Silence

I am not a silent person, not normally. I am loud and brash, rash and reckless. But with Zen, I prefer silence. Watch and wait, see what needs to be seen or unseen as the case may be. But I am not a silent person.

My life is an open book to all I meet. I have no secrets, never saw the point of hiding myself from others and especially not from myself. I am not a silent person.

Yet I rarely speak out and voice my opinions on matters of zen. Zen is and is not, my opinions have no bearing to the conversation, and everything I say is just an opinion until I say it.

Others show the way with words. I speak with actions. Actions do not translate well to the page. I can type about actions all day but that is not action, just words about words about nothingness.

I speak to my sangha each time I sit. Each time I am overjoyed, each time I am horrified, each time I just am. These are not words, there is no need to write them, to ’speak’ them. Just do them and they are done and they never stop. This is not silence.

I am there with each member, each person and each dust particle-in action. No need for words as they will just silence the act of doing.

I read, I listen, I hear every word both spoken and felt, each action done and left undone. They speak for me and to me and help me. They hurt me, they make me cry, laugh and bring me joy. I am here, sitting, with you and as you and for you.

I am not silent. Each time you sit I sit with you. Each time you scream, I scream with you. When you speak and you type, my voice joins with you. My language does not translate to keystrokes and pixels. But my language is not silence, even if it appears to be.

I am not silent, but perhaps, just perhaps I should put my fingers on the keyboard a little more often. Perhaps I should speak with words while I am here, for just a little while. But if I don’t, I want all of you to know that I am here. And thank you for your words and your actions. I am listening.

Eyes falling out of my head

I am reading through Dogen’s Shobogenzo Zuimonki (link in the side bar) with the Treeleaf bookclub. It’s been fairly light reading all things considered. I am also reading Gudo Nishijima’s translation of the Shobogenzo: True Dharma Eye. Um, not as light. Not at all. I read 3 paragraphs, then read them again. Then I push my eyes back into my head and read it again. I am finding it, dare I say, hard to concentrate upon.

I’ve nicknamed  them in my head- the Zuimonki is ‘Monkey Zoo’ and the Dharma Eye is ‘Monkey Do’. Zoos are more fun than do’s any day. But ya gotta do the do’s if ya wanna go to the zoo.

Left my baggage on the platform…

I talked about Zen baggage a few days ago, and it seems the currents flowed together to make it a more timely subject than I first anticipated. A few people I know in both the online and offline world seem to think it is impossible for me not to have personal baggage.

Truth be told, if I do it must be pretty buried. I once participated in a contest where I had to write my life story in 6 words:

Nothing bad ever happened to me.

This bears a bit of explaining. First you have to define bad. Some think death is bad (I’m still undecided on this one), others think abuse, car accidents, illness, bankruptcy, a stubbed toe, ad infinitum- is bad. I think all those things to fall into the bad category, but are they truly bad?

I almost lost my dad a decade ago. He had a heart attack and he is still in the grips of slow cardiac failure. Every day for him is a gift, because every day he is alive may be his last. Thus, every day I have my dad alive on the other end of the phone is a gift to me. Some would call this bad. I see it this way:

My dad is going to die some day. We all are. The good thing about my dad’s situation is that we are all aware of how precarious his life is, so we have thus far had 12 years of days where we get to appreciate each and every moment. Discussing the weather with my father is a beautiful gift. Each moment, each mundane task, each ache and pain are to be appreciated for what they are. This is a good thing.

I was in a pretty bad car accident when I was 24. Totaled my car, ripped the skin from my face and chest, and I had no insurance. My face healed, I got a new car, and I stumbled through the non-insurance hoopla. Nothing bad and lasting happened, just a few moments inconvenience in the grand scheme of things.

My Grandma, whom I was close to, died when I was 19. As a child, I helped her make cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning, played house with her in the arbor under the bows of her giant pine, and discussed the finer points of writing with her as I grew older. Her death is just a blip on the screen that is the grand gift of her life. To die she had to live, and how is her life bad?

The second thing we have to look at in my life story is the word ‘happened’. I am a firm believer in things don’t happen to us. I know somethings are out of our control, but we do control how long they happen for. If you are hit as a child, you had no control over the hand that hit you. But yet, we have control on how things affect us. I had a horrible teacher as a kid. She blamed me for everything, called me stupid in front of the whole class (I was 6 by the way), and took every opportunity to belittle me. It didn’t fly. Even at 6 I set out to prove her wrong, and even looking back today I see it as more amusing than painful. As an adult, I have a choice to let that bad time continue to ‘happen’ to me, or I have the choice to write it off and let the better times of today happen. I choose what is happening to me at this moment in time. At this moment, I am choosing not to be a 6 year old child staring sullenly at a teacher who is calling me an idiot. At this moment, I am typing these words and feeling overall contentment with the life of this minute. (She was fired 2 years later. I hope she managed to create a happier life for herself).

So, personal baggage isn’t just a series of things that happen to us. Personal baggage is a series of things we continue to LET happen to us. Zen baggage is the same way. We let ourselves hold on to things. We let ourselves not let go of things we want to happen or thing should happen. Both kinds of baggage require letting go of ‘happen’ all together, along with good and bad, and just being. Then the whole issue of baggage becomes nil.

When I sit, I could rehash all the other times I’ve sat, or the bad things that happened throughout my day. Or I could just sit. Hell, I could rehash all the joyous things going on in my life too, but instead I just sit. Just like my Dad’s life, siting must be done one moment at a time. The past doesn’t matter, because if we spend too much time on the past we are going to miss the moments right now. The future doesn’t matter, if we worry about the future we are going to miss right now. Right now my dad is alive, smiling, talking. Why in the world would I want to miss that? Right now the cushion is underneath me, my right knee is sore, and the wall is a wall. Why in the world would I want to miss that?

I’ll get off my armchair now.

Our new zendo!

I haven’t sone much writing on here this week, or much of anything else for that matter. Why? Because we have been busy getting the new zendo ready for opening on Saturday!

A view of the actual zendo room and shrine.

Another view with my little Zen monkey trying it out.

The entrance into the zendo. That rack right there is for shoes, plus it has out dana box and sutra books on top.

A view into the sangha room. We scored a mini-fridge! We also included a big basket of toys so the kids could entertain themselves while the adults sit.

The children’s shrine above the toy basket. Smiling Hotei is looking out for them. The little pine cones and acorn tops were put there by my older son.

Another view of the Sangha room. That pretty black cabinet, painted by Mue, is our storage and our drink station.

A  close-up of the shrine.

While the suite we are in is inexpensive, I was afraid outfitting it would be prohibitive in cost. Thankfully we were able to do it for under $50 with a combination of donations, yard sales, and thrift stores. We have had the bowl bell and most of the shrine accoutrements for some time. The bell is actually a rice bowl from Cost Plus that has a nice, clear ring when struck with a small wooden stick. Its stand is a thrift store found pillar candle holder. The stand for the Buddha is actually a cheese block from a holiday gift set and the offering bowls are soy sauce dishes. Goes to show a nice shrine can be put together from just about anything!

I am very excited to finally see it all come together. It has been a dream of mine for awhile now to get a place together where Zen can be practiced locally and is family and community friendly. I really feel we are finally making headway and am thrilled!

Little Zen Monkey

It’s all in the details.

I’ve mentioned that I am a tactile person. I am also very detail oriented. So detail oriented in fact, that often I lose sight of the big picture. I wouldn’t necessarily be the type to polish the silver on the Titanic, but I would be the type to make sure that everyone had neat and attractive safety fliers of what to expect as they float amongst the ‘burgs.

In a way that makes Zen perfect for me. A million nice and neat details to attend to. In fact, I caught myself so caught up in the details of getting our new zendo ready for its debut in a week I nearly forgot to sit. Um…yeah. Getting the sitting place ready and I almost forget?

Details have their place in Zen, but sometimes we have to let the details slide so we can actually practice zazen. I know everybody is already thrilled with the zendo and it’s still a blank space- no lights, no altar, not even a zafu to be seen. Yet they are thrilled. I can forget a detail or two and I am probably the only one who would notice. So my practice for now is going to be to quit futzing over the details. To go with the flow and not stress myself out over it.

Yeah. Let’s see how well that works out!

A moment of excitement!

Our little lay group has its own zendo! No more hopping about town, never knowing when or where we would be next, a slave to the library’s schedule! I went and rented us a space just for our little sangha here in Spokane. It’s ours, all ours! No more hauling cushions, juggling Buddhas, and dropping coffee cups!

I’m so happy and excited, I even forgot to take pictures! Oops, next time then…

Today…

Old man mosquito taught me a lesson in just being.

Sit with the sting.

Sit with the itch.

Even when covered in 10,000 blossoming bites.

Book learning

I have heard the phrase used- Armchair Buddhists- for those who read but do not practice. What is the title for those who practice but do not read? This is I. I have studied the basics- the 3 Jewels, lay precepts, etc- but have thus avoided any other in depth study. After 11 years on this path I have come to this decisiion I need some book learnings.

As my only access to a teacher at this time is via Jundo and Taigu over at Treeleaf, and a once yearly retreat on the West side, I am going to undertake my studies via the Everyday Zen study guide online and listen to Jundo’s talks more often than the once a week I average now.

Of course, on those days that are so wild that it will be a choice between zazen and study, zazen wins out hands down!

Hey, Stupid!

As frustrating as it is, it is also a relief to finally be stupid. I like the word, I am, perhaps, even attched to the word ::GASP!::  Some backstory is in order:

I was always the smart kid. Even when I rebelled, I was still “the smart girl over there with the purple hair and a joint.” I couldn’t get away from it. Maybe because I never played stupid for the sake of being like everyone else, maybe because I identified myself with being smart, I don’t know. As an adult, I write nonfiction and have to be an expert on everything (or just a really good researcher, shh!).

Buddhism has always been above my head though. I am stupid. I can’t research the answer. What answer? Hell, I’m only half sure of the question. When some uber deep debate on Zen pops up, I can only watch as the coversational ball is lobbed over my head in a demented game of keep-away, struggling to understand one word in ten.

And I absolutely love it. It is freeing to finally be stupid. I don’t get it! I still do it, put in my time on the cushion and all that, but I don’t get it! I’m stupid! Eventually, I will likely let go of this attachment to stupidity, even if I never really get it. I’m going to enjoy it for now, though. Relish in it, take comfort in it. Because as much as it pains me to say it, there is a middle path in here somewhere that I need to land on.

But until then, hey I’m stupid! Keep up the Zen talk, though, I’ll catch up eventually.