empty-handed zen

Coming empty-handed, going empty-handed — that is human.
When you are born, where do you come from?
When you die, where do you go?
Life is like a floating cloud which appears.
Death is like a floating cloud which disappears.
The floating cloud itself originally does not exist.
Life and death, coming and going, are also like that.
But there is one thing which always remains clear.
It is pure and clear, not depending on life and death.
Then what is the one pure and clear thing?

I’m not sure who wrote this, but I reread it from time to time. That one pure and clear thing, not dependent on birth and death, is what I have been searching for all my life. Can we find this pure and clear thing in the midst of our daily lives? That is the real challenge.

monday zen

Imagine this situation: The alarm goes off at 4:30 am. It’s still pitch black outside, and cold. You’re under three layers of blankets, warm in your cocoon. You should get up and go to the gym, that’s why you set your alarm, but today it’s Monday and that means it’s just too difficult. Why not just stay in bed awhile? Sound familiar? This is our daily dilemma. Not just whether or not to go to the gym, but whether to abide in inertia, or keep going. A Zen teaching I read years ago said that we should get out of bed in the morning as if our bed is on fire, and go to sleep at night as if it’s our final rest. The underlying message is that whatever we do, we do it fully and mindfully. To continue: So you manage to get out bed (at 6:00 am) but then you are presented with the fact that you have to perform about fifty small tasks just to get out the door in order to arrive at work on time. Then your car doesn’t start and while you are fiddling with some engine cables under the hood, you step in a pile of dog shit. Now you really wish you hadn’t gotten up that day. But what can you do? Just live and breathe right into that moment with dog shit on your shoe and keep going. Dainin Katagiri Roshi, in his book Returning to Silence, says, “In everyday life there is no excuse. One day you like your life, the next morning you don’t. Finally, all you have to do is just live. This is pretty hard and very painful because from day to day, you have to do something in this situation where you feel as though you cannot move an inch at all. You have to get up in the morning when you have to get up, wash your face when it’s time to wash your face, have breakfast even though you don’t like it, go to work and take care of your life…Nevertheless, right in the middle of this situation we have to be refreshed constantly.  In sickness, in despair, in hard work, in easy work, whatever it is, happy or not happy, you must be constantly refreshed. To be refreshed is to digest your life completely. This is Zen teaching.” So I ask you: Can you be refreshed with dog shit on your shoe, late for work with a car that won’t start? If you can, you see the Dharma clearly and are close to Buddhahood.

the empty boat

I am always thankful to the patriarchs and Zen masters of the past for their pithy stories that so often illuminate the situations we face in our daily, modern lives. One that comes to mind is the story of a fisherman on a boat in a river. He’s skillfully plying his trade when he notices another boat rushing towards him from upriver. The fisherman yells to the pilot of the boat to slow down, but to no avail. The boat keeps bearing down on him until at the last minute the fisherman has to jump into the river to save himself, only to notice that the boat that was about to kill him was empty. All day yesterday I was thinking of that poor six-year-old boy sailing alone in a homemade balloon thousands of feet above the Colorado desert, frightened out of his mind and half-frozen with hypothermia. And what instead was the reality? Balloon boy, empty boat. Are we also shouting at the invisible captains of empty boats?

save money, live better

You work in a factory that makes t-shirts. Wal-Mart informs your company that unless you can provide your product to them at a cheaper price, they won’t carry your t-shirts in their stores any more. And they’ve also contacted a rival company and told them the same thing. The ensuing battle forces your company to move their production overseas where labor is dirt-cheap, workers have no protection or health insurance, and environmental regulations are never enforced or non-existent. Your factory closes and the only job you can find is a minimum-wage  service job in a video store or a call center. You used to make good money, not an extravagant yearly wage by any means, but at least a wage that allowed you to hold your head high and know that you could responsibly support your family. Now you are trying to support a family on a paycheck that is at or below the poverty line. You come home from the video store , or the fast-food joint, or the call center, and you sit down on the couch to watch a little baseball on TV to unwind before you have to help your wife make dinner, wash dishes, do the laundry, help your kids with their homework, bathe them and put them to bed. You’re tired and frustrated because you don’t know how you’re going to pay your bills or where the next load of groceries will come from. Then a commercial comes on the TV, showing a happy suburban couple. The voice-over says “Save Money. Live Better. Wal-Mart.”

a letter from the president

This just popped into my inbox. Can any American really be angry about this?

Michael –

This morning, Michelle and I awoke to some surprising and humbling news. At 6 a.m., we received word that I’d been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for 2009.

To be honest, I do not feel that I deserve to be in the company of so many of the transformative figures who’ve been honored by this prize — men and women who’ve inspired me and inspired the entire world through their courageous pursuit of peace.

But I also know that throughout history the Nobel Peace Prize has not just been used to honor specific achievement; it’s also been used as a means to give momentum to a set of causes.

That is why I’ve said that I will accept this award as a call to action, a call for all nations and all peoples to confront the common challenges of the 21st century. These challenges won’t all be met during my presidency, or even my lifetime. But I know these challenges can be met so long as it’s recognized that they will not be met by one person or one nation alone.

This award — and the call to action that comes with it — does not belong simply to me or my administration; it belongs to all people around the world who have fought for justice and for peace. And most of all, it belongs to you, the men and women of America, who have dared to hope and have worked so hard to make our world a little better.

So today we humbly recommit to the important work that we’ve begun together. I’m grateful that you’ve stood with me thus far, and I’m honored to continue our vital work in the years to come.

Thank you,

President Barack Obama

fat man with a laptop

Time for henry to dust off his keyboard. I was travelling through upstate New York with my family a few weekends ago, on the way to my sister’s wedding. We had stopped at a rest area along the New York State Thruway for a bathroom break.  As my wife took my daughter to the ladies’ room,  I took my five-year-old son by the hand and we walked towards the gift shop. We live in Maine, which is Red Sox country, and I know from being born and raised in upstate New York that every rest area along the Thruway sells I LOVE NY and NY Yankees merchandise. So as I walked towards the gift shop with my son, I said jokingly, “We’re in Yankees country now, buddy.” (Before I get to the punch line of my story, I should also mention that I was wearing my Made-In-The-USA navy blue Obama ‘08 t-shirt.) So as we walk into the gift shop, I notice a man sitting on a bench outside the store typing on his laptop. He heard what I said because under his breath but loud enough to be heard, he said, “You’re in REPUBLICAN country now. What a stupid t-shirt.” I should also note that he said these words with what can only be described as venom in his voice. At first I couldn’t believe he was talking about me. I passed him and continued on my way into the store, pretending to look at magazines and Mentos as my heart thumped in my chest. It was hard to believe that a complete stranger, and obviously a fellow American, would make such a comment to someone he didn’t even know. But these are the times we live in. I would like to say that I should have been brave enough to go back out and confront him, but I had my son with me and didn’t want to make a scene. I thought about the political rallies held recently in this country where people brought guns and brandished them freely. It certainly hampers political discourse if you’re not sure if your debating opponent is armed. Eventually we left the store and the rest area and continued down the Thruway, but it took a long time for that pounding in my chest to abate. As people usually do in these situations, I thought of all the snappy comebacks I could have made, the astute political arguments.  But as I hinted at in an earlier post on metta and democracy, I still have to believe that we are all citizens of the same country. I would have liked to sit down with my compatriot and have had a reasonable conversation. Would it have done any good? Was I right in pursuing the policy, so often used in these times when confronted with a political adversary, of  “do not engage?” My Christian and Buddhist beliefs teach me to have love and compassion for my neighbor. But how should I react when my neighbor, just by looking at me, has already judged me to be the enemy?