Samsara: Light and Dark

Watching longing and grasping arise and fall, seeing the light and dark, the ten thousand things all intertwined. It is a wonder I can find the breath at all in this darkness, or see in the light. All I want to do is grasp it! And yet, each grasping pulls threads of life, distorting the web, catching me in my own desires. Where is Mu in all of this? Yes indeed, where is Mu?

Equanimity

Suddenly, this morning during zazen, equanimity arrived. There I sat, longing in one corner, equanimity in the other. Connected to ten thousand threads of life, a gentle pool of still water. And in this, longing was gently present. But now I could sit and watch without succumbing blindly. Threads, light, water....

Longing

"I don't know you, but I want you, all the more for that."

Falling Slowly
Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová

Unfocused, raw longing has crept into my zazen lately. None of us are strangers to longing; longing for the past, for the future, for things, for a lover, for some thing that is not now. And that is the crux of it, as longing takes you out of now into time past and time future. Not this breath, but that last-lost-perfect one, or no... the beautiful one-that-is-coming! Now I sit with this longing, unsure of what it is for, but painfully aware of it's intensity in my hara. Watching it during zazen, not acting, not feeding the animal. This ache is hard, exquisite, painful, hungry, and here!

Righting the boat

I capsized my practice recently, just tipped right over and fell out. I got to a point where I came up against a wall, and then just flipped the boat. Ten thousand things crashed in, and I went below water. All of the old coping strategies were sampled, once again clinging desperately to old habits, although I knew they would fail. They did not disappoint. This morning in the zendo, I came up for air, righted the boat, and got back to zazen. Boat, water, air....mu!

Summer Maple

Summer is here, and the Japanese maple in the neighbor's garden is beautiful. The deep maroon will change into fiery red when fall arrives. Nestled in a sea of green surrounding trees, it reminds me of the contrast of the seasons. I have been absent for a while, as life and zazen have been quite fragmented. Too much travel, and the pounding surf of ten thousand things crashing through the gates of awareness. But a new spark now gives inspiration, and so the rise and fall of the breath brings me focus again.

Old tree, new leaves
Who is the wind blowing?