considering this, I can sense the faint faint flavour of victimhood in wishing to be on that plane.
Next week, I will be the one on the plane. As we take off to the West Coast, I will looking down people on their morning commute, wondering where they are going.