With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,
Yesterday I was invited to offer a lecture on Zen Buddhism at Dona Ana Community College. The lecture was part of their Cultural Awareness Week. It was good to be on a college campus again. I enjoyed the relaxed nature of the venue very much. I sat on my travelling zafu in the center of a small stage in an open interior food court. They set me up with a microphone and I began by telling the story of Siddhartha.
As I spoke, working my way through the history of Zen and into its practices, I noticed people were actually listening. Students, faculty, and college staff sat at the tables and paid attention. How wonderful to be heard. I think each of us should be offered a similar opportunity. We each have very important things to say. We should each be heard.
A society that fails to listen to its members fails its members and in the end silences them through such a failure. We each have a story to tell and that story is the mosaic of our humanity. In Zen, we hear from the hardcore punkster, Brad Warner, as his band, Zero Defex screams into microphones. We hear from the soft spoken Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hahn. We hear from the disrobing Big Mind guru, Genpo-roshi. The chuckles of clown roshi Glassman. The smile of Joan Halifax-roshi. Through the blogosphere we hear from everyday Zensters, students, dabblers, and not so high class teachers like myself. The stories are there; the fabric is being woven.
Is anyone actually listening? A society that fails to listen fails itself.
Listening is not passive. Listening is active. It requires action. Too often it is in one ear, out the other, yeah, yeah, yeah. To listen we must engage the speaker, respond somehow. My fear is that we are not doing this so much in any meaningful way. We have a global crisis on many, many fronts: environmental, political, social, and spiritual. Many of us are squawking, looking very much like Chicken Little. In one ear, out the other. Many of us want the Chicken to sit down and shut up. The soft sand our heads are buried in feels safe and secure. Careful, though, some perfect storm approaches and with a scythe swung like a golf club, will take off our heads.
Be well.
Good Morning Everyone,
Yesterday I was invited to offer a lecture on Zen Buddhism at Dona Ana Community College. The lecture was part of their Cultural Awareness Week. It was good to be on a college campus again. I enjoyed the relaxed nature of the venue very much. I sat on my travelling zafu in the center of a small stage in an open interior food court. They set me up with a microphone and I began by telling the story of Siddhartha.
As I spoke, working my way through the history of Zen and into its practices, I noticed people were actually listening. Students, faculty, and college staff sat at the tables and paid attention. How wonderful to be heard. I think each of us should be offered a similar opportunity. We each have very important things to say. We should each be heard.
A society that fails to listen to its members fails its members and in the end silences them through such a failure. We each have a story to tell and that story is the mosaic of our humanity. In Zen, we hear from the hardcore punkster, Brad Warner, as his band, Zero Defex screams into microphones. We hear from the soft spoken Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hahn. We hear from the disrobing Big Mind guru, Genpo-roshi. The chuckles of clown roshi Glassman. The smile of Joan Halifax-roshi. Through the blogosphere we hear from everyday Zensters, students, dabblers, and not so high class teachers like myself. The stories are there; the fabric is being woven.
Is anyone actually listening? A society that fails to listen fails itself.
Listening is not passive. Listening is active. It requires action. Too often it is in one ear, out the other, yeah, yeah, yeah. To listen we must engage the speaker, respond somehow. My fear is that we are not doing this so much in any meaningful way. We have a global crisis on many, many fronts: environmental, political, social, and spiritual. Many of us are squawking, looking very much like Chicken Little. In one ear, out the other. Many of us want the Chicken to sit down and shut up. The soft sand our heads are buried in feels safe and secure. Careful, though, some perfect storm approaches and with a scythe swung like a golf club, will take off our heads.
Be well.
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