Ox Herding

What I'm Reading: Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems

Since the late 1960s, I've kept Gary Snyder's poetry near to hand. His writings have touched me in many ways, but especially in their emphasis on the long unfolding of a single human life.

I return most frequently to Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems (first published in 1965) for its focus on ordinary work and its connection to wildness within and without.

And Snyder's translation of a selection of Han Shan's poetry continues to be the best available (in my view as a non-Chinese reader).

Here's Snyder reading "Hay for the Horses," one of my favorite poems from the book.

And here's the text of the poem:

Hay for the Horses
by Gary Snyder

He had driven half the night
From far down San Joaquin
Through Mariposa, up the
Dangerous Mountain roads,
With his big truckload of hay
        behind the barn.
With winch and ropes and hooks
We stacked the bales up clean
To splintery redwood rafters
High in the dark, flecks of alfalfa
Whirling through shingle-cracks of light,
Itch of haydust in the
        sweaty shirt and shoes.
At lunchtime under black oak
Out in the hot corral,
---The old mare nosing lunchpails,
Grasshoppers crackling in the weeds---
"I'm sixty-eight" he said,
"I first bucked hay when I was seventeen.
I thought, that day I started,
I sure would hate to do this all my life.
And dammit, that's just what
I've gone and done."

Thank you for reading Ox Herding. Best wishes for the weekend!

Barry

 

What I'm Reading: This Is Getting Old

 

Susan Moon has written widely on Buddhist topics, as former editor of Turning Wheel (the newsletter of the Buddhist Peace Fellowship) and as the author of engaging works such as The Life and Letters of Tofu Roshi.

She recently published This Is Getting Old: Zen Thoughts on Aging with Humor and Dignity. And I've had the pleasure of reading it.

This is not a treatise on aging, nor is it an encouragement to practice. Rather, it's a candid (thus, dignified) look at the indignities of living with an older body (thus, the humor).

Moon tells wonderful stories based on her own life and uses her experience to look beyond the obvious, as in this example:

I have come to the point of diminishing returns as far as sitting cross-legged goes . . . now in my sixties I have arthritis in my knees . . . When I consulted an orthopedist last year . . . he scolded me for sitting cross-legged. I now have doctor's orders to sit in a chair. I could have asked him for a note for my teacher, but I didn't need to, because these days, fortunately, all the Zen teachers I know have become tolerant of chair-sitting. It's allowed, even though it's not exactly de rigueur. The harsh taskmaster within is the one who still gives me trouble.

And then there's sex, a topic that comes up more than once in This is Getting Old:

I used to like sex a lot if I liked the person, but when I didn't have it, I didn't miss it much. Sometimes I missed the person. Saying I miss sex is like saying I miss wearing my hiking boots, when what I miss is standing at Paiute Pass watching the cloud shadows run across the lake below.

No matter our chronological age, each of us is older than we were just a moment before.

And we can benefit from the companionship of those who have looked closely into this matter.

What I'm Reading: A Land of Ghosts

Although I rarely read non-fiction, I recently read A Land of Ghosts, by David Campbell, for the second time.

This extraordinary book explores the hidden streams and valleys that give rise to the Amazon River. It also painstakingly describes the ongoing devastation of that land.

Despite its tragic subject, A Land of Ghosts is a work of great feeling.

I came to the River for science, but I stayed for the beauty. My memories of the species I found—each an invocation of sunlight and water and minerals— and of the play of light in the canopy, the night sounds, the aromas and textures of the forest, the time and space shared with friends on the frontier make up a tapestry of experience so rich that now, years later and thousands of kilometers away, it imbues my papery life with dimension and perspective.

I once wrote a book about Antarctica, a place where form and light are distilled into a few simple, evocative phrases, where only a few species have managed to climb ashore and survive. Antarctica is parsimonious and therefore easy to characterize. It is biological haiku. But how do I describe the inchoate green tapestry of the Amazon Valley, this apex of earthly diversity? Imagine: there are more species of lichens, liverworts, mosses, and algae growing on the upper surface of a single leaf of an Amazonian palm than there are on the entire continent of Antarctica. How do I reduce this voluptuous diversity to words?

Where do I begin?

We humans depend wholly upon this whirling blue sphere. And yet we deforest 9,000 square miles of the Amazon basin each year. Might we want to know more about our home?

Land of Ghosts is a fine place to begin.

What I'm Reading: Stepping Out of Self-Deception

Despite my addiction to fiction, I do read an occasional Buddhist book. Right now I'm skipping around (my preferred reading style) in Stepping Out of Self-Deception by Rodney Smith, a Seattle-based Insight meditation teacher.

Smith's book covers familiar territory - the foundations of Buddhism, along with encouragements. And yet, his writing glows with the deep aliveness to daily life that arises from many years of training and teaching. In a word, insight.

This sentence captures this aliveness quite succinctly:

The purpose of meditation is to inform us about the true nature of relationships, and it will take us directly into the reactive patterns that keep us separated from all life.

Much later in the book a loud echo of this theme appears:

The most important quality of maturity may be flexibility. A mature person is never one way only, and if a situation calls for toughness or its opposite, the character arises to meet its responsibility.

Smith emphasizes that the Buddha's teachings undercut the self-deceptions of certainty, rules and structures - or any effort to determine outcomes. They only require us to come alive to life, as it is, in this moment.

Strongly recommended.

Note: Buddha Space recently published an excellent, in-depth review of Stepping Out of Self-Deception.

What I'm Reading: The Imperfectionists

This week I'll write about books that I've recently read - or am still reading. I hope you find interest in this "snapshot" of ongoing activity.

Given a choice, I'll reach for a good novel before picking up the latest Buddhist book. And some very good novels have been published this year. My favorite so far is The imperfectionists by Tom Rachman. Simply put, it's a stupendous work.

The Imperfectionists yokes together a wide cast of characters, all associated with an English-language newspaper set in Rome. It's brilliantly, even magically constructed, deeply insightful, and wildly funny.

One character comments that the newspaper is a "daily report on the idiocy and the brilliance of the species" - and so is the novel itself. Here's a short excerpt:

Annika [the partner of an editor] crouches before the washing machine in their apartment, unloading damp clothes. "I'm beginning to suspect that my purpose in life is laundry," she says. "All the rest is just fleeting glory."

Menzies stands behind her and touches his forefinger to the crown of her head, following the swirl of her dyed-black hair. he open his palm across the top of her skull as if to measure it, then hooks his thumbs under the straps of her dungarees and tugs. She leans against his palm and kisses his fingers, looking up. "Seven hundred and twenty-eight socks last year," she tells him. "That how many I washed."

"You counted?"

"Of course." She reaches into the washing machine and draws out a bedsheet that seems never to end.

Christopher Buckley, in his New York Times review of the novel began by saying:

This first novel by Tom Rachman, a London-born journalist who has lived and worked all over the world, is so good I had to read it twice simply to figure out how he pulled it off. I still haven’t answered that question, nor do I know how someone so young — Rachman turns out to be 35, though he looks even younger in his author photo — could have acquired such a precocious grasp of human foibles. The novel is alternately hilarious and heart-wrenching, and it’s assembled like a Rubik’s Cube.

If you like fiction, check it out!

It's Not Easy

It's not easy being who we are. And, yet, our problems do not arise from who we are, but from what we do with what we are.

We manage our image, so that others cannot see the truth. We delude ourselves, so that we cannot see the truth. Trouble inevitably ensues.

Sincere practice brings us into the light. We no longer hide out - the first step to a responsible life.

Kermit has no problem with responsibility. While he struggles with his greenness, he exposes his struggle to anyone who cares to look.

In this way, he uses his life to help all beings.

Thank you for reading Ox Herding. Best wishes for the weekend!

Barry

The Responsible Life

Several days ago I wrote to a friend about Monday's post:

I don't have a personal stake in the Zen Studies Society situation.

My friend immediately responded:

If we recite the Great Vows, we have a personal stake in every situation where beings are enslaved.

Point taken, and thank you for the reminder.

Like everyone else, I sometimes get confused about my intention.

Everything matters. Everything is personal.

The Four Great Vows

Sentient beings are numberless, we vow to save them all.

Delusions are endless, we vow to cut through them all.

The teachings are infinite, we vow to learn them all.

The Buddha way is inconceivable, we vow to attain it.

Eido Shimano & The Myth of Compartmentalization

In the preface of the Zen Studies Society's new ethical guidelines, the following passage appears:

We are grateful beyond words for the incomparable gift of Eido Roshi’s Dharma treasure, and for his unstinting efforts to root Rinzai Zen Buddhism in American soil. Ever at home in the unconditional realm, he spurs us to go beyond the relative vista.

This, of a man engaged in ongoing sexual predation for over 40 years.

Perhaps the "unconditional realm" explains misdeeds that cannot be understood by those with a "relative vista." But to those not at home in the unconditioned, these words say: bugger off.

In its context, this passage attempts to compartmentalize Shimano's abuse.

So we might ask ourselves: is it possible to compartmentalize human life? Specifically, is it possible to limit our afflictive behaviors to a subset of our relationships?

Even the briefest self-study reveals the impossibility of this.

I am sometimes judgmental and critical of Susann. When I take responsibility for these behaviors, I perceive how they arise from deep and unresolved mind-habits that have nothing to do with Susann. In truth, I don't limit this behavior to Susann - although, of course, she experiences it particularly intimately.

Were I to assert that these behaviors only appeared in my relationship with Susann, it would be tantamount to blaming her. And that could not stand.

We are as we are. The relationship we give to one person is the relationship we give to all. Compartmentalization is a self-serving myth.

That's why yesterday I questioned Shimano's spiritual authenticity, and even the authenticity of his dharma transmissions.

Although I do not know the man, I know myself. And from this I know that predatory behavior, once unleashed, never remains in the bedroom. Everyone becomes prey.

I hope each of us will look closely into how we fool ourselves with language of separation and compartmentalization. Because, until we expose these deceits, we will never be free.

Note
Many of you offered thoughtful responses to yesterday's post and I'm grateful for these. I have no plans to write further about Eido Shimano.

I encourage you to read Genjo Marinello's comment yesterday, as it represents the ZSS board's response to Shimano's behaviors. Marinello is not only a board member of ZSS, but also a Shimano dharma heir and abbot of Choboji.

Also, note Mumon's comment on the inherent conflict that arises from board members attempting to oversee a man responsible for their own spiritual development. I hope he writes further on this topic.

If you'd like to dig into this topic in more detail, you might go to the Shimano Archive.

The balance of this week's posts will echo this topic in some way. Thank you for your support.

Happiness, 5

And you know what?
When you’re happy, I’m happy.
That’s the formula:
First you, then me.
That’s all happiness is.
It’s just the heart being free.

Long-time readers have seen today's video before. But, given the week's topic, I can think of no better presentation of happiness than Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche's What About Me? (Lyrics below.)

(What!? Did you expect me to post the Beatle's Happiness Is A Warm Gun?)

And speaking of happiness, Sakyong Mipham and his wife, Sakyong Wangmo, became parents last week. Congratulations!

Thank you for reading Ox Herding. May you find true happiness this weekend!

Due to a fit of inattention, a draft of this post was up for about 5 hours last Friday. For those who were paying attention, I apologize. Everyone else, please ignore my groveling.

What About Me?
by Sakyong Mipham

What about me?
That’s my first thought every morning.
What happened to me?
It’s the last thought every night.
Has this gotten me anywhere?
Any more friends? Any more love?
It should. It should have, by now.
In fact, by now I should be a bundle of joy.
Because I say this mantra every day.

What about me? What about me? What about..

In fact, it’s embarrassing
I say this mantra all day long.
Like the beating of my heart: What about me?

What about me? What about me? What about..

When I take a shower, I think: “what about me?”
I hope this shower makes me feel happy.
I hope this kiss makes me feel happy.
I hope this lunch makes me happy.
I hope these clothes make me feel happy.
I hope this donut, this cup of coffee,
This new affair, this new job….

What about me? What about me?
What about me? What about me?
What about me?

This new spiritual practice,
This new movie, this new CD
Oh, this new CD will make me happy…

What about me? That’s my first thought every morning.
What about me?
What happens to me? It’s my last thought every night.
Has this gotten me any more love? Any more joy?

This new city. This new country.
This new planet. This new universe makes me happy.

You know what? None of it will make you happy
Unless you do one simple thing:
Change “me” for “you.”
Change “me” for “you.”

Just wake up in the morning, and try something wild.
Just wake up, and not “me.”
Instead, say "you, be happy."
May you be happy.
May you be happy.

What about you?
That’s my first thought every morning.
What happens to you? It’s my last thought every night.
It has given me so much more love. So much more joy.

When I give you a big fat kiss, take a shower,
Make my bed, when I dance,
May make you happy.
When I give you the remote control
May make you happy.
When I sit on a park bench by myself,
When I feel the sun, the breeze,
May make you happy.
When I just look at you, and stare at your eyes.
May make you happy.

And you know what?
When you’re happy, I’m happy.
That’s the formula:
First you, then me.
That’s all happiness is.
It’s just the heart being free.

Happiness, 4

If sensual pleasure cannot provide happiness, how can we develop this desirable state?

The Buddha taught that happiness arises as the natural outcome of meritorious deeds. He said (It 22; 14-15):

This is an expression denoting happiness, what is desirable, wished for, dear, and agreeable . . . I know full well, monks, that for a long time I experienced desirable, wished for, dear, and agreeable results from often performing meritorious deeds.

I flinched when I read this. Hobbled as I am by a rationalist worldview, any mention of merit makes my skin crawl. (And, of course, Bodhidharma bluntly rejected the notion that action produces merit.)

But after the twitching stopped, I realized that the Buddha was not recommending action with the intention of creating merit. Rather, he was simply pointing out that certain actions produce certain effects. And the effects of meritorious actions include happiness.

So we might ask: What actions produce meritorious results? In AN 8:39; IV 24504, the Buddha says:

There are, O monks, eight streams of merit, streams of the wholesome, nourishments of happiness, that are heavenly, ripening in happiness, conducive to heaven, and that lead to whatever is wished for, loved, and agreeable, to one's welfare and happiness.

What are the eight?

The Buddha goes on to say (paraphrasing, here) that the Three Refuges* and the Five Precepts** comprise the eight streams. In short, the Buddha observes that refuge and precepts produce happiness.

We shouldn't be surprised at this, of course. When we enter the path, we express our intention to turn away from the self-centered life.

This intention, married with responsible action, ripens in happiness.

*In this passage of the Pali Canon, the Buddha defines the Three Refuges as going for "refuge to the Buddha . . . refuge to the Dhamma . . . [and] refuge to the Sangha."

** In the same passage, the Buddha defines the Five Precepts as, "[giving] up the destruction of life . . . [giving] up the taking of what is not given . . . [giving] up sexual misconduct . . . [giving] false speech . . . [giving] up wines, liquors, and intoxicants."