Ox Herding

Look, How Beautiful

When I was a young man, I spent many hours with the poetry of Robinson Jeffers. His long poems centered on the primal importance of wildness. And he developed a challenging, uncomfortable notion of beauty not dependent on human life. Because I was schooled in Greek tragedy, Jeffers' work felt quite familiar to me.

Recently James Ford, Roshi, posted on Monkey Mind this video based on a Jeffers' poem. It brought back rich memories of reading Jeffers's work around campfires on the high peaks of the Sierra Nevada. Even if you lack these associations with Robinson Jeffers, you might get a hit from his work.

Thank you for reading Ox Herding. May we together raise our eyes and look during this weekend!

Barry

The Past

The past is never dead.

It's not even past.

It seems unlikely that William Faulkner knew much about the Buddha-dharma. But, as the above passage demonstrates, he knew something about human life.

Faulkner's observation might prompt us to ask, "Who keeps the past alive?" And the answer seems pretty obvious:  We do it ourselves.

We might also ask, "Why do we keep the past alive?"

I'm pretty interested in this second question. It suggests that we get something from the feeding the corpse of the past. What might that be?

I often struggle to understand what I'm up to with my stories and memories. Maybe you do, as well.

Perhaps it's enough simply to recognize that we're up to something. If we can recognize this, then maybe we can put down the corpse. That would probably reduce the odor.

Quote from Requiem for A Nun, by William Faulkner

Meditation

I laugh loudly every time I see this cartoon. Some of my amusement comes from the simple fact that when I meditate, there's always some content.

In this way, my "meditation mind" doesn't differ much from my "everyday mind."

Except that in meditation I can sometimes perceive the content.

In those times, meditation is just content without worrying. Sweet.

Reflection

As I was thinking about yesterday's post on "seeing the what," I remembered this teaching from Zen Master Seung Sahn. As usual, he focuses on the real meaning of our practice: to help this world.

Our world is very complicated, but if you are not thinking, it's not complicated, very simple.

If you are thinking, then your checking mind appears. If checking mind appears, then the whole world appears, and then the whole world will control you. If you don't make anything, then the whole world disappears. Then everything is very simple.

Only see, only hear, only smell... only do it! At that point your mind is like a clear mirror. In a clear mirror there is nothing. Somebody appears, it reflects. Something appears, it reflects. Everything is reflected, but the mirror is not attached; nothing can stay in the mirror. Reflections appear, disappear, appear, disappear. The mirror is free, no hindrance! Our true self is the same as a clear mirror: everything appears and disappears, OK?

This type of mind has only one thing; that means truth. Everything appears, disappears, appears, disappears... that's the truth. If you don't understand anything, then everything you see, hear and smell is the truth.

Then next, how does truth correctly function to help other people?

If you have an "only reflect" mind, then function is not possible. If you see somebody who is hungry and you only reflect, then I'm hungry - but if I'm full, then hungry is not possible.

But truth is not enough when people are hungry, we must help them. When suffering people appear, it is necessary to help them.

That's the bodhisattva way, not just reflect mind. How can I help all beings? If everything is clear, then you can attain moment to moment correct situation, correct relationship, correct function. So everybody attain this mind, OK?

See What. See How.

 

During his talk on addiction, Gabor Maté tossed out the phrase, "When you see the what, you also see the how." He was referring to treatment of addiction, and the failure of most approaches to see the reality behind addictive behavior.

Of course, Buddhist practice begins with seeing the "what" of each moment. If we engage sincerely with the basic question of practice ("How is it, just now?"), we enter into a direct relationship with truth.

In my experience, however, perceiving the truth requires a special kind of looking. It's not enough to say, "Yep, I'm angry." To uproot the anger, we need to look into its cause, just as anyone who wishes to treat addiction must look into the causes of addiction.

One thing is certain:  the cause of our anger (or other afflictive behavior) doesn't exist out there. As the Buddha observed, emotions arise because we fabricate them. What's that about?

Fall Down 7, Get Up 8

A few weeks ago, The Worst Horse posted this wonderful video of Rev. Koyo S. Kubose (of the Bright Dawn Institute for American Buddhism) talking about the importance of the Japanese "Daruma Doll."

I've always loved these dolls and we have several of them around the house. When a doll gets knocked over, it rolls back up - thanks to its strong center.

On occasion, I've painted an iris into one of the doll's eyes and then made a wish. After (if ever) the wish is fulfilled, I fill in the other eye.

I was completely charmed by this sweet video - and completely hooked by the the Reverend's closing words.

Thank you for reading Ox Herding. May we all persevere and get up together!

Barry

Addiction

Last week Susann and I went to a talk given by Gabor Maté, a physician who works with injection drug addicts in Vancouver B.C. He recently published In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, a study of the underlying basis for addiction.

Workaholics, shopaholics, drug users, sex addicts, compulsive gamblers and eaters, pathological liars and alcoholics all suffer from addiction, of course.

But Maté observed that nearly all of us exhibit afflictive behavior.

In a comment on Amazon, Maté writes:

Addiction, or the capacity to become addicted, is very close to the core of the human experience. That is why almost anything can become addictive, from seemingly healthy activities such as eating or exercising to abusing drugs intended for healing.

The issue is not the external target but our internal relationship to it.

Addictions, for the most part, develop in a compulsive attempt to ease one’s pain or distress in the world. Given the amount of pain and dissatisfaction that human life engenders, many of us are driven to find solace in external things.

The more we suffer, and the earlier in life we suffer, the more we are prone to become addicted.

Maté's thesis shouldn't surprise anyone who has studied Buddha-dharma.

Still, I wonder how many of us believe that we're free from addiction? I certainly don't want to see such behaviors in myself - perhaps because I don't want to acknowledge my wounds.

And yet, might not these wounded aspects of the self ennoble us, if we could see them clearly?

Certainty

Today's cartoon reveals much about how we produce suffering.

We cling to an idea about ourselves - that we have a unique happiness or sorrow, for example.

Then we use that idea to bash others. Sometimes we bash through passive-aggression (as in the cartoon) and sometimes we do it through one of the other afflictive behaviors.

That's why the work of awakening matters. Even if we never have a profound insight, our steady, sincere effort inevitably relaxes our grip on certainty.

As this occurs, we transform "Have it your way" into "How can I help you?"

Chickadee

 

On these short winter days, the chickadees, nuthatches, warblers, bushtits, woodpeckers, flickers, goldfinches and finches stay busy at the various feeders.

The tiny feeder above, attached to the kitchen window, gets mostly chickadees and nuthatches. It's not an easy life for these little fellows. Or for any of us, really.

Here's a haiku from Matsuo Basho:

growing old

one who doesn't know it

is the chickadee

The translator of Basho: The Complete Haiku, Jane Reichhold, offers an alternate translation of this poem, based on the punning last word, shijukara:

growing old

one who doesn't know it

after forty

The chickadee has no use for young or old. What about us?

Narcissus

Every winter I plant a bowl of paperwhites, a type of narcissus that can be "forced" to bloom indoors. Now the sweet aroma of tiny white flowers fills the house with the promise of spring, though it's only the middle of January.

The garden store keeps the bulbs in a large bin containing hundreds of globes, some already pushing out anticipatory sprouts of green. Papery outer layers, detached from the bulbs, fill container with a rustling, slippery brownness.

The bulbs themselves aren't much to look at. But, with water and sunlight, they quickly send up green shoots and buds. Three weeks later, they're putting out their delicious aroma.

I'm so tempted to get all metaphorical here, to entertain you. Perhaps it's enough simply to enjoy these wintery gifts.