As you may already know, i'll leave my current job sometime around the middle of January. Assuming that i'll have a lot of time available to catch up and make some of the changes/additions to the Shikoku website that i've been putting off, i've spent a little time over the past few days looking through the site and reminding myself what is there (surprisingly, i don't visit it all that often).
While looking through my 2007 journal, i found this paragraph again:
"...i was listening to a podcast the other day in which Hogen Bays gave a quote that he attributed to Henry Moore. I don't remember it word for word, but in essence it was something like: 'Everyone needs a passion so large that they can throw their energy and life into it, but which they can never completely accomplish.' Isn't that so true? It's in these great and grand passions that we actually live a life instead of just existing for another lifetime. Instead of just another round on the samsaric wheel, believe passionately that a spiral is possible instead. You're still going around, but growing at the same time. It's in the never-ending chase for these completely unaccomplishable goals that we find what we are made of. That's also one of the quotes on the first page of this web site, and it came from T.S. Eliot. 'Only those who dare to go too far can possibly find out how far they can go.' That's my mantra on my long training runs as i get closer to the Chicago Marathon in the fall, and will repeat it over and over as the miles build up. But, it is also my mantra on the trail on Shikoku. You'd be surprised what you can learn by doing nothing more complicated than walking. If you do it correctly, that is. And if you push yourself you can take yourself past limits you never imagined. You can see things about your life that you never imagined possible. You can see things about life that you didn't even know you could imagine."
I really love the concept of having a passion so large that it can engulf you and your life, but which you can never hope to fully accomplish in this life. Yet, this points directly to what is probably one of the biggest contradictions in my life. On the one hand, i have, for as long as i can remember breathing, believed in spirals over circles. A life where you aren't growing is not a life worth talking about, in my opinion. On occasion i jokingly tell people that if you aren't growing and learning, then you might as well just pull the trigger, but i have seen several people blink when i say that so try to keep it to myself now.
I don't believe that we are 'here' with a given purpose that we need to fulfill. I do believe, however, that we all give our lives purpose — and that every person's purpose will be unique, even if in some small way. And the closer you get your purpose to the great, unachievable passion that Henry Moore alluded to, the better, happier, and more fulfilling your life will be.
On the other hand, i am a firm believer in living a simple life. Live in a house that fit's your needs, not the Jones' expectations. Drive a car that gets you around, not just from fuel pump to fuel pump. Better yet, learn to walk and ride your bicycle again. Buy what you need and give yourself an occasional treat of something you want, as opposed to buying everything you see that catches your fancy. Be content with what you have. Learn to appreciate what you have. Learn to appreciate that you don't need everything. Learn to appreciate how much you really do have as compared to the vast majority of the people living south of the equator.
But, if you let that simplicity take over, and you lead a life of complacency, a life with no challenges, a life with no goals high enough to reach down and pull you up above just plain existence, then ..... then..... well, then i don't see how you can call it a life. At least not a life much different than a slug.
That goal can be anything at all — from learning how to solve Maxwell's Equations or Quantum Physics to learning how to knit a sweater with knit 2-pearl 3 instead of the other way around. It can be training to run a 3 hour marathon or working up to walking 5 blocks. It can be setting aside enough time to read one book a month or enough time to read the entire Pali Cannon. It can be taking a class in public speaking or learning 20 new knock-knock jokes. It can be learning to sit still for 5 minutes or learning to sit long enough to last through a week long sesshin.
The point is, everyone's goals are going to be different, and they are all great, all wonderful, all worthy ... as long as they make you stretch your limits.
I could rattle off a half-dozen goals i have set for myself next year. Each one will demand more of myself than i was able to do in 2008. Some are physical and will entail many hours in my running shoes. Some are physical and will entail many hours sitting on my butt. Some require studying. Some will prove i'm full of hot air. The biggest one, though, may simply be convincing myself that i'm not a professional failure and getting myself to believe in myself once again. Not an easy task, maybe close to impossible, but hey, ya gotta' try.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Moving Forward
I watched a couple of Japanese movies on YouTube this evening quite by happenstance. I had never heard of them before this afternoon, and stumbled on them completely by chance. In fact, i don't even remember how i stumbled on them, i certainly wasn't looking for them, or for a movie to watch for that matter. I only started watching the first one because one of the lead actresses is a huge hit in Japan right now, having just played the star role in the 2008 NHK year-long drama.
When i stumbled onto the first movie, i figured i'd watch the first few episodes and then work on some studying i wanted to do today. Because it was about a punk rock band trying to make it big in Japan, it was completely out of character for the type of move i would usually watch, and for that reason, i was astounded to find myself watch the whole thing — at just under two hours.
What was even more amazing was that after watching the last episode, and then noticing that there was a sequel as well, i watched that too! Amazing. I don't even like punk rock.
So why did i watch them? They weren't great movies by my standards, but i had been transfixed for about four hours. While making supper, i wondered why i was watching them, even though i knew that i would go back and watch the last of the sequel as soon as supper was ready. And i did keep watching, and then, about 10 minutes from the very end of the sequel, the movie itself told me why it had come to Lockport and visited me today.
At that time, just as success was finally opening the door and asking the band to come in, the lead character was wondering about the ups and downs she had gone through, and why the downs seemed to be more than the ups so much of the time. And, as if she was talking to me, as if she was telling me why they had made me watch, she gave me the message.
"I think life is gently going whichever direction you find yourself going. And finding yourself adrift isn't such a stupid thing — if you keep advancing forwards."
I know that. I have always know that. But sometimes it is so easy to forget and to wonder why the downs seem to overwhelm the ups from time to time. If you're not careful, it's easy to lose focus and not see which direction you are supposed to be going. To settle for being adrift. Complacency can get you. Laziness can get you. Greed can get you. A lot of things can blur your focus.
And that's when the universe sees fit to sit you in a chair and put a movie on if that's the only way it can get the message through your thick skull.
Thanks Nana. Thanks universe.
(But next time, put the message in the first 10 minutes instead of the last 10 so i don't have to sit there for so long. Or put it in a martial arts film with Zhang Ziyi as the lead.)
When i stumbled onto the first movie, i figured i'd watch the first few episodes and then work on some studying i wanted to do today. Because it was about a punk rock band trying to make it big in Japan, it was completely out of character for the type of move i would usually watch, and for that reason, i was astounded to find myself watch the whole thing — at just under two hours.
What was even more amazing was that after watching the last episode, and then noticing that there was a sequel as well, i watched that too! Amazing. I don't even like punk rock.
So why did i watch them? They weren't great movies by my standards, but i had been transfixed for about four hours. While making supper, i wondered why i was watching them, even though i knew that i would go back and watch the last of the sequel as soon as supper was ready. And i did keep watching, and then, about 10 minutes from the very end of the sequel, the movie itself told me why it had come to Lockport and visited me today.
At that time, just as success was finally opening the door and asking the band to come in, the lead character was wondering about the ups and downs she had gone through, and why the downs seemed to be more than the ups so much of the time. And, as if she was talking to me, as if she was telling me why they had made me watch, she gave me the message.
"I think life is gently going whichever direction you find yourself going. And finding yourself adrift isn't such a stupid thing — if you keep advancing forwards."
I know that. I have always know that. But sometimes it is so easy to forget and to wonder why the downs seem to overwhelm the ups from time to time. If you're not careful, it's easy to lose focus and not see which direction you are supposed to be going. To settle for being adrift. Complacency can get you. Laziness can get you. Greed can get you. A lot of things can blur your focus.
And that's when the universe sees fit to sit you in a chair and put a movie on if that's the only way it can get the message through your thick skull.
Thanks Nana. Thanks universe.
(But next time, put the message in the first 10 minutes instead of the last 10 so i don't have to sit there for so long. Or put it in a martial arts film with Zhang Ziyi as the lead.)
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Tying Up Loose Ends
I can't sleep so might as well try and finish up what i started with my last post before i realized i was getting too long winded and cut it off. I suppose i could/should go downstairs and sit for a while instead, but am just too lazy to get out of bed. :-)
What is the one thing that almost every henro does at both the Hondō and the Daishidō of each temple? They recite the Heart Sutra. It's a magnificent document if you take the time to study it (and i'm thinking in terms of years, not hours, days, or weeks).
Without question, the most famous lines in the sutra are "Form is not different from Emptiness. Emptiness is not different from Form. Form is exactly Emptiness. Emptiness is exactly Form." In fact, a lot of people, Buddhists and non-Buddhists alike, can probably quote those lines, but not one other single line from the entire sutra.
Go back and look at the first paragraph of the Zenki chapter of the Shōbōgenzō that i quoted yesterday.
The Great Way of all the Buddhas and the ultimate goal in Buddhism is detachment from life and death and the realization of enlightenment. We must be detached from life in life and death in death, i.e., when we are alive life is total activity; and in death, death is total activity. Life is the experience of life and death is the experience of death. Life and death together are the actual appearance of truth. The ultimate goal is detachment from, that is total immersion in, life and death. Understanding life and death are [the means whereby the Bodhisattva achieves salvation for himself and other].
One of the things i wanted to say last night is that you could easily replace 'life' and 'death' in that paragraph with 'form' and 'emptiness' without losing any significance — and in some ways, gaining a little.
The Great Way of all the Buddhas and the ultimate goal in Buddhism is detachment from form and emptiness and the realization of enlightenment. We must be detached from form in form and emptiness in emptiness, i.e., when we are form form is total activity; and in emptiness, emptiness is total activity. Form is the experience of form and emptiness is the experience of emptiness. Form and emptiness together are the actual appearance of truth. The ultimate goal is detachment from, that is total immersion in, form and emptiness. Understanding form and emptiness are [the means whereby the Bodhisattva achieves salvation for himself and other].
The ultimate goal in Buddhism is detachment from form and emptiness. I believe that to be a given. But, it doesn't say to embrace form over emptiness, or to swing the other way and embrace emptiness over form. Both must be embraced, and both, taken together, are the manifestation of truth. Or, as Dōgen chose to say it, we have to detach ourselves from form and emptiness, although he is saying the same thing.
How do you detach yourself from form? You immerse yourself totally into it; you embrace it completely, until there is no longer an embracer and that which is embraced, there is only form. How do you detach yourself from emptiness? You immerse yourself totally into it; you embrace it completely, until there is no longer an embracer and that which is embraced, there is only emptiness.
It is through the process of completely immersing yourself in both form and emptiness that you detach yourself from them. By becoming first form, then emptiness, then both, you come to the point where there is no longer you and them, but one. Not one, but not two, just is.
Jumping to the second and third paragraph of Zenki we could also say:
... When we actualize enlightenment the full meaning of form and emptiness becomes clear. However, this experience cannot be defined by consciousness or cognition, large or small, limited or unlimited, long or short, near or far.
Our present life is formed by this experience; in the same way, this experience is formed by life. ...
Dōgen doesn't say that our life is formed by how well we sit, or how many hours we do it, but by how well we understand the meaning of form and emptiness. Life and death. All and nothing. Infinity and zero. And our understanding of them is also formed by our life.
Walking on the henro trail all day, day after day, week after week, for several months — under clear skies or in the rain, when you're tired or when you're juiced, when it's hot or when it's freezing cold, when you're with other henro or when you're all alone — is therefore the perfect time to work on embracing form and embracing emptiness. All you have to do is take Dōgen's advice; when you are form, let form be total activity. When you are emptiness, let emptiness be total activity.
The rest will come in due time.
What is the one thing that almost every henro does at both the Hondō and the Daishidō of each temple? They recite the Heart Sutra. It's a magnificent document if you take the time to study it (and i'm thinking in terms of years, not hours, days, or weeks).
Without question, the most famous lines in the sutra are "Form is not different from Emptiness. Emptiness is not different from Form. Form is exactly Emptiness. Emptiness is exactly Form." In fact, a lot of people, Buddhists and non-Buddhists alike, can probably quote those lines, but not one other single line from the entire sutra.
Go back and look at the first paragraph of the Zenki chapter of the Shōbōgenzō that i quoted yesterday.
The Great Way of all the Buddhas and the ultimate goal in Buddhism is detachment from life and death and the realization of enlightenment. We must be detached from life in life and death in death, i.e., when we are alive life is total activity; and in death, death is total activity. Life is the experience of life and death is the experience of death. Life and death together are the actual appearance of truth. The ultimate goal is detachment from, that is total immersion in, life and death. Understanding life and death are [the means whereby the Bodhisattva achieves salvation for himself and other].
One of the things i wanted to say last night is that you could easily replace 'life' and 'death' in that paragraph with 'form' and 'emptiness' without losing any significance — and in some ways, gaining a little.
The Great Way of all the Buddhas and the ultimate goal in Buddhism is detachment from form and emptiness and the realization of enlightenment. We must be detached from form in form and emptiness in emptiness, i.e., when we are form form is total activity; and in emptiness, emptiness is total activity. Form is the experience of form and emptiness is the experience of emptiness. Form and emptiness together are the actual appearance of truth. The ultimate goal is detachment from, that is total immersion in, form and emptiness. Understanding form and emptiness are [the means whereby the Bodhisattva achieves salvation for himself and other].
The ultimate goal in Buddhism is detachment from form and emptiness. I believe that to be a given. But, it doesn't say to embrace form over emptiness, or to swing the other way and embrace emptiness over form. Both must be embraced, and both, taken together, are the manifestation of truth. Or, as Dōgen chose to say it, we have to detach ourselves from form and emptiness, although he is saying the same thing.
How do you detach yourself from form? You immerse yourself totally into it; you embrace it completely, until there is no longer an embracer and that which is embraced, there is only form. How do you detach yourself from emptiness? You immerse yourself totally into it; you embrace it completely, until there is no longer an embracer and that which is embraced, there is only emptiness.
It is through the process of completely immersing yourself in both form and emptiness that you detach yourself from them. By becoming first form, then emptiness, then both, you come to the point where there is no longer you and them, but one. Not one, but not two, just is.
Jumping to the second and third paragraph of Zenki we could also say:
... When we actualize enlightenment the full meaning of form and emptiness becomes clear. However, this experience cannot be defined by consciousness or cognition, large or small, limited or unlimited, long or short, near or far.
Our present life is formed by this experience; in the same way, this experience is formed by life. ...
Dōgen doesn't say that our life is formed by how well we sit, or how many hours we do it, but by how well we understand the meaning of form and emptiness. Life and death. All and nothing. Infinity and zero. And our understanding of them is also formed by our life.
Walking on the henro trail all day, day after day, week after week, for several months — under clear skies or in the rain, when you're tired or when you're juiced, when it's hot or when it's freezing cold, when you're with other henro or when you're all alone — is therefore the perfect time to work on embracing form and embracing emptiness. All you have to do is take Dōgen's advice; when you are form, let form be total activity. When you are emptiness, let emptiness be total activity.
The rest will come in due time.
Friday, December 12, 2008
So what's it all about?
So what's it all about? This henro thing. I mean, what's the big deal? You walk in a circle, ending up back where you started, you don't sit on real furniture for several months, sleep on the floor every night, eat a lot of your meals at convenience stores, walk in the rain (and get s.o.a.k.e.d!), don't talk to anyone for days, and at the end may find yourself tired, sore, hungry, and broke. Are henro nuts?? You could be drinking a Pina Colada on a beach somewhere and enjoying yourself for crying out loud.
Let's say someone walked the henro trail, but not for the purpose of having a new experience. Not because he wanted to see the 'real' Japan. Not because he wanted to chalk up an experience that was unique, and that would label him as 'cool.' Not because he wanted to do something none of his friends had even thought about doing, let alone done. That he didn't even care if anyone else knew he did it, and the only people he told before setting off was his family so they wouldn't call the police when he disappeared for a few months. And when he came back, he didn't tell anyone then either. It wasn't something he needed to brag about. That while on the trail, he didn't take any pictures, didn't get a nōkyōchō stamped, didn't recite the Heart Sutra, didn't dress in the henro garb, didn't carry a walking stick, and didn't tell anyone he was a henro.
Let's say he was like Kūkai back when Kūkai was 21 or 22 years old. He just went. Gave up his job, dropped out of school, and headed to Shikoku. And he meditated, sometimes while sitting on a mountain, sometimes while sitting on a beach, sometimes while walking along a road, sometimes while climbing a mountain path. And he thought. And he analyzed. And he examined. And he tried to figure it all out. If you're like most people, you're born, go to school, get a good job, make lots of money, make a reputation for yourself as being someone others need to know, accumulate stuff, lots and lots of stuff, learn new languages, learn new subjects, like law, poetry, and literature, accumulate a lot more stuff, most of it you want but don't need, and then grow old, secure in all your stuff and in your reputation, before finally ... dying. Period. Dead. Gone. With all your possessions, your reputation, the memories of you, and everything else, still here. You worked your ass off for 80-90 years, and it ended up doing you absolutely no good in the end. You still died. Dead. Completely gone. As if you were never here. End of story.
So let's say he was like Kūkai and tried to figure all that out while he walked. And walked. And walked. And walked. Day after day after day after day. For several months. Can anyone tell me why he should bother?
Kūkai saw the answer early one morning while sitting on Cape Muroto. Dōgen Zenji saw it too, centuries later, and tells us the answer in the Zenki ("The Total Activity of Life and Death") chapter of his Shōbōgenzō.
The Great Way of all the Buddhas and the ultimate goal in Buddhism is detachment from life and death and the realization of enlightenment. We must be detached from life in life and death in death, i.e., when we are alive life is total activity; and in death, death is total activity. Life is the experience of life and death is the experience of death. Life and death together are the actual appearance of truth. The ultimate goal is detachment from, that is total immersion in, life and death. Understanding life and death are [the means whereby the Bodhisattva achieves salvation for himself and other].
Realization of enlightenment means true life — full, free activity. When we actualize enlightenment the full meaning of life and death becomes clear. However, this experience cannot be defined by consciousness or cognition, large or small, limited or unlimited, long or short, near or far.
Our present life is formed by this experience; in the same way, this experience is formed by life. Life is not coming or going, appearing or disappearing. Life is the total experience of life; conversely, death is the total experience of death. In the unlimited nature of Buddhist practice life and death have this special meaning. If we reflect on our present life and begin to have some awakening, gradually, the world starts to manifest its complete appearance. The entire universe is filled with the total activity of life. Each instant has total existence.
Wow. Did you read that? "Life is not coming or going, appearing or disappearing. Life is the total experience of life." "When we are alive life is total activity." "If we reflect on our present life and begin to have some awakening, gradually, the world starts to manifest its complete appearance."
Life is the total experience of life. When we are alive life is total activity. Don't read this as saying when you are alive, then life is total activity. Instead read it as saying when life is total activity, when all of your activities — from working to sleeping, from eating to taking a shit, from sitting at home to walking the henro trail, all activities — are !completely! lived, fully conscious, wide awake, without distractions, as alive and aware as you would be if someone had just pushed you out of an airplane without a parachute, completely focused on your experience, then you are alive.
That's what you can find on the henro trail. That's what makes it worth it. That's why he should bother. The possibility to soar is right there for the plucking. In every step, around every corner, in every encounter, in every new blister, in every new backache, in your sunburned nose, in every smile you give and every smile you receive, in every breath, you get another chance to see that life is the most important thing in your life. You get another chance to realize, as the the sun rises each new day, that it's how you live life that gives you life.
Dōgen finishes Zenki with this summary of the potential that is the trail on Shikoku:
"At the moment of realization, life and death become completely clear. Do not think, however, that there is no previous realization. Every moment contains total reality and is complete in itself. Recognize that there is continual realization, constantly renewing itself."
And Nike finishes its commercials with this summary of Dōgen:
"Just do it."
Let's say someone walked the henro trail, but not for the purpose of having a new experience. Not because he wanted to see the 'real' Japan. Not because he wanted to chalk up an experience that was unique, and that would label him as 'cool.' Not because he wanted to do something none of his friends had even thought about doing, let alone done. That he didn't even care if anyone else knew he did it, and the only people he told before setting off was his family so they wouldn't call the police when he disappeared for a few months. And when he came back, he didn't tell anyone then either. It wasn't something he needed to brag about. That while on the trail, he didn't take any pictures, didn't get a nōkyōchō stamped, didn't recite the Heart Sutra, didn't dress in the henro garb, didn't carry a walking stick, and didn't tell anyone he was a henro.
Let's say he was like Kūkai back when Kūkai was 21 or 22 years old. He just went. Gave up his job, dropped out of school, and headed to Shikoku. And he meditated, sometimes while sitting on a mountain, sometimes while sitting on a beach, sometimes while walking along a road, sometimes while climbing a mountain path. And he thought. And he analyzed. And he examined. And he tried to figure it all out. If you're like most people, you're born, go to school, get a good job, make lots of money, make a reputation for yourself as being someone others need to know, accumulate stuff, lots and lots of stuff, learn new languages, learn new subjects, like law, poetry, and literature, accumulate a lot more stuff, most of it you want but don't need, and then grow old, secure in all your stuff and in your reputation, before finally ... dying. Period. Dead. Gone. With all your possessions, your reputation, the memories of you, and everything else, still here. You worked your ass off for 80-90 years, and it ended up doing you absolutely no good in the end. You still died. Dead. Completely gone. As if you were never here. End of story.
So let's say he was like Kūkai and tried to figure all that out while he walked. And walked. And walked. And walked. Day after day after day after day. For several months. Can anyone tell me why he should bother?
Kūkai saw the answer early one morning while sitting on Cape Muroto. Dōgen Zenji saw it too, centuries later, and tells us the answer in the Zenki ("The Total Activity of Life and Death") chapter of his Shōbōgenzō.
The Great Way of all the Buddhas and the ultimate goal in Buddhism is detachment from life and death and the realization of enlightenment. We must be detached from life in life and death in death, i.e., when we are alive life is total activity; and in death, death is total activity. Life is the experience of life and death is the experience of death. Life and death together are the actual appearance of truth. The ultimate goal is detachment from, that is total immersion in, life and death. Understanding life and death are [the means whereby the Bodhisattva achieves salvation for himself and other].
Realization of enlightenment means true life — full, free activity. When we actualize enlightenment the full meaning of life and death becomes clear. However, this experience cannot be defined by consciousness or cognition, large or small, limited or unlimited, long or short, near or far.
Our present life is formed by this experience; in the same way, this experience is formed by life. Life is not coming or going, appearing or disappearing. Life is the total experience of life; conversely, death is the total experience of death. In the unlimited nature of Buddhist practice life and death have this special meaning. If we reflect on our present life and begin to have some awakening, gradually, the world starts to manifest its complete appearance. The entire universe is filled with the total activity of life. Each instant has total existence.
Wow. Did you read that? "Life is not coming or going, appearing or disappearing. Life is the total experience of life." "When we are alive life is total activity." "If we reflect on our present life and begin to have some awakening, gradually, the world starts to manifest its complete appearance."
Life is the total experience of life. When we are alive life is total activity. Don't read this as saying when you are alive, then life is total activity. Instead read it as saying when life is total activity, when all of your activities — from working to sleeping, from eating to taking a shit, from sitting at home to walking the henro trail, all activities — are !completely! lived, fully conscious, wide awake, without distractions, as alive and aware as you would be if someone had just pushed you out of an airplane without a parachute, completely focused on your experience, then you are alive.
That's what you can find on the henro trail. That's what makes it worth it. That's why he should bother. The possibility to soar is right there for the plucking. In every step, around every corner, in every encounter, in every new blister, in every new backache, in your sunburned nose, in every smile you give and every smile you receive, in every breath, you get another chance to see that life is the most important thing in your life. You get another chance to realize, as the the sun rises each new day, that it's how you live life that gives you life.
Dōgen finishes Zenki with this summary of the potential that is the trail on Shikoku:
"At the moment of realization, life and death become completely clear. Do not think, however, that there is no previous realization. Every moment contains total reality and is complete in itself. Recognize that there is continual realization, constantly renewing itself."
And Nike finishes its commercials with this summary of Dōgen:
"Just do it."
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Killing Chickens In The Dark
Mary Oliver gave a short but breathtaking lecture on life in one of her poems from the collection called Thirst:
The Uses of Sorrow
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
Someone I loved once gave me
A box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
That this, too, was a gift.
Sometimes the most obvious of facts can take a lifetime to see, as Mary points out in her poem. The difficulty isn't that the signs aren't there, it's simply that we don't have the eyes to see them. Yes, yes, of course we have the physical equipment needed to see — the eyeballs stuck in our head at the front of our skulls. What's lacking, and what causes us all our problems, is what those eyeballs connect to, and what we use to process, filter, and edit the information we take in.
I don't remember it perfectly because i read it several decades ago, but James Michener had a great line in his novel Space that went something like: "An age isn't called Dark because the light didn't shine, but because people refused to see." Or something like that. This points to the same thing; it's not that you can't see what is right in front of you, but that you don't see what's right in front of you.
Learning to see what is really there takes a new set of eyes, a set of eyes that most people don't take the time to develop. It is with these new eyes that you see reality, that you see life without your presuppositions, without your beliefs, without your ideologies, without your religions, without your assumptions, without your conjectures, and on and on.
Learning to see life with these new eyes is very, very, difficult. But, oh, the wonders it brings into view makes every minute you invest in developing them worthwhile.
I heard an old Sufi story that epitomizes the new world view that you live in once you develop these new eyes and accustom yourself to using them. An old and wise Sufi priest called two of his disciples to him one day and gave each of them a chicken, telling them to go kill the chicken where no one else would see. The first disciple turned and walked behind a fence, and after a few flapping of wings and a little noise the chicken was dead. The second disciple left and wandered around for several days before finally coming back to the priest with the still very much alive chicken in his arms. You didn't kill the chicken? asked the priest? I couldn't, replied the disciple. No matter where i went, the chicken could still see.
I can close my eyes and see the smile slowly creep across the priest's face after hearing that. There is still hope, he probably whispered to himself. With those new eyes, it's not just 'me' and 'everything else out there.' It's us. It's all of humanity. It's all sentient beings, chickens included. It's the universe, the cosmos. With effort, you can stretch your sense of who you are to include everything else. It is possible.
Robert Thurman wrote a marvelous paragraph in his Forward to a recent English translation of the Tibetan book Lamrim Chenmo, or The Great Treatise on the Stages of The Path To Enlightenment.
[The Lamrim Chenmo] "presents a stunning vision of the timeless origin and infinite permutations of all life forms, locating the precious jewel of an individual human embodiment at a critical moment of personal evolution. It provides this revelation in such a way that individual readers can be moved to achieve a fundamental paradigm shift in their vision of their lives: from having been a self-centered, this-life-oriented personal agent struggling with the currents and obstacles around them, anxiously seeking some security and happiness before hopefully finding peaceful obliteration in death; to becoming a magnificent awakening being soaring out of an infinite past experience in marvelous evolutionary flight toward an unimaginably beautiful destiny of wisdom, love, and bliss — Buddhahood, or simply the supreme evolutionary glory attainable by any conscious being."
A fundamental paradigm shift in your vision of who and what you are? Of who and what we are? Of who and what are? How may of us can truly say that they want to make that paradigm shift? How many of us can honestly say that they hope to become "a magnificent awakening being soaring ... toward an unimaginably beautiful destiny of wisdom, love, and bliss?" If this book can really move you to wanting that, it's amazing that everyone who reads this doesn't immediately run out and buy a copy.
If you do want to wander in that direction, though, begin your journey there by doing your stretching exercises every day. Day after day after day, stretch your concept of who you are so that it includes more and more of what previously you labeled 'out there.' Also, notice, as Mary did, that even darkness can be a gift. And notice that with your new eyes, you can see a lot in that darkness.
The Uses of Sorrow
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
Someone I loved once gave me
A box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
That this, too, was a gift.
Sometimes the most obvious of facts can take a lifetime to see, as Mary points out in her poem. The difficulty isn't that the signs aren't there, it's simply that we don't have the eyes to see them. Yes, yes, of course we have the physical equipment needed to see — the eyeballs stuck in our head at the front of our skulls. What's lacking, and what causes us all our problems, is what those eyeballs connect to, and what we use to process, filter, and edit the information we take in.
I don't remember it perfectly because i read it several decades ago, but James Michener had a great line in his novel Space that went something like: "An age isn't called Dark because the light didn't shine, but because people refused to see." Or something like that. This points to the same thing; it's not that you can't see what is right in front of you, but that you don't see what's right in front of you.
Learning to see what is really there takes a new set of eyes, a set of eyes that most people don't take the time to develop. It is with these new eyes that you see reality, that you see life without your presuppositions, without your beliefs, without your ideologies, without your religions, without your assumptions, without your conjectures, and on and on.
Learning to see life with these new eyes is very, very, difficult. But, oh, the wonders it brings into view makes every minute you invest in developing them worthwhile.
I heard an old Sufi story that epitomizes the new world view that you live in once you develop these new eyes and accustom yourself to using them. An old and wise Sufi priest called two of his disciples to him one day and gave each of them a chicken, telling them to go kill the chicken where no one else would see. The first disciple turned and walked behind a fence, and after a few flapping of wings and a little noise the chicken was dead. The second disciple left and wandered around for several days before finally coming back to the priest with the still very much alive chicken in his arms. You didn't kill the chicken? asked the priest? I couldn't, replied the disciple. No matter where i went, the chicken could still see.
I can close my eyes and see the smile slowly creep across the priest's face after hearing that. There is still hope, he probably whispered to himself. With those new eyes, it's not just 'me' and 'everything else out there.' It's us. It's all of humanity. It's all sentient beings, chickens included. It's the universe, the cosmos. With effort, you can stretch your sense of who you are to include everything else. It is possible.
Robert Thurman wrote a marvelous paragraph in his Forward to a recent English translation of the Tibetan book Lamrim Chenmo, or The Great Treatise on the Stages of The Path To Enlightenment.
[The Lamrim Chenmo] "presents a stunning vision of the timeless origin and infinite permutations of all life forms, locating the precious jewel of an individual human embodiment at a critical moment of personal evolution. It provides this revelation in such a way that individual readers can be moved to achieve a fundamental paradigm shift in their vision of their lives: from having been a self-centered, this-life-oriented personal agent struggling with the currents and obstacles around them, anxiously seeking some security and happiness before hopefully finding peaceful obliteration in death; to becoming a magnificent awakening being soaring out of an infinite past experience in marvelous evolutionary flight toward an unimaginably beautiful destiny of wisdom, love, and bliss — Buddhahood, or simply the supreme evolutionary glory attainable by any conscious being."
A fundamental paradigm shift in your vision of who and what you are? Of who and what we are? Of who and what are? How may of us can truly say that they want to make that paradigm shift? How many of us can honestly say that they hope to become "a magnificent awakening being soaring ... toward an unimaginably beautiful destiny of wisdom, love, and bliss?" If this book can really move you to wanting that, it's amazing that everyone who reads this doesn't immediately run out and buy a copy.
If you do want to wander in that direction, though, begin your journey there by doing your stretching exercises every day. Day after day after day, stretch your concept of who you are so that it includes more and more of what previously you labeled 'out there.' Also, notice, as Mary did, that even darkness can be a gift. And notice that with your new eyes, you can see a lot in that darkness.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Egomaniacs
Paulo Coelho wrote a book about his walk of the Camino pilgrimage in Spain sometime back in the late '80s. Appropriately titled The Pilgrimage, it outlines not only the physical walk, but his mental and emotional progression from an individual walking the trail to a true henro. At the start of his journey, Coelho was simply walking in order to find a ceremonial sword he needed for advancement in an organization he belonged to. Near the end of his walk, however, he came to a wonderful new understanding of why he was really there.
"And the secret of my sword, like the secret of any conquest we make in our lives, was the simplest thing in the world: it was what I should do with the sword. I had never thought in these terms. Throughout our time on the Strange Road to Santiago, the only thing I had wanted to know was where it was hidden. I had never asked myself why I wanted to find it or what I needed it for. All of my efforts had been bent on reward; I had not understood that when we want something, we have to have a clear purpose in mind for the thing that we want. The only reason for seeking a reward is to know what to do with that reward. And this was the secret of my sword."
I could be wrong, but my guess is that a great many first time henro on Shikoku also start their walk focused solely on a reward. What am 'I' going to get out of this? What am 'I' going to gain? And that's where they stop. Rarely, i think, do they take it to the next level and ask themselves what they will do with those gains once they receive them, what they will do with the benefits that accrue over the course of the two months it takes to walk the henro trail. And because they don't take that next step, after the walk is over and they return home all of the gains and benefits dissipate.
The reason this happens is because it is 'I' that makes that first walk. It is your ego in those sweaty boots looking for a reward, and you let it, without an understanding of what you want those rewards for, without an understanding of what those rewards can be used for, without an understanding of how to use those rewards to reduce 'I' and bring out you.
I'm not suggesting that ego is an entirely bad thing. Without our egos, we would all still be living like cavemen and women. Without our egos, we would all still be living short and relatively unhealthy lives. Without our egos, civilization would not progress. Ego is a good thing. But, ego should be no different than the suit you put on to go to work. It should be recognized for what it is — the outer clothes that you put on to differentiate yourself from others as you interact with the rest of the world. The real you is underneath those clothes.
The real you isn't concerned with progress, success, fame, fortune, and all of that, even if the ego is completely addicted to it. The real you isn't worried about tomorrow even if the ego can think of nothing else. The real you can't hate anyone because the real you is everyone. The real you isn't thinking about the next temple, the next night's lodging, being a good henro, or whether or not you'll even finish the walk. The real you, that man behind the mask, that woman inside the suit, is only concerned with one thing — and there's no word for it. The real you simply is, step-by-step, breath-by-breath, from the moment you leave Temple 1 until the moment you return.
So, i ask you, why do you want whatever you happen to be seeking at the current moment? Why do you want to become whatever it is you are trying to become at the current moment? What are you grasping for in your life? What do you intend to do with it once you find it? It's not enough just to want it, you have to understand what you want it for. You have to know what you will do with it once you get it.
And then i'll ask, why do you want to become a henro? What do you intend to do with yourself once you become one? Somewhere along the trail, most of you will find yourself on the side of another road and realize that I has been missing for the last hour; you will find yourself climbing a steep trail to another temple and I will be so tired it shuts up and the real you will peek out from behind the curtain. What will you do with that wonderful opportunity?
"And the secret of my sword, like the secret of any conquest we make in our lives, was the simplest thing in the world: it was what I should do with the sword. I had never thought in these terms. Throughout our time on the Strange Road to Santiago, the only thing I had wanted to know was where it was hidden. I had never asked myself why I wanted to find it or what I needed it for. All of my efforts had been bent on reward; I had not understood that when we want something, we have to have a clear purpose in mind for the thing that we want. The only reason for seeking a reward is to know what to do with that reward. And this was the secret of my sword."
I could be wrong, but my guess is that a great many first time henro on Shikoku also start their walk focused solely on a reward. What am 'I' going to get out of this? What am 'I' going to gain? And that's where they stop. Rarely, i think, do they take it to the next level and ask themselves what they will do with those gains once they receive them, what they will do with the benefits that accrue over the course of the two months it takes to walk the henro trail. And because they don't take that next step, after the walk is over and they return home all of the gains and benefits dissipate.
The reason this happens is because it is 'I' that makes that first walk. It is your ego in those sweaty boots looking for a reward, and you let it, without an understanding of what you want those rewards for, without an understanding of what those rewards can be used for, without an understanding of how to use those rewards to reduce 'I' and bring out you.
I'm not suggesting that ego is an entirely bad thing. Without our egos, we would all still be living like cavemen and women. Without our egos, we would all still be living short and relatively unhealthy lives. Without our egos, civilization would not progress. Ego is a good thing. But, ego should be no different than the suit you put on to go to work. It should be recognized for what it is — the outer clothes that you put on to differentiate yourself from others as you interact with the rest of the world. The real you is underneath those clothes.
The real you isn't concerned with progress, success, fame, fortune, and all of that, even if the ego is completely addicted to it. The real you isn't worried about tomorrow even if the ego can think of nothing else. The real you can't hate anyone because the real you is everyone. The real you isn't thinking about the next temple, the next night's lodging, being a good henro, or whether or not you'll even finish the walk. The real you, that man behind the mask, that woman inside the suit, is only concerned with one thing — and there's no word for it. The real you simply is, step-by-step, breath-by-breath, from the moment you leave Temple 1 until the moment you return.
So, i ask you, why do you want whatever you happen to be seeking at the current moment? Why do you want to become whatever it is you are trying to become at the current moment? What are you grasping for in your life? What do you intend to do with it once you find it? It's not enough just to want it, you have to understand what you want it for. You have to know what you will do with it once you get it.
And then i'll ask, why do you want to become a henro? What do you intend to do with yourself once you become one? Somewhere along the trail, most of you will find yourself on the side of another road and realize that I has been missing for the last hour; you will find yourself climbing a steep trail to another temple and I will be so tired it shuts up and the real you will peek out from behind the curtain. What will you do with that wonderful opportunity?
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