Just a little tidbit from my zafu and zabuton...
Yesterday during my morning zazen, I suddenly found myself filled with the ENORMITY of mind.
The "little I" and the "little me" and my "little mind" vanished, and I was filled, filled and more filled with just the enormity of mind.
If I didn't HAVE to go to work yesterday, I would have stayed home on my cushion and explored that territory a bit. But then again, it's in my best interests to avoid attaching to anything...
I welcome any thoughts or comments.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Some Scary Thoughts About Tibet, Karma and Freedom
You’d be hard pressed, I think, to find someone in the developed world who is unaware of the plight of the Tibetan nation and people as the Chinese domination continues and expands after more than a half century.
Many Tibet sympathizers in the West, particularly in the U.S., want their elected officials to apply various types of diplomatic pressure or even economic sanctions to the government of China to force some sort of concession from it.
I would love for Tibet to be free, but I’m not going to protest for it. Here’s why.
It seems there is a certain segment of the population, a certain constituency, that loves to demand that other nations and other peoples can’t have what we as Americans have, can’t do what we as a people have done.
We’ve cut down our own wilderness regions… yet some would demand that other nations can’t. It’s bad for the environment.
We have millions of automobiles on our roads, yet other peoples can’t.
Our ancestors and forefathers moved to a land that belonged to other peoples and have displaced them and nearly made them extinct… yet other governments and cultures can’t.
How convenient is the claim of some that, as a nation and a culture, we have learned the error of our way, so other people have to manifest that lesson, not us.
If the world is to take such arguments seriously, we would have to repudiate these decisions and behaviors and lifestyles by reversing them, instead of lecturing other nations and cultures to keep them from emulating them. Because, really, what it comes down to is, such voices are saying, “I’ve got mine, but you can’t get yours.”
As if controlling other cultures is going to absolve some of us of their guilt.
Maybe evolution is the way of the Tao. Maybe survival of the fittest, with one superior culture transplanting another, is the way of the Tao.
Here’s the scary thought, if you take the concept of karma seriously. The people of Tibet have practiced Buddhism since roughly around the eighth century. Yet, did that keep the Chinese out of their land? No.
Similarly, America’s own native peoples were reportedly so one with Mother Earth and the Great Spirit, but did that keep the whites from their lands? No. What does that mean for the rest of us?
Would the Chinese have invaded if Tibet possessed a few nuclear warheads? If Tibet had the military might of, say, the state of Israel?
Might there be some negative karma associated with being so peaceful as Tibet, which really depended on its geological isolation to defend it? Was that culture peaceful… or naïve?
Might there be some positive karma associated with being a culture capable of deploying devastating military firepower? Is that barbaric… or practical? Peace through superior fire power?
And who has more freedom now to practice the Buddha Dharma any way one sees fit: the people of Tibet, or the people of the United States?
And who gave us that freedom? Was it God or Buddha? Was it our own karma? Was it chance?
Or were our ancestors and forefathers a superior people?
It took a lot of gunpowder, money and bloodshed to gain the freedom that we enjoy. It takes a lot of gunpowder, money and bloodshed to keep that freedom – the freedom to practice as wholeheartedly as we want or to sin as wantonly as we desire, or to live somewhere in between those two extremes.
Is the freedom we experience worth the violence that stains our soul – or more precisely, the souls of those who have fought for it, and those who continue to fight for it?
Ask a Jew in Nazi Germany. Try practicing the Dharma in a territory ruled by the Taliban.
Many in the West seem to not realize that in Zen, there are really two traditions. And I don’t mean Soto Zen versus Rinzai Zen.
What I mean is, there is the poet school of Zen, represented by the calligraphy and haiku masters, and there is the warrior school of Zen, illustrated by the ninja and samurai.
I see in the samurai and ninja of old Japan two similar models for harmonizing the ideals of Buddhist thought and practice, on the one hand, and the practical realities and demands of living life on this Earth, on the other.
They represented cultures that had profoundly spiritual aspects to them, while being utterly and uncompromisingly masters of the art of war and whup-ass.
The key, I think, was the ability to defend one’s one life – even if it meant taking another’s life in order to do so – without the hatred, without the attachment.
This principle is well illustrated in an anecdote recounted by Joseph Campbell, that great teacher of world mythology, and my personal Bodhidharma.
As Campbell has told the story, a samurai has suffered the loss of his feudal lord, due to an assassination. As samurai to his lord, then, he was duty bound to avenge his lord’s death by finding the killer and executing him himself.
After months of investigation and tracking, the samurai finally found the assassin and corners him in a room. He backs the killer against the wall, removes his katana from its sheath, and raises it above his head as he prepares to use the classic downward cutting strike that will end the man’s life and avenge his lord.
At the last possible moment, the terrified killer, in shear desperation, spits in the face of the samurai.
The samurai calmly and slowly lowers his raised sword, sheaths it, and walks away.
Why?
Because the samurai became angry. He became emotionally involved. Killing his target out of anger would have created substantial personal karma for him, whereas executing him solely out of his duty to his lord would not – illustrating how intent often has so much more to do with the generation of personal karma than does physical action.
The bottom line is, we live in a world where some particularly intolerant segments of the global population would wipe us and the Buddha Dharma and the Christian Gospel and any other faith off the face of the planet. In fact, some of these intolerant segments would wipe out one another, let alone others.
And for the way of the Buddha and the way of the cross and other various ways to survive in such a climate and to continue for posterity, we’re going to have to get our hands dirty, or at least support those who are getting their hands dirty in our names and for our sakes.
And if we can’t keep our hands from getting dirty, let’s at least appreciate the fact that we’re still alive and free enough to cleanse them of their filth when they get that way. And then we can get back to practice. And sit with our post-traumatic stress disorder, if need be.
That’s good enough karma for me.
May all who keep us safe and free be blessed. And may any merit generated by my practice be dedicated to their healing and their liberation.
Namaste.
-The Dharma DC Mysterious Mastermind
Many Tibet sympathizers in the West, particularly in the U.S., want their elected officials to apply various types of diplomatic pressure or even economic sanctions to the government of China to force some sort of concession from it.
I would love for Tibet to be free, but I’m not going to protest for it. Here’s why.
It seems there is a certain segment of the population, a certain constituency, that loves to demand that other nations and other peoples can’t have what we as Americans have, can’t do what we as a people have done.
We’ve cut down our own wilderness regions… yet some would demand that other nations can’t. It’s bad for the environment.
We have millions of automobiles on our roads, yet other peoples can’t.
Our ancestors and forefathers moved to a land that belonged to other peoples and have displaced them and nearly made them extinct… yet other governments and cultures can’t.
How convenient is the claim of some that, as a nation and a culture, we have learned the error of our way, so other people have to manifest that lesson, not us.
If the world is to take such arguments seriously, we would have to repudiate these decisions and behaviors and lifestyles by reversing them, instead of lecturing other nations and cultures to keep them from emulating them. Because, really, what it comes down to is, such voices are saying, “I’ve got mine, but you can’t get yours.”
As if controlling other cultures is going to absolve some of us of their guilt.
Maybe evolution is the way of the Tao. Maybe survival of the fittest, with one superior culture transplanting another, is the way of the Tao.
Here’s the scary thought, if you take the concept of karma seriously. The people of Tibet have practiced Buddhism since roughly around the eighth century. Yet, did that keep the Chinese out of their land? No.
Similarly, America’s own native peoples were reportedly so one with Mother Earth and the Great Spirit, but did that keep the whites from their lands? No. What does that mean for the rest of us?
Would the Chinese have invaded if Tibet possessed a few nuclear warheads? If Tibet had the military might of, say, the state of Israel?
Might there be some negative karma associated with being so peaceful as Tibet, which really depended on its geological isolation to defend it? Was that culture peaceful… or naïve?
Might there be some positive karma associated with being a culture capable of deploying devastating military firepower? Is that barbaric… or practical? Peace through superior fire power?
And who has more freedom now to practice the Buddha Dharma any way one sees fit: the people of Tibet, or the people of the United States?
And who gave us that freedom? Was it God or Buddha? Was it our own karma? Was it chance?
Or were our ancestors and forefathers a superior people?
It took a lot of gunpowder, money and bloodshed to gain the freedom that we enjoy. It takes a lot of gunpowder, money and bloodshed to keep that freedom – the freedom to practice as wholeheartedly as we want or to sin as wantonly as we desire, or to live somewhere in between those two extremes.
Is the freedom we experience worth the violence that stains our soul – or more precisely, the souls of those who have fought for it, and those who continue to fight for it?
Ask a Jew in Nazi Germany. Try practicing the Dharma in a territory ruled by the Taliban.
Many in the West seem to not realize that in Zen, there are really two traditions. And I don’t mean Soto Zen versus Rinzai Zen.
What I mean is, there is the poet school of Zen, represented by the calligraphy and haiku masters, and there is the warrior school of Zen, illustrated by the ninja and samurai.
I see in the samurai and ninja of old Japan two similar models for harmonizing the ideals of Buddhist thought and practice, on the one hand, and the practical realities and demands of living life on this Earth, on the other.
They represented cultures that had profoundly spiritual aspects to them, while being utterly and uncompromisingly masters of the art of war and whup-ass.
The key, I think, was the ability to defend one’s one life – even if it meant taking another’s life in order to do so – without the hatred, without the attachment.
This principle is well illustrated in an anecdote recounted by Joseph Campbell, that great teacher of world mythology, and my personal Bodhidharma.
As Campbell has told the story, a samurai has suffered the loss of his feudal lord, due to an assassination. As samurai to his lord, then, he was duty bound to avenge his lord’s death by finding the killer and executing him himself.
After months of investigation and tracking, the samurai finally found the assassin and corners him in a room. He backs the killer against the wall, removes his katana from its sheath, and raises it above his head as he prepares to use the classic downward cutting strike that will end the man’s life and avenge his lord.
At the last possible moment, the terrified killer, in shear desperation, spits in the face of the samurai.
The samurai calmly and slowly lowers his raised sword, sheaths it, and walks away.
Why?
Because the samurai became angry. He became emotionally involved. Killing his target out of anger would have created substantial personal karma for him, whereas executing him solely out of his duty to his lord would not – illustrating how intent often has so much more to do with the generation of personal karma than does physical action.
The bottom line is, we live in a world where some particularly intolerant segments of the global population would wipe us and the Buddha Dharma and the Christian Gospel and any other faith off the face of the planet. In fact, some of these intolerant segments would wipe out one another, let alone others.
And for the way of the Buddha and the way of the cross and other various ways to survive in such a climate and to continue for posterity, we’re going to have to get our hands dirty, or at least support those who are getting their hands dirty in our names and for our sakes.
And if we can’t keep our hands from getting dirty, let’s at least appreciate the fact that we’re still alive and free enough to cleanse them of their filth when they get that way. And then we can get back to practice. And sit with our post-traumatic stress disorder, if need be.
That’s good enough karma for me.
May all who keep us safe and free be blessed. And may any merit generated by my practice be dedicated to their healing and their liberation.
Namaste.
-The Dharma DC Mysterious Mastermind
Friday, June 27, 2008
Struggling for Passion in My Practice
I’m sure I’m speaking from the illusory self-centric world of duality, not from what might be called “the undifferentiated mind,” but here goes anyway:
Lately, I just seem to be struggling for any passion, energy or intensity in my zazen.
I recently extended the amount of time I sit in the morning Monday through Friday, to go along with the more extended time I spend in zazen on the weekends. Since the last week of April, I’ve been consistently sitting for 40 minutes, M-F. And I feel this is having a beneficial effect on my mindset throughout the day, in addition to facilitating a bit of a breakthrough recently, in terms of my understanding of the nature of “awakened mind.”
But in the last few days, I really seem to be struggling to stay focused on my “practice” when I’m sitting.
Is it a lack of sleep?
Is it a lack of physical energy, because I’m overweight and out of shape?
Is it the stress and demands of my job?
Is it because I’m approaching the Big 5-O – and this is the first time I’ve ever even had that thought…
Or am I depressed?
Or should I go back to koan study, which I dumped months ago for the more familiar breath/sitting/shikantaza-esque approach I’m more comfortable with?
I guess I’ll sit with these thoughts for a few days and see what my mind says about it all…
Lately, I just seem to be struggling for any passion, energy or intensity in my zazen.
I recently extended the amount of time I sit in the morning Monday through Friday, to go along with the more extended time I spend in zazen on the weekends. Since the last week of April, I’ve been consistently sitting for 40 minutes, M-F. And I feel this is having a beneficial effect on my mindset throughout the day, in addition to facilitating a bit of a breakthrough recently, in terms of my understanding of the nature of “awakened mind.”
But in the last few days, I really seem to be struggling to stay focused on my “practice” when I’m sitting.
Is it a lack of sleep?
Is it a lack of physical energy, because I’m overweight and out of shape?
Is it the stress and demands of my job?
Is it because I’m approaching the Big 5-O – and this is the first time I’ve ever even had that thought…
Or am I depressed?
Or should I go back to koan study, which I dumped months ago for the more familiar breath/sitting/shikantaza-esque approach I’m more comfortable with?
I guess I’ll sit with these thoughts for a few days and see what my mind says about it all…
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