What She Said...

http://www.tricycle.com/-practice/an-introduction-zen-roshi-pat-enkyo-ohara?offer=dharma

Zen practice is not about getting away from our life as it is; it is about getting into our life as it is, with all of its vividness, beauty, hardship, joy and sorrow. Zen is a path of awakening: awakening to who we really are, and awakening the aspiration to serve others and take responsibility for all of life.

This sounds good, but how is it to be accomplished? How is it possible to enter such a new way of experiencing one’s life?

There is a term in the Celtic tradition that I find resonates with something fundamental about Zen practice. The Celts spoke of “thin places,” places like caves or wells or other special sites where the boundary between the mundane and magical was permeable. To me, Zen practice offers a kind of thin place, a “place” where we can discover that there is fundamentally no separation between ourselves and others, that what we seek is always so close, always right here. In the Lotus Sutra’s parable of the burning house, the only escape from our greed, anger, and ignorance is said to be through a “narrow door.” The narrow door, the thin place, and any of a number of metaphors point us in the direction of our own realization. A door or a gate or a threshold also implies that there is effort, movement, investment in transformation.
-An Introduction to Zen By Roshi Pat Enkyo O'Hara

Sometimes when you reach the end of your rope, and you just let go-- out of anger, or frustration, or sheer exhaustion-- a net appears. This is today's net, for me.

I'm not "saved" by a long shot, but it sure is nice to have a respite point where I can just sort of hang in the breeze and reconsider my options, and entertain what I already know-- what we all already know-- those little gems of truth tucked in to each of us, awaiting a light of reminder to glint off of it, to offer us hope within the impossible.

Gassho, sensei, for pointing to that thin place. I'll pass it along.

Relating to Hard Times (Reprise)

5 years ago and some 17 days, I took my vows as a priest. What did this mean?

Nothing, I discovered, until I gave birth to my son. And every moment since that one particular moment (11:17-ish), everything I thought I knew about life, existence, happiness and our human lot vanished into the ether of WTF.


As it turns out, it's a complete shock to get over yourself, and expand into a universe of real need. All the theories fly out the window, and there you are, committed to each and every moment, without any idea. Hope vanishes... but replacing it? Moments of terrifying realness, deeper than joy, wider than sorrow.

"You're in the soup," was a favorite oft-saying at the Buddhist University I attended.
Soup?

Soup's got nothing to do with it. Just a whole lot of scrubbing.

PriestZilla

By now, I thought surely I would have posted my latest brilliant essay on... aich. What was I thinking about, exactly?

Life has a funny way of happening, doesn't it. And no matter how good a spiritual person you think you might be, or how carefully you follow all the rituals and prescriptions, this week I've come at long last to the brilliant realization: it doesn't matter. You're not going to get anything for it. No bonus, no get-out-of-jail-free card, no executive pardon. Because life, in all its bizarre poetic justice, is going to keep happening, and happening, and happening.

But I think I'm actually really aching for that pardon...

So, ok. Here I am, back at Square One. I shall return to the Beginner's Mind Checklist.
one. Breathing? check.
two. Not-knowing? hmmm. does WTF count? sigh. no. it doesn't really, does it. ok. back to one.
Breathing? yes.
sort of.
Not-knowing? well...yes, yes I did, I indeed felt a small opening happening there, this time I'm going to count it.
three. How's the posture? well... equanimity and dignity really flew out the window there for a while. but I think I can manage a mudra...
(resumes typing) four. What appears to be the koan? Nothing, absolutely nothing, is working out as I planned.
(maniacal zen master/earth mama goddess laughter from Beyond...) And?
Well, ok, so this spontaneous koan emerged a while back, "What is real Zen?" But I think I need to change it. I think the better phrasing of it might be, "What is the best expression of Zen?" But everytime I think that, you know? Something awful happens. And of course I do not present myself in the Best Most Zen Manner.
You fly off the handle.
...You pretty much got that.
What are your mirrors telling you?
Oh! Nice one.
Thanks.
Hmn. Well... The mirrors have been pretty snippety. Destructive, in fact.
Is that so.
Yes. The glass ones show my funny faces, or, heh, me picking my zits.
Honesty is a good thing...
Yeah. And the person mirrors? Oh, my. So many people in a tizzy. Lots of tension; lots of pain. And god, the uncertainty, the stories of uncertainty I've been hearing lately...
I can't tell you anything.

I was afraid you were going to say that.

Polish your mirrors, not your bricks.

gassho :)

Now get to bed!

Postcard

I'm on vacation...

...care to join me for a cup on the front porch?

It's such a lovely, quirky, artsy house we're in, here on the Cape.

So many signs of great love and care by the owner.

And the garden...

Sweet wonders, jubilant surprises.

Back 'round to front again, shall we step in?

The quality of light here is my favorite part.

Secret rooms and nooks, and quiet spaces.

and my boy, ever a blur of curls and brightness.

(Let's get that boy outside.)

...what could be better than blueberries?

Well, I'll tell you.

aaaahhhhh!

Happy Summer, everyone!

Liberation Day

Patriot music,
breezy morning street flags wave
spent web catching sun.

I'm usually inspired to think of the 4th of July not as Independence Day, but Liberation Day. (Would it be that it was interdependence day, I think.) Nevertheless, I celebrate the gift of personal freedom each Fourth by tending my spiritual freedoms-- the freedom to practice what I consider most precious and sacred in this life.

My most favorite memory of all of these celebrations? The year that I took refuge, quite by happy accident, with a 4-year-old Kalu Rinpoche; and not two days later I helped a dear friend realize her dream of dancing a Sun (/Moon) Dance in the New Mexico desert.

This year is not quite so dramatic, but nonetheless it will remain in my mind for its melancholy sweetness: the simple freedom of sitting on my front porch, cup in hand, listening to this old working class neighborhood wake up to a slow Sunday, favored holiday.

Blessings of freedom to everyone, whatever that is for you...