With palms together,
It is 11:50 PM. Everyone (Kathryn, Suki, and Binky) are asleep. I am wide awake. Kathryn Soku Shin asked that I offer services in El Paso tomorrow while Rev. Tamra leads them here in Las Cruces. Rev. Soku Shin wants me to talk about how I spent my summer vacation, meaning, what did I learn from riding my motorcycle nearly 4000 miles in order to visit my son and his family.
At first I thought I could say something quite Zen like, but I soon recovered from that temptation. The most important thing I learned was not to make assumptions or promises. At each step in our daily life anything is possible. For me, the weather shifting and changing, my body’s unwillingness to adapt quickly or heal from the sciatic nerve inflammation, all came together to betray my promises. I wanted to visit the Atlanta Soto Zen Center, for example, but each way weather and timing conspired against a visit, to say nothing of the gigantic traffic nightmare which defines Atlanta as a place none of us should actually want to go.
I had assumed I could master the weather, get around things, predict things with my cyber gadgets. I did to a certain extent. I could see the storms, plot their direction, and so forth, but in the end, only the personal, actual experience of riding a motorcycle unprotected from the temperature changes that accompany an overcast day, could inform me.
My sense is that these lessons speak to the eternally spoken Zen message of “Be here now!” It is in this now, and in no other time or place, that we live. Climbing over high bridges, riding on rutted and freshly grated road surfaces, having to pay close attention to gasoline consumption, location of gasoline stations, and so forth was an experience of deep mindful practice. In the end, however, they are nothing special. We do not need a 4000 mile motorcycle tour to teach us this, we simply need to commit to our daily practice of living fully in each moment.
“Ring the bell that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering,” sings Leonard Cohen, “there is a crack, a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”
In our life as Zensters there is no real place for assumptions and situation specific promises, there is only our global vow to live life awake. Be happy we have cracks. It is through these openings, we are able to begin to see clearly.
Be well
It is 11:50 PM. Everyone (Kathryn, Suki, and Binky) are asleep. I am wide awake. Kathryn Soku Shin asked that I offer services in El Paso tomorrow while Rev. Tamra leads them here in Las Cruces. Rev. Soku Shin wants me to talk about how I spent my summer vacation, meaning, what did I learn from riding my motorcycle nearly 4000 miles in order to visit my son and his family.
At first I thought I could say something quite Zen like, but I soon recovered from that temptation. The most important thing I learned was not to make assumptions or promises. At each step in our daily life anything is possible. For me, the weather shifting and changing, my body’s unwillingness to adapt quickly or heal from the sciatic nerve inflammation, all came together to betray my promises. I wanted to visit the Atlanta Soto Zen Center, for example, but each way weather and timing conspired against a visit, to say nothing of the gigantic traffic nightmare which defines Atlanta as a place none of us should actually want to go.
I had assumed I could master the weather, get around things, predict things with my cyber gadgets. I did to a certain extent. I could see the storms, plot their direction, and so forth, but in the end, only the personal, actual experience of riding a motorcycle unprotected from the temperature changes that accompany an overcast day, could inform me.
My sense is that these lessons speak to the eternally spoken Zen message of “Be here now!” It is in this now, and in no other time or place, that we live. Climbing over high bridges, riding on rutted and freshly grated road surfaces, having to pay close attention to gasoline consumption, location of gasoline stations, and so forth was an experience of deep mindful practice. In the end, however, they are nothing special. We do not need a 4000 mile motorcycle tour to teach us this, we simply need to commit to our daily practice of living fully in each moment.
“Ring the bell that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering,” sings Leonard Cohen, “there is a crack, a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”
In our life as Zensters there is no real place for assumptions and situation specific promises, there is only our global vow to live life awake. Be happy we have cracks. It is through these openings, we are able to begin to see clearly.
Be well
