Whereas most mammals maintain a protected internal environment for the growing fetus, birds use an external protective covering consisting of calcium called a “shell.” This protective shell provides an isolated environment to allow the developing chick to thrive but once the chick is ready to survive in the outside world, this secure vault needs to be opened. The chick needs to break open the shell without help, in its own time frame and only the chick’s internal clock knows when it is time to emerge.

Early in my training as a Zen student I vividly recall an explanation my teacher gave to me regarding a Zen student and a Zen teacher. I was told that Zen students are like hatchlings in a nest and the Zen teacher is the mother bird. She went on to tell me the work of a Zen student like a hatchling is to push from the inside towards freedom and the work of the teacher was to peck from the outside until the hatchling is free. She took this metaphor to heart as did I. I felt pecked, but I never felt free.

I, however, have since come to see the misunderstanding of such a relationship. I suppose the first truth is that no one can free another person by any means. It’s a relief to know this firsthand. The second truth is that I am free from the worry of finding the right teacher who is up to the task of pecking me to freedom. I must admit I worried for some time that I needed to find another teacher who would do the honor of pecking me to death.
I was lucky. The several teachers I bumped into never were willing to take up the strike against the defensive ego-egg nor were they able to give any guidance to what I needed to do.
Over time it became clear to me that neither they nor I knew what a teacher was supposed to do and what I was supposed to do as a student.
It wasn’t for lack of effort that I found myself in this sad, disheveled state. I groveled, pleaded, and beseeched those who carried the title “teacher” to help me. I found disinterest, self-interest, and indifference.
Some had programs I could follow; sign-up sheets to enlist in their particular brand of spiritual work and some had mistaken me for someone that I fortunately knew I was not. Others had membership fees, dues and lots of regulations. None of it suited me.
In all honesty, it was my misunderstanding stemming from the chicken and the egg explanation given early on as well as a delusion that clouded and covered over what I really needed. The delusion took quite a few hard knocks before I realized I carried a delusion that teachers should help. I thought those with a title of such magnitude as a Zen teacher should be willing to help anyone who sought their assistance. That was a delusion!
I am quite thankful for reality and the suffering associated with coming to grips with it. It was my best tutor.
Before long I began to realize that I wanted something in addition to my delusion of getting help. And furthermore it became apparent that those I sought help from (Zen and other teachers) shared a similar problem; we were each invested in self-interest.
It took many years to finally stop the search for someone to peck me out of my babyhood; this someone who would help me become a somebody in a line of many other some-bodies.
This is all good luck, although not pain free. On the contrary, it was very painful to give up the delusion that others are there to help peck me into the Eternal Way. It was painful to relinquish the wish to join the ranks of the legitimate lineage of professorial Zen. But mostly it’s been a relief.
Soon after this realization I entered into the wilderness of don’t know which was a greater stroke of good fortune. For a time, I felt adrift and seemingly lost until I realized this don’t know place was Zen. And it was here that I realized there is no one better equipped to reveal the Dharma than the steady, faithful and solitary practice of everyday. It was for the most part simple but not easy.
It’s ordinary.
This ordinary and common struggle with the ego conditions of the day-to-day is the work of Zen. It requires I be both mother and baby in every situation. It means I enter another place known by many who practice contemplation as a cell. But this is a cell not like the outer shell of an egg but of an inner reality of confidence. It is the destination of ceasing suffering.
No one can set anyone free. The inner resolve of the baby chick (you & me) and the outer conditions (everyday conditions) naturally break us free. This is the eternal work which has no name.
Fidelity, watchfulness, and steady commitment to this solitary path protect the hatchling from counting on conditioned delusions to bring about a birth of awareness.
The mother and father birds (those who give tips and pointers) provide warmth, quiet, and a predator-free environment while the hatchling struggles to crack through the protective membranes.
The baby eggshell is for the most part calcium carbonate, a chemical compound found in rock and has the quality of cement when protein mixes with it. It’s as if the hatching is buried alive inside the egg. It takes strength and fortitude for the baby to want to live outside this protected shell.
When the hatchling reaches a certain size it needs to break through the inner layers in order to find oxygen or shrivel up and die inside the egg. Many birds grow what is called an egg tooth, a sharp hook on their beak which is used to break out of the once protective shell. It is called pipping.
Along with strength and neck muscle the hatchling starts to pip a small air hole in order to breathe and absorb nutrients while it smashes through the cement-like barriers.
The hatchling at this point needs no help. In fact, if anyone including the parents tries to help the pip, there is a great risk that the baby hatchling will bleed to death.
The hatchling goes it alone. The baby hatchling has simply outgrown the need for such strong and dependent protection.
The work of life shifts to getting nourishment from the parents. In other words, the work is up to the newly born bird. This mutual assistance is a reminder of the nature of benevolence.
It was for me.
I needed a steady, solitary faithfulness to the practice of breaking through the baby shell. Without this self-mothering I found myself going round and round in circles reviewing old, dead fish brought up in storms in the mind. I needed and continue to develop the strength and determination to break through opinions and views of the self. I had to grow out of and outgrow these confining, protective shields.
A spiritual life, especially a contemplative one is a matter of growing up, spiritually growing up.
The work is up to me. The egg in hand is me receiving the benevolent favor from the Divine in the form of good luck and lucky conditions.
When I consider it, I rest in serene work within, live day-by-day in the hand of the unborn and undying and when I am very lucky I remember to be grateful.

Copyright ©2015 A Single Thread

Quote Credit: Retrieved: 9/24/15 http://www.birdchannel.com/bird-species/baby-birds/the-egg-tooth.aspx

I remain fastened to steadiness. I stay connected to something bigger than the usual stories, to the usual desires to repair the apparent broken limbs of being alive. It is to be with what is given and to stay with it. This is practice.

The weather change of spring began in May with a departure through the doorway of death. My old friend Henry left suddenly. In the middle of his disappearance Bear was diagnosed with a life killing heart disease followed by an astonishing emergence of another dog, Harald Godwin, a 10 week old standard poodle.

In mid-July my young grand-niece was struck with a massive middle cerebral arterial stroke and was in ICU for 24 days. She suffered further complications with staphloccocus aureus pneumonia (MRSA), sudden diagnosis of Type 1 diabetes, and heart failure. Day 22 she woke up. She is soon to be transferred to an LTAC (long-term acute care) with an unknown prognosis.

In late August another niece celebrated the upcoming birth of her son with a lovely high tea ceremony in a restored Victorian mansion. As we drove the 87 miles to the event I watched the speed of the cars zig zag across four lanes between other cars in a cutthroat spirit to get somewhere.

I edit a first novel and revise a web page. I contemplate this practice and devote myself to it.

It’s been a cool summer. Cloud bursts of water and big banging thunder together with startling lightning come and cool the trees and flowers. Sections of the backyard 6’ fence blew down in a microburst chipping off bits and pieces of the zendo siding and leaving a grand gaping hole into our displeasd neighbor’s yard.

The last edge of summer promises an early frost with her breezy, chilly air. Everything seems fresh and unruffled as it gets ready to turn and leave.

My health wobbles as I make changes to stabilize it. I consider the word refuge and find myself laughing. Refuge, a shelter of safety?  I cannot fathom such a place, except to stay connected to something bigger than the usual stories and the usual desires to repair the apparent broken world. When I am not stumbling around in ignorance I take refuge in God, in the ability to stay fastened to something bigger, and to relinquish my usual stories and my usual desires. I understand the emptiness of promises for anything else and return to the bigger something that cannot be expressed in words.

I am reminded of two Jewish teachings, tikkun olam, repair the world and Psalm 139. I find comfort in the truth of them.

 Tikkun Olam – Repair the World

Before a baby is born…the angels hold the baby and give instructions…

“When you are born, please do good to repair the world.”

As the baby is about to be born, the angels say, “Wait! We need to know if you understood our instruction.”

The baby, nods, “Yes, yes. I understand.”

“Ok, let us see?” say the angels. “When you do good works in the world and others praise you for it, take delight in the good you do and tell you how good you are, what do you do?”

“Oh!” says the baby. “I say thank you.” “No! No!” say the angels. The baby tries again. “Ok. I guess I say, I did a good job! Yippee!” “No! No!” repeat the angels. The little baby is confused and asks, “What do I say?” “You say, I am still a failure.”

Suddenly the baby screams and is born.

Psalm 139

You formed my inmost being;

You knit me in my mother’s womb.

I praise you, because I am wonderfully made;

Wonderful are your works! My very self you know.

My bones are not hidden from you,

when I was being made in secret,

fashioned in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw me unformed;

in your book all are written down;

my days were shaped before one came to be.

Today the sky darkens with the anticipation of recurring thunder and lightning. I watch the wind blow itself out over the Great Lake under the darkened heavens and remind myself of my promise to work for peace with the restless mind, the wild impulses and rash words.  It’s practice with Buddha eyes.

Written by Yao Xiang Shakya ©

Photo and art credit:Yao Xiang Shakya 2015©

When we are not emotionally bound to any worldly thing, we are free to choose. It is the decision made by Siddhartha Gautama when he rose one night and left his family and his life of luxury behind. A decision is not a guess or the unquestioned adherence to rules. It is the crucial dilemma of Sister Simplice in Les Miserables and of Kausika, the Brahman, sitting where the rivers meet. It is in fact a telltale sign of liberation and the knowledge of the Divine.

In his excellent translation of the Mahabharata, William Buck includes this confounding anecdote:

Kausika the brahmana, who is now roasting in Hell, set his heart upon Virtue and in all his life never told a lie, even in jest. Once, having seen their helpless victim run past him and hide, Kausika, sitting there where the rivers meet, answered the thieves, “That way.”

In his voluminous Les Miserables, Victor Hugo creates a beautiful character, Sister Simplice, a Sister of Charity, who faces a dilemma similar to Kausika. She is vowed to obey the Commandment to tell the truth. But when asked where an innocent man is, she lies and misdirects his persecutor.

William Buck includes the scriptural admonition: So be as the swan, which drinks from milk and water mixed together, whichever one he choose, leaving the other behind.

Clearly, Sister Simplice was able to separate the milk from the water; and Kausika was not.

Before we discuss the circumstances of the situation in which Sister Simplice makes her choice, we also need to introduce two other characters, the hero, Jean Valjean and his nemesis, Inspector Javert.

Jean Valjean, in his youth committed thefts and jail-escapes and is therefore a fugitive. Years pass, he has assumed a new identity and is now a town Mayor. He is a rich man who lives a virtuous life, using his position, wealth and power, to do good for others.

Inspector Javert, Valjean’s nemesis and former prison guard, suspects the true identity of the Mayor, and is obsessed by worldly authority and the need to bring Valjean to justice.

As Hugo records the scene, Valjean is hiding in a room:

The door opened. Javert entered. The nun did not raise her eyes. She was praying. The candle was on the chimney-piece, and gave but very little light. Javert caught sight of the nun and halted in amazement.

On perceiving the sister, his first movement was to retire.

But there was also another duty which bound him and impelled him imperiously in the opposite direction. His second movement was to remain and to venture on at least one question.

This was Sister Simplice, who had never told a lie in her life. Javert knew it, and held her in special veneration in consequence.

“Sister,” said he, “are you alone in this room?”

A terrible moment ensued, during which…she… felt as though she should faint.

The sister raised her eyes and answered:–

“Yes.”

“Then,” resumed Javert, “you will excuse me if I persist; it is my duty; you have not seen a certain person–a man–this evening? He has escaped; we are in search of him–that Jean Valjean; you have not seen him?”

The sister replied:–

“No.”

“Pardon me,” said Javert, and he retired with a deep bow.

The difficulty and the wisdom that Sister Simplice and Kausika face are the same yet Kausika is fixed to an idea of virtue that blinds him. He chooses, but his choice leads to hell. Sister Simplice is not fixed to her ideas of virtue which allows wisdom to rule. She chooses, but her choice leads to paradise.

Both Inspector Javert and Kausika share a common spiritual illness. They suffer from spiritual certainty. They foolishly think that ideas of right and wrong lead to paradise. Both are in the dark. They are like anchored ships that have not unfurled the sails.

Sister Simplice knows something they don’t know. In this one moment Sister Simplice finds she is at sea, no longer anchored to the way she “should” respond. She is the Buddha Self saying “yes,” saying “no.” All of the speculation, supposition, and guesswork are gone and she decides. Her response shows she is free. She does not rely on duty, obligation or rules. Her sense doors are of no use, she relies on Buddha eyes.

How do we know the wise choice to make?

Surprisingly, the answer is quite personal and much like Sister Simplice’s decision is not an unchanging set of rules that are written in stone and guaranteed. The simple answer is to live out the life of the Buddha Self, morning, noon and night. That is the simple answer. There is no other. It is not to debate, argue, review, intellectualize, explain, defend, or refute the pros and cons of whether to lie or not.

When we are the living Buddha Self, we know. Others may determine our choice as good or bad, but we no longer concern ourselves with what others may say. Saints often act quite bizarrely when measured by worldly standards of right and wrong, but saints do not give a damn about measures of the world because they truly hear and live by a different drum. The caveat is “don’t pretend to know how to live the Buddha Self and don’t pretend to be a saint.”

Wake up and see with a Buddha eye.

Yao Xiang Shakya, Buddha Eyes © 2015

Yao Xiang Shakya Buddha Love Image © 2015