This fall is the busiest that I have had in a very long time. There a lot of exciting things going on. A Nidan test, a new season for card nights, starting up the meditation group, the kids starting a new school, and a last minute decision to coach tennis are added in to one of the more stressful school years I have encountered. And while I don't feel as thought I am exhausted or at the end of my rope, I do find things difficult.
Although the things that seem to make all of this difficult are external circumstances, what is really "making it difficult" is coming from within. At times I feel simultaneously pulled out of my center and extremely self-focused. After all aren't "I" the one who is experiencing this difficulty? Am I creating it?
I can feel myself tightening up and pulling in and even lashing out. In these moments I need to turn, very deliberately to my practice. I can sense the need to reach outward to those that I encounter, and in doing so, find my center.
Time to sit.
from the Pang family...
The Layman was sitting in his thatched cottage one day [studying the sūtras]. "Difficult, difficult," he said; "like trying to scatter ten measures of sesame seed all over a tree." "Easy, easy," Mrs. Pang said; "like touching your feet to the ground when you get out of bed." "Neither difficult nor easy," Ling Zhao said; "on the hundred grass tips, the great Masters' meaning."[1]
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
A Face Full of Ch'an
From Master Seng Ts'an:
The Great Way is not difficult
for those who have no preferences.
When love and hate are both absent
everything becomes clear and undisguised.
Make the smallest distinction, however,
and heaven and earth are set infinitely apart.
There is an enormous difference between hearing about a thing, and experiencing it. Although I have heard this passage from the "Faith Mind Poem" of Master Seng Ts'an before, this past week I experienced it in a powerful way.
There is more depth and texture to this short passage (of a much larger poem) than I understand. However, the aspect I encountered was how far apart strong practice and poisoned practice can feel. In Zen, we hear about the three poisons; greed, anger and ignorance. These are the sources of suffering. This past week, I ran into all three.
Coming into this past week, I felt very good. Challenges were met, things were perfect in their imperfections, and life unfolded in its own way. And then I had a "bad" day. The day itself was pretty stressful. Not the worst I have ever had, but it was rough. What made it "bad" was how I tightened up. I internalized the difficulties of the moment, and began to weave stories. The story of how I was a schmuck. The story of how others had failed me. The story of how I was hard done-by. In some form, we all know this story. At that moment I wrapped myself in the stories and as Seng Ts'an warned, perfection and reality seemed to be thousands of miles apart.
The hooks of the ego were in very deep. At first, when I saw this, I just created a new story. "WOW, I can see it but I keep on weaving the story, my practice is very weak.". The I remembered something my teachers told me. Even when we can't seem to step back, just taking note of our delusion is a big step, and it makes a difference. When we allow ourselves to be patient with ourselves, we fan the embers of compassion.
In time, I settled. To be more accurate, I relaxed. I allowed things to be; without resentment; despite discomfort. There were still things to be done and problems to be solved. But in the moment that I realized this, I came home to my life (even with its hard days). Heaven and Earth were one. Imperfections were perfect, and once again I could feel it.
What the mind knows is realized only through living. This was my lesson for the first week of October.
The Great Way is not difficult
for those who have no preferences.
When love and hate are both absent
everything becomes clear and undisguised.
Make the smallest distinction, however,
and heaven and earth are set infinitely apart.
There is an enormous difference between hearing about a thing, and experiencing it. Although I have heard this passage from the "Faith Mind Poem" of Master Seng Ts'an before, this past week I experienced it in a powerful way.
There is more depth and texture to this short passage (of a much larger poem) than I understand. However, the aspect I encountered was how far apart strong practice and poisoned practice can feel. In Zen, we hear about the three poisons; greed, anger and ignorance. These are the sources of suffering. This past week, I ran into all three.
Coming into this past week, I felt very good. Challenges were met, things were perfect in their imperfections, and life unfolded in its own way. And then I had a "bad" day. The day itself was pretty stressful. Not the worst I have ever had, but it was rough. What made it "bad" was how I tightened up. I internalized the difficulties of the moment, and began to weave stories. The story of how I was a schmuck. The story of how others had failed me. The story of how I was hard done-by. In some form, we all know this story. At that moment I wrapped myself in the stories and as Seng Ts'an warned, perfection and reality seemed to be thousands of miles apart.
The hooks of the ego were in very deep. At first, when I saw this, I just created a new story. "WOW, I can see it but I keep on weaving the story, my practice is very weak.". The I remembered something my teachers told me. Even when we can't seem to step back, just taking note of our delusion is a big step, and it makes a difference. When we allow ourselves to be patient with ourselves, we fan the embers of compassion.
In time, I settled. To be more accurate, I relaxed. I allowed things to be; without resentment; despite discomfort. There were still things to be done and problems to be solved. But in the moment that I realized this, I came home to my life (even with its hard days). Heaven and Earth were one. Imperfections were perfect, and once again I could feel it.
What the mind knows is realized only through living. This was my lesson for the first week of October.
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