Crossing Nebraska

Disillusionment is not usually spoken of in positive terms – stinging, as it does, with a sharpness commensurate with our investment in the illusion. But as the stinging subsides, and awareness of newfound truth comes to the fore, we find ourselves faced with a choice. We can keep clinging, perhaps even with self-righteous indignation, to the illusion that we were once so invested in. Or we can be grateful for the new glimpse of truth that we’ve been given.   Seated Buddha in altar cabinet I was pretty disillusioned after parting ways with the teacher from whom I’d learned so much about formal Zen practice. It was wrenching to see someone descend into narcissistic delusion who I’d previously associated with a practice of awakening. I came to realize, however, that my disillusionment went much deeper than that of just one student/teacher relationship gone sour. I began to see my personal experience within the context of a religious system that seems to foster unhealthy power r...

  When I left the big city for small town life some years ago, I had the distinct sense that my relationship with “formal” Zen practice would never be the same. Sure, there was a temple not too far away from my new home that I’d already visited with some regularity for retreats and special events. It was still too far away to attend with any great frequency, though. And so I set my sights on diligently maintaining a solitary practice still guided by the bodhisattva ideal . During one of my last visits to that big city temple where I used to practice I purchased a couple boxes of the incense that we used there. I rationed out that stock over the ensuing years, first using a stick every now and again, then a half stick, and, finally, a third. It was surely quite diminished of its finer essence by the time I lit the last partial stick not too long ago. Nonetheless, it still had the power to take me back to that zendo where I first experienced its rich scent. I’ll never forget my f...

  Have you ever been walking in the woods, looking around at the trees and the sun filtering through them, perhaps admiring the subtle changes in flora that the varying light and moisture and soil conditions have given rise to, when suddenly you realize that you can’t make out the trail anymore? You peer intently at the forest floor up ahead, but the trail seems to have completely disappeared. You turn around and you’re met with the same! Where did the trail go? You’re heart begins to beat faster. You’re lost!   In a way, I hope that you’ve had such an experience. For one thing, it gives us a much needed lesson in watching for such things in the future. Mostly, though, it teaches us something primal about ourselves. How do we respond when we’re suddenly immersed in “wilderness”? Do we become fearful? Is it exhilarating? Do we have confidence in our ability to find our way, or do we find ourselves on the verge of panic? I’ve spent a fair amount of time up in the mountains...

   Kannon is the Japanese name for Avalokiteshvara, the Boddhisattva of Compassion. No doubt you’ve seen a representation of him or her (depictions of both genders exist). Perhaps she has a dozen heads. Perhaps he has an eye in the palm of each of a multitude of hands. These physical attributes are intended to depict a willingness and ability to help alleviate the suffering of the world. In fact, Avalokiteshvara is a Sanskrit name variously translated as “Lord Who Looks Down” or “He Who Hears the Cries of the World” (Schuhmacher & Woerner, 1994). Avalokiteshvara at the St. Louis Art Museum Kannon is also the title of one of the fascicles in Dogen Zenji’s Shobogenzo . In it Dogen speaks of the awesome and mysterious abilities of this revered being, and of our difficulty in understanding and expressing how these abilities might be used. In fact, we can learn a great deal about Avalokiteshvara, Zen, and the nature of knowledge itself by wading into this dense work. In addi...

This post is adapted from one I wrote some years ago entitled Tending Horses as the World Warms . I wrote that one in response to the continued denial of climate change by so many in the United States, denial that keeps us from taking action to mitigate impending disaster even as massive climate change-related events threaten lives and property all over the world like never before. Since then we’ve witnessed widespread recalcitrant denial in the face of a deadly pandemic, denial that's made our nation’s suffering and death even worse. It seems that, to our detriment, we just can’t seem to agree on some very fundamental aspects of the reality in which we live. We become attached to the stories we tell ourselves about the way the world is, and we have a difficult time letting them go. Until we’re forced to, that is.    Why do we have this tendency to stay lost in our stories even when they no longer fit the reality in which we live? Is it because we have so much psychic energy...

It's been a tough season, and a tough year. The strain is beginning to show. People are doing what they need to do to stay alive, and well, and sane. And so am I. When I saw a tiny bird had died after flying into the window shortly after I arrived at work, I had to find meaning in it somehow. Otherwise I might have just broken down and cried, which actually wouldn't have been such a bad thing to do. So I wrote this poem. This little being has given something of its life energy that I might carry on. I hope it gives something of its life force to you as well. With A World On Fire With a world on fire or drenched beneath the onslaught of a hurricane, And an economy collapsing ’neath the greed of our so-called finest brains, With people shot dead on the streets for scaring lawmen with their skin, And old folks dying in lonely rooms without their loved ones ever coming in, With kids in cages on the border because their lives mean so much less than rules, And whistleblower...

  “I have never said to my disciples that I am a true teacher. From the beginning I have said that the zazen each of us practices is the only true teacher.”   Kosho Uchiyama   But what about the Buddha himself? Was he not a true teacher in Uchiyama’s estimation? No doubt some would call it sacrilege to answer in the negative. There exists a story in which the Buddha’s entire sermon consists of him holding up a flower. One of his disciples, Mahakasyapa, is the only one who “gets it” – conveying his understanding with a smile. Many Buddhists believe that something passed from the Buddha to Mahakasyapa in that moment. But might it be that Mahakasyapa merely conveyed to the Buddha that his own zazen (seated meditation) had taught him what the Buddha had already realized? Perhaps the Buddha merely led Mahakasyapa to his own true teacher – his zazen – and Mahakasyapa proved to be a student worthy of its teaching.   Let’s get our heads out of the clouds for just a m...