Vanishing — Look, But Do Not Touch

Look, But Do Not Touch

My friend is dying. My children no longer see me as who we brought forth together. The arrival of both makes clearer for me that I spend much time and effort trying to be, when I already am. Wiser for me to let go and look for what is already there.

I will not be known.
Neither will I be remembered.
I will be remembered briefly, but not known.
I will not be known, but remembered, then forgotten.

I work to create memories of me for no one.
Let go of the work.
Surrender, rest here.
And welcome the wind that will carry me away.

Photo and text by Zhong Fen li Bao yu Di

Learning My Self: Unnamed Art.Nomads in the Memory Arbor by Jiaoyuan Qian Yue

Unknown Artists

In the beginning…

The art teacher comes on Wednesdays, one thirty to two thirty.

I go to help.

The table is set. At each place is painting paper taped to a foam core board; two brushes, a wide one and a small one; a plastic bowl of water; a pallet of paints. The residents come, invited or enticed.  Some come. Some can’t.  Instructions for the day’s subject are given which everyone forgets.

We make it up as we go.

 

Connie sits at the end of the table.  She likes her space.  Independent and feisty she wants no help and complains when she doesn’t get it.  She knows a lot about art but now sits confused, not knowing what to do first.

“I don’t know what to do”, she says.

“No one will help me.”

So we help her get started. Her once clear colors have become muddy.

 

Bev is happy, funny and a flirt.  She is no longer anxious to go home to get supper for her boys.  She doesn’t remember.  She needs a hand holding hers to help her paint.

“That’s lovely, Bev,” I say. “Do you want me to hold it up so you can see it?”

Bev says it’s pretty.

“Who painted it?” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

“You did!”

“I did?  I did pretty good!”  She laughs.

“You can write your name in this white space, Bev.”

Her hand with pencil swoops down to make its mark, then up again and down and up like a bird and down, never quite landing.

“Do you want me to write your name for you?”

“Yes.  I need to go visit those people,” she says, nodding toward someone else’s company.

 

Joanne is a professional, a gifted artist, prolific in her day.  She doesn’t cry  anymore because she can’t do what she used to do.  She paints and studies her work, thoughtfully determining what it needs next.   She paints beyond the boundaries of the tape.

“You can write your name here, Joanne,” we tell her when she is done.

She writes her whole name in her beautiful script. Two weeks later when again she is invited to write her name on her painting, she prints W.R.I.T.E.1.2.3.

 

Jean is almost completely blind.  She says she doesn’t know anything about art but she makes colors dance across the paper.  She is pleased as punch.

“I like it,” she says. “It’s happy.”

Karen doesn’t want to paint.

“You do it!  You can do it!” she commands in her gravelly voice.

Hand in hand we paint a great, multicolored heart for Valentine’s Day, the last painting she will do.

“There’s a big white space here, Karen. Do you want to paint some words? Maybe, I Love You?”

“I love you!  I love you! I love you,” she growls.

“I love you too, Karen.”

“Well!” scowls Connie from the other end of the table.  “I’m glad you two are happy!”

 

Father Jim isn’t much one for painting.  He paints three bright colors on his paper and then leaves, mumbling something about having to go visit the sick.

 

Shirley taught art in collage when she was young.  She’s quiet and smiles a Mona Lisa smile when you greet her.  She is blind in her left eye due to a stroke so her painting fills only the right side of the paper, which is all that she can see.  Her painting is fine, delicate, and very beautiful.  She paints nothing in particular and it says everything.

“Shirley, How do you know what color to use?” someone asks.

“I think,” she replies.

 

Carol won’t paint. Sometimes she acts out.  She wanders.

“Will you be with me?” she asks.

“In a little while, Carol.  I am helping with the painting right now.”

“I don’t mean right now.  I mean in eternity.”

“Oh, yes.  We’ll have lots of time there.”

She smiles.

She says,

“I’m lonely.”

flowers byart nomads

In the end.

 

Up Against a Wall: The Chairs

back to back chairs

Up Against a Wall:The Chairs

 

By Yao Xiang Shakya

The scarf wasn’t enough to cover up David’s hollowed cheek line. It merely reminded him of what he used to prize. Sarah touched her thumb along the tip of each of her fingers when she decided to speak.

“I’m not…” she sighed. “No. That’s not it”

         David, alarmed by Sarah’s stammering, faltered. The beauty, hers, his, waned. “It’s better to be a chair,” he said in an attempt to convince her. Sarah grimaced. “Are you kidding me? You’re doing it again!” she said accusing him of his blockheadedness.

He choked before he answered. “I know. I know. You don’t like it when I say the obvious.”

       “First it’s NOT obvious. And secondly, if you knew that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Sarah sunk her teeth into a piece of dead skin along her thumb and tore it off.

David, with his hands in his pockets moved towards Sarah to deliver more of the same. “Say what you will. It’s true. It is better to be a chair. Like that one, the one we paid big bucks for…or the couch, or the Oriental rug.”

Sarah shook her head as she mocked wiping something away in-between them. “You’ll never change. Everyone…”

       David interrupted. “Everyone? Really? Everyone? If you didn’t blow things out of proportion and listen for a change, I wouldn’t have to say shit like it’s better to be a chair.” He’d drawn his hands out of his pockets as though he touched something in the space between them. When he turned away to the side he let his head slump towards one shoulder then whispered.

“And no matter what you say, I know I am right.”

Sarah sighs. She tries again to speak what she came to tell him.

“I’m not…” she stammers.

He turned round and looked at her.

Sarah took in a deep breath and shrugged. Shaking her head from side to side she began again.

“Ok. OK. I’ll bite. Why…Just tell me why you think it is better to be a chair.”

“Not until you tell me who told you I’ll never change?”

 

Coming Around by Angela Just

Everything I Own by AngelaEverything I Own by Angela

Editor’s Choice

COMING AROUND
The soul just wants to be left alone
in the car with the moon-roof open
and the seat rolled all the way back.
She locks the doors and squints through
space at quiet stars and winking planes.
She is dropping out of pulse, that hard

pentameter. She turns her unlined face
from drying bones and skin. Asleep
at the wheeling starry sky, she looses
her lips like an opening rose. The soul
lets her eyes roll to a darker side, tunes
the radio to no sound at all. A rose is red

in her hair: a flare, a tropic. She warms
to this climate, slips away. The rose
opens to hold her dreams. Then lets them
go. The soul wakes with a chill, closes
the roof, shifts into time and place.
Shakes a clot of petals from her lap.

Now Available @ Porkbelly Press
Click Link Below

Everything I Own by Angela Just


 

A Fish Out of Water…is a Dead Fish

A Fish Out of Water...is a Dead Fish
A Fish Out of Water…is a Dead Fish

A Fish Out of Water…is a Dead Fish.

Imagine, if you will, a Mistress Master with such strength and weight that she is able to stand on creation itself. She is potent. Her potency is felt in the work Ming Zhen Shakya declared to me in a rather subtle voice;  ‘Writing’ she said, “is your master and the devotional path for you towards the transcendent.” It was, and still is, a bit surprising but I have come to accept it. My acceptance comes in the form of experience, not in the form of an idea or concept regarding the act of writing. Although I must admit that I began with a head full of ideas when it came to this new, potent Master and practice.

Before I begin to explain let me first exclaim my true master is writing and ‘Writing is not an easy master; it tends to use a gut hooking approach.

I suspect, however, whenever we meet our true master it is never easy. I suppose it’s the nature of masters. After all, their job is to show us that we need to burn up our old seeds of stupidity. The difficulty seems to always arise because we (and I speak from experience) are attached to our stupidity. Also, as far as I am able to tell a Master is looking to club us with some provocative reality in order to stop us from yet again making another fabrication from one of those terribly, unwholesome seeds that gets us into trouble. It’s been my experience that this is so.

”Gratitude follows when you surrender to the master.

For anyone who has not met a master who is willing to point out the necessity to burn up the seeds of karma this article may be of little interest; except it might light up a need within to search for someone or something that masters you in such a way as to burn up those ugly seeds (greed seeds, hate seeds, delusion seeds). All I might do is suggest that finding a master might be a consideration, especially for those who are searching for God.

If you have found a master, then you know what I mean.

It may seem I have strayed from the title of this piece but I felt as though I needed to explain where I am otherwise it might be more difficult to get a grasp of what a fish out of water…is a dead fish means for a spiritual aspirant.

Working with a Master is a spiritual experience unlike any relationship I have ever known. It is a constant awareness of the devotional demand of the Master. Writing is the form my master takes which means I am forever drawn upon to devote my life right where I am to writing. I say this in order to suggest that you might want to look at the form your spiritual master takes.

Wait! I am sorry but I must add another comment. Masters in the form of human beings are vulnerable to error, but masters that are ideals are not.

This above comment is important. Oftentimes we meet up with a teacher and think they are our master. It might even go along pretty smoothly for awhile but because this human master is fallible we might give up, get disgusted, disappointed rather than see the obvious flaw in our choice of a master. To be very clear…a human master is not such a good choice, but a human master who points to a true, ideal master is an excellent choice.

Master Ming Zhen Shakya is my human master who diligently with great resilience pointed me towards the ideal master of writing. Master Ming Zhen Shakya holds no positional power in the material world as a master, but she is the sine que non master of pointing to the true ideal, to the true master for me.

I am very lucky. I wish every person such luck.

But do not think your master comes to console, comfort or make everything sweet. Writing from my experience is agony; mostly agony with brief moments of joy. I am speaking of writing as an inner devotion. Writing, the actual task of writing, is not easy. But when I write from this inner shift to a devotion to writing I am in quite a different place. There is no ambition, no desire for a result, no prospects or pursuits of any kind. I am tending to my master.

Yet, it still makes me nuts, sometimes.

Being nuts arises when I think. Yep. That’s it. When I think about how I am devoting my life to my master. When I measure my devotion. And all the other ego-obstacles that I fabricate. Then I am nuts.

Since I have made the commitment (I want to whisper that commitment since I get shaky thinking God hears this commitment and will hold my feet to the fire)…nonetheless, I have made the commitment and the commitment as a vow sparks something that goes beyond my ego. MAking a commitment is lighting candles all around the altar of my master.

This next part is important.

The True Master always goes beyond the ego. When I realize this truth and see it, then I feel stronger in my commitment. It only makes sense. The ego is a burden that weighs down my efforts. But when I slay the ego, my commitment is stronger. It comes from slaying the ego.

The way this Master works is that it is constantly making an effort to get my attention and to use what shows up in my life as an offering and devotion to/of God (God being the true master in the disguise of a writing master.1)

Here’s the example in the form of experience.

When I am beset by misgivings about writing I get stalled and fall prey to the legions of Mara (those devilish demons of self-centered interest). My moods begin to shift and for some time I thought that I could NOT devote my time to writing when in such and such a mood because (this is important) I had an IDEA of what writing is. I had an idea of what writing should be! I had ideas of how I should write! All these ideas were in league with Mara. They blocked my attention to use whatever shows up as the devotion to writing in the moment. When in a mood, write!  This means I stay in the water and move in it to the end. I stick with whatever shows up.

To close I’d like to tie together the title in a more precise, clear way.

A fish out of water…is a dead fish refers to the Zen teaching of a fish (you and me) needing to be in our element (our life) to the end (which means fully experiencing our situation and place) before we can begin practice. When we distract ourselves, when we get distracted we fall prey to losing the Way and fall into all sorts of delusions.

That’s a mouthful!!! Let me repeat it differently.

If I do not live this life right here where I am, I am not able to practice. Practice requires we give up our wishes, dreams, desires for things to be otherwise; to go off somewhere to get away from what is happening right where we are.

As long as we have those sorts of wishes, we can’t begin to practice with a master.

In other words, I am dead in the water, much like a fish out of water. I am dead to being alive in the elements of life right in front of me. I need to be fully attending to what’s showing up before I am able to offer devotion to my master, to my true master who is disguised in the robes of a writing master.

We all know a fish out of water…is a dead fish, but somehow we fail to see that it refers to us, to our spiritual efforts, our spiritual experiences, right where we are. When we are in pursuit, when we are on the hunt, when we are in the minefield of concepts, when we are becoming somebody we are a fish out of water; more dead than alive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Going from Horizontal to Vertical

Buddha Rests on Buddha
Buddha Rests on Buddha

 

 

Going from Horizontal to Vertical by Yao Xiang Shakya

My fundamental nature is to do nothing, to have nothing. I am to be. Yet, again and again I am fooled into thinking and then doing things that bring about disappointment and dissatisfaction followed by regret. I regret what I thought and what came to be what I did, after what I thought. This inane cycle seems endless because I spin it around and around again.

Somehow, perhaps with some luck, I know when I let the burn I feel cool down, the thoughts and actions show me once more the silly nonsense of my involvement in the material world. It is full of silly nonsense of looking after and going after things, whether the things are mundane, extraordinary or alive. This is life in the horizontal position.

I notice when I want to think about and do things associated with being, just being, I don’t find this same silliness. The most restful place is when I contemplate God (the true nature of being). There is nothing else that seems to be as satisfying. Nothing. This is life in the vertical position.

Quite honestly it’s taken a fair number of years for me to see this truth. I have known for a long time no thing in the material world was satisfying, a thing to be counted on but I kept thinking it was me and my bad luck in finding the thing that was satisfying. All my complaints and angst and restlessness are evidence that I knew through my experience that material things are unsatisfying, yet I remained stupid. I kept trying to make the material world into something satisfying. You know, like the right place to live, work that kept my attention, a healthy body; or more daily things like ‘what now, what’s next?’ Finally one day not that long ago I listened to my dissatisfaction and really understood that it’s a message of truth about the material world. All along my mind, the big, wise mind of being had been telling me this for years and years. I confess I am a numbskull or was. But now like the sound of a trumpet I hear this message as truth because it’s my experience of the material world. And the great part of it is I clearly comprehend it without an aftershock of disappointment or dissatisfaction.

This cycle leads me to question why I am not able to relate the material world as part of to be…just to be. One thing that comes to mind is the hardships of the material world and other beings. The hardships seem to center on a conflict between my inner desire to stay in just being with God and the pull to be involved with the moronic rules of the material world. When I come to terms with the nature of the material world I change. I sit upright right in the middle of the variations.

I remember my seventy year old neighbor going on and on about how she hated the street signs in our neighborhood. The rule asked her and each one of us to move the car to the south side of the street on Thursday and back to the north side on Friday. It does sound ridiculous; but we both knew that it was to make way for the street cleaners. I have to admit even knowing that it was to allow the street cleaners to have a clear path to clean each side of the street the rule does sound, burdensome and stupid. It’s a simple hardship, I know, but a hardship nonetheless. And for my neighbor it was tough. She had to remember to do it and sometimes got a pretty big fine when she’d forget. She was on a fixed income and a fine was a pretty big dent in her monthly income. Of course everyone knew she had a garage but she preferred to park on the street in front of her house. I’m not sure, but I think it was because she lived alone and if something happened to her in her garage it might take longer to find her in the garage as opposed to falling on the street. Besides her husband fell in the garage and lay on the cold cement for two days. It didn’t kill him right away but it led to his death.

The garage, the street, the car and the rules are all hardships when you really think about it. And not only are they physical hardships, these things take up a lot of our mental energy as well. We have to keep these things in mind. Keep tabs on them. Make decisions about them. We think about and do what we do with material things. There’s not a lot of just being and I wonder how much of these things we think about and handle lead to knowing just being. I suspect much of what we do with things is a distraction. So I come back to just being, a joyful shelter.

This miscreant of thinking about things and doing something with them is not new. I’ve had it going on in my mind for years; it lurked, prowled through the possibilities of reshaping and handling the material world. It is a deadly trap; laid me out flat again and again. And it is all a distraction.

But it’s not enough to know it’s a distraction because we need to know what it distracts us from. And we need to know about how to discriminate which is a secret code word for non-attachment. And this non-attachment is no ordinary dismissal of things in the world like a clear out or downsizing. God no! It’s means that I have to continuously be alert to what I am thinking and doing in such a way that I ask myself in some form or another why I want that__________, what permanent advantage do I gain from_________and how would gaining it help liberate the soul?

I am going to make a sweeping generalization about my situation and non-attachment. For the most part, everything except for God is impermanent and therefore everything in the world is not of much help to my quest to know God. But…there’s always the but…some things I need to stay alive in order to find God. Food, water, and shelter come quickly to mind. I also know it doesn’t mean having things is bad or good, but some things add to the hardship of my life. I know a thing adds hardship to my life when I find myself clutching it with attachment. It’s those times when I am sucked up into some afflicted state.

Here’s where discrimination comes in. I need to see what is permanent versus impermanent. When I am able to clearly discriminate I am able to sort out my daily life in such a way I have a shot at just being free of the nonsense of dissatisfaction. I realize there is very little I can do when it comes to the rules of the material world, very little I can do when it comes to other beings, but there is something I can do with what I call ‘my’ life. I can choose to live a horizontal life of entanglement or a vertical life of just being.

I used to fight rather than read the messages that contact with the material world was offering. For the most part, the fight is over. I listen and heed the messages. More and more I am able to stay in what I call just being; it is a place of rest like no other. And more and more I want to be there. I also see that it requires more and more time alone and even though that is the case I am able to tend to the demands of the material world which are necessary and at times demand my attention.

Habits hound me at times but less and less. Which simply means a disciplined approach to relinquishing what is impermanent for the real deal. Discrimination is to know not to become attached to things, not to become dependent on things as a substitute for knowing God.

It’s going from a horizontal life to a vertical one. It’s a life with less and less dependence on how things should go and how others should be. I forfeit willingly the idea that my advantage does not rely on the help of others nor is it impeded. This renunciation of this dependence ends resentment and antagonism. And I am left in a vertical position of knowing there is nothing but God, here and now.

Idle Concerns Block the Way

Idle concerns block the Way
Idle concerns block the Way

 

Idle Concerns Block the Way

Vanity of vanities block the Way to a life in the bright circle of emptiness. Every day is a good day to practice clearing away the vanities and idle concerns blocking the Way. Non-mind, the mind free of vanities, meets non-mind. Just meeting what comes with non-mind, a mind free of vanities; the stuff we make up over and over again. When we brush away, and clear the mind filled with idle concerns we live in the brightness of the boundless empty field.

We are looking for the treasure in the wrong place; there is no wrong place when the mind is free of idle concerns. But when the mind is full of idle concerns we think the Way is somewhere else. This non mind is here meeting the myriad things that are here over and over again. The practice is to clear away the idle made up stuff that blocks the Way.

This, just this non-mind is how to live knowing you are going to die. Drop all the vanities of wanting this or not wanting that…or wanting that and not wanting this. Zen is not a coddling, comfort approach nor is it an unpleasant, torturous approach it is stopping these vain attempts to get what we want and shove away what we don’t want.

Direct your effort to clear away these vain thoughts, these conceits of wishes and images of craving. This is the practice of the Way wherever you are whatever is rising. Meet everything with empty, non mind. This is the practice of no place to stand on with your vanity. Clear away the vanities and live from there. Have no aim of getting something; this is the circle of brightness.

It requires that we STOP fighting the practice with the cunning tricks of the ego.

Brush away the vanities; clear away the fabrications…without getting hooked in self seeking, ego mind. Even this is not something to get, it is to practice whether sitting, lying down, or walking. Silence, solitude, stillness and study of the self support this ordinary practice.

This is the refuge of Buddha. This is the refuge of Dharma. This is the refuge of Sangha.

If you are not practicing in this way, you are polishing a brick and thinking there is something to get, something to fix, something to hold onto. Don’t give up. Start to practice.

 

 

 

 

 

What do you do when you are suddenly the recipient of bad news?

What do you do when suddenly you are the recipient of BAD news?
What do you do when suddenly you are the recipient of BAD news?

Heed the wisdom from above…don’t look back…keep going…to high ground…in the Mind.

I have always been taken in some way with the Jewish story of Lot’s wife. She is a woman to remember even though we don’t know her name. She was rescued from a terrible situation by two holy strangers who led her and her family out of a city under siege.

Here’s the gist of the story.

After a skirmish with the city rebels, two holy strangers (angels in disguise[1]) call Lot’s family together and tell them to get out of the city before it is destroyed. These holy strangers knew this to be true because they were sent to destroy the city.

As we might imagine if we were in this particular situation, we might react as they did. We might question the advice of these strangers and hesitate. We might not want to give up our home, our friends and what is familiar on the advice of two strangers who show up at our door. But if Lot and his kin were paying attention, they would have noticed that something terrible was happening in the city. It was in a word, a wreck. No matter how much Lot’s family might enjoy the place they might want to heed the knock on the door and get out of town.

But there’s confusion, hesitation because few want to be homeless wanderers with little food, water, shelter and the loss of our old companionable habits.

Lot, his wife and family hesitated. They didn’t just bag everything. They weren’t prepared with a bug-out-bag and a survivalist stash. They weren’t prepared. They were fearful for their lives. The two angels had to take them by the hand and lead them out of the city. The holy strangers led them to a certain point then turned back to destroy the city including Lot’s home and goods. But before they leave them the two holy strangers give some advice to these refugees.

“Flee for your life! Do not look behind you, don’t stop anywhere in the Plain; flee to the hills, otherwise you’ll be swept away.”[ Genesis 19:17

There is an urgent tone to this advice. Go, get out. Don’t look back. Flee. Go to high ground. Or else!

After some bargaining with the holy strangers that led to a whole other set of problems, they go. But… Lot’s wife? Well she looks back. And in looking back she turns into a pillar of salt.

When we distrust, when we follow the personal craving, ill-will, apathy, indolence, restlessness, and worry we remain confused. We don’t leave the city. We do not take heed and get out. We continue to seek rest on the plain or in the past rather than turn and run for high ground. When we doubt and look for rest in the material realm of a fleeting world we exhibit our doubt, our confusion and our distrust. We look back, turn brackish.

Go beyond these troubles. Forget accomplishments. Don’t look back. Run for high ground. Rest there.

 

 

 

 

[1] Have you ever considered messengers as angels? Buddhism sees experience in terms of heavenly messengers; how do you look at your experience?

 

What to Do When Hurricane Winds Hit

What to do when hurricane winds hit?
What to do when hurricane winds hit?                        Photo Credit:  Kō Den Kū Shin 2016

When things change, whatever the change, we meet it and respond to it. There is no blame. No self-recrimination. There are things to respond to…with what just happens.

Call 911. Call the Fire Department. We see a live wire down. Call the Alderwoman. Call ComEd. We stay out of the backyard. Greet the neighbors at the door. Stand and look and see ‘what’s the damage?’ Call the electrician. Call the insurance company. Call the City. Walk the dogs. Wash the dishes. Clean the dining room. Make the bed. Call the neighbor. Find the long, orange electrical extension cords. Check with neighbor. Borrow some electricity. Restore the land line. Get some rest. Eat dinner. Go to bed. Make breakfast. Look at the treetops in the backyard. Thank the old tree that gave up life by stopping the big, huge tree from coming further and crushing the zendo. Thankful no one else was hurt as far as we could tell. Two trees died.

And on and on and on…meeting what shows up as best we can…it hasn’t stopped. It won’t stop until we leave the body. We take refuge in practice in our self-sufficient mind. We do the best we can. We laugh. We get a blessing for the sick. We shop for food. We wave at our neighbor. We find a long rope to walk the boys through the rubble. We make tea.

Just on and on…meeting the myriad things.

Whether we fabricate a label of something being GOOD or something being BAD…it all has the kernel of suffering.

If it is a made up label of GOOD, we don’t want it to end…or it triggers fierce anxiety and fear that it will end.

If it is a made up label of BAD, we want it to end…and it triggers fierce wishes and fears that it won’t end.

Brush away the fabrications. Don’t rely on the fabrications. Don’t get too concerned about the external conditions.

Rely on the self-sufficient mind.

 

 

Mu…It’s Mine!

In the film, Never Forever, we are given some clues to what is a spiritual awakening.

“The storyteller’s claim, I believe, is that life has meaning—that the things that happen to people happen not just by accident like leaves being blown off a tree by the wind but that there is order and purpose deep down behind them or inside them and that they are leading us not just anywhere but somewhere. The power of stories is that they are telling us that life adds up somehow, that life itself is like a story… it makes us listen to the storyteller with great intensity because in this way all his stories are about us and because it is always possible that he may give us some clue as to what the meaning of our lives is.” Frederick Buechner

In the film, Never Forever, we are given some clues to what is a spiritual awakening.

Mu[1]It’s Mine.

By Yao Xiang Shakya

Despite being favored with all that wealth can offer the wife was soon to find herself struggling to save her husband from the throes of self-abnegation. Appearances being unreliable the evidence of an unruly woe soon surfaced when the husband tried to drown himself with an overdose of barbiturates in his bathtub. The cat, as they say, was out of the bag.

The sight of the happy, wealthy marriage crumbles. The husband is hospitalized leaving the wife feeling helpless. In the face of their despair she seeks to save him.

It’s an ordinary story in many ways. It’s about a young, wealthy married couple. The husband is a Korean American who comes from a devout Christian family. The wife is a blonde, blue-eyed American who participates in her husband’s faith but does so in order to please and accommodate her husband and her husband’s mother. The husband is a conformist. The wife is a peacemaker.

In all respects they appear to have everything the modern material world offers. As stories much like life speak of conflict this couple discovers they are unable to have children. Of course, they seek medical help only to be told that the husband’s sperm is too weak to impregnate the wife. His powerlessness leads to his suicide attempt, her powerlessness leads to something else altogether.

The wife becomes frantic. Although shaken she resolves to help solve the problem. She considers prayer only to be told by her husband, “God will not give us a child.” Hearing this, the wife concocts a plan to find a sperm donor that looks like her husband. By a chance meeting at her fertility clinic she overhears a young Korean man turned away as a sperm donor. He wants to sell his sperm for cash, but the clinic rejects him because they discover he is an illegal alien making it impossible for the clinic to do a required background check.

The wife sees this as fortuitous and decides to follow the unhappy man. She knows he is willing to sell his sperm, but she knows little else. It turns out he lives in a rundown tenement. With only the knowledge of his willingness to sell his sperm and that he looks like her husband she waits for him on the stairwell to his apartment. When he returns she explains she’d like to hire him to donate his sperm to her for cash. She tells him that for each impregnation she will pay him $300 and when she gets pregnant he will receive $30,000 in cash.

The young man, solemn and perhaps reticent agrees to the deal whereby they begin at once. He performs his work without complaint or joy. The wife similarly remains stoic during each encounter and seems to endure it as a means to an end.

But again, as appearances are unreliable, things change. The young man begins to want to know more about her. It begins with small seemingly innocent questions such as what’s your name and where do you live? But the wife reveals little as she undresses and places her clothes into a plastic bag as his apartment is worn and scruffy.

Again as daily life unfolds the young donor happens to see the wife with her husband in an expensive car from the backroom of a cleaner where he works part-time. He discovers two things, she is wealthy and her husband looks like him. The young man decides to press for more information. He insists she take him to lunch before he does his does his work. He orders expensive food and begins to drink telling her he can perform better with a few drinks. He continues to demand and she resists. They both end up in an angry shouting match in the restaurant.

With a rift between them, they both leave angry and go their separate ways. But the young donor turns back and finds the wife in a doorway crying. She allows the young donor to embrace her and hold her while she weeps. He walks her to a place in a nearby park where he shows her a pile of rocks. He tells her that he makes a wish and places a rock on top of the cairn in order to help him throughout the day to keep his wish in mind. She wants to know if it works since she earlier had asked her husband to teach her to pray but was told by him that prayer was useless. The young donor, on the other hand, tells the young wife that his stone does seem to work for him, that it does matter.

They return to his shabby apartment where it becomes obvious that something has changed. It is no longer a suffering through experience but one of mutuality of kissing, caressing and lovemaking. The wife becomes pregnant.

Once she discovers she is pregnant she returns to the young donor and tells him that she will never see him again because she is pregnant then hands him the $30,000 in cash. She returns to her husband and tells him a lie so that he will believe the child is his and all looks like it is going as she wished. There is a brief period of an appearance of happiness between the wife and the husband. But as appearances are unreliable, it is short-lived.

Both the wife and the young donor are unable to get each other out of their mind. In time she returns to see him where she sleeps with him but tells him it must end. The husband, in the meantime, finds out about the young donor and turns him into the immigration police whereby he is picked-up and immediately sent back to Korea.

In a heated argument the husband tells the wife to abort the baby and he will forget everything and they can begin again. The wife becomes hysterical and tells him no but he persists until she screams at him that it is not his baby, but hers. “It’s mine!” she tells him. When she refuses to abort the child, he pushes her and kicks her in attempt to kill the baby.

At the end of the film the wife appears on a beach similar to a photograph of a beach in the shabby apartment of the young donor. She plays with a young boy, obviously her son and then retreats to the sand where she is noticeably pregnant.

What looked like a rescue mission for her despairing husband became a transforming series of experiences for the wife. The declaration, “It’s mine!” was a declaration of the wife’s new birth. She claims something she conceived. She verified for the husband the baby is not his, but something that belongs to her. It is clear that she is resolute. She does not yield to the husband. His persistent demand to abort the child makes it clear she is unbending to his will. She is emancipated, free of his will, his wish and his choice. She makes a steadfast choice.

And this choice is immutable. Nothing seems to challenge her. She remains resolute and unspoiled by his pleadings to abort what she has done and remains literally undamaged by his physical attack. She bears what is hers and does not cave in to the assaults levied against her. She is free from the ties of worry, helplessness and overwrought concern to save her husband.

Her response to suffering as a worried, concerned wife took her through the door of independence. The husband seems to remain caught in the social and perfunctory tradition of his family. His determination to get his way, to resort to physically hurting her suggests he has much work to do to escape the binds of his conditioning.

Her awakening was sudden although it developed over time through the ordinary events of her life as a wife. She unexpectedly cut the binds to the husband by choosing life no matter what the consequences might be.

Change, that which is not seen, is inevitable but it is neither an accident nor a plan; it is more an inexplicable mixture that follows the law of the universe. It is a paradox of knowing we are not in charge, and yet we are responsible to do our very best to end suffering right in the middle of it.

The husband wanted to abandon his life because he saw himself as a failure despite his youth, good looks, wealth and upbringing. But his relinquishment and focus were never very far from his own interests and self-concerns. He wanted to appear to be a success. He wanted to maintain the strictures of a tradition even those he felt were useless. He is not to be reviled but to be understood for where he is.

The wife took risks out of love and her sense of helplessness in relation to her husband’s despair and suicide attempt. She went beyond her self-concerns and did what she felt she needed to do to save her husband, her marriage and to give birth to new life. She did not live in the confines of how it might look to others. She was willing to endure what she initially felt was a repugnant duty which later becomes her saving grace

There was something pure, innocent and good about her actions and in the end her risks saved her from a deadened, wooden somewhat perfunctory life. She found herself in a place she never could have imagined, never could have planned or propagated from her schemes and plans. She knew something else was important than how it looked and was willing to risk her relationship, her marriage and her life to find it. Did it look anything like what she might have thought at the beginning of her actions? Probably not! But she is able to recognize what has happened to her when she declares amidst threats from her husband to abort the baby, “It’s mine.” The new life in her is hers!

Remarkably the efforts were taken through ordinary means, although the means could have led to her death. Imagine hiring a stranger to impregnate her? She risked her life. She was blessed with finding a donor who was an honorable man, a hard-working, devoted man. He prayed with stones. He had faith. He began to care for her and refrained from doing her harm which he easily could have done.

Her faith saves her, not a prescribed faith imbedded in doctrine, dogma and rules, but something unruly, unbidden and unknown which flows out unexpectedly. There are telltale signs of what affects it but it comes with no specific, literal guaranteed outcome. What we do know is that it involves the conversion of the heart and mind and a willingness to be converted, suddenly converted. .

Spiritual change which is what is most important is neither blind nor magical but it does often surprise and amaze us. When it happens we experience it but often are unable to explain how or why it happens. The inexplicable quality of spiritual change is a safeguard against humans poaching God’s territory. The best we can do is to do our sincere best in life as it is. We endure the ordinary, we risk in the ordinary, and we commit our efforts to begin and continue.

Based on the film Never Forever (2007). An excellent film showing the spiritual potential of mu in two words, “It’s mine.” Director: Gina Kim Writer: Gina Kim Stars:Vera Farmiga, David Lee McInnis, Joseph Y. Kim

[1] Mu…a response to a koan often translated as NOT.