At 10:00 am on September 24th, our Zendo started to hum with activity. We were setting up craft tables and snacks, and even a time-lapse camera (see below), in preparation for our second year as a participating venue in New Rochelle Arts Council's annual ArtsFest.

Since the enso (originally the classic brush painted circle) theme bloomed so beautifully at last year's ArtsFest with our Sweetcake Enso art exhibition (still traveling even as I write this), we decided to carry it forward in a few new ways. This year we offered Enso: The Circle of Life as a family art workshop with two activities: enso collage-making and creating an earth-healing sand painting. Both activites expressed the interpenetration of unity and diversity, of equality and difference - a central teaching in the Zen tradition.

On one side of the Zendo, the collage table was covered in beautiful photos of plants, animals, and landscapes that Susan, Sharon Mosely and Jeff Silver had enjoyed cutting out of magazine pages when the Zendo was quiet.

On the other side, we were setting up a sand table (beautifully constructed by Deb Wood) and carefully filling containers with colorful sand. (Okay, we spilled a little!)

In all of the places in between, sangha volunteers were busy readying the Zendo for the visitors, who number about 91 by the end of the day.

It was a truly beautiful day, with new visitors and sangha members all having fun and learning how to paint with sand using, of all things, empty ballpoint pens and tongue depressors!  It was wonderful to see people's faces light up when they saw the collage table and the sand painting in progress.  Most people approached hesitantly, but were happy to find that, yes, they could paint with sand after all.  Much love and care went into every grain of sand, and the many smiles exchanged and helping hands offered ensured that it truly was a healing painting.

Many people asked, "How will you hang this up?" or "Where will you keep this?". With a smile, a sangha member would reply, "We aren't keeping it. Our teacher will sweep it away at the end of the day.  It is a teaching of impermanence." This reply was met with an array of reactions from bemusement to dismay, but the sand continued to pour amidst the sound of laughter from the collage area.

It took us 4 1/2 hours to complete the painting. Perfect! When it was done we cheered and took a moment to absorb the day before taking the last step. Destroying it. Releasing it. 

Susan stood in front of the painting and we all put our hands up in gassho as she offered a healing prayer, for the earth and for all beings. Then, with presence and care, she swept her hand through the painting, giving birth to a final beautiful swirling enso.

The painting actually became more beautiful as it transformed and the discernible image blurred , all colors joining together, no longer able to be separated.

This beautifully punctuated the feeling that had grown inside of me that day.  A feeling of artistic openness and community. The Three Treasures were truly manifested. What a blessing.

[NOTE: For more photos from ArtsFest 2011, click here to visit the Image Gallery.]

Photos by Chuck Peters

I looked for my self, but myself was gone.

The boundaries of my being

had disappeared in the sea.

Waves broke. Awareness rose again.

And a voice returned me to myself.

It always happens like this.

Sea turns on itself and foams,

and with every foaming bit

another body, another being takes form.

And when the sea sends word,

Each foaming body melts back to ocean-breath.

                ---Jelaluddin Rumi (13^th century Sufi poet)*

The mystical music of the Sufi tradition came alive on Sunday afternoon at Empty Hand Zen Center. On June 26^th, Sangha members, friends and family, gathered to celebrate an anticipated Community Concert featuring the soothing voice of Amir Alan Vahab and his ensemble. Mr. Vahab, a distinguished musician and teacher of Turkish and Iranian folk music, and an expert on Middle Eastern instruments, offered a performance that celebrated the poetry and music of Rumi, Hafez and the wandering dervish, Baba Tahir.

Months of  planning and coordinating finally came to fruition at Empty Hand Zen Center as we wrapped ourselves in the Sufi ethos and began to lose ourselves in the devotional sounds of Turkish and Persian dialect, the Persian flute (ney), lute (saz), and the lively daf—a large tambourine-like drum. The authentic instruments added to a delightful day.

In addition the Zendo had been arranged to reflect the Middle Eastern culture and spirit. A small table was covered with a Persian tablecloth decorated with paisley patterns and held a basket of Amir’s CDs. After the concert, our Sangha snacked on Persian delicacies such as nan-e nokhodchi (chickpea cookies) and nan-e berenje (cardamom rose-water cookies) whose aroma permeated the entire Zendo. Our sitting area had been transformed into a small stage and the energy, Amir noted, was open and wonderful.

Amir and his ensemble began with poetry, songs and stories that have been passed down from generation to generation for thousands of years. Accompanying each venerable Turkish or Persian piece were readings of English translations of Sufi verse. These esoteric poems are universal in nature and reflect the cultural and artistic expressions of this part of the world.

Amir Alan Vahab, who The New York Times calls an ambassador of a silenced music, proclaimed that the poetry and songs we were witnessing are spiritual in nature, and compared the singing and recitation of these old texts to reciting the Buddhist Sutras. Amir reminded our Sangha that something unique occurs when one’s vocalization or musical ability expands beyond mere entertainment. For example, Sufis are often depicted whirling in ecstasy, losing themselves in graceful spinning. In this dance of life, whirling dervishes—with one palm facing up to the heavens and one palm facing down—are able to connect to the divine source through trance dance.  Similarly, for those who follow Sufi phenomenology, music and poetry become creative pathways to  What Amir referred to as the face of God and what we are more accustomed to describing as the interconnectedness of all being.

Along with the recitation of authentic translations of ancient poetry and gentle vocals sweeping over us and absorbing us in the mythos—we were treated to memorable folktales Amir chronicled the story of Baba Tahir, a wandering mystic from Hamadan. Baba Tahir was a mystic who is known for four his dubayti or four line poems. Buddhists also have many stories of wandering monks; Homeless Kodo for example, is a famous and beloved Zen Monk who is considered to be one of the most important Soto Zen teachers. Through out the performance, we were reminded of the beautiful resonance between different spiritual paths.

Amir also expressed his own spiritual belief in unity: all religions, he reminded us, share many similar elements. His compassionate speech was moving and received assenting nods. “We also practice what we preach,” Amir noted the difference in beliefs among himself and his ensemble which included a Christian, a Su’ni and Shiite Sufi.  “The classical Sufi tradition contains a very strong emphasis on the divine unity of all life (called Tawhid). In this view shared by Rumi, and many others, the whole creation came into existence to express the unlimited, sacred qualities through all beings.”*

Amir further brought each instrument to life by explaining their history, function and relevance in the Sufi religion. The short musical lessons and folkloric tales enhanced each performance. Our Sangha learned that the ney was useless if one was to breathe directly into the mouthpiece. He demonstrated that the placement of the fingers and specific breathing techniques were imperative. The ney, Amir noted, was also one of Rumi’s favorite instruments.  Jelaluddin Rumi, the famous Sufi poet was so fond of it that he has been quoted to have said “do not come to my funeral without the ney.” 

The Turkish lute, or saz, has seven strings, which Amir, explained, is a significant number in Sufism and is cosmically acknowledged as a significant emblem; Turkish vocals followed the sounds of strumming strings. 

During the intermission a few people stopped to examine the daf, played elegantly by Amir’s ensemble. A personal favorite, the elusive, frame hand-drum, is usually constructed out of sheep’s skin with looping strands of chain concealed on the inside of the rim. The outer layer of the drum is usually painted with birds, mystics or Persian poetry. The dafs used in this concert were made from synthesized materials and illustrated with Persian maidens adorned with flowers. The drums were raised and tapped with fingertips, and as they were lowered a cascade of sound from links of chain complimented the rhythm of the drum. 

“This is the sound of 5000 years ago,” Amir saved the tanbour, the three-string long-necked Persian lute for an encore.  Although many were already swaying in their chairs the last song seemed to enliven our spirits.  “We can get a little crazy here,” Amir smiled warmly and a few people, who were of Iranian descent sang along with the lyrics while others tapped their feet; many were simply hypnotized by the rhythms. We had entered the mast or “intoxication” of the Sufi spirit. “Sufi poetry speaks eloquently about the intoxication; both Runi and Hafez have entranced readers because they emphasize passionate love.”*  

One of the most endearing moments occurred when Amir gazed up at the walls of Empty Hand and he told us that the bricks held innumerable stories. It was these precious gems--recitation of olden poems and ancient melodies, compassionate words that embraced non-duality, stories of mystics whose words are so close to those of our own tradition, and authentic instruments that will remain with us forever. Perhaps the bricks have now absorbed an afternoon of sacred music to their countless stories and events. Sometimes as I sit, I can sill hear the soft echoes of the ney or the thunderous daf. 

***

*Douglas-Klotz, The Sufi Book of Life. New York: Penguin Group, 2005.

For three years now, long time Empty Hand member Sandra Seirin Laureano has been offering Zen practice in the suburb of Cupey, where her elderly mother lives, just outside of San Juan.   The Zen Group of Cupey meets on Wednesday evenings each week.  They also have held several Retreats on Saturdays during the last year.  It was in response to the invitation of this Zen Group, now about 8 -10 sitters, that this amazing trip came to be. 

Friday late afternoon the Cupey Group gathered together to welcome the visiting teacher – they had prepared delicious refreshments and soon we were engaged in warmhearted conversation. The depth of their interest in Zen practice was immediately apparent. Their kindness and generosity was deeply touching.

The sound of their new moktok announced zazen with the sharp accelerating pattern of the Han.  With a few words about zazen as body practice, there followed two periods of zazen with kinhin, also dokusan,  chanting of Sutras in Spanish, and finally some brief encouraging words.

But this was just the beginning.  The Cupey Zen Group, thanks to a previous connection with a Tibetan Center in San Juan  – Centro Budhista Ganden Shedrup Ling - had been invited by their leadership, Iraida Martinez, Administrator and Alberto Fournier, Program Director, to use their Center both Saturday and Sunday for a series of Zen events with the visiting teacher from New York. These would be open to their own Sangha, and any interested public as well.

Their gracious welcome still astounds me, most especially the huge bouquet of white roses put in my arms on my initial arrival and the delicious Godiva chocolate treats on departure.  Goodness, this “maestra de budismo zen” was deeply  honored. 

Saturday afternoon more than 50 people joined those from Sandra’s group for Entering Silence:  Introduction to Zen Practice.  This was a series of short presentations – Fundamentals of Zen Buddhist teaching, Wisdom and Compassion, and Practice in Everyday life -  alternating with a short  zazen and then a standing stretch. Discussion at the end was lively and heartfelt.  Although most seemed to understand my English, there was simultaneous translation being offered via head-sets by Alberto who sat in a glassed in booth at the end of the room. Amazing.

Sunday the meditation hall was reset Zendo style, and we welcomed over 30 participants for a morning silent Retreat – a clear contrast to the informal Saturday afternoon introductory program.  Three periods of zazen, kinhin, with dokusan, allowed the silence to deepen.  The Service which followed was especially moving – not only the Sutras but the dedications had been newly translated into Spanish and our chanting was well supported by the sound of gongs as well as the steady beat of the moktok. The morning ended with a talk, Whichever Way, based on the beloved Windbell poem of Dogen and his teacher Rujing.  

Following a delicious vegetarian lunch and short rest, the day ended with a Workshop on the Ox-herding Pictures, with discussion of the stumbling blocks and pitfalls of the spiritual journey.  Discussion in each of the three sections - Aspiration, Realization, and Embodiment - was amazing in its openness.  The room was filled with individuals seeking to live an awakened life, willing to inquire and to look directly at the nature of the “me-mine” self and the causes of our suffering.

It felt as though I had “splashed down” into a new field that was already well prepared, well plowed, and well seeded with the Buddha’s teaching. Maybe the Zen perspective offered some fresh fertilizer; maybe there was a deep watering.  Don’t know.  The unbelievable open heartedness, receptivity and sincerity of all who participated moved me deeply. I sensed that some lives had known great sorrow and loss, I heard of struggles with anger and of a strong determination to live more peacefully. I also encountered the expression of deep natural intuitive wisdom.  The Buddha way – Butsudo – was  manifesting everywhere, right in the middle of ordinary life, ordinary problems. 

Bowing together,  con Todos los  Buddhas a traves del espacio y el tiempo…..

***

If you would like to contact Grupo Meditación Zen de Cupey click here.  And there is a nice interview, "Nothing Missing, Nada Falta" with Sandra Seiren Laureano in which she explains how the sitting group began available here.

By Chuck Hosho Peters

"Far away in the heavenly abode of the great god Indra, there is a wonderful net which has been hung in such a manner that it stretches out infinitely in all directions. There a single glittering jewel in each node of the net, and since the net is infinite in dimension, the jewels are infinite in number. There hang the jewels, glittering like stars in the first magnitude, a wonderful site to behold. If we now arbitrarily select one of these jewels for inspection, we will discover that in its polished surface there are reflected all the other jewels in the net, infinite in number.  Not only that, but each of the jewels reflected in this one is also reflecting all the other jewels, so that there is an infinite reflecting process occurring."

 -Francis Dojun Cook*

Whether we realize it or not, we are all sitting at one of the nodes in Indra's Net. We are all glittering jewels, sitting at our node, intimately connected to all of the other nodes. As we occupy this node, we are both individual entities, or personal selves, and the entire net, or the universal self - at the same time.   

All of the other entities in this net have a well-defined script that they manifest.  Plants grow, fix sunlight, and produce oxygen. Fungi break down organic material. Rocks slowly release minerals and occasionally roll downhill.  Beavers build dams.  Birds fly and fish swim. And all of these scripts are pretty much inviolate.  A raccoon, for example, can't wake up one morning and say " I feel tired, I'm not going to forage today".

This inherent script involves more than the just our personal self.  We have an effect on the nature and flow of all materials, energy, and relationships that pass through our node, and, given that we are connected to everything else, our behavior ultimately determines the stability, integrity, and beauty of the entire net. So, what is our script?

A very clear expression of what our “life script” might be is offered by Eihei Dogen in his essay, Genjokoan.  Genjokoan is frequently translated as "manifesting (or actualizing) absolute reality" (or “the fundamental point”).  Shohaku Okumura, in his new book, Realizing Genjokoan offers some additional explanation for the title: "Genjo means 'the reality actually taking place' and koan refers to 'a question that absolute reality ask of us'. So we can say that genjokoan means 'to address the questions posed by absolute reality through the practice of our everyday life''.**   This certainly sounds like a script to me.

There is one passage early on in Dogen's Genjokoan that I find particularly illuminating : "To carry yourself forward and illuminate the myriad things, the myriad dharmas, is delusion. That the myriad things come forth and illuminate themselves is awakening or enlightenment".

According to Dogen, it is the flows between entities, the relationships and interactions between nodes - rather than the entities themselves - that define the difference between enlightenment and delusion as we take our place in Indra's net.

Do we allow the constant flows, the interactions, to move through our nodes unhindered and to manifest their absolute reality? Are they "just flows". In the way that shikantaza is "just sitting"? Do we respond to these flows with our universal self, which Uchiyama Roshi defines as, “the self that manifests what is there before we cook it up with thought”? Do the flows move through our node without disrupting the net? Like the bird flying though the air or the fish swimming in the water? 

Or, alternatively, do we try to control and modify theses flows to our own advantage through the attachment, aversion, or indifference of our personal self? Do we greedily hoard those flows which provide us wealth, status, or, that validate our opinions and narratives, and push away those interactions that we don't like or that we view as antagonistic?  And, in some cases, do we simply ignore what is flowing through the present moment of our node, e.g. the crying child, the beggar asking for money, the owner of the car with the flat tire parked on the shoulder of the road?

We are repeatedly told that the goal of a successful, happy life is to maximize the inflows (the gains) and to minimize the outflows (the losses) through our node.  This message is confusing, however, because this type of behavior invariably brings us more suffering, not happiness. 

I don't know about you, but, in most cases, I carry myself - the personal self - forward and illuminate the myriad things that approach my node - and form an opinion about each one of them. This, rather than letting the myriad things come forth and illuminate themselves within my node, and manifesting what is essential and complete in that moment.  I do this in spite of understanding intellectually that the latter interaction, i.e. letting the myriad things illuminate themselves, is the one that ultimately reinforces the stability, integrity, and beauty of the network within which I am embedded.  But I am working on this.

This is our intrinsic script. This is our practice.  This is what we take from our zazen and carry with us off the cushion.  To practice in this manner is to awaken to the self that is connected to all beings.  Dropping our conceptual views of who we are, we can actualize reality and settle into the true self that is both a single glittering jewel - and the entire infinite Net of Indra.  

***

* Hua-Yen Buddhism: The Jewel Net of Indra ( http://www.amazon.com/Hua-Yen-Buddhism-Jewel-Indra-Iaswr/dp/027102190X)

** (http://www.amazon.com/Realizing-Genjokoan-Key-Dogens-Shobogenzo/dp/0861716019)

***

Chuck Hosho Peters is a tropical ecologist employed by The New York Botanical Garden.  In this capacity he is able to travel to places such as Myanmar, Vietnam, China and Mexico, aiding local cultures to continue to subsist with knowledge of forestry maintenance.  This essay was written as a supplement to his dharma talk on "Deep Ecology, Indra's net, and the Practice of Genjokoan," which you can listen to here.

Also, Chuck's own blog is very much worth visiting.  It is effectively a diary of his travels, documenting not only forest growth but the people who coexist within it, and frequently the Buddhist practice of others along the way.  Please visit thus i have seen.



Surei Kenpo Darlene Cohen, October 31st, 1942- January 12th, 2011

Her Dharma name, Surei, means Great Spirit.  Her Birthday, Halloween, invokes the whole spirit world.  Together they capture something of her persona – vibrant, spirited, unafraid, aware of the unseen realms, and willing to take on and transform all demons. Born in Dayton, Ohio, her radiant natural beauty and quick penetrating mind were paired with tremendous passion to live life fully.  Twice struck with devastating illness, she first fought long and hard to heal Rheumatoid Arthritis as a young mother. Recently, we have witnessed her tremendous determination to continue living as long as possible with Ovarian cancer.  She did complete what she felt was her legacy, thus giving clear illustration of her second name, Kenpo, or Manifesting Dharma. With a great sense of fulfillment, she lived long enough to give Dharma Transmission for a second time  – this time to two fine students in the Bay Area, Cynthia Kear and Sarita Tomayo. 

Darlene and the man she would eventually marry, Tony Patchell, came to Zen Center in 1970, pulling up in their VW van, big collie “Dylan” in the back, a copy of Three Pillars of Zen fueling their cross-country trip from Massachusetts. An unexpected meeting with Suzuki Roshi at the door, his kindness and presence, was described by Darlene as life changing.  Before long they were sitting Sesshin, not at all prepared for how difficult it would be physically, to say nothing of having to quit smoking on the spot! From that time on, they entered the community at of San Francisco Zen Center, living and working at Tassajara,  City Center, and also Green Gulch Farm in Marin County for many years. 

In 1977 while in residence at Green Gulch Darlene became acutely ill with Rheumatoid Arthritis. This painful and crippling auto-immune disease led her to explore the potential of her meditation training to address chronic pain and catastrophic illness. In 1980, after regaining the functional use of her own body, she began instructing people in various meditation and concentration practices as an approach to healing.  She wrote three books: Arthritis: Stop Suffering, Start Moving; Turning Suffering Inside Out and The One Who is Not Busy and also taught widely in medical facilities and meditation centers for several decades. 

In the mid 90’s  Dairyu Michael Wenger became her Zen Teacher.  She expresses her gratitude at the beginning of Turning Suffering Inside Out:

To Michael Wenger, who reeled me in when I was setting up standards of my own because I was convinced I could never be part of a vigorous Zen community again or teach zazen. It is Michael who has since taught me everything I wanted to know and stuff I lacked the sense to want to know.

In the early part of the 21^st Century, both Darlene and Tony received full Dharma Transmission from their teachers, Michael Wenger and Blanche Hartman, respectively. They moved up to their cottage in the redwoods of Guerneville, renovated the garage to create the wonderful Russian River Zendo, and have continued to unfold their teaching gifts with those who come to practice.

Always down to earth, connecting practice to living a real life in the real world,  Darlene offered a clear example of the possibility of strong practice in the middle of ordinary life.  Without minimizing the value of strong and vibrant zazen, she  emphasized what she liked to call “body-to-body” practice: one-on-one relationships as a basic paradigm in Soto Zen practice. Being in residence together, shopping, cooking, cleaning, silently sipping tea was the container that allowed some true glimpse of non-separation, of “not two.”  She wordlessly taught us that in responding to each other with what Suzuki Roshi called “warm hand to warm hand,” the experience of intimacy with another human being can be tasted directly and be transformative. 

When I was first introduced to Darlene in 2000 by Zenkei Blanche Hartmann at San Francisco Zen Center, there was an immediate sense of a double sisterhood  sister-in-the-Dharma as well as sister-in-autoimmune-illness. There was also an immediate recognition of the world of differences which made us both chuckle in surprise – the lady and the monk!  Such different “packages”, such sameness of the heart!

Darlene visited the Empty Hand Zendo in Rye several times, offering teaching based primarily on her own experience of whole body awareness as practice. As she notes in her book, Turning Suffering Inside Out:

Even if your body is weak or painful, it’s still your home; it’s how you’re manifesting this life. On the most basic existential level, your body is also your penetration into reality: it is the only way that you can experience the transparency and interconnections of all things.    (pp. 33-34)

A few years later she received Dharma Transmission from her teacher, Dairyu  Michael Wenger, and began to unfold as a teacher with growing confidence in her own capacity to give expression to the rich teachings of the Zen Buddhist tradition. She visited again and in 2004 led our Spring Sesshin at Garrision Institute, marvelously unfolding the third ancestor’s Trust in Mind for us all.  In the middle of the Sesshin, breaking all the rules, I snuck down to her room at bedtime, knocked on her door, and as she stood there in her flowered flannel nightgown, I asked her to be my teacher, bowing down repeatedly on the hard wood floor.  Discouraged by the collapse of all my efforts to find a new teacher after the death of my ordination teacher, Maurine Stuart in 1990, I had given up.  Suddenly, the teacher appeared.  She answered a strong  “Yes!”  then adding “only if you will let me offer you Dharma Transmission.”   Stunned, there were only tears in reply.

Darlene quickly consulted with her own teacher and others on her return home. At this time we discussed that even if formal Transmission would not be possible, it was OK.  Our connection was alive and mutual -  “Not Two” manifesting freely and deeply.  Our work together was of value in itself, and certainly was not to “get” something.  At the same time, she seemed to know that in my long Zen journey something was missing, something was not yet complete. To be honest, I did not see this at the time; I was so delighted to have a teacher with whom I could stretch, polish and sharpen practice.

With Dairyu Michael Wenger’s kind help, elders of SFZC, most especially Zenkai Blanche Hartman and Sojun Mel Weitzman, both of whom I had known for many years, allowed us to begin study together towards Dharma Transmission.  There were many cross country visits, regular Dogen study over the phone, and always her open heart and deep understanding to support and encourage.  When the shocking diagnosis of Ovarian Cancer appeared in the Fall of 2006, time with Darlene became most precious, and we continued on. January 2008 brought the transmission of the ancestral and preceptual line to completion –  great joy!   Something had been missing, and now ploughed open it was clear to me, ancestor to ancestor and marrow to marrow.

 An infinite number of bows of gratitude to you, dear Darlene.

By Caroline Reddy  

This essay by sangha and for sangha is published on the Sweetcake Enso website, and is here for those who have not seen it.  Carrie's work, as well as that of Empty Hand Zen Center members Liz LaBella, Fran Shalom, and Anne Humanfeld, can be seen in the third Sweetcake Enso exhibition at the Village Zendo this coming Saturday January 15th.  You can read more about this exhibition here.

***

The Sweetcake Enso exhibit presently visiting Zendos across the country displays a variety of Ensos that play in the dance of form and emptiness. In the pieces that were submitted for this exhilarating exhibition, form reflects the myriad conditions of everyday life—elements that equate daily existence are respected and celebrated. 

Inside some of these circles of enlightenment, composed by contemporary Zen practitioners and artists, viewers discover an array of phenomena: gliding red snakes, crows, skulls, fragmented neon stickers, layers of colorful shapes resembling staircases, gritty metallic scraps and morsels, cosmic bubbles, and orbiting squares—all impressions that exemplify and illustrate life in its entirety. Alongside many elegant ensos constructed out of ink, metal leaf, mixed media, homemade paper, and found objects, an interactive sculpture entitled This and That, created by local Empty Hand Sangha member, Carolyn Fuchs, absorbs the participant in the process of creating a black-and-white enso in space the moment that a handle is spun. A mirror, hung serenely on the wall, reflects the genesis of an enso.

This and That, a peculiar sculpture devised from cast, iron, wood, metal and acrylic paint is based on the phenakistascope: an early animation device that used the persistence of motion principle to create an illusion of motion.* The breadth between the artist, her creation, and the participant vanishes as a black-and-white enso surfaces.  

“I was trying to decide what to do,” Carolyn—who also goes by Carrie in our Sangha—explains as she shares her impressions on the labor of the phenakistascope. “Originally I wanted to create a painting or a drawing but nothing seemed to inspire me.   I felt like I was forcing it too much, so I took a step back and thought about other ways to express an enso.” In order to emphasize the spontaneity  of an enso, Carrie decided to design a three-dimensional one; this format would allow participants to work with her to create the circle of enlightenment—accenting the energetic, and spontaneous, liveliness that ensos evoke. “I started to think about a sculpture with an element that someone had to physically actualize.  Each person would create the circle in space, activating a series of images that would be reflected in a mirror - their movement initiating the story. I wanted to give to the viewer, as my partner in the process, the moment of spontaneity expressed in painting an enso or experienced through a single brush stroke in calligraphy.” Without the participation of a viewer the images would remain static.  

The enso in Zen represents emptiness. In an animated brush stroke a spontaneous moment emerges freely creating a circle of enlightenment; thus an aesthetic union occurs. There is no artist and there is no creator—just an energetic force that emanates and electrifies the space.  Ensos also “evoke power, dynamism, charm, humor, drama and stillness.” Traditional ensos emerge from the monastery custom, where students spend years with their teacher, mindfully practicing calligraphy and creating countless circles of enlightenment. Audrey Yoshiko Seo observes that “only a person who is mentally and spiritually complete can draw a true one. Some artists practice drawing an enso daily as a spiritual practice.” Forgoing the spontaneity of  one stroke painting, Carrie spent a length of time with This and That. “It was an open process; the animated content kept changing and I had to make a concerted effort not to fight that until I absolutely had to make a decision.” 

 The animation is intentionally ambiguous. Carrie explains the symbolic allusion ingrained in the enso: “The animation features birds, an iconic and powerfully symbolic image. In this particular flight, a tangled ball of string is tethered to the bird’s feet.  Carrying the string could have different implications: a burden, unidentified/unfocused energy, or anxiety.  At a certain point in the animation the string snaps, unravels, and falls into radiating space; one can interpret this as a catharsis. And as it dissolves - as the tangle falls away from the bird - it disappears, only to reappear to start the process again.  This mirrors the symbolic cyclical nature of an enso.”  

The cyclical nature of the animation emulates the paradigm of creation.  In Zen Circles of Enlightenment, Seo describes our human relationship to the circle. “Our connection to the circle is in some ways obvious.   We are embedded in the circularity of the horizon. We live on a sphere that, with other spheres, circles around the sun, in the vast celestial dome.  We are enamored with the moon.  In art, we highlight an abstract circle’s many natural forms—the ring, the sphere, the wheel. We create halos that float above Saints’ heads, and perform ritual circle dances.”

Traditional enso calligraphies are often brushed in black ink; likewise, Carrie designed her enso by omitting color from her palette. “I chose to paint the image in black-and-white to simplify the image; it makes the animation more crisp. If it was done in color, the images would be muddled on the disc and hard to discern.  I wanted the whole piece to be monochromatic and calming to the eye; simple and a little mysterious.”  It is the elusive nature of this sculpture that had many Sangha members, including the writer of this segment, spinning the handle before the phenakistascope was unveiled to the public eye during New Rochelle’s Art Festival on Saturday October 2^nd and 3rd. 

  “Enso is considered to be one of the most profound subjects in Zenga (Zen-inspired paintings), and it is believed that the character of the artist is fully-exposed in how she or he draws an enso.”  Aware of this vital principle of an enso, Carrie also commented on what makes the circle of enlightenment so alluring.  “Ensos come from those who have forgotten about the bird and the tangle—the painter fades and the enso surfaces.”

  The interplay of flight and entanglement also implies the relationship between the relative (conditional life) and the absolute (infinite); hence, Carrie envisioned her sculpture to invoke interdependence. “Flight is the activity.  The entanglement and the release become a natural result of flight.”  Linking emptiness and the shavings of daily life, This and That expresses non-duality differently and alongside of the many other pieces submitted for the Sweetcake Enso exhibition.  

The phenakistascope allows many visitors a chance to play leading them to approach the whimsical instrument with an eager eye. “I wanted this piece,” Carrie explained, “to invoke a sense of wonder and magic, to invite curiosity and playfulness.”   

In The Way of the Peaceful Warrior, by Dan Millman, Socrates, the protagonist’s mentor and spiritual teacher, associates child-like wonder to the Garden of Eden. “Every infant lives in a bright garden where everything is sensed directly, without the veils of thought—free of beliefs, interpretations, and judgments.” Perhaps, spinning the handle of this enduring sculpture echoes the famous koan: what did your face look like before your parents were born?

“When someone reaches out to turn the handle they are open to the unknown and momentarily forget themselves in the activity of watching and spinning. Then the image truly comes to life,” Carrie affirmed. This child-like innocence is precisely the reason why This and That has been aptly-nicknamed, by a few Sangha members, “the spinny-thingy.”

Millman, Dan. The Way of the Peaceful Warrior.  California: New World Library. Seo, Audrey Yoshiko. Enso: Zen Circles of Enlightenment.  Massachusetts: Weatherhill. http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/455469/phenakistoscope   

By Gillian Cummings

Just as the Sunday before, when adults of the Empty Hand Zen Center’s sangha ended Rohatsu Retreat with an Eye-Opening ceremony for the many Buddhas brought from home altars to be purified and rededicated to their owners’ practice, so on this wintry Saturday the Zen Kids group celebrated the Buddha’s awakening. We did this by making cardboard Buddhas and holding a similar ceremony to remind children and parents alike of their own Buddha nature, the awakening that is already here.

To begin, everyone took their seat in a semicircle around the front altar, and was introduced to the topic of “Rohatsu,” how it really means “twelfth month,” and how the name “Buddha” simply means “awake.” The Buddha’s life was described in simple terms the children could relate to: how the Buddha had lived in a palace as a young prince, unhappy though he had been given everything a young prince could want.  How he left the palace to live among wandering monks who starved themselves in their effort to attain enlightenment. How when he was near death from starvation himself, a girl, a shepherdess, came to him with a bowl of milk and he understood that to awaken he must first live, simply, in the body. He then sat beneath the bodhi tree and vowed he would remain there until he was enlightened. He then sat on a pillow of straw, much like our zafus. After a hard night of sitting he saw the morning star, and he saw, too, with clarity the causes of suffering and the path of freedom. Asked by the same wandering monks "Who are you now?"—glowing with the light of his new transformation—he replied simply, “I am awake.” Or “Buddha.”

Following this story, the children assumed zazen posture, which they all seemed familiar with, and we sat as a group for a period of three minutes. There was minimal fidgeting and a sense of lightness could be felt in the room.

We then began to make our own Buddhas, not be meant as objects of worship but rather as reminders of our own potential for clear-seeing.

Small, medium and large Buddha outlines had been cut out of cardboard ahead of time and there were small lidded boxes for bases, also of cardboard, which Dennis had helped prepare. The kids—and parents, too—could decorate their Buddhas with markers, glitter, gemstone-like beads, shiny pipe-cleaners and stickers of all kinds: stickers of roses, sunflowers, autumn leaves, butterflies, beach balls and stars. People made all sorts of Buddhas, some beneath trees, some with spikes of light radiating from them, some with stones to indicate chakras, many with flowers at their hearts or heads or piled around their feet, one with a scarf and hat to keep him warm. The room was fairly quiet as we all worked intently on fashioning the statues that showed, to some extent, the uniqueness of our expression, cut from the same paperboard.

After the art project, there was a break for snacks and cider. Then we reassembled to hold the Eye-Opening ceremony.

The Buddhas were placed on a table in front of the main altar, where children and parents approached. First, each Buddha was brought to Catherine, who stood on the left and purified each statue with incense, saying “For when a Buddha meets a Buddha.” Then Susan, who stood on the right, used a small paintbrush to open each Buddha’s eyes, exhorting the Buddha and the Buddha within the Buddha-maker to “Wake Up!” or to keep “Eyes Open!” During the ceremony, for the sake of simplicity, we kept silence, but when we had all brought our Buddhas forward, we chanted “Namu Dai Bosa” as a group, while the kids kept rhythm on assorted instruments to the beat of the mokyugo and the ring of the inkin, a thing they did that seemed to give them great pleasure.

To close, Susan explained that at this time of year, the time of deepest darkness and cold, many religions observe a holiday to celebrate light. The Buddha’s clear seeing of the morning star is one example of a shining-forth within what we know as winter.

Arriving home that evening, Rich and I heard—for the first time in ages—an owl in the empty woods across from our house, deep “Who?”’s echoing in the frosty darkness. And I thought of how the children are wise and how we need to learn to be more like them. Thought of how, at the beginning of the Buddha-making craft, one boy had said with enthusiasm, “This is the best day of my life!” And how there was more than just innocence in his knowing. The best day. The only day. Eyes open.

By Bruce Demaree

On Sunday, November 21st, members and friends of the Empty Hand Zen Center gathered to hear Dennis Shofu Myozan Keegan’s first Dharma talk as a transmitted teacher, and to share a celebratory luncheon together.

Empty Hand's resident teacher, Susan Ji-on Postal, served as transmitting teacher (Honshi) during private ceremonies on Thursday and Friday evenings; Dairyu Michael Wenger provided guidance for the preparations and served as Instructor (Kyojoshi), especially during Thursday's Denkai ceremony.

Dennis began Buddhist practice at the Zen Studies Society in midtown New York in 1979.  Having nurtured his home practice in New Jersey, in 1998 a mutual friend from a local Thich Nhat Hanh group asked Dennis for a ride to the old Meeting House in Rye, New York where he first met Susan and the Empty Hand sangha. 

Comfortable with the style of practice and even the sutra translations (which could be traced to Susan’s teacher, Maurine Stuart, who had also attended Zen Studies Society), Dennis immediately felt at home.  He began working to prepare for Jukai, receiving the Buddhist precepts from Susan in March of 2000.

Simultaneously, Dennis had opened his apartment in Basking Ridge for the Thich Nhat Hanh group.  After a while the original co-founders of this group moved, and the participant population shifted to include people drawn to Zen-style sitting.  By the time Dennis was ordained a Priest in November of 2002, he was directly leading this group, a role he continues today.

For the Fall Practice Period of 2005, Dennis served as Shuso (Head Student); in April of 2008 he was re-ordained as Soto Zen Priest in the lineage of Suzuki Roshi following Susan’s own transmission.

Having retired from decades of professional work in mathematical analysis for the insurance industry, Dennis relocated with his wife to Montclair, New Jersey, launching a new Zen group there in the autumn of 2008. 

At Empty Hand, Dennis offered a series of in-depth study groups devoted to exploring the Heart Sutra and Dogen's Shobogenzo.  He helped start and continues to facilitate Empty Hand’s monthly movie nights by selecting dharma-related films as diverse as “The Burmese Harp,” “Enlightenment Guaranteed” and “Ground Hog Day.” 

Dennis tirelessly serves as an officer on the Empty Hand Board of Directors.  In his role of Treasurer he has been instrumental not only in facilitating the purchase of the current Zendo building but also in continuing to oversee and guide the group’s ongoing financial well-being.  His analytical talent, ability to patiently explain finances to fellow community members, and skill in carefully listening to and advising on the multitude of ongoing practical concerns inherent in running the Zendo are an enormous gift to the sangha.

Dennis began his formal preparation for Dharma Transmission over a year ago by participating in a sewing sesshin under the guidance of Zenkei Blanche Hartman of San Francisco Zen Center.  Accompanied by sangha members Deb Mushin Wood and Glynn Ensho Debrocky, he measured, cut, and started sewing his okesa and rakusu, and zagu (bowing mat).  Here Dennis also met Tim Wicks, who accompanied Michael Wenger to Empty Hand this month to assist with the completion of the sewing tasks and offer steadfast support of Dennis’ preparations.

Following the traditional requirements for a 21 day ceremony, Dennis began the daily practice of altar rounds (Jundo) and bowing to the Ancestors (Bussorai) on November 1st at his home, supported by family and Dharma friends.  He took up residence with Michael, Susan and Tim at Empty Hand for the final week, opening the Altars with Jundo before sitting and service, followed by Bussorai and a personal service of gratitude (Kankin) for the teachings. Sangha members supported and encouraged Dennis' public practices during this time, and had previously assisted in the sewing of his rakusu and cases for both rakusu and okesa.

Sunday’s events were a wonderful way of welcoming this special teacher to his new role.  The morning was marked by a period of zazen and kinhin, followed by service.  Dennis then offered his first Dharma talk, outlining material he intends to examine in greater detail in the future, including the nature of the teacher-student relationship and how Buddhist understanding functions in daily life.  The talk was opened up for questions, which followed these themes and were greeted by replies from Dennis, Michael and Susan.

The following luncheon allowed the sangha to offer congratulatory toasts, filled with remembrances of the personal way Dennis has touched our lives, for the Sangha Singers to present two energetic rounds, and for Susan to present a fine print of Jeff Schlanger’s recent Enso piece.  Wonderful food, spirited conversation, and heartfelt gratitude for this momentous occasion filled the Zendo in equal measure.

Dennis approaches his formal teaching role with the commitment to “keep on keeping on,” continuing his service to his two New Jersey groups and to Empty Hand, where he and Susan trust that their different teaching styles will continue to gracefully comingle. 

Dennis’ new Dharma name, Myozan, translates to “Mysterious” (or “Subtle,” also a shared connection with Maurine) and “Mountain.”  Considering his very solid sitting presence and evident love of Dogen’s subtle Dharma expression the name couldn’t fit more perfectly.

 The Hardas family.

The Titcombe family.

A visitor absorbed in the whirl of things.

Bloggers Barbara O'Brien and Chuck Peters laughing it up.

Sweet Theo found a place to sit in the midst of it all.

Sweetcake munchies!

The Renaissance Vocal Ensemble fills the room with the oldest art of all.

All photos are courtesy of Chuck Hosho Peters

Grace Schireson at the Empty Hand Zen Center, August 15th, 2010.  Photo by Chuck Hosho Peters.

By Catherine Seigen Spaeth

“Two frogs were dropped in a bowl with steep sides and full of milk – the very smart frog realized that there was no way to get out, and said “There’s no point in struggling and swimming!” and he drowned in the milk.  The other frog was rather stupid – like most of us – and said “There must be something here to do.”  And so he kept swimming, and he swam and he swam and he swam until the milk turned to butter, and he climbed out of the bowl.”

The parable above was offered to us by Grace Schireson as the introduction to her dharma talk on Sunday, August 15^th.  The wiser frog clung to what he knew, but it was the empty-handed one who in ceaseless activity and failure – but also with a sense of responsibility – refused to let a bad situation become worse.  This swimming is the nature of our compassion, she said, where “our purpose is to transform ourselves, to take in suffering and to churn it into compassion.  And so everyone is counting on us to take part in this big bowl of milk.”

On the heels of her new book, Zen Women, Beyond Tea Ladies, Iron Maidens and Macho Masters, the parable of the frogs and the bowl of milk was offered as an encouragement to acknowledge the role of gender in our lives and to honor our female ancestors.  It is a responsibility that involves not being the one who is drowning in the milk, or walking forward from and as the wound, but to keep churning that butter with the full knowledge that there will likely only be a thin layer through which we are likely to fall in the end. 

Schireson spoke strongly of the need for women - always associated with extravagant emotion -  to express their emotions through and as their practice.  The story of Yasodhara’s lament upon the Buddha’s home-leaving is in a sense the mythical origin of female practice, a painful lesson in overcoming abandonment and attachment.  In my own reading I have found this, a writing from Thailand that conveys the hardship Yasodhara would have endured in her culture as a woman abandoned.  The Buddha’s wife is speaking to her infant son:

Oh my beloved Rahula.  You were a misfortune for your father from the very beginning.  I have suffered as a widow; men look down on me; they do not respect me.  A royal carriage is symbolized by its banner; a flame depends upon fire; a river exists because of the ocean, a state devoid of a ruler cannot survive.  Just so, Rahula, you and I have been abandoned as persons of no account.  Everyone accuses you of being illegitimate, and people look down on me as a widow.  My suffering brings only tears.  How can I continue to live?  I am ashamed before everyone.  It is better for me to take a poison and die or to put a rope around my neck and hang myself from the palace.*

In Zen Women Schireson quotes from the literature of the contemporary Buddhist conversion movement in India:

Tell me one thing, Yasodhara, how did you contain the raging storm in your small hands?  Just the idea of your life shakes the earth and sends the screaming waves dashing against the shore.  You would have remembered while your life swept by, the last kiss of Siddhartha’s final farewell, those tender lips. ****

Personal, sensual, and mythical in scale, these words are borrowed from a literary movement that began in the mid 20^th century and as the expression of the largest caste of untouchable women in India who converted en masse to Buddhism.**  Schireson is citing an excerpt from the poem "Yasodhara" by Hira Bansode and first published in 1981 - you can read the full poem here.  In Schireson’s text Hira Bansode's words are removed from their 20^th century context and situated without authorship as an expression of the origins of a gendered Zen Buddhism.  In this way Schireson amplifies the mythical power of Hira Bansode's words.

It is Mahapajapati, the Buddha’s stepmother who raised him, who came to the Buddha three times to be accepted upon the spiritual path.  Having accepted untouchable men as his followers, the Buddha denied Mahapajapati at each request, leaving her no choice but to shave her head, don the robes, and walk for over a hundred miles with her followers – largely the abandoned women of Siddhartha’s harem and widows of a recent war.***  Mahapajapati then appealed to Ananda, the “male insider,” who could speak on her behalf.

With the above parable in mind, it is as though Mahapajapati fell into the milk the moment that she realized that she had nothing worth keeping, and donned her robes with no encouragement from the child she had raised.   Even Ananda would have to plead with the Buddha three times over until women could be accepted and in short order the eight rules would appear, giving nuns of lifetime practice inferior status in relation to the male novice, and with no right to speak against him.  By whatever means available we are perpetually treading in the milk, only finding our hold in thin skins and slippery clumps of butter as they appear.

In Schireson’s book, the female gender appears in it’s varied yet limited and even mythified forms. The purpose of the book, however,  is to reach beyond these myths in order to retrench them in the actually lived conditions of women as practitoners.  I leave you with another poem cited by Grace Schireson, by the Korean nun Song’yong Sunim (1903-1994):

Outside the Zen Hall of Naewonsa

The snow-covered world

Is the garment of Avalokitesvara

Expounding, like flowing water,

The Dharma inexpressible by the body,

Inaudible to the body, Invisible to the body,

Inexpressible by, and inaudible and invisible

            to space.

So who is this wonderful person

Who expresses, hears and sees it?

 

Avalokitesvara, ever responding to the cries of the world, spreads her robes upon it as the inexpressible, inaudible and invisible refuge of no separation.    Who is wearing these robes?

***

*Donald Swearer, trans., “Bimba's Lament,” in Buddhism in Practice, Donald S. Lopez, ed., Princeton University Press, 1955, as quoted in Ranjini Obeyesekere, Yasodhara, the Wife of the Bodhisattva, NY: SUNY Press, c. 2009, p. 8.

**The poem that Schireson cites was found in the article by Eleanor Zelliott, “Buddhist Women of the Contemporary Maharastrian Movement,” in Jose Ignacion Cabezon, Buddhism, Sexuality and Gender, SUNY Press, c. 1992, pp. 91-107.  Grace Schireson does not mention the author of this beautiful poem or the context for it.  The writer’s name is Hira Bansode, and the poem was first published in 1981, in the publications Stri.  Excerpts from Zelliot’s article, including an appropriate footnote crediting the poet, can be found here.

***Susan Murcott, First Buddhist Women: Poems and Stories of Awakening, Paralax Press, c. 1991, pp. 26-27.

****Grace Schireson, Zen Women:  Beyond Tea Ladies, Iron Maidens, and Macho Masters, MA, Wisdom Publications, c. 2009, pp. 46 and 106, respectively.