Tag: zen

In the Eyes of the Beholder.

There’s an art museum in the neighboring town where I lived.

The architecture was quite stunning; stone marble steps marked the entrance through the brass and iron framed door. On either side, roses dipped their weighted blooms before stone statues of ‘great men on horseback’ and heroes of the war.

We used to visit there every Sunday, just before the crowds settled in. Mom loved the Van Gogh exhibit best, captivated by the wild impassioned, brushstrokes and obvious castings of tradition. Though I never quite understood the draw.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Mom would smile before moving on.

Not everyone can appreciate the appeal of a Warhol, Bosch or Van Gogh – and, certainly the complexities of taste are far reaching. However, one thing has always perplexed – when it comes to Nature’s artworks each of us stands so blissfully in awe.

Through the Redwood’s towering pose, we find humility; in the heron’s swift ascension, we find grace. Every amplitude of brush stroke, each hint of color – all lending something miraculous to the beholder; the blessing of simplicity in a world fraught with trouble.

And we may lose ourselves within the throes of an uncertain storm. Or, perhaps we’ll find perfection reflected within the endlessness of cosmos.

“The secret is in action; here and now.” writes Nisargadatta Maharaj. And, in the end “it is your behavior that blinds you to yourself.”

In peace, dear friends…

Namaste ❤

A Smaller Country.

I once witnessed an argument between two gentlemen at local shop.

At first, their words words were cordial – yet, direct; each bound by the purpose of ‘defending their view.’ In those few short moments, the willingness to share was greater than their need to be heard.

Though soon, their conversations devolved; words became heated in an effort to further the vanity of their claim.

In exasperation, one turned to me and said, “Can you believe this guy?” Just as the other man sighed.

Though what, if anything, had changed? Was it patience, purpose or intent? Was it a matter of willingness? Or, rather simply – an inability to ‘stay’.

“Only the ego remains,” my guru would have shared. “And the ego can never be wrong,” he’d grin.

It was his way of ‘gently’ reminding that each of us is subject to the boundaries of our ways.

The Tao speaks of our service to the ‘smaller country’; a communion with neighbors both near and far. A ‘far’ not limited to a literal sense.

“Seek the small country
With small population,
Where people are neighbors
And life is in balance:
Nothing wasted,
Nothing lost.
There people love life
And do not wander far
Despoiling the earth
With their destructive ‘machines’.
Their weapons of war
Never used or displayed,
The people live simply,
Enjoy wholesome food,
And comfortable clothes,
The beauty of nature,
The pleasures of ‘home’;
Another country may be so close
That people can hear
The sounds of life
From a distant valley,
Weaving together
The music of peace.”

Each of us, in our own way, longs for that semblance of smaller country. Yet, when challenged – like a viper, the ego will spit and bite, desperate to defend its territory.

Until the smaller country reveals the wider view. We see her residing within the hope of all living beings; and these seemingly casual encounters are grown to greater things.

In peace…

Namaste ❤

On the Edge of the Sand, They’ve Danced.

Leonardo da Vinci once wrote that the greatest deception men suffer is from their own perception. And, with every ‘truth’ rooted firmly in the soil of perception.

Our world is viewed through minute slivers – a fracturing of light through filtered prism. We see what we choose to see, in part. Though, can we observe without this burden of bias?

With a mind like the sky, as free-flowing form; resting in the space of whatever is found. True boundlessness, as the Buddha instructed – without cause, without worry, absent heaviness of heart.

In this space, we merely follow our thoughts – though, dare not ascribe this precedence of story upon the willfulness of ego.

And, knowing – sometimes the stillness is our sanctuary.

“Hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, they danced…”

In peace, my loves…

Namaste ❤️

The Lesson of Unlearning.

There’s a story I quite like; about a Zen master and his eager student.

“I’m devoted to learning,” he said earnestly. “How long before I am aware?”

“Ten years,” the master replied.

“Ten years?!” the student cried incredulously. “But, I’m your best student…well-versed, the son of royalty! I can’t possibly wait that long. If I work hard, practicing every day – 10 hours or more, if need be…how long will it take then”

The master thought for a moment. Looking out to the now setting sun, he replied:

“Twenty years.”

It’s a bit ‘tongue in cheek’, certainly. Though, it does serve to emphasize an important point – that without patience we are unable to investigate the true nature of our experience.

When we lock into the energy of “must have or be”, we lose the capacity for the heart to remain open. We fail to see the inherent need of that which stands before us.

That is, to simply be appreciated.

In this way, awareness is not formed on the basis of learning – but, rather unlearning – all that has served to stand in our way.

Or, as the poet Rumi once reflected, “to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

In peace, my loves… today, I pray we may embrace this lesson of unlearning.

Namaste ❤️

This Blessing of One.

Let this life happen, my loves.

The good, the bad, the often confusing – the marveled wonderment. It comes to you with noble purpose ~ a deepening of gratitude and a lesson in resilience.

Passing through with no more permanence than shooting star. Though the memory lingers, as delicate imprint onto cusp of morn – and, asking nothing in return.

These memories beat like “second heart” – capturing the essence of who we are.

The good, the bad, the often confusing – the marveled wonderment; welcome them all. Knowing awareness comes through this blessing of one.

In peace…

Namaste ❤️

The Lesson of Stream.

I was reminded of a passage from one of my favorite children’s stories. From A.A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner:

“By the time it came to the edge of the Forest, the stream had grown up, so that it was almost a river, and, being grown-up, it did not run and jump and sparkle along as it used to do when it was younger, but moved more slowly. For it knew now where it was going, and it said to itself, ‘There is no hurry. We shall get there some day.’ But all the little streams higher up in the Forest went this way and that, quickly, eagerly, having so much to find out before it was too late.”

As the story is told, the curious bear sat perched upon a bridge – watching the waters whisk briskly below.

At first one, then another pine cone dropped to the water as Pooh raced to view their passage from the other side. With each he noted an entirely different course, one that seemed to incorporate the whimsy of ‘stream’.

It was a ‘drowsy summer afternoon, and the Forest was full of gentle sounds’, he reflected, including that of both happenstance and purpose.

It was the first in a long line of zen observations, that of letting things happen in much their own way.

In this story, the water is a metaphor for spirit; while the bubbling brook, a manifestation of being.

We all struggle with this, my loves – from time to time. We inherently plan, we must know in advance. Though, sometimes only the best adventures evolve from this space of letting go.

Though, “sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.”

In peace, my loves ~

Namaste ❤️

Letting the Practice Become the Joy.

“Joy does not exist outside of the breathing,” writes Thich Nhat Hanh. “The breathing is joy itself.”

His message is intended to reinforce an often ‘missed’ point. That is to say, in practicing we become the practice. Every moment refined by stillness underpins the true essence of mindfulness. As such, even something as simple as breath become the means by which we learn to embrace and transform our suffering.

Likewise, it serves as a reminder that practice needn’t precede joy. As such, we must learn to manifest as one in the same.

Just as our breath becomes the joy, so too may our suffering be likewise transmuted. It is this very realization that allows us to connect to the vitality of this present moment.

This physical realm is neither an obstacle nor a hindrance; rather, it is the means itself.

“People who study the path clearly know there is such a thing,” shares Zen master, Foyan. “why do they fail to get the message, and go on doubting? It is as though you have an eye that sees all forms, but does not see itself. This is how the mind is. its light penetrates everywhere and engulfs everything. So, why does it not know itself?”

A little something to consider on this day, my loves – and a reminder that we mustn’t allow our practice to become our impediment.

In peace…

Namaste <3

Letting Go of Those Reigns.

There’s a story in Zen circles about a man and a horse.

The horse is galloping quickly away, while a dear man clings to saddle with all of his might.

“Where are you going?” asks a young man from the road side.

“I don’t know!” he shouts. “You’ll have to ask the horse!”

Such is the nature of our ‘habit’ energy – that we might instinctively cling, without ever questioning our path.

“We are always running,” writes Thich Nhat Hanh. “We are riding a horse, we don’t know where we are going, and we can’t stop. The horse is our habit energy pulling us along, and we are powerless.”

Indeed, how easily we fall into the energy of habit. Someone says or does something unkind – and we are instantly pulled from our ‘resting’ space.

And, try as we might – it pulls, it pushes, it nudges, and it grinds. Until the energy of habit, outweighs our need to be free.

As a result, we may act in ways we might later regret – vowing never, ever, ever to fall into ‘that’ place again. But, just as soon as one habit ends – like a wild horse, another one quickly ushers in.

Until that moment, when we finally understand – in letting go of those ‘reigns’ we can take on this world.

Much love, my darlings ~ <3

The Joy of Imperfection.

In the 1960’s Suzuki Roshi, founder of the San Francisco Zen Center, looked out a group of his students meditating and said to them

“Each of you is perfect the way you are, *and* you can use a little improvement.”

To me, this image resonates so brilliantly – in that, it captures the full essence of unconditional acceptance.

That we may, in spite of our many quirks and flaws, find the means to love with full heart. To let no barrier come between, that which we so very much hope to believe.

That we are perfect, just as we are.

Though, as humans – we tend to become ‘caught’ in this trap of wishing things to be different. We strive, we beg, we borrow, we plead – to attain this image of perfect that is, at best, fleeting.

In doing so, we fail to consider – the many billions of molecules that have come together to create the miracle of our being.

“Nothing we see or hear is perfect.” he offers. “But right there in the imperfection is perfect reality.”

Indeed, within the imperfections there exists perfection.

Within the crumpled, dying leaves – we see bursts of red, of gold, of green. And, even the roughest waters will wear the stone’s edges smooth.

Life isn’t something that should be edited, my loves. It should be lived, and breathed, and loved, and sung – through every wonderfully, imperfect occasion.

As, the only way we’ll ever truly know what it means to be alive – is by sharing in the full experience of each ‘blemished and freckled’ moment.

My darlings, you are perfect – just as you are. And, you could use a little improvement.

All of which makes my experience with you unparallelled in it’s glory.

<3

Creating the Space for All to Live.

I remember in the months following the terrorist attacks on 9/11,  Zen Master, Thich Nhat Hanh (Thay) was asked,  “How do we maintain this space of compassion, in the wake of so much global hatred?”

The question was asked by a young woman in the audience, a woman who had just lost her husband in this unprecedented aggression. He thought for just a moment before offering his reply,

“We can begin right now by calming our anger.”

His response was further elaborated in an article to Beliefnet,

“We can begin right now to practice calming our anger, looking deeply at the roots of the hatred and violence in our society and in our world, and listening with compassion in order to hear and understand what we have not yet had the capacity to hear and to understand. When the drop of compassion begins to form in our hearts and minds, we begin to develop concrete responses to our situation. When we have listened and looked deeply, we may begin to develop the energy of brotherhood and sisterhood between all nations, which is the deepest spiritual heritage of all religious and cultural traditions. In this way the peace and understanding within the whole world is increased day by day.”

His words came to mind as I was watching the new yesterday morning – the story of a young man halfway ’round this world, beheaded in the name of ‘justice.’

As I stared at the screen, I couldn’t help but to think of this young man’s family – what horror they must be experiencing. We see these images, and we want immediately to react – to correct a grievous wrong, to make ‘right.’

But, what is ‘right’ in this weary world? Isn’t all violence the source of injustice?

He paused for just a moment, before continuing:

“They feel justified in destroying their enemies in the name of God. People who engage in this violence may die with the conviction that they are dying for a righteous cause. And isn’t our country acting out of the same conviction when we kill those we define as threats? Each side believes that it alone embodies goodness, while the other side embodies evil.”

My darlings, these are the moments in which are faith is most tested. And these, are the moments in which our resilience is born. That we might offer this space of a compassion – a single drop with the capacity to fill up this world.

“What would it take,” he asked, “for us to be able to reach out to those who have terrorized us and say: “You must have suffered deeply. You must have a lot of hatred and anger toward us to have done such a thing to us. You have tried to destroy us and you’ve caused us so much suffering. What kind of thinking has led you to take such an action?”

You see, it’s only when we’ve listened with all of our heart, that we may finally create the space for all to live.