Insider Outlook

I haven’t even picked out a Halloween costume, and it has already snowed. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for winter weather as long as all the trappings come along with it, like hot chocolate, warm muffins, and snuggly pajamas. We only got about a quarter of an inch, and it was gone in about an hour. Oddly, I felt like I was right back home in Arkansas.

Having winter temps set in so soon certainly suprised my Muscadine vines. The trees have lost their leaves, but the vines were still growing strong. I brought them in when the snow started, and I tried to find a good place for them. It looks like I will have to move some stuff around to give them room at a window, but it may be a good idea to do it now before they lose all their leaves. They may just like it inside.

I do hate that the great seasonal vegetables are lost in the big city. We only get the decorative pumpkins that have no meat under the skin, and these multi-colored and warty gourds. Where are the fat acorn, turban, and butternut squash? I really missed the orchard fresh peaches and thick artichokes. The seasons are lost in the grocery stores.

Now that the temperatures are dropping and I have not tried on my winter coat in a few years, it may be a good idea to make sure it still fits. If I am going to be eating potatoes, cherries, grapes, and string beans all year long, I need to be sure I can keep all that goodness wrapped up and warm.

This past weekend was the Fouth of July, and we are getting a new appreciation for staying at home. Everywhere we go, traffic, crowds, and delays make us question our ideas of fun activities. We recently decided to check out the beaches on the lake. We were prepared for crowds on the beach, but we had not considered the auxiliary stuff. Traffic was brutal trying to get down there. Finding a place to park was crazy, and there were people everywhere. The beach was crowded, with vollyball players and sunbathers. Pik-nikers were spread out all over the banks in the shade of the Locust trees. Small grills smoked their simple fare as families of all nationalities tossed balls, threw frisbees, and chased their kids.

We finally got to the sandy beach after walking along the bank. There was a fenced beach just for dog owners to throw things into the water and have their pets bound off and fetch it back in a splashing frenzy. Looking beyond the froth of woofs and waves, we could see the rest of the beach was filled with people. Oddly, nobody was in the water. The beach was too crowded for it not to spill into the water. We later heard that the water had failed bacterial testing, so swimming was not allowed.

Traffic was just as bad driving away as it was on the way in. Once we broke away from the confines of blocks and traffic lights for the expressway to the ‘burbs, we were ready to get home and just hang out on our own. It sounds like fun to go to glamorous places like the beach on the edge of the city, but it turns into quite another thing when you are circling like buzzards waiting for a parking spot to open up. Don’t get me wrong, we still love it here, but we have a newly found appreciation for the suburban life.

It has taken me a couple of weeks to fully appreciate the irony of Independance Day in America. As a country, we believe it is better to control our own destiny, and do it on our own terms. The irony is that by declaring our own independance, we became locked in economic dependance of the marketplace. Political ideals aside, the reality is that an economy drives the interaction among residents. Indeed, if it were not for those market pressures, we would never have thought about striking out on our own. We wanted a piece of the economic pie. It is nice to do as you wish, but the reality is that what you produce depends on what others want. If there is no market for electric potato mashers, they will not be manufactured. If someone else makes the same thing cheaper, you have an imperative to match their price if you wish to stay in business. This does not sound like independance to me.

I know the issue is much deeper than that, but the big picture is that we do have total control of our destiny. In fact, we have never lacked total control. It was the colonies that united and declared independance. They were under the control of countries that established and funded them. Even so, they had the ability to revoke that control and accept their native liberation. The old rulership was overthrown when they realized a different vision than the one they had always held. More importantly, they saw how empty and arbitrary the imperial control was. It only worked as long as everyone played along.

Catching a glimpse of the true freedom we have can be liberating, but then you must knowingly play along with the madness of crowds until you can manage an extrication. It took true patriots to knowingly play the imperial game until a moment could be seized for a declaration of independance. Upon liberation, they continue to this very day to play along with the economy of merchandise and labor. The USA may not be a model Bodhisattva on the global stage, but there are many individuals here that are.

Without seeking recognition, they freely plumb the economy to gather wealth. These riches are then turned to serving others. They keep enough to continue their real job of relief, but pass on as much as possible. If you add just a dash of self-interest, the whole process derails. It becomes easier to keep more and more, become ever more visible, and start circulating among the rich and powerful. When helping others becomes a self-identity, it would be better to just keep it all to yourself. At least then you will not be dragging others into a sense of debt. Who needs that karma?

This weekend is Father’s Day, and the sale papers are an inch thick. Even with all that good merchandise at 30% off, most dad’s end up with a tie and underwear, and nobody will see either of them. Giving a man of the house a gift is difficult enough, but having to find a sale item that is suitable as a gift is pure torture. Save yourself the trouble and just give him a few hours peace.

Zen stories are rich with examples of the relationship between teacher and disciple. On a spiritual level, they are truly father and son. Along this same line is talk about handing down or transmitting the teachings. A student will stay with his teacher almost like a tradesman. After quite some time of practice and encountering the world, the student may be ready to teach as well. Not all students become teachers. Zen Masters may not have progenitors.

The teacher traces his lineage all the way back to the Buddha, and when the time comes, the student is added to the pedigree. Ceremonially, this is represented by the legendary robe and bowl of Buddha, passed down from teacher to student in a line of direct succession. They are the outward symbols of a lineage holder, reflecting something that is inwardly working. It is more of an entrustment than the Stanley Cup. It is the student and teacher seeing eye to eye. They have recognized a special spiritual kinship.

A chance encounter can very clearly manifest an aspect of the teachings. Disciples may demonstrate a great intellectual understanding of the words and symbols, but it takes a clear, natural application for the lessons to pay off. It is the daily, informal performance of duties and dealings with problems that shows true colors. A student has truly learned only when the teachings become an effortless part of everyday life. When this is recognized, master and disciple have collided. They have become kin.

While genetics have their own influences, an intentional relationship can be as thick as blood too. The student and teacher put up with each other and admire each other, sometimes fighting with each other. The relationship is as tumultuous as any family living under the same roof. Unlike a common family, they transcend their petty differences and affections to look outward, and into the world of the lost and hungry. This is the true grist of the mill. If a student is working for his own benefit, and using accomplishment for self promotion, the master’s stick needs to be nearby.

A monk asks Master Gensha, “The vast, wide world is like a bright pearl. Why don’t I know this?” Gensha said, “What is the use of knowing?”

The long Christian Easter season is now over, and everyone is where they should be. God and Jesus are in Heaven, the rest of us are down here. Remember, Jesus was heaven incarnate, the son of God. He was a native of the heavenly realms that took a tour of duty in our perilous territory. He was not an explorer, but more like a gardener that had to tame some wild vines. Or so the story goes.

When I think of resurrection, I imagine shining lights, trumpet calls, and gathered crowds gasping below. Logically thinking about it tarnishes the majesty. To be brought back to life you had to live in the first place. You die, and only then can you finally be resurrected. Resurrection is therapy for dead people.

Death is not a big mystery. Mysterious beliefs aside, dying appears to be pretty straightforward. We see things die every day. Flowers, plants, pets, cars, and computers kick the bucket all the time. We even curse dead batteries and blown bulbs. These are things we lose, so we lament.

Our own death is a serious condition. Somehow it is different from a wilting bouquet or a fly on the windowsill, it seems much bigger in scope. This is also a straightforward appearance. We are generally selfish, and hate to lose things. Losing our self makes all the efforts of keeping possessions moot. Because of this fear, the promise of resurrection, going to heaven, or living forever is very seductive.

The real problem is that we TRY to live, and end up dying after years of dodging it. We are merely attempting to live half-heartedly without seriously thinking about death. Some even make a life out of delaying death. Death avoidance may be genetically developed to give us an evolutionary advantage, but that does not excuse an irrational fear of it.

The dance of life and death is the occupation of a soul, or a self. Once this fundamental mirage is seen as the hollow appearance it is, you are not only finished with death, you are finished with living too. At least, in the narrow sense you used to live and die. This is a different kind of resurrection, or living again.

From the perspective of selflessness, there is only big-life and the concept of you as a person pales in comparison. There is no escaping big-life, because you are part and parcel of it. Our job is to quit pulling ourselves out of big-life and snap back into the flow. Great death is seeing how distracting, vain and fruitless those efforts really are. Living a particular life is lost in living big-life. You stop trying immediately. The freedom from your self-made prison is the restoration of your native clarity. This is resurrection. Only when you are free of trying to live can you actually accept big-life. You never died, you just thought you had.