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.

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.

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?

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?”

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.

Everyone has developed a persona. We wear certain kinds of clothes, drive certain types of vehicles, and believe specific ways when it comes to politics and religion. We would never be seen in certain stores or hanging out in different neighborhoods. It is all about impression.

The things we would never be caught doing, saying, or thinking are the very boundaries that cause the suffering we Buddhists talk about so much. Because we have settled on a particular persona, the things that do not fit in are used to draw an imaginary boundary between each other. Since it neatly distinguishes a clear divider among people, that must mean that each person has a seperate being. All of a sudden, we are individuals competing for resources to reinforce our own persona. We somehow feel gratified when we can sneak and leverage resources to make our persona more noticeable or distinct. Ironically, that only makes us more like everyone else.

In America, we are standing knee deep in resources from far and near. We can decorate our homes in the latest fashion from Europe or Australia. We eat food from a hundred countries every week, and we can walk from one church to any number of others. Unfortunately, we seem to be the most unhappy people on Earth. Depression, divorce, crime, partisan politics, and religious tampering with morals are all tied to unhappiness. Incredibly, we still have homeless and hungry poeple in the richest land in the world. In my opinion, this is because the competition for resources never ends once it gets started. We are crying out in hunger with our mouths full.

We do not believe that there is such a thing as enough, and that is a shameful blessing.

The way around this seeming competition is to drop the persona enhancement plan. Let the persona develop naturally, taking the alterations and subtle shifts gracefully. You must understand that the persona is fluid, otherwise you would not be so busy trying to change it. The time has come to let it go, to develop without assistance, to flow freely. Having a mind full of preferences only dams the flow and cuts off tributaries until you are nothing but a stagnant pool. As the drive to magnify the persona drops away, your innate freedom becomes more easily accessed. Reduce the self-imposed limits and your range of motion increases dramatically. With no persona to defend, there are no artificial barriers.

In this way, you become more than the old narrow definition of yourself. That old “self” has burst at the seams and popped open. From here, you can only see the shells of others struggling to be opened. This is the root of compassion.

In our work a day world, we are constantly doing something, going places, or complaining that we are not. We have somehow lost our ability to work in silence. The true shame is that the source of noise is our own prattling and mealy mouthing. We don’t like this, that is too much, it was better then, there is not enough time now….blah, blah, blah.

The work we do everyday does not require a constant narrative. To get through traffic, we just have to drive amongst other cars. How you feel about the other drivers and your overriding sense of self preservation are totally optional. They certainly add a certain “je ne sais quoi,” but it doesn’t really help you steer or maintain a safe braking distance. These are mere associations, they are not the activity itself. The associations are extra, but not required.

The same thing happens when we seek silence. In our rustling through things to find it, we end up stirring up such a thunder storm that we cannot find anything, much less silence. We go to great trouble to make silence. We somehow see silence as a place we have to travel to, or a thing to come into the presence of. Naturally, this is a totally delusional endeavor.

Stop what you are doing and look around. There it is. When you stop making noise, the silence returns. It is the noise that is artificial and fleeting. The noise is what is being made. Silence is a natural state of things. When no noise is made, silence pervades.

The true skill is to walk comfortably among noise and silence. You maintain poise when a thunderstorm of thoughts buffet your mind, and you stand gracefully in the silence of deep engagement. This is real freedom, to become liberated from desires for either state. Only here would either be fine. This inner silence is more than just noise or quiet. With inner silence, neither can disrupt the constant state.

You know the catch already…Enlightenment only happens when the self is no longer around, it is given up, when there is only clear consciousness without the interference of a self. If the self is around to enjoy it, it cannot be genuine. This is a substantial misunderstanding, but very common. The delusion about the interplay of self and other is so subtle that it is very difficult to see through. It is so close, we cannot see it or properly detect it’s continuing distortions.

When the state of enlightenment is perceived as a freedom from self, that is getting closer, but it still infers something perceived by a perceiver. Just don’t be labeling things you experience, or be reflecting on your feelings, desires, and failures. To overcome the roadblock, work instead on giving things up. Give up your greediness, impatience, destructive habits, and enmity. When these are destroyed, you expose what they have been covering up, the original bright enlightenment. Who needs more than this?

I had finished a page of koans, and had written out the traditional answers to return to the Roshi at the next dokusan. I saw a monk coming with an envelope. He said “Koans,” and I responded in Japanese, “No thanks.” He paused. Then, he said in English, “Sorry” and broke into a huge smile. Well, that did it. I took the envelope.

He knew without thinking that I was playing, but at the same time he could identify with the feeling. In fact, I would venture to say that anyone who has seriously worked on koans would understand. They are a serious drag, but the greatest source of liberation when they become clear. Back to the monk.

For that moment, we stood as twins. He betrayed his own hard work when he related to my reluctance. We both knew the seeming silliness of what we were doing, but neither of us would trade it for anything. Indeed, there is nothing else to do anyway. The smile transcended words. My recognition of the smile transcended words. Language is simply utilitarian, why do we get so twisted up in who said what?

I hear the others gush and speak from the heart to the room of new family. The candle comes to me and I say, “If this candle were the things we have taught you this week, this is what I want you to do with it.” I pass it to Annette.

The skills we teach are no good until they are shared, taught to others. In the teaching of others the goals of the lessons themselves are realized. The lessons are about developing skill with expedient means. When thoroughly understood, the skill is seen to be the ability to teach according to situation, with anything at hand.

The suffering we cure is largely self-imposed, but depends on everything else for context. It is our own ability to discriminate and generalize that puts us at odds with others. When used skillfully, that same skill is what cuts through the veil and liberates us. This is when we are able to see each other as an individual and as part of a single family. Only then can true compassion be released from it’s cage.