A Zen Buddhist Contemplative Practice

We are a new order rooted in the ancient teachings of Zen. We are inclusive, contemplative and are what we like to call a backyard practice.

After many years of spiritual practice we discovered an inward inclination to live a more contemplative life. Despite living in an urban setting, we live the life of quiet reflection without rule or imposed structure. As we practice we find silence, meditation, solitude, study and work to be the Way to finding and being our true Self.

We maintain a small zendo, look after two dogs and are friendly to our neighbors.

We welcome those who might be inclined to live a contemplative life right in the middle of ordinary circumstances. We offer little in the way of imposed structure or rule but point the way to find the Dharma through essays, good words, books, art, lay and priest ordination and contemplative practices. If you feel drawn to a contemplative life right where you are and might find some connection to others beneficial, please contact us by e-mail.

We hold no bias toward any particular cultural expressions of Buddhism and embrace varied and multiple approaches to practice and teachings according to the needs of the individual or group.

All faiths are welcomed.

There are no fees, no membership cards, and no bylaws.

We offer the Dharma.

Yao Xiang Shakya

 

 

 

Photo credit: Yao Xiang Shakya, efh ©

By Yao Xiang Shakya, efh

I came to love tea as a child sitting at one end of an old table and my mother at the other. She often sat facing the kitchen door while I sat facing her. We shared the silence over a cup of tea. The morning silence rooted in things being just as they are is the spirit of the mystical peak. It is the karma of when tea is offered. There was nothing else; no regret, no remorse. The distinctions were unnoticed.

The kettle boiled and steamy hot water was poured into a teapot full of black odd shaped leaves. Justice and injustice never were mentioned or even any consideration of vice or virtue. Nothing got counted for or against.

When she spoke to me she placed her hand on her hip to declare her given authority and say things in a riddle. I wasn’t surprised by them since I understood she wanted to say something even though the enigmatic words were unfathomable.  But her words somehow belonged on the table in amongst dusty plastic flowers, a soiled envelope with words from her hand… bread, milk and Newports and unwashed dishes from the night before.

The words fell off the mantle above the table from glassless prints of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Our Lady of Perpetual Help.  She mouthed them in the King’s English, bold and brassy.  I think my mother was forever making plans to find the truth in these bottomless words. It sounded important when she’d turn to me and crown my bent head with “The devil has your soul.” I figure these words were her attempt to tell me about eternity. I think she thought they were true, but I can’t say for sure. I never responded to these words since I didn’t have a response. When she’d say these words, encouragement to speak shrunk up and disappeared.

It’s taken a lifetime of making plans to find the truth to realize “When tea is offered” is the same tale as the two Zen monks walking along a dirt and dusty road. One monk says to the other, “This is the top of the mystical peak,”´ the other monk replies, “What a pity!”  The morning tea ritual was ordinary life on top of the mystical peak where one monk says, “The devil has your soul.” and the other replies, “What hard luck!”

 

 

 

In 1981 the villagers of El Mozote, El Salvador were systematically massacred by the Atlacatl Salvadorian soldiers. The village men were taken into the church, women and children were held prisoner in a local house. After cruel interrogations, the soldiers began to kill; first the men, followed by the young girls, who were raped, then slaughtered and finally the older women. The young boys were hanged and stabbed in an open field.

 

One girl, unlike the others, was heard singing hymns after being raped, stabbed in the chest and left for dead on the street. The soldiers heard her singing hymns. Soon, however, her relentless

tribute began to wear on the soldiers, so they shot her. Although weakened, she continued her heavenly songs. Dumbfounded by her insistent singing, several soldiers gathered around her and stood watch over her until their weariness grew to rage. They shot her yet again. Her song continued. The confusion and astonishment among the soldiers twisted around their rage to fear. No longer able to withstand her heavenly praises, several of them drew machetes and severed her neck. The singing stopped. But her unyielding songs of allegiance remain as our good fortune.

 

The 17th century Japanese Haiku master, Basho, gives us strong advice on what to do with such a story:

 

“Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise; seek what they sought.”

 

Basho lifts us off of our human tendency to imitate and encourages us instead to discriminate. Seek what they sought. This nameless girl knew something that most of us fail to find. Her legacy is in her spontaneous persistence.

In the middle of a guerilla war, in the mountains of El Salvador, this young girl apparently was able to meet violence with songs of praise. She lay in her own bloodbath singing hymns to the Blessed One. “Seek what she sought,” advises Basho. Plead, beg and long to find what she must have known. And when we find it, we find our true nature.

Ram Dass, well-known author and student of the Hindu saint Neem Karoli Baba, refers to himself as a “holy man.” Yet, this “holy man,” during a near death experience from a massive stroke, did not turn towards what he admittedly thought was the center of his life. He did not sing praises but was fearful of his death. He admits wanting to live to do more things.

In a recent interview, he explains that prior to his stroke he lived what he felt was above the physical plane and gave very little attention to his body. The stroke, which he affectionately calls, a stroke of grace, pierced through these high states of consciousness and reminded him of his own physical frailty and death. And more importantly, the stroke reminded him he still has work to do.  He thought he knew

 

God, he had spent his whole life in what he thought was service to God. He prided himself on “helping” others. In fact, his guru sent him off with a life mission “to help others” and he even wrote a book, “How Can I Help?” But the stroke showed him it wasn’t enough. Although on a holy path, he was missing something; his near death experience showed him he was going to die and that he was not yet full of grace.

“Everyone said, ‘Poor Ram Dass, poor Ram Dass’ and I thought my guru’s grace had deserted me,” says Ram Dass. “I doubted God. My practice wasn’t strong enough for the physical, emotional, and spiritual pain I was feeling. I talked to my guru’s picture and he spoke to me, he was all around me.”

“I realized that stroke was Maharajji’s grace,” adds the inspirational speaker and author. “I had been superficial and arrogant and the stroke helped me to be humble. I had gotten power from helping people and now I need help for everything. That was the grace. The stroke happened to the ego, and when I could witness the pain, my life got better.”

http://ramdasstapes.org/usatoday%20article.htm

 

Now he works to willingly accept his dependence on others to help him as the grace of his guru. The stroke has left him aphasic leaving gaps and pauses in his speech. During one of his lecture circuits he admonishes the audience “not to wait” for him to speak.

“Don’t practice waiting during the silences. That’s not a good thing to do….A lot of people, when I’m silent up here, are waiting…because that’s what their mind is doing — waiting. Silly thing.

That was a moment when you could have been finding God.” (http://www.marin.edu/disabled/ramdass.htm)

Don’t wait to accept what is the grace of the Buddha Self right in the middle of whatever is arising. But we need to know the Buddha Self in order to accept what happens as grace. His stroke allowed him to discriminate in such a way that he admitted after years of claiming holiness that he was missing something. The skeptic among us might say he has no choice but to accept his situation. But even in situations where there is no choice, we do not necessarily turn the hardships of our life into a good fortune. Many are left eating a harsh, bitter fruit. It’s the nature of spiritual discrimination to be able to differentiate between subtle distinctions and variations in order to see the good fortune in all things.

 

Discrimination is a rather immense topic, it includes just about everything in the ordinary world as well as beyond it. In the everyday dealings of life, where we spend our time paying bills, looking after children, relationships, food and shelter, clothing and our health we find plenty of how-to-succeed books for discerning directions. The proliferation of such books suggests strongly we need some help to distinguish which way to go. Zen, as well, has directions. The precepts cover just about everything we need in order to behave in a decent and principled manner. It’s spiritual common sense to follow them.

Don’t kill, cheat, steal, lie or get drunk are the basic principles to follow in everyday commerce and discourse with others. The consequence of not following these honorable and respectable traditions often leads to all sorts of trouble. It is prudent to give such things regard. Yet, we find time and time again that we fail to do so for one reason or another. The failure to regard principles such as the precepts leads to worldly problems again and again until we stop the egregious behaviors or are

 

stopped by force or legal circumstances. Most likely this line of reason is nothing new. Although not new, we still require a caution not to skip Zen’s directives around moral behavior.

The precepts help us discriminate, but following the precepts does not mean we have joined the ranks of “holy sages.” To a very large degree the precepts help calm the mind from worry, doubt, and self- hate, but they do not guarantee a willing acceptance of life’s circumstances. They are not enough to leap clear of the material world. We use the precepts as an indicator of spiritual location. They are a place marker. We are more a rank beginner than a holy sage. Everyone starts somewhere.

It is safe to say that if we disregard a set of spiritual precepts, whether the number is 5, 8, 16 or 311, the indicator reading for such blatant disregard suggests that we are sure to enter hell amidst the world of others. When we kill, cheat, lie, steal and are drunk as a way of life, we suffer.

Ram Dass found out, that even after years of devoted practice of helping others, that a near death experience left him worried about the fleeting gains of his own success. He wanted to write another book, he had more to do, the stroke was inconvenient and went against his plans.

The precepts are foundational and helping others is inevitable, but the leap requires a discipline unfettered by black and white rules and the attachment to the fleeting world.

An over quoted religious ideal suggests that we are “to sell off everything for the sake of the treasure.” It is not a literal, concrete sale of all goods, but emblematic of giving up or selling off the interior stronghold of the false self, which is characterized by self-involved cravings to do one more thing. The nameless, dying girl of El Mozote appears to have known the greater treasure. She did not cry out to save herself, but instead tirelessly sang praises to the Blessed One.

Shitou Xiquan, our venerable 8th century Chan ancestor, in the appealing “Song of the Grass Roof Hermitage” reminds us that whatever we put together, whether it is a book of wise sayings or a house filled with children, spiritually speaking, it is of no lasting value.

“I’ve built a grass hut where there’s nothing of value. After eating, I relax and enjoy a nap.” Shitou Xiqian

 

In fact, he encourages us to just rest, relax, and take a nap. Sure, we do our best, but not as part of a merit-seeking treasure hunt. But more as a bride or bridegroom who readies the wedding chambers for the Blessed One. It requires humility to see that there is nothing of value that we might offer, but to be ready, nonetheless.

The nature of all forms, whether handmade or the handiwork of nature, is without lasting value. When we clear the mind of banking on these transitory treasures, the greater treasure, the original master, is there without doubt. So why not STOP banking on transitory treasures! It requires the ability to distinguish between the fleeting, transitory dream and that which is not fleeting and transitory in the sensual realm. It requires spiritual discrimination. It requires firsthand knowledge of the Buddha Self.

 

The universe of sense experience is a great book; and he who reads through to the end with discrimination will know at length there is nothing but God [the Buddha Self]. Patanjali

The book of sense experience is for most of us a difficult book to comprehend. We often swing between one extreme to the other through the sense doors of pain and pleasure. We either want more of something or less of it in order to get comfortable, to be content or satisfied. Our sense experiences, however, are the basis of many of our human troubles, if not all, of our troubles. It changes when we realize through discrimination that all sense experience is nothing but the Buddha Self. This truth is worth repeating. All sense experience is nothing but the Buddha Self. Our discrimination is when things are good, it’s the Buddha Self and when things are bad, things are bad. This mistake comes from our self-seeking discrimination.

In the simplest terms, our senses are for the most part for animal survival, but we fail to realize this plain and uncomplicated truth and rest all sorts of ego importance on sensual experience. We set value on whether we are warm in a mansion versus being warm in a hut. This type of discrimination, valuing one thing over another burdens our mind and blinds our ability to see that all sense experience whether in a mansion or in a hut is nothing but the Buddha Self. It requires seeing a stroke as fierce grace as Ram  Dass did. His massive stroke was a stroke of grace. He’s quite lucky.

When we fail to recognize the Buddha Self in all sense experiences, we become believers of our conditioned, relative and unreliable ego-self. Hoodwinked, we get taken in by it in just about every circumstance imaginable.

It gets worse.

 

We become soldiers and fighters for our personal, ego desires. We begin to believe that we should harm others in order to get what we want. It’s pervasive and touches every aspect of our life. We are sensual beings on the hunt for sense experiences.  Our fight is not with the flesh and blood of others, but with our inner delusions and self-cherishing. If we look carefully, we are able to see that just about every quarrel is tied to a sense door. We are inclined to bind our mind to getting things. This tendency makes Patanjali’s statement seem preposterous. It may be difficult and more so for those of us who have sunk our life energy into the ways of the world. But it is far more helpful to the spiritual seeker to know that we are not trapped by this human tendency. And when we begin to come into line with Patanjali’s insight, all of our sense experience is nothing but good, spiritual luck. When we know we are lucky, willingly accepting whatever happens, we are grateful and join the ranks of holy sages. But don’t try to fake it! Unh-Unh-Uh-Uh!

Patanjali’s declaration is a declaration of an awakened man. Only an awakened man is able to include everything under the sun and beyond as nothing but the Buddha Self. Those who are not awakened, not only find themselves squabbling and bickering over the most ordinary and commonplace items, but also go as far as to dispute the sage who makes such a claim.

Discrimination at the highest spiritual level is an ability to know what is real in the midst of everything that appears and vanishes. It also is a clear, interior recognition of “not being in charge.” This sudden

 

realization comes when it comes, sometimes on a field of blood, sometimes in the middle of a stroke. The sage sees through the fleeting world of things and is able to see the Buddha Self right in the middle of it all. And when this happens, we eat, relax and take a nap.

The advice of the sages is threefold, Patanjali tells us that all sense experience is nothing but the Buddha Self and Shitou Xiqian reminds us in the discourse “Merging Sameness and Difference” …encountering the absolute is not yet enlightenment and there’s nothing of lasting value.

We cannot leave our skin bag, as perhaps Ram Dass attempted to do, in blissful states of consciousness. Although we delight in blissful states of consciousness, that is not yet enlightenment. We live in this skin bag, here and now, building and putting stuff together, but don’t take it all too seriously.

We might also do well to recall the nameless girl on the blood stained paths in EL Mozote. She suddenly sang. Seek what she sought. But remember, it’s a DIY approach, do it yourself; don’t pretend or imitate her, Ram Dass or the great sages. Don’t polish the little ego and become a know-it-all copycat. Find the hidden treasure.  Sell everything to find it.

We end with a whisper from a South American wine maker, who on his death bed, revealed the secret: “On his deathbed, a man of the vineyards spoke into Marcela’s ear.

Before dying, he revealed his secret:

 

“The grape,” he whispered, “is made of wine.”

Eduardo Galeano

 

Photo Credit: Yao Xiang Shakya ©

Communion with the Doubter

By Yao Xiang Shakya, efh

I rise at 4:00 am to the sounds of a whimpering, hungry sick, old dog. Waking up in the kitchen I recall the question given to me, “Do people really believe that the bread and wine turn into the flesh and blood of Christ?” As I open each little amber bottle of medicine and place the many capsules into the bottom of his bowl I answer, “I certainly hope so! Just as I know these food supplements strengthen his heart muscle and boost his immune system.”

In the silence and darkness of the early morning I stand before the granite counter carefully placing each capsule, tablet, and spoonful of the powder into the empty dog bowl. With wholehearted effort I concentrate on the numbers and amounts as I mix water with his dog food into the dissolving granules. He sits close by in soft anticipation for what I offer him. He is hungry after a long night of restless sleep. I kneel down as he sits looking up at me and place his food bowl in front of him. He glances at his bowl and waits for my words. He sits in perfect form and looks up and does not move until I say the word, “Free.” I watch what has been a familiar ritual between us now for some seven years. I am relieved and happy to see him gorge and gobble down what is offered hoping it changes into his body and blood for the better.

“Conversion” I whisper, “is a universal principle. Everything converts.”

I don’t know for sure what the change will be but I do know the medications, his food and even the water will convert into something that is undying and timeless. Everything is recycled as if it is the first time. It is all fresh in the transfer from the bottom of the bowl to the bottom of his belly. I see his breath change, his cough diminish and his appetite strong. Change remains seemingly an unending truth. I am cheering for him as he eats his biscuits and drinks his water.

I hear the doubter say, “Well, that is the result of science! The pills are supposed to work. That is not the same as bread and wine changing into the flesh and blood of some dead guy?”

I laugh and unfold a thin sheet of paper and show the doubter the tiny print. It’s the many warnings and cautions that came with his medications.

“Read it carefully, you might change your resolute doubts.”

“Nothing is foolproof here.” I say looking the doubter right in the eye. “I don’t claim certainty. Just as you can’t claim it doesn’t become the flesh and blood. Certainty is not the nature of the universe. If it was, there would never be a plane crash. We’d make sure of it because we love certainty. But certainty has a real downside which is often overlooked.”

These remarks silence the doubter’s claims for just a brief moment allowing me to continue.

“Certainty kills our inner need to revere and know what is sacred. It makes us into smug nutters. It happens in science and it happens in religion. It leads to a sense of superiority. It sets off a domino effect of judgment where you forget that the measure you use to judge will be the measure used to judge you. You’re better off not getting involved in certainty such as wanting to know some narrow proof.”

Sighs of disgust arise. The doubter asks in a pugnacious tone. “What does this all have to do with the business of the bread and wine, and flesh and blood? HUH?”

“Yes. Well… I think you’d agree that it is very hard to tell whether the medicine works to prolong his life or whether it doesn’t. If you read the fine print, some dogs fall dead, rather suddenly from this medical cocktail. Pinpointing what actually happens despite the belief in the scientific method is ambiguous at best. No one can say for sure, at least about the results. It’s sophisticated guesswork, but guesswork none the less. It has to be. To be other than guesswork is to eliminate the laws of nature. But there is something we can say for sure! We can say for sure, conversion is a universal principle. We do know some conversion of what we eat and drink occurs. Change is a certainty. I don’t need a scientific method or even a scientific education to know that. In fact, science relies on conversion and so does religion. But this may be as far as we can go together, as far as science and religion can go together.”

The doubter looks up and I reply to his wide-eyed gesture. “I see I have your attention.”

“I reluctantly acknowledge that change is a law of nature.”

“Good. I’d be worried if you didn’t acknowledge it. SO…change in regards to the medicine I give my dog and the offertory of bread and wine all share the same law, it changes from one thing into another.”

“Yes.” The doubter sighs still willful.

“The question then seems to be in regards to the change into the body and blood?”

“Yes.”

“Well. I suppose I could ask you to prove that it doesn’t…how do you know it doesn’t? But you don’t need to answer it because you can’t prove that it doesn’t. Nor can I prove that it does using the same methods you use. I use different methods.  I do not use the imperfect but useful scientific method. Any scientist worth his salt would be curious enough to lay down his sword long enough to inquire about a different method. Wouldn’t he?” The doubter nods ever so slightly.

“A scientist who doesn’t runs the risk of being stuck in a paradigm. Kuhn in the 1960’s tried to shake up the paradigm shifts in science to be more revolutionary. It might be revolutionary for you to drop your scientific view and see for yourself a spiritual one. Surely, that is possible?”

“I am not sure that I can.” The doubter in halfhearted honesty shifts just a little.

“Fair enough. I am not trying to convert you, because I can’t anymore than I convert the medication I gave to my dog. He might be one of those who suddenly drop dead from this medicinal concoction? I don’t know and neither do you. The best we can do is to take a chance because we both realize the truth of uncertainty and the law of conversion.”

The doubter coughs. I continue.

“Proof, a verification of some sort actually results in statistical breakdowns. A certain percentage benefit and a certain percentage do not. For all I know you might benefit from my method and you might not just like the dog. It’s always a wait-and-see situation. We cannot get out of the laws of nature although we want to influence the change, but there are no guarantees. It’s not a matter of belief either. Science and surprisingly religion agree on this point. Both seek to act in hopes of a particular change to occur.  Both want to effect change in a particular direction. In the dog’s case, science wants to lower the death rate and increase the vitality of the dog.”

The doubter thinks.

I continue. “Are you with me?”

“Ummmm…”

“I am not surprised that you remain skeptical. Your methods have trained you to be doubtful. Fine. Fine. Fine.”

“It’s not apples and apples?” The doubter laments.

“Yeah. It’s not. “The method of religion is different than the method of science.”

“But you still look doubtful.”

“What is this method of religion you speak of…?”

“It is a mystical method.”

“Oh brother!”

“I didn’t say magical, I said mystical. It is the immeasurable, universal principle.”

“Sounds like boloney. What exactly is the method?”

“It’s an expressive, active method.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s the old saying the proof of the pudding is in the eating of it.”

“Are you saying you have to wait until the results to know if you got it or not?”

“Not exactly. Yes and no. It’s intuitive. Science waits to see whether the rat dies or lives. Religion knows death is inevitable. What I am saying is that you gotta do it yourself. Religion, the mystical  method is a do-it-yourself, sorta trial and error approach.”

“That sounds…”

“Difficult?”

“Yes. Well if you are after certainty and a formula and a surefire approach…yes, it would be difficult. But let me say out the outset it’s an adventure that requires a forfeiture of how you think it should go for how it is. It’s direct. It’s a solitary surprise of the nature of reality.”

The doubter covers his face with both hands.

“You look mystified.”

They both laugh.

I continue.

“The expressive, active method affords a large array of means. It’s a diverse approach, grand and magnificent. It’s closer to art than science but tends to use whatever is available. It makes us lucky. The luck is in the assortment which is a direct reflection of the Divine.”

The doubter shifts again, edgy with anticipation.

“Wanna try it? It doesn’t require much…hmmmm…specialization or apparatus.”

Doubtful the doubter assents to the query.

“OK. You are in luck. It’s up to you to actually do to try it. So here’s what I’d suggest. Take the question  “Do people really believe that the bread and wine turn into the flesh and blood of Christ?”  Keep in mind. If you have trouble remembering it, write it down and keep it with you. Ok so far?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful. Wonderful. Rent the movie, Babette’s Feast and watch it. I recommend you watch in solitude, alone with just the question in hand.”

“That’s it.”

“Yes. This is what we Zen practitioners call taking the medicine. But just as in any regimen there are a number of medicinal selections. This is one. And just as I hope the medicine I give my sick dog helps him, I wish the same for you.”

The doubter sits up and remains quiet.

“I find it helpful to repeat the recommendation. I find it is hard to remember. Rent the movie Babette’s Feast and watch it. Watch it alone, in silence with your question. Remember, we have already discussed  the universal principle of conversion. So see for yourself. It’s the best and only way for you to know. OK?”

The doubter shifts as he searches for a pen and paper to write something down.

I end with…

“Good luck.”

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[i] ©A Single Thread 2015, efh