Every reader, as he reads, is actually the reader of himself. The writer's work is only a kind of optical instrument he provides the reader so he can discern what he might never have seen in himself without this book. The reader's recognition in himself of what the book says is the proof of the book's truth.


---Marcel Proust

'The Reality of Being" by Jeanne De Salzman

I exist in this moment. I cannot hold myself apart observing from the outside, nor fix or stop the the movement, appropriating it for myself. I can only feel that I am part of it. I am nothing without it, and it can do nothing without me. I let go, and in losing myself I find myself. I submit to this movement, in which form is created and immediately swept away as soon as it appears. I live in my breathing.

HIDING IN THIS CAGE By Kabir (15th Century)

hiding in this cage
of visible matter

is the invisible
lifebird

pay attention
to her

she is singing
your song

WE ARE NEVER ALONE: A YOM KIPPUR MEDITATION by James Ishmael Ford

He drew a circle that shut me out -
Heretic, a rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in!

---Edwin Markham

Doug Marlette was among my favorite cartoonists. Mostly I knew him from his political cartoons, which were generally liberal and which appeared pretty much everywhere. Although Tammy Faye Bakker once called him a tool of Satan, I found his work was not marked with that raw and partisan hatred we too often see today on just about every side. I think he well deserved his Pulitzer Prize. Sadly, he died a couple of years ago in an automobile accident.

But, what brings him to mind for today is that Marlette also had a daily cartoon strip. Over the years I would run across reprints of it here and there. Called Kudzu, it was largely a celebration of things Southern, and featured, among other characters, a Baptist preacher Will B. Done.

Two things sparked my thought about Kudzu. For one, Peace Day, the United Nations sponsored International Day of Peace is the 21st of September. We here in Providence are mostly celebrating it on the Sunday closest to the 21st, which is today. There are many things going on, among them our service here, and later between three and five, the Peace Flag Project downtown at Burnside Park at Kennedy Plaza.

And, second, I find it particularly meaningful that in the Jewish tradition Yom Kippur was just observed, with that hard look into the heart of judgment, and the sincere seeking of reconciliation. I think these things are intimately connected.

I really like the Kudzu cartoon, and have alluded to it on occasion. I looked around the web and couldn’t find a copy. Still, I think I can describe it pretty accurately, certainly the punch line. Three panels, as I recall. Throughout the preacher Will B. Done is watching. In that first panel a batter has just swung and the umpire is calling out strike three. The second, however, is a strike five. In the third panel, against still another swing has the preacher commenting, “I hate playing against the Unitarians.”

Actually that’s a Universalist theme we’ve inherited, but no doubt it runs a wild and wondrous current through our liberal faith, a spring, a life-giving well. And I appreciated the thumbs up, even if it came from the back of his hand. In the justice/mercy dichotomy, while I think justice important, bottom line I’m a mercy guy. I’m all for second chances, and third, and one hundredth.

I know my own life is marked by second chances, both personal and societal. I’m a pretty self-aware person, and over the course of my life my choices, my actions, have not all been, shall we say, up to my highest ideals. Justice untempered by mercy would put me on a pretty hot seat. I know it. And I’m grateful for those who would cut me a little slack. And I try to return the favor.

In addition to the personal, there is also societal.

As a child of poverty, college was not supposed to be part of my future, and I left High School without a diploma. Later, I tried community college. Actually, it took a couple of tries for it to take. In many countries, such second and third chances are not part of the deal. But in California in those days with its open admission and cheap registration, I got those second and third chances that led directly to my standing in this pulpit.

I mentioned Yom Kippur. I’m quite taken with this season, which begins with Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, inaugurating the days of repentance, and culminates in Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, which, was observed from sundown on this past Friday through sundown yesterday.

I think part of the reason I’m so taken with Rosh Hashanah and particularly with Yom Kippur is how it touches on both justice and mercy, but, also, how in the last analysis it is about the mysteries of peace both within our individual hearts and scattered promiscuously upon this planet. So, all of these things have set my heart to bubbling, to my reflecting on the nature of forgiveness, of justice tempered, of second chances, and how these are essential ingredients to peace of any sort.

Now, some of us find our deepest inspiration in the wilderness. I appreciate that. But for me it is within our human communities that I am personally most moved, most horrified and appalled, but also most moved to joy and aspiration. Cities can be, often are, the archetype of human failure and, for me, of human aspiration, of human possibility. In this context of longing for peace, of seeking to understand justice through a path of mercy and compassion, through that willingness to start over, again and again, my mind, my heart flows to that archetype of dream where East and West meet, that city of the human heart, Jerusalem. In another Jewish celebration there is a toast, “Next Year in Jerusalem.” I would offer that a meditation on Jerusalem brings all these themes together, and points us on our way.

Its Arabic name is al-Quds Sharif, which means Holy Sanctuary. And that certainly is a powerful layer of meaning for us all, if we’re seeking to understand a complex community with its divided heart and persistent longing in the face of war and tribulation as an image of ourselves, a metaphor for who we are and how we might be. Of course its oldest name is Jerusalem, which speaks to that deepest longing of human hearts. I gather the name comes from two ancient roots, “y-r-h” which means something along the lines of direction or instruction or teaching and “s-l-m” which means wholeness or peace. So, Jerusalem is the teaching of peace or the place or abode of peace. And, also, I hope you caught, peace means wholeness. This city, so torn by strife, is often called the door of peace.

Of course everything is complicated, muddied if you will, by contending forces, and multiple claims, pretty much all of which are to one degree or another legitimate. And no one seems immune to this roil of contention. A few years ago one of Jan’s co-workers, who is of Armenian descent was celebrating Easter in the ancient Christian church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Its care is divided among different flavors of Christian. And her experience at that service was a near riot between the contending Christian factions pushing beyond their boundaries, possibly only held at bay from seriously hurting each other by Israeli soldiers, who, frankly, weren’t all that gentle in keeping order. In the not-quite riot Jan’s co-worker’s husband was pushed to the ground. Not a very happy Easter.

So, what in this mess is a pointer for us, here in Providence, Unitarian Universalists recalling Yom Kippur, a Kudzu cartoon, and observing an international Day of Peace?

As I understand the etymology, peace is essentially a treaty. It is a covenant of presence and harmlessness. For it to work there must be an inner component as well as an outer one. As I see it the treaty is a call to wholeness. When we look at Jerusalem as an image of both our selves and of our condition in the world, we see the contending forces of our own hearts, apparently irreconcilable, and possibly that is so. But, in the face of that most reasonable doubt, of uncertainty for the outcome of any project dedicated to peace, one more thing: Edwin Markham’s famous poem, a drawing of a circle large enough to include us all. For me that’s the image of Jerusalem. Or, it can be.

But how to draw that great circle, considering all the obvious and seemingly insurmountable difficulties facing the project? I have a few thoughts. There’s an old Zen saying, fall down nine times, get up ten. Or, some such number. That and that other great Zen chestnut how our path is all “one continuous mistake” certainly inform my walk toward peace, both inner and outer. And, perhaps yours? Here I think of that Kudzu cartoon, again; strike whatever. One more chance, one more chance, as long as breath allows, one more chance.

But I’m also of a practical turn of mind. And so beyond this encouragement to keep on keeping on, and to draw a circle that includes everyone within the city of peace, I would like a few more steps, as clearly stated as possible. Which brings us back to Yom Kippur.

Poking about the Yom Kippur traditions, thinking about it, looking at it through the lens of liberal religion here are four steps we might consider to allow our desire to draw that great circle of peace around our hearts and the hearts of this hurting world. First, owning up to our own part in the mess. Second, turning our hearts once more to our highest aspirations, toward our better angels. Third, reaching out to another, to do our own part in the healing of our many communities. And, fourth, to rededicate ourselves, and to rededicate ourselves again, endlessly to this way of peace.

Okay, owning our own part in the mess. I think we got it right within liberal religion when we walked away from the idea of shame. No free floating guilt about being good enough. But, we also have too often also cut ourselves off from guilt. Guilt is like pain; it is a reminder when something is going wrong. In the case of guilt it is often enough our deeper self, telling us we have done something harmful. We need to assess our own actions and thoughts relentlessly. Look hard. Take inventories. If you feel a pang of guilt, look at it. It may be pointing to something you need to attend to.

Second, what to do with that information? Well, let us recall the moral compass that rests in our hearts, that part of us which knows we are precious as individuals but only exist because we are all part of the great family of things. Let us remember the family, and that we are part of it, and we will have a pretty good idea of what to do next.

Which is the third point. Reach out. Don’t keep it private. Do something for someone else. We’re talking about the family, after all. Small or large, your call, but, for goodness’ sake, do something.

And fourth, do it again. Strike three, strike ten, strike one hundred. Know our hearts are Jerusalem, contending and yet one. Draw the circle wide. Include everyone. Leave no one behind. There are so many souls, thirsting for justice, for mercy, for love, for peace. Come and drink freely from the well at the center of that city of peace.

Drink deep. And refreshed take up the task again. Come, dear ones; make the world a holy sanctuary. Come, my friends; draw the circle wide and join with all to make this world a holy shrine.

Amen.

When I read the words of Schopenhauer and Goethe and the prose-poetry of Hesse, or listen to the music of Beethoven, Haydn and Brahms, it seems inconceivable that the culture that gave rise to such beauty also gave rise to the ugliness of Hitler, Himmler and Heydrich. In this lies a lesson, I think, for all humanity. We are all, individually, Guardians of civilization, and our watchwords must be kindness, compassion, empathy---and vigilance.

---Konrei

THE BODHISATTVA PRECEPTS: AN ONGOING INQUIRY by WILBUR MUSHIN MAY, SENSEI

An Introduction

The Bodhisattva Precepts are skillful means to guide us in our engagement with the world. Our everyday life is a great, multifaceted koan that we resolve at every moment and yet never completely resolve. The Precepts transcend ordinary reality and are beyond both action and non-action. The Precepts point to our essential nature.

Living in this world, we sometimes experience a split or gap between “Me” and “Other” or “Inner” and “Outer.” Seen in that light, the Precepts act as a reminder of our Oneness with all creation, a marker of our interrelatedness with all Beings, and a signpost to our place as a jewel in the Net of Indra.

To me, the most important and overriding principle behind the Precepts is the principle of Oneness, which unites all ten Precepts into a single whole, taking as its base life itself. Seeing with the eyes of others, feeling with others’ hands, and experiencing the lack of the gap between “Me” and “Other” brings me to inquire how it is possible to lie, cheat or steal.

We are all swimming in the river of life; we are one with life; we cannot drown. This Oneness is the buoyancy that keeps us afloat.

Going down with a swirl
Coming up with a whirl

THOUGHTS ON THE BIG THREE by Konrei

All harmful karma ever committed by me since of old

On account of my beginningless greed, anger and ignorance,

Born of my body, mouth and thought,

Now I atone for it all.

“The Three Defilements”---Greed, Anger and Ignorance---are the badly-lit subbasement of the mind in Buddhist psychology. They are what Shakyamuni was referring to when he posited the Four Noble Truths, which, in sum, tell us that, "Life isn't what we want it to be; because it isn't, we're unhappy; when we decide it doesn't have to be, we become happy; and to help us make that decision, we should get plenty of sleep and eat a good breakfast every day."

The Buddhist term for a Defilement is “Kilesa” in Pali or “Klesha” in Sanskrit, and can be translated also as “affliction” or “poison” or even “fire.” These Kilesas have two manifestations: In one sense, they underlie our entire ingrained dualistic view of the universe; in the other sense, they trouble us personally and cause us to act in ways not in keeping with the Precepts.

Depending on the Buddhist sect, there are three, nine, ten, or as many as 108 Kilesas. Theravadan Buddhist temples usually have 108 steps, each step representing a Kilesa and a Precept. No matter how many Kilesas a particular Sangha recognizes, Greed, Anger and Ignorance always top the list. Others, like Conceit and Torpor and Wrong Views can be characterized as expressions of Greed, Anger and Ignorance, so let’s just stick with the Big Three that cause all our sufferings and prevent us from feeling tranquil.

We all know Greed: That wonderful little voice inside us that says, “Gimme dat t’ing!” But whatever “t’ing” it is, we will lose it, it may break, it loses its attractiveness, and in the end, we find we don’t really own it, right down to our own mind and body. So we cling. We cling to the senses, we cling to ideas, we cling to habits and rituals. Anything we cling to at a given time may be outmoded or not work for us. Ultimately, everything we cling to fails to function.

And we all know Anger: “I don’t wanna!”, "I don’t want to go to work today!"; "I don’t like Joe Dokes, as a matter of fact, I HATE Joe Dokes"; "What kind of lousy lunch is this?"

Dogen Zenji points out that our koan arises naturally in daily life. If we observe our Greed and our Anger we always find our koan. The answer to our koan cuts through our Ignorance.

Both Greed and Anger come from the importance of the “I” in our lives, from the Ego’s desire to protect itself---“To protect my idea of myself”---whether by girding myself ‘round with possessions for a sense of permanence or exiling those things from my life that threaten or don’t support my idea of my own permanence.

Ignorance is not complicated to explain: It works through self-justification. Whether we act well or ill we can be deluded. Thinking that we’re justified in hating Joe Dokes, or thinking that if we can befriend Joe Dokes we can turn things around are both ignorant, deluded thoughts. Baso’s answer, “I’m sitting zazen in order to become a Buddha” earned him a whack because his thinking was deluded. The outcomes we anticipate are delusions.

Bodhidharma said “No merit” to Emperor Wu in regard to all his works. Essentially, Ignorance and its handmaiden Delusion both come down to the underlying motives for our actions.

When we realize the emptiness of all five conditions we are freed of pain.

Just sit.

THE 5TH PRECEPT: CULTIVATING A MIND THAT SEES CLEARLY. THIS IS THE PRECEPT OF NOT BEING IGNORANT.

A Reflection by Konrei





In its simplest form, “Not using intoxicants,” the Fifth Precept would seem to enjoin the use of substances such as drugs and alcohol, and there is that side to it. But lest we fall into the very ignorance we are trying to overcome through a rote and mechanical application of the Precept, we need to look deeper.

A mind that sees clearly is not just a mind that abstains from drink and drugs. As a matter of fact, it could be said that the fixation of the Prohibitionists and the Drug Warriors caused its own delusions, and certainly led to greater evils like corruption and increased crime throughout society. That which is absolutely forbidden is desired all the more, and most of us, being human, will find a way to acquire what we can’t have, even if it is something we don’t truly want to have.

And it is true that, judiciously, intoxicants may bring conviviality and added enjoyment to life: “Good wine is a good familiar creature if it be well used,” as Shakespeare said.

Ah, but there’s the rub (and the heart of the matter); for our friendly Fifth Precept is all about cultivating a mind that sees clearly. And no one has ever convinced me that the woman he met while wearing his beer goggles has been the love of his life.

There are myriad other intoxicants. Whether a good meal is good depends on mindfulness in eating it. Simply gorging oneself, even in the finest restaurant, leads to indolence and stagnation. One cannot live lightly with a bellyful of bricks, however good they tasted going down.

In our culture we drug ourselves unmercifully with shoddy entertainment, and escapes into fantasy. The fantasies are endless---The I WANT is insatiable, and serves to stoke our sense of insecurity and inadequacy. “Keeping up with the Joneses” is a form of intoxication; even the Joneses are busy keeping up with the Joneses.

Our natural and unavoidable inability to fulfill our fantasies leads to the intoxicating experience of anger. Ah, anger, that state in which the ego triumphs, in which the fantasies feed on each other. The drama in my head is so much more interesting than the often boring and prosaic reality---“Why that So-And-So! He never showed up! He did this to me on purpose! Just wait! He’s got it coming!”---I then imagine the five forms of medieval torture to which my friend will be put, while meanwhile the poor schlub’s car’s broken down and his cellphone’s dead, and he needs my help.

Cultivating a mind that sees clearly means cultivating a mind that sees actively. A mind that sees actively counts its drinks, it weighs that second piece of birthday cake in the scales of my own well-being, it monitors its own escapes into fantasy and uses those moments to be creative, perhaps writing the next novel or redecorating the living room, and it determines whether the costs---emotional, financial and psychological---of my desires are worth the results.

Ignorance is both the cause and the effect of my not being in tune with the song the universe is singing.

REFLECTIONS ON SHARING BLESSINGS

Until I attain Enlightenment may I likewise attain the cutting-off of craving and clinging.
Whatever faults I have until I attain Enlightenment, may they quickly perish.
Wherever I am born, may there be an upright mind, mindfulness, wisdom, austerity and vigor.
May harmful influences not weaken my efforts.
The Buddha is the unexcelled protector.
The Dharma is the supreme protection.
The Sangha is my true refuge.
And Peerless is the “Silent Buddha.”
By the power of these Ones, may I rise above all ignorance.

FROM BOB HERBERT OF "THE NEW YORK TIMES" July 16, 2010

Tweet Less, Kiss More
By BOB HERBERT

I was driving from Washington to New York one afternoon on Interstate 95 when a car came zooming up behind me, really flying. I could see in the rearview mirror that the driver was talking on her cellphone.

I was about to move to the center lane to get out of her way when she suddenly swerved into that lane herself to pass me on the right — still chatting away. She continued moving dangerously from one lane to another as she sped up the highway.

A few days later, I was talking to a guy who commutes every day between New York and New Jersey. He props up his laptop on the front seat so he can watch DVDs while he’s driving.

“I only do it in traffic,” he said. “It’s no big deal.”

Beyond the obvious safety issues, why does anyone want, or need, to be talking constantly on the phone or watching movies (or texting) while driving? I hate to sound so 20th century, but what’s wrong with just listening to the radio? The blessed wonders of technology are overwhelming us. We don’t control them; they control us.

We’ve got cellphones and BlackBerrys and Kindles and iPads, and we’re e-mailing and text-messaging and chatting and tweeting — I used to call it Twittering until I was corrected by high school kids who patiently explained to me, as if I were the village idiot, that the correct term is tweeting. Twittering, tweeting — whatever it is, it sounds like a nervous disorder.

This is all part of what I think is one of the weirder aspects of our culture: a heightened freneticism that seems to demand that we be doing, at a minimum, two or three things every single moment of every hour that we’re awake. Why is multitasking considered an admirable talent? We could just as easily think of it as a neurotic inability to concentrate for more than three seconds.

Why do we have to check our e-mail so many times a day, or keep our ears constantly attached, as if with Krazy Glue, to our cellphones? When you watch the news on cable television, there are often additional stories being scrolled across the bottom of the screen, stock market results blinking on the right of the screen, and promos for upcoming features on the left. These extras often block significant parts of the main item we’re supposed to be watching.

A friend of mine told me about an engagement party that she had attended. She said it was lovely: a delicious lunch and plenty of Champagne toasts. But all the guests had their cellphones on the luncheon tables and had text-messaged their way through the entire event.

Enough already with this hyperactive behavior, this techno-tyranny and nonstop freneticism. We need to slow down and take a deep breath.

I’m not opposed to the remarkable technological advances of the past several years. I don’t want to go back to typewriters and carbon paper and yellowing clips from the newspaper morgue. I just think that we should treat technology like any other tool. We should control it, bending it to our human purposes.

Let’s put down at least some of these gadgets and spend a little time just being ourselves. One of the essential problems of our society is that we have a tendency, amid all the craziness that surrounds us, to lose sight of what is truly human in ourselves, and that includes our own individual needs — those very special, mostly nonmaterial things that would fulfill us, give meaning to our lives, enlarge us, and enable us to more easily embrace those around us.

There’s a character in the August Wilson play “Joe Turner’s Come and Gone” who says everyone has a song inside of him or her, and that you lose sight of that song at your peril. If you get out of touch with your song, forget how to sing it, you’re bound to end up frustrated and dissatisfied.

As this character says, recalling a time when he was out of touch with his own song, “Something wasn’t making my heart smooth and easy.”

I don’t think we can stay in touch with our song by constantly Twittering or tweeting, or thumbing out messages on our BlackBerrys, or piling up virtual friends on Facebook.

We need to reduce the speed limits of our lives. We need to savor the trip. Leave the cellphone at home every once in awhile. Try kissing more and tweeting less. And stop talking so much.

Listen.

Other people have something to say, too. And when they don’t, that glorious silence that you hear will have more to say to you than you ever imagined. That is when you will begin to hear your song. That’s when your best thoughts take hold, and you become really you.

An Introduction to Zen by Roshi Pat Enkyo O'Hara

What is Zen?

The word "Zen" is tossed around so carelessly in the commercial world, the human potential world, the world of design, and in popular culture in general, that for someone new to it as an authentic spiritual tradition, it has become too vague to have much meaning. Real Zen is the practice of coming back to the actual right-now-in-this-moment self, coming back to the naturalness, the intimacy and simplicity of our true nature. Zen practice is not about getting away from our life as it is; it is about getting into our life as it is, with all of its vividness, beauty, hardship, joy and sorrow. Zen is a path of awakening: awakening to who we really are, and awakening the aspiration to serve others and take responsibility for all of life.

This sounds good, but how is it to be accomplished? How is it possible to enter such a new way of experiencing one's life?

The Practice

There is a term in the Celtic tradition that I find resonates with something fundamental about Zen practice. The Celts spoke of "thin places," places like caves or wells or other special sites where the boundary between the mundane and magical was permeable. To me, Zen practice offers a kind of thin place, a "place" where we can discover that there is fundamentally no separation between ourselves and others, that what we seek is always so close, always right here. In the Lotus Sutra's parable of the burning house, the only escape from our greed, anger, and ignorance is said to be through a "narrow door." The narrow door, the thin place, and any of a number of metaphors point us in the direction of our own realization. A door or a gate or a threshold also implies that there is effort, movement, investment in transformation.

At the heart of Zen practice is zazen, seated meditation. One master said that listening and thinking are like being outside the gate, and zazen is returning home and sitting in peace. Zazen is really a very simple practice and does not involve complicated instructions. When one studies the ancient Zen meditation manuals, it is always surprising how brief and plain they are. While they speak of the possibility of attaining the freedom and naturalness of a tiger in the mountains or a dragon in the water, the actual instructions are so concrete. Sit in the proper posture and attend to the body, breath, and mind.

Make a Place to Sit

It is best to have a place set aside for regular zazen. Whether it is a room or just a corner, the space should be clean and uncluttered. Place a mat on the floor (a folded blanket will do) and on it a zafu, another type of comfortable sitting cushion, or a bench. If floor sitting is too difficult, simply use a chair.

Preparing to Sit

At the beginning of a sitting period, it is traditional to bow to an altar, offer a stick of incense, and bow once more. Then, as you stand before your seat, bow toward and away from your cushion, bench, or chair. These acts help us to realize intention and respect. The incense is offered with the intention that this session is for all beings, for all creation, not just for oneself. The standing bow to and away from our cushion actualizes our respect for our practice and for those, whether present or not, who practice with us. The physical act of bowing, of folding our body down, placing our head in a traditionally respectful position of vulnerability, gives the ego a big break, an opportunity to let go. When you are seated-whether cross-legged, kneeling, or in a chair-settle into the zazen posture: Place your hands on your lap or thighs, in the cosmic mudra, your right hand holding your left one, palms up, with your thumbs barely touching, forming a circle.

Posture

Sit on the forward third of your cushion or chair, so that your hips are higher than your knees and your belly is free to move in and out without stress on your lower back. Your ears are in line with your shoulders, your head balanced gently on your neck, your eyes are slightly open, gazing down about three feet in front of you. Your chin is pointing neither up nor down, but is slightly tucked in. Place your tongue just behind your teeth on the roof of your mouth. Sway from side to side until you find your center point.

The Breath

Now attend to the breath. Breathe naturally. Breathing in, allow the breath to fully enter your body until your lower belly expands; then, breathing out, softly allow the breath to ease out through your nostrils. Notice how the breath seems to travel through the main avenues of your torso. Your belly should rise and fall naturally with each breath. Let the breath fill your lower abdomen as if it were a balloon. Later, you may notice that even the bottoms of your feet are breathing in and out. As you relax into the breath, you can begin silently counting each full cycle of breath, noting "one" on the out-breath, "two" on the next out-breath, and so on up to "ten." When you reach "ten," begin again with "one." When you realize that you have stopped counting, and are caught up in thinking, simply take another breath and go back to "one."

Do this-counting your breath, maintaining your posture, sitting still-for the 20-minute period of zazen. Notice that urges to move-to scratch your nose, to tug on your ear-are usually ways to move away from the energies in your body. Instead of moving, stay with them, observe them, and bring your focus back to the breathing. Learn to notice how these urges fall away, only to be replaced by others, demonstrating the second noble truth: the cause of suffering is craving. All the disparate ideas, thoughts, impulses-everything comes and goes, and yet you sit. And little by little, the chatter drops away and your body, breath, and mind are one. Zazen is so simple. We focus on our posture and on counting our breath, and this develops samadhi, a unified mind. But the practice is not about reaching "ten." It is about training the body and mind. Let the body settle, let the breath settle, let the mind settle. Don't worry about whether your practice is working, don't judge your performance, don't tell yourself stories or find other ways to avoid this very moment. These are just ways of separating from our deepest intention and our zazen. When you do zazen, just do zazen. That's enough.

The Original Self

In the Genjokoan (Actualizing the Fundamental Point), Zen Master Dogen writes:

When one first seeks the dharma, one is far away from its environs. When one has already correctly transmitted the dharma to oneself, one is one's original self at that moment.

Dogen Zenji's teaching reminds us of our initial separation from what is ours. When we begin to seek the dharma, there is an "I" that looks for it over "there." But the dharma is already alive in us, and requires only that we realize it, which is what he means in the second sentence: having "correctly transmitted the dharma to oneself," one is one's real self in that moment.

I think all of us yearn to experience ourselves as whole and complete, to live our lives fully and freshly in each moment. But something blocks us, and Zen training is one way to see that, all along, we have what we need. This is called the realization of the original self.

The Daily Practice: Be Consistent

The zazen period we are recommending is 20 minutes. You may find that you will want to do more---or less----and that is fine. What is important is consistency. To keep your practice consistent, remember what the famous Nike ad says: "Just do it." Don't concern yourself with trying to get to some particular place or state of mind. Each day's zazen will be a little different, just like the rest of life. We practice steadiness in our daily meditation-alert, sleepy, focused-we just practice each day, through the high points and the low. When you mess up-and you will- just say, "Okay, back to my cushion." When you are sitting, you may realize that you are thinking about something else. At that moment, take a deep breath and recognize that, in that moment of realization, you have come back to now. As an old meditation manual says, as soon as you are aware of a thought, it will vanish! When we are thinking of a thing, we are lost in it, lost in thinking about "x." But when we become aware of our thinking, then we are in a secondary state. The actual thinking of "x" is gone, and there is either just awareness or we begin a new thought based on that awareness. Either way, the original thinking is gone. If we practice daily, soon we are able to stay more often in that space of pure awareness without an object. Just breathing, just being present-we call this being naturally unified.

Zazen is a form that allows us to practice the no form of boundless emptiness. The freedom that is made available to us through form is one of those grand paradoxes of life. When we organize ourselves and create a structure, we also create the means to be free of structure. Form helps us by organizing and directing our energies. But we can carry our form lightly, with respect and appreciation for its gifts. This subtle discipline-settling, unifying, letting be-is called the dharma gate of peace and joy.

The Precepts

Finally, because all of this practice leads to our realization of our interdependence and interrelatedness with all beings, we will also take up the practice of the sixteen bodhisattva precepts. These precepts are not commandments; rather, they are guiding principles for living a life of freedom and service. The precepts will be one of the topics in the online discussions. The precepts are themselves worthy of a lifetime of study and practice. Indeed, in some Zen traditions, they are part of formal koan study, with each precept appreciated from various perspectives. Make them your own, be intimate with them. Rather than simply trying to follow them, embody them, in much the same way in which you "become" your zazen.

Sitting with Others

Zen is not a solitary practice. As we chant at the end of our liturgy, "May we realize the Buddha Way together." Sitting with others, studying with others, working with others, talking with others-all these are integral to the life of Zen. So I encourage you as well to join with others whenever possible. Go to a Zen meditation center or a similar group and sit with other people.

Let's let Master Dogen have the last word:

The dharma is amply present in every person, but without practice, it is not manifested; without realization, it is not attained.