The Zen Community

Talking About Talking…

Harry — Thu, 09 Sep 2010 01:01:00 +0000

A meandering post from Brad Warner's blog about talking/meaning etc etc:

Yeah, our words only suck because we sometimes suck.

They, just like [the object of our speech], are already free of themselves while we're speaking (regardless of what we mean, or think we are saying/meaning). But we don't generally recognise the fact... because we can never hope to recognise it in terms of meaning, or rather, in terms of the sort of very limited self referential meaning that we generally suck from the real situation of what the words are actually doing before we understand and interpret what we have said or are about to say. This limited understanding of the meaning of speech is based on our wanting things for our self.

Things in the real situation are always already their own meaning. To make matters more confusing, a manifest 'unreal' situation is effectively just as real, and the 'unreal' meaning is therefore real and manifest too.

Realisation, to put a Buddhist slant on it, is already a manifest reality before we do it... as long as we are doing it. Delusion is also effectively a reality. It's substantially a matter of which reality we want to do, but to uncover the fact that we have a choice in any given moment of our life may take a lot of clarifying given the persistent and pervasive nature of our conditioning.

...Just to add that people like to think that they definitively know the meaning of words on some sort of on-going basis (this is one of the many habitual things we do to give us an idea of constancy and autonomous existence). But actually the real effective and manifest meaning is contained only in the present moment when the word is used/expressed/intentionally evoked in memory, where it's a seamless element of the whole, real situation which, of course, is never the same twice.

Regards,

Harry.

Bodhi Armour. 2010-09-08 17:46:00

Harry — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 23:46:00 +0000

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Passing Thought about Star Trek

James — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 21:21:00 +0000

I wasn't watching a lot of television in 1966, so I missed out that day, this day, in that year, when Star Trek made its debut.

Later, I would be a fan, if not of the ferocious sort.

I'm glad for the humanistic spirituality it advocated.

Good stuff.

Could use a little more of that, these days, no doubt...

The Misery of Not Making Mistakes

Nathan — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 21:14:00 +0000

The following little talk is from our center's monthly bulletin. It is from the same lay teacher, Ken, whose zazen in a chair I wrote about last week.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH THAT? By Ken Ford
I began our conversation with a story, oh so important at the moment. Like many of our stories, a self-centered complaint: I had screwed up quite publicly in my sesshin assignment, just how I don’t remember, but it confirmed mistake-making as a tendency of mine, one I didn’t like. Tenshin-roshi’s response took me by surprise. “Are you OK with that?” That’s all he said.

I saw the reactions come up: “Of course not, why would I be OK with my mistakes? Why would I have brought it up?” But I heard him loud and clear. He had simply pointed out that I was only adding suffering to suffering with my story. I had set up camp in a notion of myself as a person who makes mistakes and I wanted to fix that.

We want to get things right, and with care we often do. My presence and clarity of mind are far from perfect, however, and my actions don’t always live up to my standard; I don’t always get it right. Moreover, I live in a radically interdependent way with all beings; “I” am not in control. I remember Katagiri roshi saying that because of our complete interdependence, we cannot live for a minute without forgiveness.

There is suffering in making a mistake: the simple realization that my actions didn’t measure up, and maybe my action caused discomfort for others. Oh, but I said public screw-up didn’t I; how about the everyday suffering of a little bruise on the ego? A mistake and its consequences need to be seen and felt, which is to say fully acknowledged, confessed. But then if I do not see its emptiness, how much suffering do I add by dwelling in the world of regret, by—and this is what it amounts to—hating rather than accepting what arises as the life of this moment?

Spending a lot of time on my own recently, I've been noticing some things about mistakes and my attitude towards them.

First, like Ken, I'm often not terribly happy with screw ups. Especially public screw ups that involve others. At the same time, I seem to be ok when a mistake doesn't appear to impact anyone but myself. Or if it's just a little screw up that doesn't "make much of a difference."

Second, I have a strong coward-bone that pushes me to do all sorts of things when I let it. Instead of taking a risk, I'll avoid something to minimize potential mistakes. Instead saying things directly and clearly, I'll try and soften my words, or make qualifications that will ease disagreements. Why? Because sometimes, my mind tells me that disagreements are mistakes, and sometimes I believe that mind.

Third, I don't regret very often. I'm not one to wallow in that kind of energy, or if I do, it's not too long.

Fourth, I'm coming to see that when you are always "trying to get it right" or "do it right," you are in a prison. Why is that? Because you believe you know where you need to go and what needs to be done, and then inevitably you'll fall short of the story. Living like this also saps creativity, spontaneity, and flexibility. It makes you heavy, anxious, and on guard towards others.

Fifth, I can feel the fears of being abandoned, rejected, and alone behind the concerns I have about mistakes. This isn't a little fear, either; it feels bone-deep at times.

To be honest, I find it challenging to be ok with the fact that much of life is out of my control. That even my best efforts might still result in mistakes. That I can extend all the kindness and generosity possible, and still might be met with abandonment and rejection. And that each of us is alone in a certain sense, even if we are also interwoven with everything else in the world.

The methods of damage control I employ around mistake making really are about avoiding these truths. And, also, fixating on them too much - as if I'm always going to be condemned, no matter what I do, which is just another story.

Most of the mistakes I have made over the years involving others have been quickly forgiven, or brushed off as not important or worthy of worry. In fact, as I have learned to tone my own reactions/judgments down, I have come to also be able to see when someone is over-reacting to something I did. Or over-reacting about something they did.

However, I'm still prone to wanting to "get it right," and might never be rid of that. And you know, I suppose I can learn to be ok with that wanting. It's not like I have to act on it.

Regardless, the way I'm starting to see it, it's kind of miserable to be one who puts extraordinary amounts of energy into not making mistakes. Perhaps you minimize some hurt doing this, but in the end, your life seems to be minimized in the process.

winners and losers

genkaku — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 19:53:00 +0000

.
It occurred to me that in spiritual endeavor ...

Winners always come in second.
.

Stephen Hawking vs God

Stuart — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 19:07:00 +0000

Of course I'm a fan of Stephen Hawking. How could you not love a man who not only solved the great mysteries of the universe, but was a guest voice on the Simpsons?Hawking has gone through two marriages. By the time he hooked up with his nurse in the mid 90s, neuro-muscular dystrophy had left him able to move only his cheek and one finger. Amazing how he pulled off that seduction. Genius

Putting things where they belong

Dalai Grandma — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 16:00:00 +0000

There is not a petal of a flower or a blade of grass that does not configure the Way.
Ts'ai-ken tan

I am in my semi-annual organizing mode -
- separating Things to Do from the filing in the heap on my desk
- in fact, clearing my desk of everything that is not about a working desk; moving the family pictures to another location.
- actually doing the most important Things to Do

This morning I packed all the recycle into the van to go up to the collection boxes: paper, plastic. Too much of both! I am reading No Impact Man, which has made me aware of every Kleenex I use doing this dusty work. Paper tissues = trees cut down. All this paper! Do we really have to subscribe to the NY Times? And the local paper, weekends. Paper.

In that same corner of the garage, I gathered all the rags to go downstairs and be laundered. We don't check our own oil - what are they doing here? I don't even use rags to clean, preferring my microfiber dust cloth. No Impact Man used rags instead of tissues and paper towels. Sounds like trouble. Changing habits always seems hard - the old habit fights your intention.

In the basement, folding clothes, I noted that the laundry room is not designed to be the place you store dirty clothes and linens until the next time you need them. What a bunch of bad habits we have. I intend to wash all that laundry. Catch up. And then to form a new habit.

Heavens, what leads to all this? Maybe the weather. We are just at that fresh return of autumn, sky a beautiful French blue (I wonder how to make that blue in watercolor), humidity low, welcome breeze. And it is new moon, the time I usually feel best, calm and organized. And it is, thank God, no longer August, the month of decaying summer yang. This is as good as spring, but crisper.

Now I am worn out, and have sat down to read over Robert Aitken's essays on Zen ethics. I had printed out and stuck in the book his 2000 talk "40 Years of the Diamond Sangha." I remember loving that, so I read it again. He decided not to use the occasion to go over "sectarian considerations," (all we've accomplished, bla bla) but goes right to the point: maintaining awareness of the minutely subtle. The ephemereal is what's real.
[image: Miraculous Zinnia]

Aboout that last post…

Mumon — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 14:20:00 +0000

I'm sorry, I'm jaded. I remember Spy magazine from the late '80s and early '90s. Behind all the wit there was a point: there seems to be a tendency in publishing circles to want to assume a mantle of being authoritative (e.g. "the Buddhist review" ) whilst pushing a narrative that is hardly uniform and representative of things as they are.

That's the prerogative of anyone, including myself as a consumer, reader, and potential critic who is trying to reconcile minor and major cognitive dissonances. Like, what did the Rockefeller Foundation have to do with the foundation of Spy? Or Frederick Lenz's estate in continuing its funding?

Spy came along at roughly the same time that Tricycle did, from the same city. Spy was funnier, more cynical, and avoided worship of the Dalai Lama. It also had better graphics. And had some very surprising, um coincidences.

So, yeah, I'm at peace with the "Buddhist media." In some ways we're alike. I wish Tricycle were more like Spy.

And while I'm happy as a clam regarding Blogisattva awards and what-not, to me, it's just a tad unseemly to put blurbs on your blog lauding your blogging from "name" Buddhists. That's me. That's my narrative. Yours might vary, and I've no problem with that. It's grist for all.

unfailingly generous

Karen Maezen Miller — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 14:13:58 +0000

When I first heard that Lori Deschene of the hugely popular inspirational site Tiny Buddha was going to review Hand Wash Cold, I wondered how she would define my life’s work.

After all, plenty of people don’t like the book, and a goodly number don’t hesitate to say so. Compared to Momma Zen‘s sweetly sentimental musings about the transcendent love of motherhood, Hand Wash Cold can smack some people upside the head like a wet, stinky dishrag. As Deschene writes:

Most of us don’t want to be ordinary. We want to be special. We want to live bold, extraordinary lives punctuated by moments of passion, excitement, and adventure.

We want to fill our days with people, things, and activities that make us feel vibrant, and outsource the rest to someone else – someone paid to handle the mundane.

We want to discover something, uncover something, build something, invent something, found something, prove something – be something. We want to be extraordinary. We want to be excellent. We want to be great – or at least moving in that direction.

I don’t write about how to do any of that. I don’t write about the life all of us wish we had. You can read something else if you’re still looking for that. Almost anything else will deliver the promise of escape to somewhere – anywhere – else. Instead, as Deschene says about my approach:

She turns herself inside out to reveal her vulnerability, her ego, her humanity – everything you might assume doesn’t exist underneath the trappings of priesthood. She is unfailingly generous in sharing her own journey to right here and now.

Despite my failings, Tiny Buddha has inspired me to be unfailingly generous all over again. I’m giving away a signed copy of Hand Wash Cold right here and now. Leave a comment to enter. Double your chances by tweeting the following.

RT @kmaezenmiller Giveaway: Hand Wash Cold http://bit.ly/a3rxE0

It’s giveaway week! I’ll be giving away books on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Check back and enter often. Winners for all three, including, Brad Warner’s latest eyebrow-raiser, drawn next Sunday, Sept. 12.

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A Heartbeat Away

Harvey Daiho Hilbert, Roshi — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 13:05:00 +0000

With palms together,

Good Morning Everyone,

My partner is beside me and she is pretending not to be interested in what I am writing. I know better. It has been a joyous reunion. She looks much healthier and is so much more alive. We have a very special, if not outside the pale, relationship. We have not seen each other for two months time.

In Zen, the universe is one. There is no outside, no inside; just this that is there in front of us. Unlike Stephen Hawking, it does not care whom or what (if anything at all) created it: it simply is. In thusness we turn and face ourselves. How are we doing? Is our life of benefit to others? How are we treating one another? Can we die in this moment without hesitation?

Labels and boxes are the stuff of duality: they are fingers pointing to delusion. I say, drop them and be free.

Travel at the speed of thought,

And find yourself

Looking at yourself:

There is no tomorrow

No yesterday.

No now.

There is just what we make

In our next breath.

So, we touch each other over a time and distance which does not exist, and in the flash of a thought we will bring love into the world.

Be well.