There Is No Now So Just Let Go!

I haven't written in this diary for years.   So much has changed.  The beautiful Zendo in the mountains has long gone, and the two Rochis who ran it died within 48 hours of each other a few weeks ago.  One of them was my teacher.  She was the most remarkable person I know.  Finding the Zendo in the Yellow Pages,  a place that simply was serenity and peace for me was so very lucky.

In my life I have had very little 'bad luck' so far, but I also have not had 'good luck'.  Great jobs, great men, great looks, great charm were never mine, but finding that particular Zendo and the form of Soto Zen practiced there made the great jobs, men etc so gloriously unimportant!

We remnants of the Sangha go our separate ways, occasionally getting together for a 'sit' and tea and shared words.  Occasionally I take a two hundred mile round trip to practice with another group, but I feel it's a little unjustifiable!

There is a certain luxury in sitting with a group of like minded people.  One feels strengthened for some reason, and the social interaction is something we sentient beings seem to need.  But alone, finding small silences in the day is a continual satisfaction.

The yin yang symbol should not be viewed as static.  It symbolizes the continuous flow and change that creates the whole that mystifies us.  We are all so gifted at balancing through change!  We do it constantly without a thought!

Does Time Pass?

Does time pass? Or is time just another deluded illusion of our lost little minds?
Be that as it may, I thought I'd better update this blog at least once in 2011.

Our beautiful Zendo in the mountains is no more. The lovely serene space with its elegant tans and zafus (sitting accomodations) has been torn out and recycled. The room will be a rec room or something similar I suspect.

Unpleasantness among the exalted resulted in our Roshis turning elsewhere. I assume the philosophy that they so warmly shared still accompanies them.

I would not mourn the passing of the Zendo if I were the Buddhist I would like to be. After all, attachment is an undesirable quality. If I stay in the ever-gone moment I will remember with affection, nothing more.

The Teachings of Harry Dean Stanton

I must have seen Harry Dean Stanton in hundreds of TV Westerns like Rawhide and Gunsmoke, but I didn't notice him until I saw Paris Texas. Yeah. Where he walks out of the desert. Next time I noticed him was in Repo Man which is possibly my favorite movie. Yesterday I looked at some of the 'add-ons' to the director's cut DVD of Repo Man and found an interview with Harry Dean Stanton done I think in 2002. To my amazement I discovered that he is a deep and austere Buddhist. How strange. No smooth-faced serenity in his corroded features! I bet Terry Gross and Charlie Rose etc run at the sound of his name, but if they had the courage to withstand his "you just don't get it, do you?"s it would be great stuff to watch and listen to.

Practice and Perfection

I'm back at T'ai Chi again. Several years ago I tried very hard to learn, but it seemed that my body does not remember the moves, and no matter how hard I tried I simply could not perform a sequence of moves without following someone else. This does not work, because the lovely balance and smoothly flowing motions are ruined when one's head is turned frantically in the wrong direction to try and follow someone else's moves. I think it may have to do with my two dimensional vision and my complete lack of any sense of direction. I am not sure that practice can overcome this physical limitation that is probably nested in my DNA. There are things that come easy and things that come only from effort, and it seems to me that there are things that just wont come no matter what.

Sometimes I think that Buddhism appeals to the lazy. No striving allowed! If one sits quietly and empties the mind, enlightenment will come. I suppose that the lesson here is that if I practice T'ai Chi with serenity and focus, 'getting good' simply does not matter. I am a stork, I will spread my wings.

It's All in How You Look at it.

I haven't written in this blog lately for a number of reasons, the main one being that I have started attending a far distant Zendo. The Zendo is presided over by three wise men. Although they are not ordained, it is perfectly obvious that they are far more intelligent, wise and educated than I am. I realized that I had no business writing a blog as a Buddhist when I was so foolish and ignorant.

On the other hand, I am quite aware that my intuition is probably at least as well developed as their's.

The other reason that I have not blogged lately is that I have been studying "The Essence of the Heart Sutra", which is a compilation of the heart of wisdom teachings of the Dalai Lama. I found myself troubled by some of the things that were said. My intuitive understanding of the Heart Sutra had taken me on a different path than the one on which I was being led by this book.

Perhaps it doesn't matter.

Within or without?

I had lunch with a friend today and he was telling me about his stays at a Vipassana meditation center. It sounded pretty interesting if a little heavy handed with the rules and regulations. What I wondered about was the emphasis on self examination. Can we ever know ourselves? I don't belief we have that capacity. Can we know others? I don't believe we can. Can we know anything? I think not.

Having said all that, I do believe that as I understand Buddhist teaching, universal compassion is what we should practice. It seems to me that this involves opening ourselves outward to encompass all that we can. I like to use the word 'empathy', meaning feeling for all things, including ourselves. I realize that with our delusive perceptivity our 'empathy' may be foolish and unhelpful. If I were a cynic, and unfortunately I think I am, I could say that at least then my delusions would not be directed completely inward.

Levels of sentience

I have a friend who has ants in her house. One day I put some plates with food on them in the ant zone. When we discovered the plates seething with ants I attempted to wash the ants down the drain. My friend stopped me. 'Let them eat,' she said. For several days I watched as the food congealed and hardened and the ants continued to feast.
During a recent snowstorm I found an Audubon Warbler floundering on the snow. I brought the beautiful bird into the house and attempted, unsuccessfully, to save it. At the same time I was trying to come to a decision about the phalanx of mice who had invaded my house. If they had stayed on the floor I wouldn't have cared, but their tiny feces were everywhere, especially on my kitchen counter. I know there is an allowed maximum of mouse feces in the flour that we eat, but I did not fancy mouse turds in my cheese sandwiches. Reluctantly I put out traps. The mice gorged merrily on the bait. Live traps seemed even more cruel and also ineffective. The mice are still here, but their population has declined at least for now. Procrastination has its uses.

Justifications can be made for killing.

Where do we draw the line?