7.16.2004
Zenn'd
Those who are not of a dualistic mind will understand that form is emptiness and emptiness is form, but to understand we must also discover the meaning of "form is form" and "emptiness is emptiness" by letting the cows of attachment run free in our big mind. To discover big mind it is good to stay up till the wee hours discussing the finer points of sex and French lingerie. Not that I have either. This is the meaning of "big mind".
So then to get to the aforementioned temple you will probably arrive blearily early yet lacking any semblance of actual directions to the one of 32 (or was it 23) sub temples of Daitokuji. You are looking for a single named building within one of these complexes. The monk's instructions on the phone the previous day will erode away till you remember only single syllable from which you will try and locate the sub-temple on a map which is in kanji.
Failing this (quickly) you will take to your heels to the semi-dismay of your companions who wish to proceed rationally, not quite certain of your faith in this concept of "internal GPS", and who express some wariness and when you wave an overconfident hand in the air, clearly expressing your total uncertainty. They will probably ask to see the "map" at this point. The map being a nondescript box with an "X" in it. The map itself could in fact be construed as a work of modern Zen art. You will proceed nevertheless.
Oh all right, you will ask someone--harassing strangers being one of your predilections anyway. Lots of people strolling this early, walking dogs. You must practice maintaining the subtle balance that helps you determine when someone is being reticent because they don't want to tell you they don't know, and when someone is being reticent because they don't want to tell you they do know straight away. This is a fine art better mastered when you are not trying to get to the zendo on time--nevertheless it is another opportunity to practice non-dualism by staying in the moment of the present non-constructive conversation rather than, say, looking at your watch.
Somehow, you will magically arrive (GPS) right on time to see the monk in burnt-orange shorts and an undershirt sweeping the walk by hand into a tiny dustpan as though he wanted to make sure to be there extra long in case you did get lost.
Second person narrative gets irritating, no?
So we thought there would be quite a few folks, but no. It was us and one other fellow. The Roshi, after switching to his vestments, told us when to do what all and bow and stand and where not to step, then patiently told us again when we screwed up, which was often.
I also learned something very important: your cells do not die in 25 minutes from lack of blood flow. I always heard that the brain begins to suffer damage after about four minutes lacking oxygen and had extrapolated this to limb, etc. A little neurosis. So when my foot falls asleep I get slightly concerned that perhaps the cells are withering and I may be the first person since Daruma to have my limbs falls off from meditation, but unlike him it will happen my first day rather than after years in a cave. Realizing this is unrealistic I try to concentrate on my breathing.
You're supposed to breath in very...very...very slowly. I suck at breathing. Really, it's like wheeze gasp wheeze. And using the diaphragm, I can do that all right on account of lots of yoga in the old days (before I managed to damage a nerve and lose most of my sense of touch in one leg--it came back a few months later but it put me off yoga for a while).
So then you're supposed to breathe out. Slowly, slowly. Counting a number. You're supposed to do this till you get to the number ten. Then you've succeeded.
Then more bowing and we were about to leave but the Roshi invited us to see the other buildings--the library, his room, a room for tea. He gave us tea and biscuits (oh I mean cookies...) and we chatted about his upcoming trip to visit Christian monks and friends in Switzerland and France.
I was thrilled, giddy, and probably asked too many questions. Sometimes when I do stuff like that I have to pretend I'm my mom--she has the awe of everything that just makes everybody love her. Me I tend to err on the show-offy side. Anyway, it was a nice chat.
If only it wasn't so far away! It would be so nice to go more. Nice just to listen to the cicadas and walk amongst the mossy rocks in the morning...sigh. Back to my chrome shoebox. Sometime I'll go back...
So then to get to the aforementioned temple you will probably arrive blearily early yet lacking any semblance of actual directions to the one of 32 (or was it 23) sub temples of Daitokuji. You are looking for a single named building within one of these complexes. The monk's instructions on the phone the previous day will erode away till you remember only single syllable from which you will try and locate the sub-temple on a map which is in kanji.
Failing this (quickly) you will take to your heels to the semi-dismay of your companions who wish to proceed rationally, not quite certain of your faith in this concept of "internal GPS", and who express some wariness and when you wave an overconfident hand in the air, clearly expressing your total uncertainty. They will probably ask to see the "map" at this point. The map being a nondescript box with an "X" in it. The map itself could in fact be construed as a work of modern Zen art. You will proceed nevertheless.
Oh all right, you will ask someone--harassing strangers being one of your predilections anyway. Lots of people strolling this early, walking dogs. You must practice maintaining the subtle balance that helps you determine when someone is being reticent because they don't want to tell you they don't know, and when someone is being reticent because they don't want to tell you they do know straight away. This is a fine art better mastered when you are not trying to get to the zendo on time--nevertheless it is another opportunity to practice non-dualism by staying in the moment of the present non-constructive conversation rather than, say, looking at your watch.
Somehow, you will magically arrive (GPS) right on time to see the monk in burnt-orange shorts and an undershirt sweeping the walk by hand into a tiny dustpan as though he wanted to make sure to be there extra long in case you did get lost.
Second person narrative gets irritating, no?
So we thought there would be quite a few folks, but no. It was us and one other fellow. The Roshi, after switching to his vestments, told us when to do what all and bow and stand and where not to step, then patiently told us again when we screwed up, which was often.
I also learned something very important: your cells do not die in 25 minutes from lack of blood flow. I always heard that the brain begins to suffer damage after about four minutes lacking oxygen and had extrapolated this to limb, etc. A little neurosis. So when my foot falls asleep I get slightly concerned that perhaps the cells are withering and I may be the first person since Daruma to have my limbs falls off from meditation, but unlike him it will happen my first day rather than after years in a cave. Realizing this is unrealistic I try to concentrate on my breathing.
You're supposed to breath in very...very...very slowly. I suck at breathing. Really, it's like wheeze gasp wheeze. And using the diaphragm, I can do that all right on account of lots of yoga in the old days (before I managed to damage a nerve and lose most of my sense of touch in one leg--it came back a few months later but it put me off yoga for a while).
So then you're supposed to breathe out. Slowly, slowly. Counting a number. You're supposed to do this till you get to the number ten. Then you've succeeded.
OooooooooooooooooooooneI was more like...
Twooooooooooooooooooooo
Threeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
etc.
OooooooooooooooooooooneWell my foot was enlightened anyway, it had no desire, no suffering till I started beating some sense back into it.
Huh? Oh yeah...
Ooooooooooooooooooooone
...
...
Oh right, counting...
Ooooooooooooooooooooone
Then more bowing and we were about to leave but the Roshi invited us to see the other buildings--the library, his room, a room for tea. He gave us tea and biscuits (oh I mean cookies...) and we chatted about his upcoming trip to visit Christian monks and friends in Switzerland and France.
I was thrilled, giddy, and probably asked too many questions. Sometimes when I do stuff like that I have to pretend I'm my mom--she has the awe of everything that just makes everybody love her. Me I tend to err on the show-offy side. Anyway, it was a nice chat.
If only it wasn't so far away! It would be so nice to go more. Nice just to listen to the cicadas and walk amongst the mossy rocks in the morning...sigh. Back to my chrome shoebox. Sometime I'll go back...
