With Purity Like a Lotus

For most of us, at least those who find themselves here on this path, we want to do something about delusion and suffering;  both our own and that of others.  We spend our time at the beginning of practice, developing the capacity to recognize distraction, see it for what it is, let it be and return to the place we choose to place our attention.

In our work to end delusion, this is a very big deal.  In essence we are deluded when our mind sees or weaves a reality that is something other than what is actually going on around us.  As we develop this capacity, so to do we work to end delusion and reduce suffering.

In practicing this, the ground is sewn with the potential for great compassion.  It is on this feild that I am encountering some of the hardest or sharpest edges of my own practice.  On this ground, I find it realitively easy to be compassionate towards those I love, those I don't know and even towards myself.

Where it often breaks down for me is how to practice and manifest compassion towards those people who irritate me, anger me, and (in my view) don't seem to give a damned about anybody else.  What compassion looks like when these situations present themselves is hard to pin down.  In my irritation and anger I tend to see them as a villain, as eveil, as someone who is setting out to be a jackass.  In this disturbed state, I can imagine no other way that it could be.

But what I forget, what I need to cultivate is the very awareness that lead me to practice in the first place.  

Delusion and suffering abound.  I should do something about it.

In these dark and red moments, I fail to see that the being in front of me also lives in the grips of delusion, assaulted by the pull of greed, anger and ignorance (each to their own extent of course).  Like myself, their own conditioning might run so deep that I may never make an impact on it, but knowing that there is darkness and suffering, how can I not try to help?  It doesn't really matter if it is helping myself, my child, that guy, or THAT guy.  We all live in the midst of the muck and the darkness, but in practice we see that it does not have to define who we are or limit our capacity to respond.

At the end of Oryoki (the meditative meals taken on sesshin) we chant: "May we exist in muddy waters, with purity like a lotus..."

Not "may exist apart" or "May we exist protected from".  To alleviate suffering, we aspire to exist IN muddy waters.  We aspire to exist there, because that is where we find the beings most in need of the alleviation of suffering, including ourselves.

Today, as I step out the door, I set the intention to not have blind spots in which some of those beings might hide.

May compassion and peace abound.

Ease off and Pass Through

Rinsen Sensei suggested that we post some of our thoughts on the text we are reading this Ango.  In the Canadian sitting group, we have been taking turns selecting a passage and reading it to the group just before we sit, and then discussing it during tea at the end of our practice time.  As a result, we have been moving through the text in a less than linear way.

As I move though the various chapters, I continue to come back to a portion of the introduction.

"By the examination of his own thoughts, emotions, concepts, and the other activities of mind, the Buddha discovered that there is no need to struggle to prove our existence, that we need not be subject to the rule of the three lords of materialism.  There is no need to struggle to be free; the absence of struggle is in itself freedom. This egoless state is the attainment of buddhahood."

For me, this passage has been part of an ongoing reminder, that we make, or at lest feed our own problems.  We worry;  we imagine arguments and worst case scenarios.  We create barriers.  We build gates.

The world we encounter is just as it is.  We apply the judgement and drama.  Sometimes, things need discernment.  Action based on clear judgement is required.  However, we tend to over do it.  Through a lens that is clouded by worry about the past and future and imagined transgressions, we judge and discern in ways that are excessive and unskillful.  

When we...

release the tension / stop the struggle / drop the story / stop giving our energy to the drama...

we can find our grounded center, even as it floats freely in the middle of the chaos.  Out of that center, we can act without struggle.

For a very long time, there were certain situations in which I could not stop struggling.  If I felt that I had been wronged by others, I would have an incredible sense of entitlement to my anger.  So strong an entitlement, that letting go of the anger was not an option.  It deserved to be nurtured.  It deserved to live.

However, when I would meet with these people, I would more often bring kindness, forgiveness and honest presence.  All the anger and fighting was reserved just for me, when I was alone in the dark hours.  Far from any sense of healthy indignation, this anger fueled a one man war, of which I was always the primary casualty.

I recognize the feeling of this shift much more easily these days.

Like a sigh.

Like easing into a hug as you realize you just can't do it anymore.

Like redirecting the tension and pivoting when uke comes in hard and fast.

Like the moment you release from the first stretch of the day, while still lying in bead.

This is not giving in.  When the struggle stops, it is not because we curl up and wait for death.  These struggles are often our attempts to make the 'then' or the 'now' be what IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE DAM IT!  When we stop the struggle, we can be present to what is actually true in the moment.

Right now, beautifully, it is the calm quiet just before we put the kids to bed.

Emptiness

sigh......  I should post here more often.

Right now.

Right now I am in the middle of a semester at work that has been particularly challenging.  There is poison and it is hard to deal with

Enmei is having her own challenges in returning to the classroom, and sometimes we have felt too down to be the rock for the other.  So we have held each other, both of us down, and held on.

We are on the verge of a move that has left the house 3/4 packed and with a feeling like someone has pushed a pause button on much of the activity of my life.

Yet, everything seems to be both going fast and standing still.

Enmei has just left for a three day workshop and the house seems very empty despite the activity of a teenager, her little sister an their father.

There is great activity, but there is great emptiness.

There is great activity, yet there is great silence.

It is thus, at least for now, but it is changing.

One of my working edges right now is a refocussing on my center.   Working to not be swayed by internal and external environments.

Working in this way with external environment is fair;y obvious as a process.  Even when I see myself affected by it, playing into the drama, I still know I am not these things that happen to me.

The internal environment is more difficult to work with.  I can say "I am not my thoughts" but when the anger or the sadness arises, it is more difficult to see them as something other than myself.

And so I practice.

And so I return to the center.

And so I remember to not confuse the sky with the weather.

And so I continue to work with the one point and the sky in this midst of activity and stillness.  In chaos and silence,

A New Autumn

I think it is safe to say that we, as a society, traditionally see Spring as a period of birth and beginnings, while Autumn is a period of letting go and preparation for endings.

However, my personal experience has been somewhat difference.  I am not sure it is because of the practice or if it is because I am a school teacher, but I tend to find a certain energy in the end of summer.  It is a sort of determination that carries a deep intention to improve on past weaknesses.

I have face many school years as both a student and a teacher, and although there have been a number of months, semesters and years I might rather forget, the hope of the Autumn remains unblemished.

From the perspective of Zen, Autumn is a time to turn inward.  This has nothing to do with shunning the world, but more with increasing the focus on the inward eye.  Zazen can happen at anytime or any place, but the cooling of the days has a way of providing more opportunities.

Soon, the Fall Ango will be upon us and we will be asked how we will amplify or expand our practice.  Such a decision is worthy of our attention now.  Intention tempered by reflection over time is a power thing.  Not powerful like a hurricane, but like a river that runs fast and deep in search of a great ocean that it already touches.

The end of summer deserves its share of melancholy, but only as far as it is the result of a settling of activity.

Seasons

I can remember a time in my life when things were all or nothing.  I'd plan a big change and it would work out, or it would be abandoned.  Life never really worked out that way, but that was the way I approached it.

These days I have come to recognize the seasons of things.  Rather than forcing all things into being or extinction, I find that I am getting better at noticing the shifts of things.  When to push forward, when to back off.

Appropriately enough, the this shift came gradually.  Learning to let things rest, to just be what they are until they need to be something else, is a developed skill for me.  It is not an easy thing.  It can be very difficult to not burst in and start projecting myself on a reality that does not fit my perception.  It also takes a lot of attention to make sure this does not just become passivity.

Vague enough?  Sorry.  That's the way it feels right now.  The winds are changing, or maybe it's just a gust.  We'll see.

The Matrix

When Rinsen (my primary teacher) talks about what enlightenment is not, he often makes a matrix reference, saying that it is not like you can suddenly see the matrix code. The world seen before this incredible insight is the world that is seen after.

From what I have seen in this life, primarily in the teachings of enlightened beings and my observations of them, this appears to be so.

However, analogies are limited and can be applied in a variety of ways. So without disputing Rinsen's observation or claiming to have reached a great enlightenment, I'd like to make the statement: I have seen the matrix.

It was early in the morning, just the other day. The environment was quiet. My mind was quiet. Then as I moved into the shower, I became keenly aware of myself as the observer of my own mind. The incoming data (warmth, wetness, stiff muscles, eyes squinting against bright lights) was being filtered through my experience and seen by my mind.

In computer science with Mr. Murphy back in the mid 80's, we learned that data is just data. Although the program and the data need each other to make things happen, data flows forward without intent or value until it is processed through a program, or if you will, a matrix.

That program or matrix can take that data and use it to detonate a bomb, make blips on a heart monitor or tell you when the oven is hot enough to bake cookies. The nature of the program determines the nature of the data.

Our minds are very much the same way. The direction, intent and adaptability of our mind will determine how it processes the day that unfolds before us. This is not to say the solution is to just stay positive. For me the key seems to be mental flexibility, but I digress.

What I am getting at is the idea that our minds are the matrix. I believe it is possible to see the nature of one's own mind.

In that moment, moving to the shower, I saw the possibilities of the day that lay ahead. Not in the data, but in the clarity and pliability of the matrix that would process it. The day unfolded in a seemingly ordinary way. Pleasant and unpleasant things came up. I'd like to say that I did not let my mind amplify any of the negative things. I can't though. I can say I saw it, caught myself, and to the extent that I could, I made it better.

I like my analogy. I recognize that it is being used in a very specific way. In the end, what do we see when we see the matrix? We see a day. Just a day. Unlike any other.

My Ducks

(picture taken last Spring with my eldest daughter)

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.