Overheard: interview for some snazzy tech company, occurring next to me in Starbucks in the lobby of the Sheraton in downtown Boston, “if janet (interviewee) walks into a room, what is your theme song?” What a question? I'm not sure where I would go with that. "Dancing on the Ceiling" is the obvious choice but it might not fit with the image of the company.
In a similiar vein, another blogger, asked spiritual friends to provide the title of one book that is worthy....of time. An interesting list is provided. What would my title be?
May 25, 2008
May 24, 2008
The Great Failure
FROM The Great Failure by Natalie Goldberg
INTRODUCTION
“She knows there’s no success like failure,
And that failure’s no success at all.”
Bob Dylan
After my Zen teacher died, a fellow practitioner said to me, “Natalie, your writing succeeded. You didn’t follow the teachings. Everything Roshi taught us was about how to fail.”
We both laughed.
But I think it was true that we were trained in defeat. Downfall brings us to the ground, facing the nitty-gritty, things as they are with no glitter. Success cannot last forever. Everyone’s time runs out. This is not a popular notion, but it is true.
Achievement solidifies us. Believing we are invincible, we want more and more. It makes us hungry. But we can be caught in the opposite too. Human beings manage to also drown in the pool of despair, seeped in the mud of depression. We spend our life on a roller coaster with rusty tracks, stuck to highs and lows, riding from one, trying to grab the other.
To heal ourselves from this painful cycle—the severe split we create and then the quasi equilibrium we try to maintain—we have to crash. Only then can we drop through to a more authentic self.
Zen transmits its legacy from this deeper place. It is a different kind of failure: the Great Failure, a boundless surrender. Nothing to hold on to and nothing to lose. Sitting still feeling our breath, we watch the electric animals of desire and aggression arise and pass away. Our arms spread wide, we welcome it all, In the Great failure we find the Great Success. They are no longer different from one another. Both dissolve into the moment. Illusions break open and we can be real with ourselves and the people around us. When obstructions are swept away, we can see clearly. Here we are with our lives in our hands. Who were we? Who are we?
INTRODUCTION
“She knows there’s no success like failure,
And that failure’s no success at all.”
Bob Dylan
After my Zen teacher died, a fellow practitioner said to me, “Natalie, your writing succeeded. You didn’t follow the teachings. Everything Roshi taught us was about how to fail.”
We both laughed.
But I think it was true that we were trained in defeat. Downfall brings us to the ground, facing the nitty-gritty, things as they are with no glitter. Success cannot last forever. Everyone’s time runs out. This is not a popular notion, but it is true.
Achievement solidifies us. Believing we are invincible, we want more and more. It makes us hungry. But we can be caught in the opposite too. Human beings manage to also drown in the pool of despair, seeped in the mud of depression. We spend our life on a roller coaster with rusty tracks, stuck to highs and lows, riding from one, trying to grab the other.
To heal ourselves from this painful cycle—the severe split we create and then the quasi equilibrium we try to maintain—we have to crash. Only then can we drop through to a more authentic self.
Zen transmits its legacy from this deeper place. It is a different kind of failure: the Great Failure, a boundless surrender. Nothing to hold on to and nothing to lose. Sitting still feeling our breath, we watch the electric animals of desire and aggression arise and pass away. Our arms spread wide, we welcome it all, In the Great failure we find the Great Success. They are no longer different from one another. Both dissolve into the moment. Illusions break open and we can be real with ourselves and the people around us. When obstructions are swept away, we can see clearly. Here we are with our lives in our hands. Who were we? Who are we?
May 17, 2008
Find out if you are....
living a sustainable life. Play the game!
http://sustainability.publicradio.org/consumerconsequences/
http://sustainability.publicradio.org/consumerconsequences/
May 12, 2008
May 11, 2008
How could I have expected that after a long life I would understand no more than to wake up at night and to repeat: strange,strange, strange, o how strange, how strange. O how funny and strange.
Czeslaw Milosz
Czeslaw Milosz
I can only trust to gain such wisdom as I grow old. This not knowing provides ample room to be and experience life as it is.
May 05, 2008
When you hear a dog bark...
Sensaki Sensei asked, “When you hear a dog bark, do you think of your own dog?” This is an interesting question. Why does he ask it? What is he asking? And what will you do with his question? You have to look and see for yourself. What do you do when you hear a dog bark? You might think of your own dog. Or you might think how much you dislike barking dogs. Or you might think of how inconsiderate your neighbor is to go off to work and leave the barking dog in the back yard for you to listen to all day. Reactions to hearing the dog can be many and the branching out of these thoughts can multiply. The chain reaction begins- 1,000 blossoms!
Sensaki is inviting us to see our endless commentaries, descriptions, and interpretations. If we aren’t aware of these we are likely to fall into the trap of experiencing the present moment through the fog of thought. Do we really hear the dog barking or do we hear our thinking about the dog barking? Why do we have to comment on everything? Why do we have to always evaluate, judge, compare, and offer our two cents? Our own barking! Is it possible to listen without thought intruding?
I really appreciate Sensaki’s question. Hearing a dog bark, he asks, “Do you think of your own dog?” My sister has seven dogs! I visited her recently and marveled at how much care and affection she gives to each one, how well she knows and understands each one. To her, each dog is precious. When you hear a dog bark, do you think of your own dog?
When there is real attention to life, when we give real care and affection to each moment, when each moment is precious then the mind is still, quiet, awake, full of wonder, and thought need not intrude. Then there is real intimacy- do you hear the dog barking or do you hear yourself? This is the experience of non-duality. It is an experience of your own essential nature that is one with the essential nature of the universe. Now the thinking self or separate self dissolves into the original world where all the morning stars sing together and the sons and daughters of God shout for joy. Ellen calls this the open range where we don’t fence anything in or out. Now we can get on our horse (or ox) and ride off into the wide-open spaces.
So when you sit each day take a good look at how your mind works, what thoughts are doing to the direct, immediate, innocent, and intimate experience of life. When we clearly see what thought is up to, then something happens all on its own and the mind becomes still, quiet, alert, full of wonder, and intimacy awakens. Of course I’m not denying the importance of thought- that would be absurd. But thought divides, separates, it turns forms into things. Thought is a step back from the direct experience of life. Thought cannot experience the innocence and intimacy of wholeness.
Recently, at the end of a Zen retreat, a woman commented that in the deep stillness of meditation she heard a goose honking as it flew over the zendo. Her eyes filled with tears as she said, “It was just so beautiful. It was like my whole life was worth it just to hear that goose.” What is the quality of mind that the sound of a goose can bring tears to the eyes? You have to find out for yourself. But surely such a mind is innocent, intimate, new, fresh, vital, sensitive, and alive. Such a mind is free and so capable of experiencing tenderness, affection, and real love.
(Charles Birx, Sensei)
Sensaki is inviting us to see our endless commentaries, descriptions, and interpretations. If we aren’t aware of these we are likely to fall into the trap of experiencing the present moment through the fog of thought. Do we really hear the dog barking or do we hear our thinking about the dog barking? Why do we have to comment on everything? Why do we have to always evaluate, judge, compare, and offer our two cents? Our own barking! Is it possible to listen without thought intruding?
I really appreciate Sensaki’s question. Hearing a dog bark, he asks, “Do you think of your own dog?” My sister has seven dogs! I visited her recently and marveled at how much care and affection she gives to each one, how well she knows and understands each one. To her, each dog is precious. When you hear a dog bark, do you think of your own dog?
When there is real attention to life, when we give real care and affection to each moment, when each moment is precious then the mind is still, quiet, awake, full of wonder, and thought need not intrude. Then there is real intimacy- do you hear the dog barking or do you hear yourself? This is the experience of non-duality. It is an experience of your own essential nature that is one with the essential nature of the universe. Now the thinking self or separate self dissolves into the original world where all the morning stars sing together and the sons and daughters of God shout for joy. Ellen calls this the open range where we don’t fence anything in or out. Now we can get on our horse (or ox) and ride off into the wide-open spaces.
So when you sit each day take a good look at how your mind works, what thoughts are doing to the direct, immediate, innocent, and intimate experience of life. When we clearly see what thought is up to, then something happens all on its own and the mind becomes still, quiet, alert, full of wonder, and intimacy awakens. Of course I’m not denying the importance of thought- that would be absurd. But thought divides, separates, it turns forms into things. Thought is a step back from the direct experience of life. Thought cannot experience the innocence and intimacy of wholeness.
Recently, at the end of a Zen retreat, a woman commented that in the deep stillness of meditation she heard a goose honking as it flew over the zendo. Her eyes filled with tears as she said, “It was just so beautiful. It was like my whole life was worth it just to hear that goose.” What is the quality of mind that the sound of a goose can bring tears to the eyes? You have to find out for yourself. But surely such a mind is innocent, intimate, new, fresh, vital, sensitive, and alive. Such a mind is free and so capable of experiencing tenderness, affection, and real love.
(Charles Birx, Sensei)
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