Probably my treasure of experiences from the 2013 Green Gulch Intensive happened at the end of oryoki dinner service on the first day of sesshin. Sesshin is a time of deep silence and introspection, and although there's no communication with the outside world or even your fellow practitioners who you've been bonding with over the first two weeks, this silence and solitude creates a very supportive environment (or container) that feels very safe.
Over the course of two weeks, the teacher, Reb, had been talking about prajna paramita, or the wisdom of reality, being at the heart of each moment. We can glimpse this wisdom or light or prajna paramita, without grasping tightly to it, by practicing the six paramitas in each moment. Welcome the moment and what it brings. Be kind and generous with what arises. Practice ethics with it, for example not killing or denying what is arising. Be still and quiet with the moment. Have a focused, concentrated effort with the moment. And finally experience wisdom or prajna paramita with the moment. It's difficult to grasp that practice is about practicing with the six paramitas from moment to moment and not only with the difficulties that arise and cause us to obviously suffer.
When my ex-boyfriend and I would have difficult arguments, he would tell me that I was not meeting him. This would upset me more because it was true, and yet I didn't know how to meet him. I would also feel like I wasn't being met. My body would tense up, I could feel my chest and throat contract. All that would come out of my mouth and throat would be screaming words. My anxiety level would be off the charts and I wouldn't know how to come back to grounded. I felt like this was how I could find the way to meet him, but it wasn't working. I then questioned my ability to meet anyone.
Back to the first day of sesshin and serving oryoki dinner. The oryoki serving crew serves all the meals in the day. We were the first crew to serve during sesshin which has a different schedule from the regular Intensive schedule. Instead of only breakfast and lunch service, during sesshin, tea and dinner are served formally in the zendo in addition to breakfast and lunch. As much as I enjoy serving oryoki (see the last blog post) it takes a lot of energy to serve one meal, let alone four. I love it, yet it is exhausting. It takes a lot of physical stamina as well as concentrated presence. By dinner time I usually say to myself, "I know you're tired, but now is the time to hang in and stay more focused than ever. Just one more service then you can relax." The Green Gulch zendo is long, and the servers begin by entering through the main doors, down three stairs, around the great altar, and then straight ahead like flying down a runway, before reaching Senior Dharma Teacher and Abbess at the other end of the zendo. Dinner service moves quickly because only two bowls are served and there is no chanting. My energy at dinner time felt heightened. We had a swift and clean service of wiping down the meal boards, which is actually a running full speed action, serving the first pot of medicine bowl, serving the second pot of sautéd greens, seconds of both pots, and hot water to clean the bowls. We were ready to bring the buckets for the water offering. I was the first server out on the teacher, Reb's side of the zendo. With my high energy, I felt myself flying down the "runway" trying to stay in pace with my partner server on the other side of the zendo. As I approached Reb, he already had his hands in gassho. I slowed my body down as much as I could right before reaching him, side stepped, bowed to and with him, and then placed the bucket, angled, at the edge of the meal board in front of his bowl. I could feel my heartbeat still heavy and fast in my chest from the runway. Reb moved so slowly to his very full bowl. I saw his hands on the bowl but I didn't see him pick it up. I realized he was moving much slower than I was and his whole energy/internal timing/biorhythm was at a much slower state than mine. I found myself slowing my breathing. I wanted to be as still as possible so he could pour the water into the bucket without spilling. I didn't want him to feel rushed to do this. As I watched his hands on the bowl, the bowl itself, the water in the bowl, and the deep blackness of the bowl and its water, I found such a deep stillness and patience of just being in that moment. I felt the arising of my service of providing the bucket meet the arising of Reb's need to move the water out of his bowl meet the arising of the water in the bowl needing to move to the bucket. I felt this stillness not just in me, but I felt it from Reb and I felt it from the water in the black bowl. This is as close as I can come with words to describing what I perceived to have happened, but I know that what happened is indescribable. It is one of the most beautiful experiences I've ever experienced. The thought that came to me after all the stories of what it meant came and went was, In the heart of stillness and quiet is prajna paramita.
Later I shared my experience with Reb in dokusan. I said it was the only time I know when I felt a deep meeting that arose simultaneously. It wasn't only about me slowing down to meet him and it wasn't only about him moving to meet me. We found each other and it arose naturally, and when the moment was gone, there was a new moment to practice with, so there was no need to hold tightly to the "success" of that meeting. In the next moment, everything in me slowed down and I bowed deeply to Reb. Then at my slower internal pacing I met the next pair with my bucket and their water offerings. In dokusan, Reb found my experience wonderful and wished me many more meetings as deeply met. Yes, and I wish for us all to have such deeply met meetings in our lives.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Monday, February 4, 2013
The Emptiness of the Three Wheels: Oryoki
I love serving oryoki.
For those that don't know what oryoki is, it's a formal meal eaten while sitting in the zendo. I've been told that oryoki means "just enough," and refers to taking and eating just enough food. Oryoki is eaten sitting on your cushion. Normally we face the wall when sitting zazen, however for oryoki, we face out with the meal board in front of us. We lay out our bowls on the meal board and use the meal board as a table. Hence its name. This is also why we don't want to put our feet on or stand on the meal board when getting in and out of the seat for zazen. It's like standing and walking on the dining room table with your dirty bare feet and then sitting down to eat a meal there. Not to worry if you do accidentally step on the meal board, part of the order to the oryoki meal is wiping down the meal boards.
Also for oryoki meals, you need a set of bowls. Lay practitioners at SFZC use sets of three bowls. Priests have formal oryoki sets that have seven bowls and some extra additional items. Your bowls are all bundled up in a cloth, so you can keep your bowls at your seat and they are ready for each meal in the zendo. During the intensive we ate breakfast and lunch as formal oryoki meals in the zendo, and then during the last five days of sesshin, we had breakfast, lunch, tea, and supper as formal oryoki meal service.
The order to oryoki meal and service is this. The practice period leader sits at their seat. In this case, it was Tenshin Roshi. Everyone should be inside the zendo and settled before the leader sits. Then oryoki service starts, and service in this case is the people who are servers begin their duties. There is chanting during the oryoki form, but I don't refer to this as a service. The first thing that happens is servers come in and wipe down the meal boards. At SFZC, we serve gomasio (sesame salt) as a condiment, and it is the next thing that the servers distribute to the people in the zendo. Then the Soku, or the person in charge of the oryoki service in its entirety, offers the Buddha Tray meal to Manjusri on the altar. After the offering, everyone in the zendo opens their oryoki bowls and places them out. This takes some time, so the servers and the Soku are still during this time.
When opening your bowls, the first thing is pulling open the tie at the top and folding that wrapping cloth into a rectangular placemat on the meal board. On top of the bowls are a wiping cloth, utensil case, and napkin. For now, the wiping cloth and utensil case get tucked under your robes in front of you. The napkin opens right up and spreads out directly on your lap. Then use both hands to move the big Buddha bowl over to the left of your placemat. Use your thumbs to hook the inside of the smallest bowl, lift, and place to the far right. Use thumbs again in the same method for the middle bowl and place it in the middle. The utensils go down next. The setsu (cleaning stick) is on top and can be pulled out and placed between the second and third bowls, tip toward you and handle hanging out a little. From inside the case, chopsticks are placed at the bottom of the placemat, point to the right, and then spoon under chopsticks, face up, bowl to the right. Utensil case goes back underneath robes. And you're set up.
Once everyone is mostly set up, the Kokyo (chant leader) will lead a chant during which the oryoki servers begin entering the zendo to serve the food. There are three pots, one item per bowl. The first pot is usually a grain, for breakfast a hot cereal like oatmeal and for lunch something like rice. The second bowl is usually a hot liquid that can be ladled, like stewed fruit for breakfast and soup for lunch. The third bowl is usually a spatula or tong dish, like yogurt or nuts for breakfast and green salad for lunch. This is my favorite part of serving oryoki. As a server, you want to move through the zendo swiftly and quietly. This is a challenge because the pots are heavy and hot, and if it's full of liquid, it can slosh easily. But this is a meal, so you don't want the energy to put people to sleep. I also don't like the feeling of being rushed as someone eating and being served in the zendo, so I don't want to move in the zendo like I'm worried about running out of time. Just calm and swift. There is a lizard that can run on the surface of water. The lizard is running, but its body is present and calm and upright as it runs. I have the image of this lizard running on water in my head as I'm moving through the zendo for oryoki service. However, with all the swiftness of moving through the zendo, once you are in front of the two people you will be serving, then the time is all about them. I stop, side step in front of the pair, take a breath and bow deeply. Place the pot down on the meal board, kneel down, and use both hands to serve the food. There are hand gestures for a little bit more, a ceremonial amount, and enough. As a server, I try to pay attention to the hand gestures, pay attention to my serving, try not to spill any food on the bowl or meal board or person, and try not to make a lot of noise with the pot and serving utensil. Some food is easy and neat and clean to serve. Some food is really drippy and messy and takes longer for me to serve. Some of the people receiving are nervous and don't know what to do and might not hold their bowl close enough or might pull their bowl away quickly. Some of the people receiving might make me nervous, like serving Tenshin Roshi or the abbess, and my hands might be shaking. You never know what it's going to feel like with each person you serve and each time you're serving, so you just have to do your best by meeting the moment as is. This is what I love about serving oryoki.
The other being in the equation is the food itself. Before servers take their pot into the zendo, we take a moment to stir the pot a bit. This is a practical action that mixes any settling and breaks up any clumping for easier service. It can also redistribute the heat and can allow the utensil(s) to settle in the food and the pot. For me, this action allows me to connect with the food. I get a little stir at the same time. Now, when I carry the pot into the zendo, it's not just a pot of food, it's nourishment for the people sitting in the zendo and needs care not to be spilled or wasted. The entire act of serving the people sitting with cared for food is an endless wheel of giver, receiver, and gift, no one more important than the other and all three relying on the other two to exist and be of service.
When the last pot is served and the servers leave the zendo, the receivers chant the meal chant:
We reflect on the effort that brought us this food and consider how it comes to us.
We reflect on our virtue and practice and whether we are worthy of this offering.
We regard it as essential to keep the mind free from excesses such as greed.
We regard this food as good medicine to sustain our life.
For the sake of enlightenment we now receive this food.
First this is for the three treasures.
Next for the four benefactors.
Finally for the beings in the six realms.
May all be equally nourished.
The first portion is to end all evil.
The second is to cultivate all good.
The third is to free all beings.
May we all realize the Buddha way.
It is a mindful meal and a mindful way to eat. As oryoki means just enough, in case you finish all your food and are still hungry in the few minutes allotted, seconds are served. You need to have finished everything in your bowl before asking for seconds, and you shouldn't eat your seconds until all three bowls have been offered and all the servers have left the zendo. Once the third bowl seconds servers have left, you can eat your seconds and if you've finished your food, you can start cleaning your bowls with your setsu. The setsu is used to scrape up every bit of food. This is another chance to taste and appreciate the meal. Then the servers come back to collect the gomasio. After allowing time to scrape clean the bowls, the servers return with hot water. This water will clean all of your bowls and your utensils. The server will pour water in your Buddha bowl until you motion enough. I don't like to use a lot of water, but I also need enough to clean the sides of my bowls because I usually fill my second bowl to the top, so for me it's a delicate balance of when to motion the server enough. I've had careless servers pour very quickly, which is dangerous because this is tea-steeping hot water. I try to pour at a medium, steady pace and I try to pour onto the bowl surface to keep from making much splashing noise. Once you get water, start washing your bowls, beginning with the Buddha bowl and using the setsu to wash the spots not submerged by water. From the Buddha bowl, the water is poured into the second bowl, using the wiping cloth to dry off the Buddha bowl. Wash spoon and chopsticks in the second bowl, dry off on the wiping cloth and put back into the utensil holder. Wash the second bowl using the setsu, then pour the water in the third bowl and dry off the second bowl and place it in the Buddha bowl. If you have too much water, drink the extra from the second bowl. Clean the third bowl with the setsu, leave the water, and dry off the setsu and put the setsu on the utensil holder. The servers come in with one final service, buckets to discard your cleaning water, however, "This water we use to wash our bowls tastes like ambrosia. We offer it to the many spirits to satisfy them...". So it's not discarding but offering and it's polite to pour off all but a last sip so that you get a final taste of the entire meal offering. Once this bowl is empty, it can be dried off and nested in the second bowl and then the oryoki bowl set can be wrapped back up, folding the placemat cloth over the bowls, folding and replacing the lap napkin, replacing the utensils, stretching out and laying out the wiping cloth, and then tying the whole bundle up. Servers come in to wipe down the meal boards one more time, some final words from the Kokyo, and it's the end of meal service.
Although the meal is over for the receivers, the servers have yet to eat. We clean up all the gomasio and kettles and water buckets, as well as gather pots for the servers' meal. When we can sit down to our meal, it is also a formal event and we serve each other in a wrote way. All the same etiquette is observed as happens in the zendo. The entire crew needs to support each other throughout the entire serving action. It is a bonding experience all done in silence. This servers' meal becomes a deeper connection to each other, to our work, to the food. Beautiful things happen of the moment as a serving crew bonds. Intimacy is a better description of this bonding. When a crew is intimately connected, we move as one body, we fill in the holes intuitively. One of these beautiful moments was during sesshin. It was tea service on our second day of serving, so we were so familiar with each other and how we move and work. We were serving seconds on the tea, and with seconds one server starts at one end of the zendo while the second server starts at the other end and they walk along the people serving only those who have their hands in gassho, indicating the request for seconds, until the servers meet and then can walk quickly to the door to either exit or wait until all servers are at the door and bow together to exit. So as I came to meet my seconds serving partner, two people sitting right next to each other put their hands in gassho. Normally one server would serve the two, but because we arrived together we both bowed simultaneously, one in front of each of the receivers. These receivers were sitting on the floor, so both of us servers kneeled down in seiza, knees angled toward the altar, and poured the tea until the enough gesture, and stood back up to bow deeply to our individual receivers, and we did all of this completely in sync with each other, moving, breathing, pacing in time with each other. The woman I served smiled and bowed so deeply, my story is that she saw the same beauty in the moment that I did.
"May we with all beings realize the emptiness of the three wheels; giver, receiver, and gift."
For those that don't know what oryoki is, it's a formal meal eaten while sitting in the zendo. I've been told that oryoki means "just enough," and refers to taking and eating just enough food. Oryoki is eaten sitting on your cushion. Normally we face the wall when sitting zazen, however for oryoki, we face out with the meal board in front of us. We lay out our bowls on the meal board and use the meal board as a table. Hence its name. This is also why we don't want to put our feet on or stand on the meal board when getting in and out of the seat for zazen. It's like standing and walking on the dining room table with your dirty bare feet and then sitting down to eat a meal there. Not to worry if you do accidentally step on the meal board, part of the order to the oryoki meal is wiping down the meal boards.
Also for oryoki meals, you need a set of bowls. Lay practitioners at SFZC use sets of three bowls. Priests have formal oryoki sets that have seven bowls and some extra additional items. Your bowls are all bundled up in a cloth, so you can keep your bowls at your seat and they are ready for each meal in the zendo. During the intensive we ate breakfast and lunch as formal oryoki meals in the zendo, and then during the last five days of sesshin, we had breakfast, lunch, tea, and supper as formal oryoki meal service.
The order to oryoki meal and service is this. The practice period leader sits at their seat. In this case, it was Tenshin Roshi. Everyone should be inside the zendo and settled before the leader sits. Then oryoki service starts, and service in this case is the people who are servers begin their duties. There is chanting during the oryoki form, but I don't refer to this as a service. The first thing that happens is servers come in and wipe down the meal boards. At SFZC, we serve gomasio (sesame salt) as a condiment, and it is the next thing that the servers distribute to the people in the zendo. Then the Soku, or the person in charge of the oryoki service in its entirety, offers the Buddha Tray meal to Manjusri on the altar. After the offering, everyone in the zendo opens their oryoki bowls and places them out. This takes some time, so the servers and the Soku are still during this time.
When opening your bowls, the first thing is pulling open the tie at the top and folding that wrapping cloth into a rectangular placemat on the meal board. On top of the bowls are a wiping cloth, utensil case, and napkin. For now, the wiping cloth and utensil case get tucked under your robes in front of you. The napkin opens right up and spreads out directly on your lap. Then use both hands to move the big Buddha bowl over to the left of your placemat. Use your thumbs to hook the inside of the smallest bowl, lift, and place to the far right. Use thumbs again in the same method for the middle bowl and place it in the middle. The utensils go down next. The setsu (cleaning stick) is on top and can be pulled out and placed between the second and third bowls, tip toward you and handle hanging out a little. From inside the case, chopsticks are placed at the bottom of the placemat, point to the right, and then spoon under chopsticks, face up, bowl to the right. Utensil case goes back underneath robes. And you're set up.
Once everyone is mostly set up, the Kokyo (chant leader) will lead a chant during which the oryoki servers begin entering the zendo to serve the food. There are three pots, one item per bowl. The first pot is usually a grain, for breakfast a hot cereal like oatmeal and for lunch something like rice. The second bowl is usually a hot liquid that can be ladled, like stewed fruit for breakfast and soup for lunch. The third bowl is usually a spatula or tong dish, like yogurt or nuts for breakfast and green salad for lunch. This is my favorite part of serving oryoki. As a server, you want to move through the zendo swiftly and quietly. This is a challenge because the pots are heavy and hot, and if it's full of liquid, it can slosh easily. But this is a meal, so you don't want the energy to put people to sleep. I also don't like the feeling of being rushed as someone eating and being served in the zendo, so I don't want to move in the zendo like I'm worried about running out of time. Just calm and swift. There is a lizard that can run on the surface of water. The lizard is running, but its body is present and calm and upright as it runs. I have the image of this lizard running on water in my head as I'm moving through the zendo for oryoki service. However, with all the swiftness of moving through the zendo, once you are in front of the two people you will be serving, then the time is all about them. I stop, side step in front of the pair, take a breath and bow deeply. Place the pot down on the meal board, kneel down, and use both hands to serve the food. There are hand gestures for a little bit more, a ceremonial amount, and enough. As a server, I try to pay attention to the hand gestures, pay attention to my serving, try not to spill any food on the bowl or meal board or person, and try not to make a lot of noise with the pot and serving utensil. Some food is easy and neat and clean to serve. Some food is really drippy and messy and takes longer for me to serve. Some of the people receiving are nervous and don't know what to do and might not hold their bowl close enough or might pull their bowl away quickly. Some of the people receiving might make me nervous, like serving Tenshin Roshi or the abbess, and my hands might be shaking. You never know what it's going to feel like with each person you serve and each time you're serving, so you just have to do your best by meeting the moment as is. This is what I love about serving oryoki.
The other being in the equation is the food itself. Before servers take their pot into the zendo, we take a moment to stir the pot a bit. This is a practical action that mixes any settling and breaks up any clumping for easier service. It can also redistribute the heat and can allow the utensil(s) to settle in the food and the pot. For me, this action allows me to connect with the food. I get a little stir at the same time. Now, when I carry the pot into the zendo, it's not just a pot of food, it's nourishment for the people sitting in the zendo and needs care not to be spilled or wasted. The entire act of serving the people sitting with cared for food is an endless wheel of giver, receiver, and gift, no one more important than the other and all three relying on the other two to exist and be of service.
When the last pot is served and the servers leave the zendo, the receivers chant the meal chant:
We reflect on the effort that brought us this food and consider how it comes to us.
We reflect on our virtue and practice and whether we are worthy of this offering.
We regard it as essential to keep the mind free from excesses such as greed.
We regard this food as good medicine to sustain our life.
For the sake of enlightenment we now receive this food.
First this is for the three treasures.
Next for the four benefactors.
Finally for the beings in the six realms.
May all be equally nourished.
The first portion is to end all evil.
The second is to cultivate all good.
The third is to free all beings.
May we all realize the Buddha way.
It is a mindful meal and a mindful way to eat. As oryoki means just enough, in case you finish all your food and are still hungry in the few minutes allotted, seconds are served. You need to have finished everything in your bowl before asking for seconds, and you shouldn't eat your seconds until all three bowls have been offered and all the servers have left the zendo. Once the third bowl seconds servers have left, you can eat your seconds and if you've finished your food, you can start cleaning your bowls with your setsu. The setsu is used to scrape up every bit of food. This is another chance to taste and appreciate the meal. Then the servers come back to collect the gomasio. After allowing time to scrape clean the bowls, the servers return with hot water. This water will clean all of your bowls and your utensils. The server will pour water in your Buddha bowl until you motion enough. I don't like to use a lot of water, but I also need enough to clean the sides of my bowls because I usually fill my second bowl to the top, so for me it's a delicate balance of when to motion the server enough. I've had careless servers pour very quickly, which is dangerous because this is tea-steeping hot water. I try to pour at a medium, steady pace and I try to pour onto the bowl surface to keep from making much splashing noise. Once you get water, start washing your bowls, beginning with the Buddha bowl and using the setsu to wash the spots not submerged by water. From the Buddha bowl, the water is poured into the second bowl, using the wiping cloth to dry off the Buddha bowl. Wash spoon and chopsticks in the second bowl, dry off on the wiping cloth and put back into the utensil holder. Wash the second bowl using the setsu, then pour the water in the third bowl and dry off the second bowl and place it in the Buddha bowl. If you have too much water, drink the extra from the second bowl. Clean the third bowl with the setsu, leave the water, and dry off the setsu and put the setsu on the utensil holder. The servers come in with one final service, buckets to discard your cleaning water, however, "This water we use to wash our bowls tastes like ambrosia. We offer it to the many spirits to satisfy them...". So it's not discarding but offering and it's polite to pour off all but a last sip so that you get a final taste of the entire meal offering. Once this bowl is empty, it can be dried off and nested in the second bowl and then the oryoki bowl set can be wrapped back up, folding the placemat cloth over the bowls, folding and replacing the lap napkin, replacing the utensils, stretching out and laying out the wiping cloth, and then tying the whole bundle up. Servers come in to wipe down the meal boards one more time, some final words from the Kokyo, and it's the end of meal service.
Although the meal is over for the receivers, the servers have yet to eat. We clean up all the gomasio and kettles and water buckets, as well as gather pots for the servers' meal. When we can sit down to our meal, it is also a formal event and we serve each other in a wrote way. All the same etiquette is observed as happens in the zendo. The entire crew needs to support each other throughout the entire serving action. It is a bonding experience all done in silence. This servers' meal becomes a deeper connection to each other, to our work, to the food. Beautiful things happen of the moment as a serving crew bonds. Intimacy is a better description of this bonding. When a crew is intimately connected, we move as one body, we fill in the holes intuitively. One of these beautiful moments was during sesshin. It was tea service on our second day of serving, so we were so familiar with each other and how we move and work. We were serving seconds on the tea, and with seconds one server starts at one end of the zendo while the second server starts at the other end and they walk along the people serving only those who have their hands in gassho, indicating the request for seconds, until the servers meet and then can walk quickly to the door to either exit or wait until all servers are at the door and bow together to exit. So as I came to meet my seconds serving partner, two people sitting right next to each other put their hands in gassho. Normally one server would serve the two, but because we arrived together we both bowed simultaneously, one in front of each of the receivers. These receivers were sitting on the floor, so both of us servers kneeled down in seiza, knees angled toward the altar, and poured the tea until the enough gesture, and stood back up to bow deeply to our individual receivers, and we did all of this completely in sync with each other, moving, breathing, pacing in time with each other. The woman I served smiled and bowed so deeply, my story is that she saw the same beauty in the moment that I did.
"May we with all beings realize the emptiness of the three wheels; giver, receiver, and gift."
Friday, February 1, 2013
Taking Refuge in Sangha
How's this for irony or foreboding or being careful of what you wish for? Almost immediately after I posted the last entry about taking care of yourself through this epidemic cold/flu/virus, I came down with it. It was interesting to notice each moment: how am I feeling now?, what do I need?, where does it hurt?, what is at the root of the pain?. Each moment shifted, rather quickly, and all I had to do was be in each moment with whatever was happening, without jumping ahead to panic. I think I still need to rest, but I feel well enough that tomorrow I'm back on the schedule.
Of course I could never have made it through the past couple of days alone. As independent as I am, I am also realizing that I need others just as much as others need me. Many of my friends in the sangha (community of practitioners, or your community) have been checking in on me and offering to bring me anything I might need. One of my closest friends has been a true hero by covering for me on doanryo, making sure I'm still conscious, and leaving the perfect care-packages of juice and tea on my front step. About a year ago, my boyfriend at the time tried to take care of me in such a way. I had a difficult time letting him help me because I have this idea of being seen as a strong, independent woman who can take care of herself, and not only take care of herself perfectly but also take care of everyone else at the same time. But being this isolatingly independent is not taking refuge in sangha and actually disparages sangha. The final of the ten grave precepts is Not to disparage the Triple Treasure, the triple treasure being Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. So, how do I let go of my idea of how I want to project myself as this independent woman who needs no help?
I can see a little more clearly how my taking my ex-boyfriend's gestures of care taking personally with a bit of offense in feeling like a kept woman caused both of us great suffering. I still felt physically ill but now with a nugget of resentment towards my love, and he got upset and frustrated with me not accepting his help and probably feeling badly that he wasn't able to help me when he wanted to. Today, I saw how my body needed rest and juice at the same time, so when the offer was put out there, I didn't hesitate on accepting. If my friend was not taking care of me, I wouldn't be strong enough to write this blog right now. I love my friend dearly and would never want to subject anyone to seeing me pale, emaciated, unshowered, in my ugly pajamas, hair disheveled, and no makeup on, but this friend has not judged me on my appearance, and I think more importantly, I have not judged me on my appearance. I am ill. I look ill. I should just be ill when I'm ill.
Part of taking refuge in sangha is trusting them as much as they trust you. Yes, judgements will arise, but if you are being you, the sangha will accept and support you. My first days in the Green Gulch Intensive were perhaps stressful enough or a new environment enough to develop a very large zit on my face by my lips/chin. It was extremely visible, difficult to hide, painful, and even bled at one point. One of the admonitions during sesshins is about letting go of making yourself pretty. Because sesshin is a time of introspection and not about anything outside of yourself, it's advised to not wear makeup. I don't wear a lot of makeup, but I do feel more comfortable if I've put on powder foundation and eyeliner and mascara. With the zit and with washing my face often, I was wearing little to no makeup at Green Gulch and just letting my appearance be what it was at the time. Eventually the zit decreased in size and disappeared into a scar, and no one treated me any differently from when the zit was very large to when it was disappeared. And in fact, as time went on and the entire sangha got to know each other better, I felt closer and more comfortable with the people and forgot I had the giant zit on my face.
Asking for refuge is another aspect of taking refuge in sangha. This was a large question that I worked with and had difficulty with during my time at Green Gulch. My current situation is that I'm very unhappy living in my present flat with four other male roommates, stuck in my tiny room and being edged out of the kitchen and common areas. My schedule starts much earlier than theirs and ends much earlier than theirs. I also pay a lot to be a fifth roommate in a communal living situation. I pay more now than I did for the studio in the tenderloin I lived in for nine years. I am also losing clients due to the economy. I am a personal trainer and I work out of my private studio. My offering is affordable because I believe that moving your body regularly is part of a healthful lifestyle and not a luxury. However today for many of us, myself included, cost of living has increased while income has decreased and extras other than food and shelter are being scrutinized with frugality. I have even canceled my health insurance because I simply don't have enough money to pay for it. And although I know it is my responsibility as a small business owner to market my personal training business harder than ever, this is one of the things that I am not good at. Instead I have been listening to my heart wanting to delve into practice deeper. While I don't want to give up on my business and I haven't, I can't ignore my heart showing me what practice means to me. An answer to my question of where to live and how to afford it, how to delve into practice deeply, and how to make ends meet all around is to take refuge in the SFZC sangha and live, work, and practice there. It's been very difficult for me to say yes, it is time for me to live at Zen Center. It feels like I am a failure by not being successful business-wise right now. It feels like I'm asking too much to move into and rely on a community that I feel more comfortable helping and participating in from the outside. However, while I was at Green Gulch, my work and contribution to the community was so appreciated that the idea to stay and live and work there was presented. Also while I was there, the idea to live and work at City Center, my home sangha, and help out in extra and unique ways in which I was already being considered was presented, however living space would not be available to me until the end of March when this practice period ends. There was a lot for me to hold and look at and I struggled. My time at Green Gulch was so quiet and spacious like nothing I've ever experienced before. To be present in that for a year would be a delight, not to mention being around Reb, an amazing teacher and practitioner. However being in the city is how I practice and my business and my studio and my ability to make art are in the city. I don't want to make any decisions out of desperation and I want time to understand what choice I'm accepting. The truth is that I have only experienced Green Gulch for those Intensive three weeks, whereas I have been experiencing City Center consistently for two years. I have decided to move into City Center to deepen my practice, to live each moment with the precepts, to give of myself to the sangha, to look, listen, and learn deeply, and to become a city monk.
Of course I could never have made it through the past couple of days alone. As independent as I am, I am also realizing that I need others just as much as others need me. Many of my friends in the sangha (community of practitioners, or your community) have been checking in on me and offering to bring me anything I might need. One of my closest friends has been a true hero by covering for me on doanryo, making sure I'm still conscious, and leaving the perfect care-packages of juice and tea on my front step. About a year ago, my boyfriend at the time tried to take care of me in such a way. I had a difficult time letting him help me because I have this idea of being seen as a strong, independent woman who can take care of herself, and not only take care of herself perfectly but also take care of everyone else at the same time. But being this isolatingly independent is not taking refuge in sangha and actually disparages sangha. The final of the ten grave precepts is Not to disparage the Triple Treasure, the triple treasure being Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. So, how do I let go of my idea of how I want to project myself as this independent woman who needs no help?
I can see a little more clearly how my taking my ex-boyfriend's gestures of care taking personally with a bit of offense in feeling like a kept woman caused both of us great suffering. I still felt physically ill but now with a nugget of resentment towards my love, and he got upset and frustrated with me not accepting his help and probably feeling badly that he wasn't able to help me when he wanted to. Today, I saw how my body needed rest and juice at the same time, so when the offer was put out there, I didn't hesitate on accepting. If my friend was not taking care of me, I wouldn't be strong enough to write this blog right now. I love my friend dearly and would never want to subject anyone to seeing me pale, emaciated, unshowered, in my ugly pajamas, hair disheveled, and no makeup on, but this friend has not judged me on my appearance, and I think more importantly, I have not judged me on my appearance. I am ill. I look ill. I should just be ill when I'm ill.
Part of taking refuge in sangha is trusting them as much as they trust you. Yes, judgements will arise, but if you are being you, the sangha will accept and support you. My first days in the Green Gulch Intensive were perhaps stressful enough or a new environment enough to develop a very large zit on my face by my lips/chin. It was extremely visible, difficult to hide, painful, and even bled at one point. One of the admonitions during sesshins is about letting go of making yourself pretty. Because sesshin is a time of introspection and not about anything outside of yourself, it's advised to not wear makeup. I don't wear a lot of makeup, but I do feel more comfortable if I've put on powder foundation and eyeliner and mascara. With the zit and with washing my face often, I was wearing little to no makeup at Green Gulch and just letting my appearance be what it was at the time. Eventually the zit decreased in size and disappeared into a scar, and no one treated me any differently from when the zit was very large to when it was disappeared. And in fact, as time went on and the entire sangha got to know each other better, I felt closer and more comfortable with the people and forgot I had the giant zit on my face.
Asking for refuge is another aspect of taking refuge in sangha. This was a large question that I worked with and had difficulty with during my time at Green Gulch. My current situation is that I'm very unhappy living in my present flat with four other male roommates, stuck in my tiny room and being edged out of the kitchen and common areas. My schedule starts much earlier than theirs and ends much earlier than theirs. I also pay a lot to be a fifth roommate in a communal living situation. I pay more now than I did for the studio in the tenderloin I lived in for nine years. I am also losing clients due to the economy. I am a personal trainer and I work out of my private studio. My offering is affordable because I believe that moving your body regularly is part of a healthful lifestyle and not a luxury. However today for many of us, myself included, cost of living has increased while income has decreased and extras other than food and shelter are being scrutinized with frugality. I have even canceled my health insurance because I simply don't have enough money to pay for it. And although I know it is my responsibility as a small business owner to market my personal training business harder than ever, this is one of the things that I am not good at. Instead I have been listening to my heart wanting to delve into practice deeper. While I don't want to give up on my business and I haven't, I can't ignore my heart showing me what practice means to me. An answer to my question of where to live and how to afford it, how to delve into practice deeply, and how to make ends meet all around is to take refuge in the SFZC sangha and live, work, and practice there. It's been very difficult for me to say yes, it is time for me to live at Zen Center. It feels like I am a failure by not being successful business-wise right now. It feels like I'm asking too much to move into and rely on a community that I feel more comfortable helping and participating in from the outside. However, while I was at Green Gulch, my work and contribution to the community was so appreciated that the idea to stay and live and work there was presented. Also while I was there, the idea to live and work at City Center, my home sangha, and help out in extra and unique ways in which I was already being considered was presented, however living space would not be available to me until the end of March when this practice period ends. There was a lot for me to hold and look at and I struggled. My time at Green Gulch was so quiet and spacious like nothing I've ever experienced before. To be present in that for a year would be a delight, not to mention being around Reb, an amazing teacher and practitioner. However being in the city is how I practice and my business and my studio and my ability to make art are in the city. I don't want to make any decisions out of desperation and I want time to understand what choice I'm accepting. The truth is that I have only experienced Green Gulch for those Intensive three weeks, whereas I have been experiencing City Center consistently for two years. I have decided to move into City Center to deepen my practice, to live each moment with the precepts, to give of myself to the sangha, to look, listen, and learn deeply, and to become a city monk.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Returned from the Farm; PSA
I am back home in San Francisco, across the bridge from where I spent most of January. My three weeks at Green Gulch Farm for Reb Anderson's January Intensive 2013 were the most full, joyous, quiet, wholehearted three weeks of practice that I am so grateful and genuinely thankful for, as that rich experience will never happen again quite like that. For many participating in the intensive, there was a lot more difficulty than I experienced. I had my moments, but I remained healthy and cold/flu-free.
Right at the start of the Intensive, there were people already ill and either resting outside of the zendo (meditation hall) for the entire day or spending some time in the zendo and some time resting. Then, during that first week, the fully assigned zendo, which had formerly been a barn, had less and less people sitting in it. And throughout the Intensive there was a lot of coughing and sniffling and nose blowing sounds to add to the ambience of Pacific Ocean waves crashing on the shore, frogs croaking, trees dropping dew and acorns on the roof, rain, coyotes howling, owls hooting, and stillness. Granted, one of the reasons to sit at Green Gulch is to listen to these amazing sounds of nature outside, but the suffering of coughing and sneezing helped create the uniqueness of this Intensive. It also brought up empathy and compassion in me. Normally I'd be sitting with thoughts of judgement about the people who sounded as if they didn't cover their coughs or sneezes, or the people who didn't unwrap their cough drops before entering the zendo. You know, these days they announce in theatrical productions to "please unwrap all candies and turn off all cell phones before the play begins." This time I felt empathy for these poor people suffering through this Intensive and fortune that at the moment I was not suffering from the cold/flu/illness, but my fortune of not suffering from the cold/flu/illness could all change in the next moment. I wanted to help as best I could as I was healthy and well. In this case, the best way to help was to continue to practice as wholeheartedly as possible. To sit for those who could not sit in the zendo. To do a little more work than was originally assigned to me to fill in the holes left by the people convalescing. To take care of myself. To make a gesture of care taking on my personal time.
Sitting for three weeks in a rather full and monastic schedule of zazen, facing myself, being with myself, being still with myself, being quiet with myself allowed me to deeply listen to myself. I love how Zen practice is body oriented. Sitting upright, truly upright, is a comfortable and sustainable way to sit. If my body leans slightly or one of my weak areas becomes unsupported, then I feel the pain of my imbalance. If uprightness or imbalance is manifested in the physical body causing freedom from suffering or suffering, we can notice how the uprightness or grasping/turning away of our thoughts can also cause freedom from suffering or suffering. In fact, we can feel it. So, while everyone around me was falling ill, I kept checking in with my body. Do I feel sick? I feel well enough to follow the schedule, but I am feeling a bit run-down and tired. I don't have a headache, but my throat feels a little scratchy and my nose is running a little bit. Can I sit in the zendo? Yes, as long as I have a tea with molasses and a cough drop beforehand. I would feel more comfortable sitting in the zendo if I had a tissue up my sleeve. Even though I'd like to exercise and stretch during this break, I think my body needs to rest. I was able to follow the schedule completely for all three weeks, but only because I listened to my body and took care of it.
Practically speaking, getting enough rest and washing often did the most help. I washed my hands more often than I usually do and used hand sanitizer in addition before meals. Somewhere in Dogen's writings (I haven't read it yet, so I'm not sure exactly where. It might be in The Pure Standards for the Zen Community or in a section of the Shobogenzo about monks' conduct in the zendo) there is zendo etiquette around cleanliness. There are short verses on brushing the teeth, washing the face, washing the body, and washing the feet. I think in the admonitions before starting sesshins the cleanliness imperative includes cleaning teeth, face, and feet each time before entering the zendo. During this Intensive, I did my best with teeth and face, and I did in fact wash my hands at every break. Washing your feet more than once a day is very difficult, so I only washed my feet when I took a shower, but I've discovered that massaging the feet helps with endurance through sitting, so I massaged my feet at the time I washed them. In addition to possible obsessiveness with washing, the Tenzo (head of the kitchen) fed us many dishes with lots of ginger. My preference is not for ginger, but if it's in my oryoki bowl, I'm going to eat all of it. So I also ate a lot of ginger during these three weeks. And finally, my constitution is usually a little weaker than most because I'm anemic. I take an iron supplement, but I really need red meat as well. Zen Center is a vegetarian institution, so I didn't have any meat to increase my strength, but I did take seconds on the leafy greens (and there are lots of leafy greens grown right there on the farm) and added molasses to my teas. I don't like sweetening my tea, but molasses is a source of iron and is lower on the glycemic index than cane sugar and honey, so I took my molasses medicine.
Perhaps warmth was also a big factor. I was fortunate to be assigned a room right outside the zendo, so I didn't have to go outside to sit in the mornings. In fact, my room was a single and it was relatively big with a big closet in which I changed into and out of my robe. I could easily grab my towel and toothbrush and wash up quickly before going back into the zendo. And, the best gift ever, the former tenant came by the second day with a space heater. She said she had another heater but thought I might want to use this one as she had found it helpful when she lived in the room. We were hit with those very cold days and nights, and that heater along with my sleeping bag and silk sleeping back insert saved my life.
As I was following the schedule that was posted, I also felt empathy for those that couldn't follow the posted schedule. I know they all wanted to be in the zendo with everyone else. I know they didn't want to be suffering in their beds. I know those that had positions or jobs like Ino (head of the meditation hall), doanryo (zendo jobs like ringing the bells or hitting drums to tell us when to sit and when to do walking meditation), or oryoki server (oryoki is formal meal in the zendo) really wanted to do their job rather than sweat and toss and turn in their beds. But all the people who fell ill had to follow the schedule in the best and most wholehearted way they could and that was to rest and take care of their bodies. And because of this, I was asked to be an oryoki server on three different crews, two different crews during the first two weeks of the Intensive, and then on one crew that served two days during the last week of sesshin. I was appreciative to have the opportunity to serve the community and to help those who couldn't follow their schedule as server.
We had three personal days, in which the schedule is very light with a later morning sitting at 6:30am, service, then informal breakfast in the dining hall. You're pretty much off after that with time set aside to clean your room. Back in the zendo at 5:30pm to sit, service, and dinner in the dining hall with either small group discussion or sitting in the zendo to close out your evening before chanting the Refuges in Pali. On our second personal day, one of my friends who is a resident at Green Gulch, had not yet emerged from his room for a week and a half, so I decided to make him a tea of ginger, lemon, and honey. This is Senior Dharma Teacher Blanche's famous care taking elixir of lovingkindness that she makes for people who have been knocked out by colds. I asked the Tenzo's permission to use a little bit of ginger and one lemon (honey is available to the community), which she granted in the amounts I asked for. I did my best steeping the ginger and adding lemon juice without seeds and putting in just enough honey. I was also invoking Blanche's grandmotherly mind and working with my wholehearted lovingkindness. I think this tea was healing for me as much as for the recipient. When he was feeling better and mingling back in the community, he thanked me for the tea. There is something about the fullness and emptiness of the three wheels, giver, receiver, and gift, here.
Now that I'm back at City Center, the practitioners here have also been and are being hit by this terrible cold/flu/illness epidemic. I heard that the entire nation has been getting sick as well. Please, everyone, take good care of your bodies. Listen deeply to your body and follow its schedule, which might be to take some time to rest. And if all else fails, make yourself some grandmotherly mind lovingkindness tea.
Right at the start of the Intensive, there were people already ill and either resting outside of the zendo (meditation hall) for the entire day or spending some time in the zendo and some time resting. Then, during that first week, the fully assigned zendo, which had formerly been a barn, had less and less people sitting in it. And throughout the Intensive there was a lot of coughing and sniffling and nose blowing sounds to add to the ambience of Pacific Ocean waves crashing on the shore, frogs croaking, trees dropping dew and acorns on the roof, rain, coyotes howling, owls hooting, and stillness. Granted, one of the reasons to sit at Green Gulch is to listen to these amazing sounds of nature outside, but the suffering of coughing and sneezing helped create the uniqueness of this Intensive. It also brought up empathy and compassion in me. Normally I'd be sitting with thoughts of judgement about the people who sounded as if they didn't cover their coughs or sneezes, or the people who didn't unwrap their cough drops before entering the zendo. You know, these days they announce in theatrical productions to "please unwrap all candies and turn off all cell phones before the play begins." This time I felt empathy for these poor people suffering through this Intensive and fortune that at the moment I was not suffering from the cold/flu/illness, but my fortune of not suffering from the cold/flu/illness could all change in the next moment. I wanted to help as best I could as I was healthy and well. In this case, the best way to help was to continue to practice as wholeheartedly as possible. To sit for those who could not sit in the zendo. To do a little more work than was originally assigned to me to fill in the holes left by the people convalescing. To take care of myself. To make a gesture of care taking on my personal time.
Sitting for three weeks in a rather full and monastic schedule of zazen, facing myself, being with myself, being still with myself, being quiet with myself allowed me to deeply listen to myself. I love how Zen practice is body oriented. Sitting upright, truly upright, is a comfortable and sustainable way to sit. If my body leans slightly or one of my weak areas becomes unsupported, then I feel the pain of my imbalance. If uprightness or imbalance is manifested in the physical body causing freedom from suffering or suffering, we can notice how the uprightness or grasping/turning away of our thoughts can also cause freedom from suffering or suffering. In fact, we can feel it. So, while everyone around me was falling ill, I kept checking in with my body. Do I feel sick? I feel well enough to follow the schedule, but I am feeling a bit run-down and tired. I don't have a headache, but my throat feels a little scratchy and my nose is running a little bit. Can I sit in the zendo? Yes, as long as I have a tea with molasses and a cough drop beforehand. I would feel more comfortable sitting in the zendo if I had a tissue up my sleeve. Even though I'd like to exercise and stretch during this break, I think my body needs to rest. I was able to follow the schedule completely for all three weeks, but only because I listened to my body and took care of it.
Practically speaking, getting enough rest and washing often did the most help. I washed my hands more often than I usually do and used hand sanitizer in addition before meals. Somewhere in Dogen's writings (I haven't read it yet, so I'm not sure exactly where. It might be in The Pure Standards for the Zen Community or in a section of the Shobogenzo about monks' conduct in the zendo) there is zendo etiquette around cleanliness. There are short verses on brushing the teeth, washing the face, washing the body, and washing the feet. I think in the admonitions before starting sesshins the cleanliness imperative includes cleaning teeth, face, and feet each time before entering the zendo. During this Intensive, I did my best with teeth and face, and I did in fact wash my hands at every break. Washing your feet more than once a day is very difficult, so I only washed my feet when I took a shower, but I've discovered that massaging the feet helps with endurance through sitting, so I massaged my feet at the time I washed them. In addition to possible obsessiveness with washing, the Tenzo (head of the kitchen) fed us many dishes with lots of ginger. My preference is not for ginger, but if it's in my oryoki bowl, I'm going to eat all of it. So I also ate a lot of ginger during these three weeks. And finally, my constitution is usually a little weaker than most because I'm anemic. I take an iron supplement, but I really need red meat as well. Zen Center is a vegetarian institution, so I didn't have any meat to increase my strength, but I did take seconds on the leafy greens (and there are lots of leafy greens grown right there on the farm) and added molasses to my teas. I don't like sweetening my tea, but molasses is a source of iron and is lower on the glycemic index than cane sugar and honey, so I took my molasses medicine.
Perhaps warmth was also a big factor. I was fortunate to be assigned a room right outside the zendo, so I didn't have to go outside to sit in the mornings. In fact, my room was a single and it was relatively big with a big closet in which I changed into and out of my robe. I could easily grab my towel and toothbrush and wash up quickly before going back into the zendo. And, the best gift ever, the former tenant came by the second day with a space heater. She said she had another heater but thought I might want to use this one as she had found it helpful when she lived in the room. We were hit with those very cold days and nights, and that heater along with my sleeping bag and silk sleeping back insert saved my life.
As I was following the schedule that was posted, I also felt empathy for those that couldn't follow the posted schedule. I know they all wanted to be in the zendo with everyone else. I know they didn't want to be suffering in their beds. I know those that had positions or jobs like Ino (head of the meditation hall), doanryo (zendo jobs like ringing the bells or hitting drums to tell us when to sit and when to do walking meditation), or oryoki server (oryoki is formal meal in the zendo) really wanted to do their job rather than sweat and toss and turn in their beds. But all the people who fell ill had to follow the schedule in the best and most wholehearted way they could and that was to rest and take care of their bodies. And because of this, I was asked to be an oryoki server on three different crews, two different crews during the first two weeks of the Intensive, and then on one crew that served two days during the last week of sesshin. I was appreciative to have the opportunity to serve the community and to help those who couldn't follow their schedule as server.
We had three personal days, in which the schedule is very light with a later morning sitting at 6:30am, service, then informal breakfast in the dining hall. You're pretty much off after that with time set aside to clean your room. Back in the zendo at 5:30pm to sit, service, and dinner in the dining hall with either small group discussion or sitting in the zendo to close out your evening before chanting the Refuges in Pali. On our second personal day, one of my friends who is a resident at Green Gulch, had not yet emerged from his room for a week and a half, so I decided to make him a tea of ginger, lemon, and honey. This is Senior Dharma Teacher Blanche's famous care taking elixir of lovingkindness that she makes for people who have been knocked out by colds. I asked the Tenzo's permission to use a little bit of ginger and one lemon (honey is available to the community), which she granted in the amounts I asked for. I did my best steeping the ginger and adding lemon juice without seeds and putting in just enough honey. I was also invoking Blanche's grandmotherly mind and working with my wholehearted lovingkindness. I think this tea was healing for me as much as for the recipient. When he was feeling better and mingling back in the community, he thanked me for the tea. There is something about the fullness and emptiness of the three wheels, giver, receiver, and gift, here.
Now that I'm back at City Center, the practitioners here have also been and are being hit by this terrible cold/flu/illness epidemic. I heard that the entire nation has been getting sick as well. Please, everyone, take good care of your bodies. Listen deeply to your body and follow its schedule, which might be to take some time to rest. And if all else fails, make yourself some grandmotherly mind lovingkindness tea.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Headed to the Farm
Although I've only just started this blog (there's only two other posts) and can't gauge what my posting consistency is, I will be taking a leave from posting any blogs from January 5-27, 2013. I'm heading off to Green Gulch Farm-Green Dragon Temple (http://www.sfzc.org/ggf/default.asp) for the annual January Intensive. This is three weeks of a monastic Zen Buddhist schedule, the third week of which is a seven-day sesshin, or completely silent, introspective practice (no talking, no reading, no writing, no computer, no phone). I won't have time or means to post regularly while I'm there. Although not far from the hustle and bustle of city life, Green Gulch Farm is in Muir Beach, and although a lovely, short hike to the beach, it's situated mostly in the woods. And if you've ever seen the height of a redwood tree, let alone a whole forest of redwoods, you'd understand how cell reception and connectivity could be spotty to nil. So, during this month, I'll be very quiet blog-wise as well as otherwise.
However, during the first two weeks of the Intensive schedule, there is a study period and there will be some personal time. I will continue to write in my sketchbook, ask questions of my practice, and sincerely investigate the way. I can share this with you when I return.
What is this Intensive and what do I hope to accomplish by participating? I've heard some refer to it as a meditation retreat, and as there is a lot of sitting meditation in the schedule, and it is located away from the busy-ness of life and in the beauty of nature, I don't consider it a retreat. The daily schedule is very full starting with the wake-up bell around 4:25am. One period of zazen is about 40 minutes long, with about six periods throughout the day. There are also classes, lectures, and study periods; services and chanting; breakfast and lunch as formal meditative meals (Oryoki); a two-hour work period; and a couple of breaks for personal time. The end of day, or fire-watch is at 9pm. A sixteen-hour day full of inactivity and activity, presence, and practice is physically and mentally challenging. For me, this is not a time to relax and sit back from my life. For me, the next three weeks are an urgent call to wake up to my life.
The Han, which is an instrument made up of a block of wood hanging from a rope that the Fukudo (doanryo position) hits with a wooden mallet to call everyone to the zendo to sit, has an inscription on it that says something like this:
Great is the matter of Birth and Death
Quickly passing, gone, gone
Awake, awake each one
Don't waste this life!
When you hear the han, immediately go to the zendo. When you hear the call, get to it, waste no time. Life is precious and short.
However, during the first two weeks of the Intensive schedule, there is a study period and there will be some personal time. I will continue to write in my sketchbook, ask questions of my practice, and sincerely investigate the way. I can share this with you when I return.
What is this Intensive and what do I hope to accomplish by participating? I've heard some refer to it as a meditation retreat, and as there is a lot of sitting meditation in the schedule, and it is located away from the busy-ness of life and in the beauty of nature, I don't consider it a retreat. The daily schedule is very full starting with the wake-up bell around 4:25am. One period of zazen is about 40 minutes long, with about six periods throughout the day. There are also classes, lectures, and study periods; services and chanting; breakfast and lunch as formal meditative meals (Oryoki); a two-hour work period; and a couple of breaks for personal time. The end of day, or fire-watch is at 9pm. A sixteen-hour day full of inactivity and activity, presence, and practice is physically and mentally challenging. For me, this is not a time to relax and sit back from my life. For me, the next three weeks are an urgent call to wake up to my life.
The Han, which is an instrument made up of a block of wood hanging from a rope that the Fukudo (doanryo position) hits with a wooden mallet to call everyone to the zendo to sit, has an inscription on it that says something like this:
Great is the matter of Birth and Death
Quickly passing, gone, gone
Awake, awake each one
Don't waste this life!
When you hear the han, immediately go to the zendo. When you hear the call, get to it, waste no time. Life is precious and short.
The Ethics of Blogging
I saw this blog as a way for me to sort through or process my practice. Plus I love writing and find it a comforting way for me to process and share. I've been telling friends that I started this blog, and for the most part the response was interest, neither positive nor negative. One well-respected friend, though, had a strong reaction to my writing a blog about sharing my practice and questioned how responsible that was. This has been a troubling question I've been working with ever since. Is it harmful to myself and others to publish my personal engagement with practice in such a public venue? There are other people who write blogs and others who write about practice. What are my responsibilities to the truth and my private thoughts and feelings? Is this helpful?
In the early 2000s, I spent about six years as a copyeditor for a trade magazine. I not only edited articles, but I also authored content. I never studied journalism in school, and in fact approach writing from an artist's background and perspective. I take truth-seeking writing very seriously, though, and was introduced to the Society of Professional Journalists' Code of Ethics by one of my colleagues and friends. You can find the full code, PDFs, and its history on the Society of Professional Journalists Website: http://www.spj.org/ethicscode.asp
The SPJ states that this code is an ethical guide, and although respected and upheld by many, it is not intended as a set of rules nor is it legally enforceable. With that disclaimer, there are four headings with itemized specifics underneath of how one can approach journalism ethically. I find these guidelines resonate strongly with me. The main journalistic precepts are: Seek Truth and Report It, Minimize Harm, Act Independently, and Be Accountable.
The messages conveyed through these precepts and their itemized details have to do with mindfulness, compassion, and wise speech/right speech. In seeking the truth, one needs to be truthful in gathering information, understand that there are many perspectives to a situation and diligently research and give voice to all sides including the voiceless ones, take great care in presenting accurate information, and give credit to sourced information and not steal colleagues' work. Minimizing harm taps into our compassionate human nature by interacting with sources and subjects from an empathic place, respecting self and others, and letting go of focusing on recognition and fame. Acting independently means trusting your own intuition and presenting an unbiased story. It also addresses conflicts of interest and bribery. And finally, being accountable is about being human and doing one's best. It's about admitting mistakes and correcting them. It's about practicing the same standards that one holds others up to. All the things delineated as well as the implied meanings are things I can get behind, and I hope I can continue to practice with these in this blog. Let me know when I stray.
In the Zen Buddhist tradition, there are 16 bodhisattva precepts that practitioners work with regularly, including revisiting them during the Full Moon Ceremony. Of the sixteen, the first three are the Refuges (taking refuge in Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha), the following three are the Pure Precepts (avoiding evil, practicing good, and saving all beings), and the final ten are the Grave Precepts. These grave precepts can be organized into three groups, precepts involving body, speech, and mind. The precepts involving speech are, the fourth: not to lie (be truthful), the sixth: not to slander (speak out of lovingkindness when speaking of others), and the seventh: not to praise self at the expense of others (be modest). These precepts on working with speech wisely are at the foundation of the SPJ's code of ethics. Not lying is about seeking the truth and reporting it, not slandering is about minimizing harm, not praising self at the expense of others is taking accountability in admitting mistakes and abiding by the same standards I'm holding others to. Other precepts that align with the journalists' code are the second: not to steal, the fifth: not to intoxicate body or mind with substances or doctrines (promoting clarity and awareness), and the eighth: not to be avaricious (be generous). These can be associated with not plagiarizing, a commitment to clarity in truth, and a generosity in presenting all perspectives with an empathic understanding as well as not taking gifts in exchange for journalistic favors. With the bodhisattva precepts, there is also a sense of working with them as a guide, not hard and fast rules. Here these guidelines/precepts have been used over time to help end suffering, and are merely a suggestion with an offer to try them for yourself to see if you feel a lessening of your suffering. I think the SPJ's code is also a way to steer away from suffering or difficulty.
The question remains, is writing this blog on my practice ethically responsible? It seems the answer depends on my approach. I want to share my personal story with you, victories and struggles alike. I don't want to harm anyone, including myself, by doing this. I take the bodhisattva precepts seriously, and although I haven't yet formally taken the precepts in a jukai ceremony, I do look at them and vow to work with them every month during the full moon ceremony. Ever since I was introduced to the Society of Professional Journalists' Code of Ethics, I have been conscientious of ethics in my writing, even having left the magazine years ago. When we vow to save all beings, these beings are sentient and non-sentient. My understanding of non-sentient beings is everything else not alive, including inanimate objects and ideas and thoughts. Saving all beings is a non-harmful, compassionate act, and I hold my words with as much care. I hope these words I offer bring compassionate understanding of my perspective of truth. The intent is lovingkindness.
In the early 2000s, I spent about six years as a copyeditor for a trade magazine. I not only edited articles, but I also authored content. I never studied journalism in school, and in fact approach writing from an artist's background and perspective. I take truth-seeking writing very seriously, though, and was introduced to the Society of Professional Journalists' Code of Ethics by one of my colleagues and friends. You can find the full code, PDFs, and its history on the Society of Professional Journalists Website: http://www.spj.org/ethicscode.asp
The SPJ states that this code is an ethical guide, and although respected and upheld by many, it is not intended as a set of rules nor is it legally enforceable. With that disclaimer, there are four headings with itemized specifics underneath of how one can approach journalism ethically. I find these guidelines resonate strongly with me. The main journalistic precepts are: Seek Truth and Report It, Minimize Harm, Act Independently, and Be Accountable.
The messages conveyed through these precepts and their itemized details have to do with mindfulness, compassion, and wise speech/right speech. In seeking the truth, one needs to be truthful in gathering information, understand that there are many perspectives to a situation and diligently research and give voice to all sides including the voiceless ones, take great care in presenting accurate information, and give credit to sourced information and not steal colleagues' work. Minimizing harm taps into our compassionate human nature by interacting with sources and subjects from an empathic place, respecting self and others, and letting go of focusing on recognition and fame. Acting independently means trusting your own intuition and presenting an unbiased story. It also addresses conflicts of interest and bribery. And finally, being accountable is about being human and doing one's best. It's about admitting mistakes and correcting them. It's about practicing the same standards that one holds others up to. All the things delineated as well as the implied meanings are things I can get behind, and I hope I can continue to practice with these in this blog. Let me know when I stray.
In the Zen Buddhist tradition, there are 16 bodhisattva precepts that practitioners work with regularly, including revisiting them during the Full Moon Ceremony. Of the sixteen, the first three are the Refuges (taking refuge in Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha), the following three are the Pure Precepts (avoiding evil, practicing good, and saving all beings), and the final ten are the Grave Precepts. These grave precepts can be organized into three groups, precepts involving body, speech, and mind. The precepts involving speech are, the fourth: not to lie (be truthful), the sixth: not to slander (speak out of lovingkindness when speaking of others), and the seventh: not to praise self at the expense of others (be modest). These precepts on working with speech wisely are at the foundation of the SPJ's code of ethics. Not lying is about seeking the truth and reporting it, not slandering is about minimizing harm, not praising self at the expense of others is taking accountability in admitting mistakes and abiding by the same standards I'm holding others to. Other precepts that align with the journalists' code are the second: not to steal, the fifth: not to intoxicate body or mind with substances or doctrines (promoting clarity and awareness), and the eighth: not to be avaricious (be generous). These can be associated with not plagiarizing, a commitment to clarity in truth, and a generosity in presenting all perspectives with an empathic understanding as well as not taking gifts in exchange for journalistic favors. With the bodhisattva precepts, there is also a sense of working with them as a guide, not hard and fast rules. Here these guidelines/precepts have been used over time to help end suffering, and are merely a suggestion with an offer to try them for yourself to see if you feel a lessening of your suffering. I think the SPJ's code is also a way to steer away from suffering or difficulty.
The question remains, is writing this blog on my practice ethically responsible? It seems the answer depends on my approach. I want to share my personal story with you, victories and struggles alike. I don't want to harm anyone, including myself, by doing this. I take the bodhisattva precepts seriously, and although I haven't yet formally taken the precepts in a jukai ceremony, I do look at them and vow to work with them every month during the full moon ceremony. Ever since I was introduced to the Society of Professional Journalists' Code of Ethics, I have been conscientious of ethics in my writing, even having left the magazine years ago. When we vow to save all beings, these beings are sentient and non-sentient. My understanding of non-sentient beings is everything else not alive, including inanimate objects and ideas and thoughts. Saving all beings is a non-harmful, compassionate act, and I hold my words with as much care. I hope these words I offer bring compassionate understanding of my perspective of truth. The intent is lovingkindness.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Practice, My Practice
What is practice?
The definition according to merriam-webster.com is:
The definition according to merriam-webster.com is:
- a) carry out, apply; b) to do or perform often, customarily, or habitually; c) to be professionally engaged in
- a) to perform or work at repeatedly so as to become proficient; b) to train by repeated exercises
Here, in this blog, I am talking about the practice of zazen (sitting meditation), the practice of Zen Buddhism, the practice of the Buddhist precepts, the practice of a bodhisattva life.
I've been practicing at San Francisco Zen Center, predominantly City Center or Beginner's Mind Temple, since December 14, 2010. How I came to practice is another story and another blog post. How my practice has been shaped over the past two years is what I'll attempt to summarize.
As with every moment in our lives, I am currently at a moment of transition, the unknown, or what I think Pema Chodron calls "groundlessness." I never stopped sitting zazen, or sitting meditation, at SFZC City Center on a regular basis since the first day I walked into the zendo, or meditation hall. I've noticed that the sitting, although sometimes frustrating, sometimes restless, sometimes fun, sometimes painful, the sitting has helped me relax by calming me, grounding me, giving me space to look at all sides of things (or at least more than my one-sided view), and allowing me time to breathe. I've found it an invaluable practice for my externally busy life (running my own business, living with roommates, romantic relationships, social relationships, family relationships, making art) as well as my internally busy life (monkey mind, the endless stories about everything my mind creates, the judgements I have on myself and others, my anxieties and my depressions). I really enjoy sitting! I don't know exactly why I keep coming back to the zendo, why I keep coming back to my cushion. I just do, and it has become a part of my schedule and practice.
Along with sitting, and especially if one develops a regular practice of sitting, the Zen Center offers and suggests meeting with a teacher for practice discussions. I asked T to be my teacher in February 2011. We continually meet on a regular basis to discuss techniques to sitting and practice, what emotions and issues might be coming up from sitting and practice, how sitting and practice influences or shows up in my day to day life, and anything and everything having to do with Zen Center and practice. Along with sitting practice, there is an ethical side to Zen Buddhism and all branches of Buddhism. The general practice is to be a bodhisattva. A bodhisattva dedicates his/her life to unconditional compassion and love with the vow to save all beings. Although this vow and dedication is virtually impossible, a bodhisattva will whole-heartedly practice compassion, love, and saving all beings. There are guidelines to help us navigate wise choices, delineated in the 16 Bodhisattva Precepts. Lay practitioners (those not traveling down the priest ordinate path, although both lay practitioners and priest ordinates have similar ceremonies for this) can choose to publicly demonstrate their commitment to the precepts through a ceremony called Jukai ("coming home"). Along with deep study of the precepts, someone wanting to take the precepts in a Jukai ceremony must sew a small Buddha's Robe, or Rakusu. I am currently in the middle of sewing my rakusu. I have two teachers I'm working with on precepts and practice, T and P. Having two teachers is unusual and not a requirement, however in my case I wanted these two teachers.
As I've deepened my practice by following my schedule of sitting zazen and working with the precepts with practice leaders, I've also volunteered my time by working in the Zen Center kitchen, and holding various jobs that keep the zendo running smoothly and create the ceremonial space of services and formal ceremonies. Both of these types of jobs are more ways to practice and are demonstrations of how I am practicing. In the kitchen, every job is equally important, whether it's washing dishes, peeling potatoes, stirring the soup, or cooking the main dish start to finish. Not only did I notice how I interacted with others and moved around the kitchen with only functional speech, but I also felt the connection I had with the food I was working with and the sheer responsibility of caring for this food to nourish the entire community. The zendo jobs are called the Doanryo. The head of the meditation hall, or Ino, directs this cabinet-like committee. The doanryo along with the Ino are responsible for making sure everyone knows when it's time to go to the zendo, to sit, to do walking meditation (Kinhin), to leave the zendo, to go to service, to chant, what to chant, when to bow, when to do a full prostration, when to offer incense, when to end service, and when the room is empty. There is something about the way each job on doanryo flows with each other. I love the choreography of how even just a period of zazen comes together. I am honored that I get to be a part of it, and it's not even me who is ringing a bell or hitting a Han (block of wood that is hit in a rhythmic and timed fashion to call people to sitting) or leading a chant. I am just helping the bell ring, I am helping the han call everyone to the zendo, I am helping give voice to the chant. There is something about "the emptiness of the three wheels, giver, receiver, and gift," in the responsibility of doanryo that comes up for me and attracts me to this service. I currently hold regular doanryo positions of Doan (bell ringer) for Monday morning and Fukudo (hits the han) for Tuesday evening. I was also just asked (and accepted) to share the Head Doan position for the mornings. Head Doan helps the Ino make sure that the doanryo is present for their position, and if not makes sure the empty position is covered. Head Doan also helps instruct people new to doanryo who are interested in participating in doanryo. I take this position as a huge honor because I am not a resident. The morning program is usually the responsibility of the residents to oversee. A large part of my practice is consistency in practicing, so the acknowledgement of this consistency with the consideration of sharing the head doan position is validation in the consistency of my practice.
So why am I starting a blog now and why am I calling myself "little monk"? I'm days away from my 40th birthday (January 6). I'm also days away from the Green Gulch January Intensive with Reb. I am leaving for Green Gulch Farm on January 5 for three weeks of a fairly intense monastic schedule much like one would find during a practice period at Tassajara, the San Francisco Zen Center monastery. I came out of Rohatsu sesshin, a seven day silent meditation schedule that is usually at the beginning of December to coincide with the celebration of Buddha's enlightenment, or Rohatsu, with "I just want to be a monk" running through my head. My sesshin was difficult as many emotional things came up for me during that time, like the aftermath of a significant break-up, but it wasn't bad or good that these things came up, it just was what was happening and so I observed how I was dealing with it and one of the ways I was dealing with it was to fully and whole-heartedly commit myself to the schedule. Is this what being a monk is? I don't know. It felt like it was connected to my wanting to be a monk. Does being a monk mean moving into Zen Center for full residential practice? I will definitely see what it's like to live at Green Gulch Farm for the three-week intensive. I'm considering moving into City Center, but that's been an active question for me for the past two years. I'm not sure if living inside or outside dictates monk status or not. I'm hoping to explore what wanting to be a monk and being a monk is here, in this blog.
Bowing deeply and whole-heartedly,
~little monk
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