Robe Chant, The Repentance Verse, and the Refuges

"Like all good fruit the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin"--Alt-J

Flower of the Week:

Buddleia, or Butterfly Bush

Buddhist Lesson of the Week:

Robe Chant, The Repentance Verse, and the Refuges

Field of lettuce on the farm

I thought that for this week I would begin moving away from the many, many Buddhist lists of things, and begin introducing the chants we do during service. For any of you who really like the lists, don't worry, I'm sure they'll return. The Buddhists like their lists.

The three chants I'm going to talk about now are ones that we do every morning, no matter the day. First thing after the second period of zazen ends in the morning, we repeat the robe chant twice in Japanese, and then once in English. After that we stand-up and do some rearranging (I have to move seats because I sit in the kokyo's seat, who is the person who is in charge of leading the chants every morning, a position that rotates between people every day.) After the doshi (the priest leading the zazen and service) offers incense and gets in the proper position, we rearrange again and prepare to do 9 full prostrations. I've heard that in most other Soto Zen temples around the world, they start service with only 3 full prostrations. However, Suzuki Roshi upon founding San Francisco Zen Center felt that it was important to imbue the radical hippies that composed his sangha with some extra composure and decorum, and thus had them do three-times as much bowing as the rest of the practitioners of the tradition. This unique SFZC tradition continues to this day (obviously) across the three centers.

After the 9 prostrations we immediately begin chanting The Repentance Verse, which we repeat three times, and then we head straight into chanting the Refuges in Pali. After the refuges we rearrange again, sit down seiza (kneeling on our knees with our bottoms on a cushion underneath) and prepare for the rest of service.

Robe Chant (Japanese)

dai zai ge da pu ku

mu so fu ku den e

hi bu nyo rai kyo

ko do sho shu jo

Robe Chant (English)

Great robe of liberation

Ornamental Poppy

Field far beyond form and emptiness

Wearing the Tathagata's teaching

Saving all beings

**The Tathagata=The Buddha

The Repentance Verse

All my ancient, twisted karma

From beginningless greed, hate, and delusion

Born through body, speech, and mind

I now fully avow

The Refuges (in Pali)

Buddham Saranam Gacchami

Dharman Saranam Gacchami

Sanghan Saranam Gacchami

Dutiampi Buddham Saranam Gacchami

Dutiampi Dharman Saranam Gacchami

Dutiampi Sanghan Saranam Gacchami

Tatiampi Buddham Saranam Gacchami

Tatiampi Dharman Saranam Gacchami

Tatiampi Sanghan Saranam Gacchami

The Refuges (in Engish, we don't actually chant these, just for your reference for what they mean)

I take refuge in Buddha

I take refuge in Dharma

I take refuge in Sangha

I take refuge in Buddha as the perfect teacher

I take refuge in Dharma as the perfect teaching

I take refuge in Sangha as the perfect life

Now I have completely taken refuge in the Buddha

Now I have completely taken refuge in the Dharma

Now I have completely taken refuge in the Sangha

WueWue, a Blue Heron that frequents the farm
and garden and eats our gophers and snakes

**I actually really like participating in service most of the time. I always find particular value in the Repentance Verse. Although I don't believe my particular karma is necessarily beginningless or ancient, I definitely believe that the decisions I have made in life to be rather twisted at times, and in need of reflection, acceptance, and repentance. I also like to think of "twisted" as not necessarily a nasty thing; I like to think of it more in reference to the long and winding road, that life has twists and turns, and all we can do is navigate it as nobly as we can. 

When I chant the Repentance Verse I like to actually concentrate on moments in my life or decisions that I've made when I did not have a still or compassionate mind (when I was being impatient, arrogant, rude, puffed-up, etc.) and to fully, actually, repent and avow them. To consciously and fully accept the responsibility for those actions, and to feel sorry for them, and through doing so, letting go of them a little bit. It's a short moment every morning in which I can learn from my mistakes, and then release them from my psyche (or at least begin the process of slowly prying them off of my psyche, some things are harder to let go of then others.)

When we chant the Repentance Verse and the Refuges, more than at any other point in the service, it is easy to notice that the breath of everyone in the room aligns. Sometimes, during the chanting, instead of focusing on what it is I am saying, I like to focus on that moment when every being in the room takes a breath together, in preparation for making a simultaneous promise to navigate life conscientiously. 

Life at the Center:

Lettuce field on farm

Something that I meant to talk about in last week's post, but forgot to, was the dharma talk that we received during our one-day sit last weekend (was that last weekend? It feels like it was a month ago. Time progression here is weird.) The priest who was presiding over the dharma talk is named Juryu and he is married to our director Sarah (who gave the public dharma talk last Sunday.) Juryu was sick the day we sat, and as such was sort of wonderfully vulnerable and open and honest when he gave his talk. 

Juryu talked about the importance of paying attention to our exhalations when we breathe. Most everybody is more naturally inclined to pay attention to their in-breath--it is, after all, the breath that directly proliferates our life; breathing in means we are still living. Juryu suggested that to follow our out-breath completely is actually the more zen practice. When we focus on exhalations, we feel a release---we release into the universe our love, our insecurities, our sense of self, our notions of what it is to be existing. We connect to all of everything in our exhalation through the acceptance of letting go. We do not desperately grasp at our inhalation; we do not grasp with the ego and the mind at that essential source of life. Instead, we let every moment exist as it does, with our still minds, and then, when we are done with our exhalations the inhalation will come naturally. We do not need to think about the need for us to inhale in order for it to happen; life will continue of its own accord, if it is right for it to do so. 

For me, this talk was especially pertinent in regards to my anxiety. One of the most common symptoms of my anxiety is a feeling of shortness of breath. Of course, this is all psychosomatic--my brain, for whatever reason, freaks out that it is not receiving enough oxygen (in other words, it becomes overly eager for the in-breath.) As a result, I end up breathing unevenly, often too deeply too often, and this results in a sort of mild hyperventilation throughout my days (and outright hyperventilation during attacks.) If I had always focused on simply releasing, letting-go, and living in the out-breath during such times of anxiety, and not been impatient for the inhalation, I would not have had such a hard time breathing the past 6 years. Of course, now I do know, so hopefully from here on out I can apply it.

WueWue in all his glory

This past week has been pretty low-key, event-wise. Not a lot going on, which has been actually really nice. A few of us have started playing improv games sometimes after dinner out on the pool deck, which has been really fun. We especially like a game called "In the manner of the word..." in which one person leaves the group while the rest of us debate an adverb, such as "aggressively", "passionately", "creepily", etc. Then the exiled person returns and asks two actors to act out a scene of their choosing, such as "go grocery shopping", "order a drink at the bar", "build a tree fort", etc. The actors act out their scene in the manner of the adverb chosen, and the director/exiled person has to guess what the adverb is, based on how the people are acting. We have found it entirely entertaining.

Our exercise in Catherine's writing class on Monday was to write from the perspective of an object, either sentient or non-sentient. That was it. As always, it was interesting to see what every person wrote, and what every person chose to write about. It was an interesting peek into who they are. The subjects varied from couch sections to golf balls, from turkey vultures to bees, from lightbulbs to newts. I'll post mine below.

Border of wildflowers on farm, to attract bees

I was able to give a tour to a group of third graders around the farm and garden on Tuesday, which I really enjoyed a lot. We also did an activity with them in which they harvested the seeds from some native grasses to be later planted in our restoration areas. I really enjoy being around the energy of the kids from time to time, it is an interesting mirror of my own practice. I definitely think I'm more patient and accepting than I was before I moved here, and I can see that perhaps the most clearly when I'm with a big group of 8 year olds. They also ask the most wonderful questions, and tell the most wonderful stories, and are so genuinely interested or disinterested in what they do or learn. One girl this week was entirely distraught that she didn't get to go and talk to the horses that hang out on the periphery of our property. I wanted to give her a lesson on the true nature of suffering, but felt that it was not a pertinent time (or audience, really. Hopefully she'll figure it out at some point.)

In the garden, we had a short introduction to pruning on Tuesday, and have been pruning the vibernums, camellias, and lilacs a little bit here and there. I actually really enjoy pruning, and find it to be really satisfying. Other than that, we've been weeding pretty much all day for most of the week, and next week looks like it's going to be a lot more of whole days of weeding. 

However, this upcoming Monday is Memorial Day, which is a holiday that the San Francisco Zen Center observes. The farmers can't take Monday off, as it's a big harvest day for them. The garden also harvests herbs on Mondays, but it's not necessary for the whole crew to be there to get it done, so we split it up, half of us off on Friday, the others off on Monday. I get Monday off (including zazen,) and a three-day weekend is wonderfully luxurious here. I mean they're always lovely, but here you can do just SO MUCH with three full days off (although Sundays are always only half off, because of the morning class and Dharma Talk, and I usually choose Sundays as the day I sit each weekend.) I've been reading a lot more this weekend than I have been, which has been much needed. I also just realized the other day that the word "holiday" literally means "holy day." I can't believe I had never noticed that before. I feel like I must have, but then forgot.

On Wednesday we were treated to a wonderful Dharma Talk given by Wendy Johnson (the magical sage who gave us a tour of Muir Woods all those weeks ago.) Wendy mostly focused on Alan Chadwick, a passionate gardener and complicated human being who completely transformed what it meant to be an organic gardener (and farmer) in the late 60s and early 70s in California (and thus the U.S.) He spent some time at GGF when it was first founded, and died here. All she did was tell stories of this zealous, impatient, brilliant man who had many followers but few friends. One of the moments that stands out for me during the talk was when she recited a Shakespearean sonnet by memory casually. She also shared a wonderful Chadwick quote that I personally connect to in a rather resounding way: "The gardener does not make the garden--the garden makes the gardener." That is entirely true of my experience and relationship with the garden here; it is sculpting and forming me more tangibly than I could ever sculpt and form it.

Field of lettuce on the farm

On Thursday it was our friend Dominic's birthday, and we all went out to The Pelican (a little British-style pub that's a 20 minute walk from GGF) as a group for the first time since moving here. It was so, so nice. One of the times I am most consistently happy is when a group of people I care about are all together in one place, enjoying each other's company. Anyways, that was the first time I was really able to notice such a thing happening with the people here, and it was warm and deep and lovely. 

Yesterday, a group of us went to Muir Beach for most of the day...but to the nude beach portion of it. The nude beach is slightly isolated from the more public side of Muir Beach by a tidal creek and some rocks, and thus is significantly less crowded. On weekends Muir fills right on up with the public masses, and for us zen center folks it can be quite overwhelming. However, the nude beach had only a handful of people, and it was quiet, less windy, and way more genuine. We did not get naked; most of the people over there actually were not naked. There were, of course, naked old people, who were absolutely loving it. There was a wonderful moment seared in a rather sharp but pleasant manner into my memory of two old naked guys with large white beards playing frisbee together. I enjoyed the gentle absurdity of it, and enjoyed the relaxed quietude that the presence of the nudes allowed our portion of the beach.

Ornamental Poppies

We had our last class on Basic Buddhism in regards to the Four Noble Truths with Doris today. Today we mostly just collected and synthesized all of our teachings from the past six weeks. It was an interesting reflection on our gathering of small lessons on suffering. "Being upright" is something that is mentioned to us a lot, and is the title of our Senior Dharma Teacher Reb Anderson's book. To be upright means to live a life in balance, in between the pull of desire and the push of hatred, or to live without delusion. It is what made me think of the Alt-J quote at the head of this post. To be upright is to live between the ripe and ruin.

Today the dharma talk was given by Norman Fischer, who is a rather well-known Zen practitioner (he was on Oprah!) His talk mainly consisted of him reading excerpts from some of the books he's had published. The overall theme or message of the talk was a discussion on imagination, which I found to be a very interesting topic. I have experienced during my time here that a lot of people here feel that their free-time should be spent doing very serious and intentionally fulfilling activities, which is good; I however, like to spend my free-time often just allowing myself to have inane fun (such as board games, improv games, movies, reading fiction, or Dungeons & Dragons). All of these activities involve extensive use of the imagination, and I was happy to see it getting its full due. Fischer talked about how there's an inherent use of the imagination in how we create our worlds with our minds--to experience the world is to use your imagination. Buddhists believe that reality is created from our minds, that all that we know and experience is just a manifestation of the mind...which for living beings, is true. We cannot know what we cannot perceive with our mind. Thus reality is a product of our minds, which is done subconsciously in every moment--which can be labeled as imagination.

WueWue in the kitchen garden

Fischer also talked about how both religion and art stem from the imagination. It is easy for us to see how art stems from imagination, but I was delighted in him comparing religion to art (which, of course, I do all the time). I have a whole definite understanding and interest in our species' evolution of religious thought, and I hypothesize that the selection for religiosity stems from the selection for imagination and cognitive creativity. But that's a whole thing I probably should not go into right now, or I would go for a while, and these posts are already long enough for everyone involved, I think.

I also want to address some sadness in my life and in my community at home. Eva Will, a delightful human being, chose to end her own life last week. I have known Eva for about ten years now, and went to high school with her shortly. She was beautiful, lovely, thoughtful, pensive, creative, and had a deep, profound, and raw ability to capture the beauty of pain and life in clever and moving writing and art. She will be missed dearly by many, many people.

After my friend Colt Mingledorff chose to end his own life last December, I have been thinking more and more about how to best love those around me. Colt was a childhood friend who I lost touch with, and although I attempted to reach out to him when it was clear he was struggling with his suicidal thoughts, I always have an uneasy feeling that I could have done more to help him. Similar feelings arise around Eva's passing. I was never that close to her, but I enjoyed her company, her laugh, and her thoughtful nature whenever I was around her. She is someone that many people loved, and they loved her easily and deeply. I was aware that she was unhappy a lot of the time, and yet I did not reach out to her. I am unsure what sort of impact, if any, my reaching out would have made to her, and now I will never know.

Both Colt and Eva were people who were very, very intelligent and emotional, and who saw the world with a cosmic clarity that was often larger than their place in it. They were both struggling for a long time to feel comfortable with their place in the world, and who felt very acutely the suffering of the world. Both found it more comforting to remove themselves from this painful existence than to struggle through it. I honor both of them, deeply and humbly. I feel unsure if I have any right to speak about either of them with any sort of real intensity, and yet they were delightful beings I shared moments of growth with, and so I feel I owe them some due.

So how do I, how do we, approach the deaths of those we love when it is they who chose to no longer be with us? All I can think of is that we, that I, need to make a concentrated effort to fully appreciate and love the people in my life when they are here. Everybody needs some love and attention and appreciation; everybody is deserving of such things. There are so, so many people in my life that I love, in a myriad of ways and intensities. I want them all to know how much I love them, and how much their existence adds to my own. I don't want to start listing names, because I know I would accidentally omit a fair amount, but I hope that those of you who read this who I love know that I do. I would quite literally not exist as I am today without any and all of you. Every being I encounter and love builds me and guides me. I can be kind, compassionate, thoughtful, and loving only because of you. 

I am struck by the fact that so often after someone passes is it revealed how much people truly loved them. This does not seem right to me. People should know that they are loved as they are. People should know the impact they make on people. People should know that they inspire love and beauty and art. I believe that if everybody were to be more honest and forthright with how much people impact them, when they are being impacted, the world would be less wounded, would suffer less. 

This, for me, is the essence of practice, which is the essence of life. To be compassionate and loving and accepting. To breathe in the world as it is and breathe out a keen desire to feel all of it with a passive intensity. To let all beings, to let all of those who I love, know that they are important. To spread light and breath and ease of being to others. To fully realize the interconnectedness of all of everything through appreciation and respect and admiration and reveration. To gently hold others within my heart so that they may heal and feel protected, so that they in turn are strong enough to do the same for others. 

This seems as idealistic as the Bodhisattva Vows we chant several times a week. It is, essentially, the same thing as the vows. It is impossible, and yet I feel nothing stronger in this moment than the need to try to love openly and intensely and intimately...so that we do not lose anymore poignant and complex and wonder-full wonderful people to the pain of separation.

Bed of Coreopsis

Book of the Week:

I'm still reading "The Language of Flowers." From Norman Fischer's talk, I would suggest reading his books, they sure seem neat, and he has a lot of them. The ones he talked about/read from in his talk today were: "Escape This Crazy Life of Tears" (poetry) and "Experience: Thinking, Writing, Language, and Religion". He read from some other ones too, but I can't remember them. Anyways, Oprah approves, I approve, so what more convincing do you need?

Song of the Week:

"Those to Come" by The Shins

This song is definitely one of my favorite songs by The Shins, and maybe one of my favorite songs period. The Shins' lyrics are poetry. They're pretty in the songs, but almost always wrenching when read on their own, and often portray a rather Zen understanding of the world, in my opinion. 

This song is dedicated to Eva.

Eyeless in the morning sun you were

Pale and mild, a modern girl

Taken with thought, still prone to care

Making tea in your underwear

You went out in the yard to find 

Something to eat and clear your mind 

Something bad inside me went away

Quaking leaves and broken light 

Shifting skin the coming night 

The bearers of all good things arrive 

Climb inside us, twist and cry 

A kiss on your molten eyes 

Myriad lives like blades of grass 

Yet to be realized, bow as they pass

They are cold, 

Still, 

Waiting in the ether, 

To form, 

Feel, 

Kill, 

Propagate, 

Only to die

[x2]

Dissolve 

Magically, 

Absurdly, 

They'll end, 

Leave, 

Dissipate, 

Coldly 

And strangely 

Return

WueWue in flight

Life as a Pebble:

I am a pebble, gently tumbling and tossing for eons down this ever-flowing river. The water rushes over me for eternity and slowly seeps under the sand and silt that settles beneath me. Every age brings change--when once I was trapped in the steady, rigid flow of a glacier, then I was caught in the tumultuous and erratic rhythm of a rushing current. When once I was free-falling through space and time amidst hundreds of thousands of drops of water, now I am resting in the soft flow of a meandering push of water against the countryside. Now, I can sit and listen and observe with ease and comfort the fish guiding above me, busy to quickly end their short lives. I can be still enough to watch particulates and bubbles gather on the riparian roots that form the ceiling above my head. I can doze as sunrises turn to sunsets, as moon cycles are born and then die, as the world burns and is then reborn from its ashes. The water here is shallow and soft enough for me to hear the pulse of the ocean waves promising to one day turn me into a grain of sand that will support the likes of pebbles yet to be born. My wet universe continues to gently and quietly smooth away at my rough edges until I will one day disappear into the nothingness from whence all that I have ever been and experienced was born.

The Four Bodhisattva Vows

"Assume you're enlightened, then behave like you are"--Fu, our Abbess 

Flower of the Week:

Nigella, or Love-in-the-Mist. They turn from these crazy-looking alien-pods to these beautiful blue flowers.

Buddhist Lesson of the Week:

The Four Bodhisattva Vows

Looking over Kuan-Yin and the shoulder of
Manjushri at Jizo in the front of the zendo

The Four Bodhisattva vows are the most essential promises that someone who is seeking to be a bodhisattva makes to themselves and to the world. We chant them at the end of every dharma talk and class, and during every Full Moon ceremony. For the past month, I have been struggling with these a little bit. I have not really been struggling with their sentiments, but more the fact that we are told and expected to repeat these vows, and I'm not sure how many people actually think about what they're promising to do before they make that vow. To me, a vow means something important; it is a true promise, and claim to hold steadfast to something in this fluxing and unpredictable life. I do not want to vow to do something I don't intend to actually to do. It's interesting that vows are such an integral component of Zen, because of course, Zen believes that change is inevitable and everything is empty. What use is a promise in such a reality? Ultimately, I think that the vow in Zen is important and profound for the exact reason that they accept that inclusively their vow is empty; it is a curious form of bravery and strength, to not hold on to any notion of self or other but accept responsibility nonetheless. Anyways, it's something to think about. As of now, I do repeat these vows; I have spent a lot of time thinking about them and feel at this point that they are important things that I feel comfortable vowing--I truly believe that by practicing these vows I will make the world a better place. Although a lot of them are daunting, and I don't actually believe I will be able to accomplish any of them, I believe that working towards these goals will lead to a fruitful, rewarding, and love-filled life.

Looking at back of zendo at altar with Manjushri
(the Bodhisattva of Wisdom)

1. Beings are numberless, I vow to save them

This ties into the most integral and ultimate practice of a Bodhisattva, which is to continue returning into the cycle of samsara (birth and rebirth) until every being has obtained enlightenment. But practically, it also means to live a life where you help with the immediate suffering of those who I share my planet with, my country with, or who are in my immediate surroundings. It means considering and being compassionate towards all beings, not just humans. It means living with respect of everything around me, and understanding that they have every right to feel as happy and safe as I do.

2. Delusions are inexhaustible, I vow to end them

A delusion is anything that distracts or retracts from the ultimate truth--which can (and is) interpreted a myriad of ways. That is something I respect greatly about Zen, the essential acceptance that the ultimate truth of reality is that there is no ultimate truth, in a sense. Everything is empty, and because of that everything is connected; everything is nothing and yet so, so important. It is the foundation for practicing unbridled compassion and love and for living every moment as it arises, and then letting it go. Anyways, I also like to think about this in the frame of science; Just as Buddhism and all of the great religions and philosophies are attempting to divulge the ultimate reality of the universe, so is science. As someone who feels very passionate about good science, I believe that to be a proper questioning scientist is to also seek to end all of the inexhaustible delusions of our being and our environment through openness and investigation.

3. Dharma gates are boundless, I vow to enter them

Close-up of Manjushri

I tend to the think of dharma gates as opportunities to better practice stillness, compassion, acceptance, understanding, respect, and all of the other important teachings of Buddhism, or the dharma. This, to me, is what being a Buddhist is, and why I can be an Atheist Buddhist. Buddhism has so many wise teachings that apply to just being a decent human being, as is the case with most religions, essentially. It provides a useful framework that enables people to work at being the best person they can be in a tangible way. To think of learning opportunities as "dharma gates," is one such way. If I am confronted with a difficult person or situation, I can stop and assess the situation as a dharma gate; it is a reminder for me to approach the situation calmly, quietly, cautiously, and with compassion and understanding. To sit and then act, instead of react. The world needs more people acting, and less people reacting, in my opinion. 

This can also tie into my passion for being a "lifelong learner"...a dharma gate is an opportunity to learn, to enhance my perception on what it means to be alive and existing. This could mean a deep epiphany, or it could be a cool fact about whales. Whatever is offered to me to learn, I promise to try to learn from it.

4. Buddha's way is unsurpassable, I vow to become it

This is the one I had the most trouble with accepting, I think because at first glance it appears dogmatic. It seems to say "Buddhism is THE way." I mean, I guess, literally, that is what it's saying. But once I considered/remembered that Buddhism is all-encompassing, I began to accept it. Buddha's Way is also Jesus' way, Mohammad's way, Confucius' way, Socrates' way, Gandhi's way, Mother Theresa's way, Eleanor Roosevelt's way, my parents' way, my teachers' way, my way. We are all connected and the same, remember? It is the way in which a being interacts with their world with respect, compassion, and openness. I do aim to live my life in such a way.

The ash bowl in the zendo, where incense is offered. This is the most expensive object in the zendo, and about the size of a beach ball.

Life at the Center:

So, I missed doing this grand-update-style post last week, because my lovely family was here visiting. As such, there's a lot to document, and I'm little overwhelmed by it. I think I'll just talk about whatever pops into my head and not worry about it too much.

Last week we had a guy named Skip come and walk around the garden with us. He actually designed the garden in the early 80s, and it was really interesting listening to him talk about all that he thought about when designing the garden and all that he knew about everything that was in it. Claudia was also able to dig up some photos of the garden in the early days of Green Gulch--there was a photo of Skip 30 years younger and shirtless digging a hole in the garden. A lot of people were shirtless, or at least, they wore significantly less clothes. It was a different time. 

Delphiniums. They're awesome right now.

I also had my first day of being a docent...I actually just ended up following around this guy Justin who was a grounds apprentice last year, and had done the tours a whole bunch. It was good getting a refresher on how everything was done again, especially with some kids actually being there. It was also fun getting to know Justin, who has hung out with us since then and is very funny and interesting.

Last Friday all of the new apprentices went on a field trip to visit four farms in West Marin, mostly around the town of Bolinas. The apprentices from a nearby education-focused farm called Slide Ranch also came with us. It was quite a fun day, if only for the reason that it was our first real excursion into the "real world" since moving here. It was also fascinating how all of the Bolinas farms were within a mile or two of each other, were all organic farms, but were all pretty different. They all had different approaches to water use, dealing with pests, and what they, individually, consider to be "organic" and "local". They all had different passions that they brought to their farming; 2 studied art in college, and I could tell that they approached their farms as an extension of their art. We started at Star Route Farm, which was the most industrial farm of the ones we looked at, but was still charming in its own way. Next we looked at Paradise Valley, which was far more quaint. Something interesting about Paradise Valley was that 98% of the things they use on the farm are sourced either on the farm or from about 5 miles away. Both Star Route and Paradise Valley were a part of an initiative between the local farmers and the Department of Fish and Wildlife to reconstitute the creeks that feed the local farms so that the salmon could safely resume their annual runs up the creeks to reproduce. This initiative cost over $2 million and took 17 years to implicate; the result, essentially, was that both of the farms were given reservoirs to use instead of the creek. This is the first summer that they're actually able to use the reservoirs, and the one at Star Route is already leaking pretty extensively, so I guess we'll just have to see how that all works out.

Jizo statue in the zendo. He is the
Protector of travelers, women, & children

The third farm in the Bolinas area that we looked at was called Gospel Flats, and it was the only farm of the three that had any livestock (they had something like 500-800 chickens, he wasn't sure, and a couple of pigs.) Mickey, the guy who owns and runs the farm, was one of the farmers who had an art degree, and you could easily see it manifested in all of the improvements and upgrades he designed and implemented on his farming instruments. He also only sold his food at a produce stand that was right at the farm, was open 24 hours, and was run entirely by the honor system, which I really admired. The other Bolinas farmers seemed to make their money primarily through selling to restaurants, CSAs, and farmers' markets (same as Green Gulch.) 

We ended the day by checking out Slide Ranch, which was super cute. Slide Ranch is owned by the Nature Conservancy and is partners with the Golden Gate Recreation Area (as is Green Gulch.) They actually don't sell any of their produce, but instead operate their farm solely as a means for educating people (primarily kids) about sustainable farming. Their apprentices are all teachers, and so their apprenticeship looks very different from ours, and has an entirely different focus. I was surprised at how much throughout this day I found it to be a struggle to not bow; I was afraid of this habit manifesting in my life outside of Green Gulch, and it was a little disheartening to see it develop after living here for only a little over a month. I have no desire to be one of those people who goes to live at a zen center and comes away from it bowing to everything---although I know there's no pretense behind it, it would probably be hard for others to be super comfortable with this change in behavior.

Inside the herb circle in the garden. Tree in the center is a Japanese Snow Bell, this shot is in-between two of the quadrants. Each of the quadrants is color coded: a yellow, a white, a pink, and a red.

Last Friday my parents arrived in San Francisco to start their week-long vacation at Stinson Beach, a town about 20 minutes from Green Gulch. My brother Will and his girlfriend Makella were also supposed to arrive Friday afternoon in San Francisco via train from L.A., but due to a series of horrific accidents got delayed for many hours. My parents ended up having to drive down the coast a bit to meet them at a different station, as that was far quicker than waiting for them to arrive in SF by train. I was supposed to stay with them in their little cute house on the beach for both Friday and Saturday night, but instead it turned out to only be for Saturday night. It was still very nice to see all of them. The trip was ostensibly to celebrate my mom's 55th birthday, and so on Saturday night we went out to a nice dinner at this weird restaurant that had excellent locally-sourced food but a queerly informal atmosphere. It was also my first full day actually out in society doing things such as visiting grocery stores and consuming alcohol, so I felt entirely overwhelmed and tired by the time dinner came around. However, I feel that everyone else shared my impression of the restaurant, and it wasn't just my own view.

Bodhidharma, the ancestor that brought
zen (or Chan) to China. Respectfully,
I think he looks like Emperor Palpatine
from Star Wars

Anyways, on Sunday my parents came to participate in the spectacle that is public-day here (a spectacle relative to the other days here, not compared to things that are actually spectacles.) They went to zazen instruction, sat zazen, and then went to the dharma talk. I got to show them around the garden and show-off to them all of my new knowledge on plants, throwing down latin names of flowers left and right. The dharma talk was given by Earthlyn Manuel, who I believe founded Still Breathing Zen Center in Oakland. Her talk was essentially about how it is impossible to make a mistake because every wrong decision or wrong action you make happened exactly as it should have, and there's nothing wrong in that.

On Monday I had another lovely class with Catherine, where we wrote prompted short stories. I don't particularly feel like sharing this one either, although I did like it alright. On a semi-related note, it's amazing for me to notice the completely unbound potential for love that I have. It makes me quite excited and happy.

On Tuesday Makella and Will came to help out on the farm and garden. Will has a real passion for organic farming and left today (!) for a summer spent WWOOFing (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms) around Europe, specifically in France, Germany, and Norway. He worked on the farm all day, and Makella came to help us out in the garden. We spent the morning finishing up building gopher cages for and then digging holes for/planting dahlia bulbs. In the afternoon Mak got to partake in our crew meeting, during which I taught a class on the history of flower arranging, which everybody seemed to enjoy alright. Both Will and Mak seemed to enjoy their day here (maybe especially their lunch here, which everybody who visits enjoys immensely.)

The freshly-tended-to fruit trees in front of the boys' yurt

The gardeners got to work with the farmers twice this week, which was fun. On Monday they helped us plant the majority of the dahlias, which was great because we could not have done it without them. On Thursday we all worked on sprucing up some small fruit trees by our yurts, which involved weeding around them, mulching and manuring the beds, and then planting companion plants. The plants Claudia chose to go with the trees were lavender (for bees), lupin (for nitrogen), society garlic (to repel something, I forget), and rose geranium (to also repel something, I think aphids?).

Another Delphinium

There was a nasty stomach bug going around this past week, which luckily I seem to have missed so far, especially considering that everybody else in the garden caught it. Juniper caught it on Wednesday, which meant I got a bonus day flower arranging (yay for me! but boo for Juniper.) People are slowly responding more and more to my arrangements, which is encouraging.

On Saturday we did an all-day sit, which I'll get to in a second, which meant that a lot of us got a comp-day on Friday to make up for us not having one of our days off truly off. That meant I got to spend my family's last night at Stinson with them, which was wonderfully lucky. We went out to a lovely dinner (even though, again, I was so tired I was almost in a hallucinatory state). It really was very special for me to see them and to have them here for a little bit. I know that my parents are reading this, so I'm just going to say thank you for coming out here and seeing me and for always supporting me in what I choose to do with my life, it really means a lot to me to have you guys love me so much.

Front of zendo, looking at Jizo and Tara (female-form of Avalokiteshvara,
the Bodhisattva of Compassion)

On Friday morning I woke up with my family, ate some lovely donuts, and returned to Green Gulch, where we said goodbye. It's nice that we live in a time where communication is so easy, so goodbyes aren't as serious.

Later on Friday I celebrated Miro's 3rd birthday along with most everybody else here. Miro is the son of two of the priests who live here, and he is a super lovely little boy. His babysitter always takes him and his little sister Luca to the garden, and he is super enthusiastic about knowing everything he can about all of the plants in the garden, and can memorize their latin names with no effort. He was super excited for his birthday this year and it was wonderful that everyone in the community was able to share it with him.

After the birthday party a group of us went to Stinson Beach (yes, I was there twice in one day.) It was windy and cold, but that made it special, I think (maybe mostly for the reason that nobody else was really there, on this large and expansive beach.) The water was super cold, and we were all cold in it, but I loved how a bunch of Zen Buddhists approach being in cold water and being uncomfortable--with wonder and fascination and appreciation (and a bit of a caustic undertone about loving it so much, for sure.) That night I returned to play a LOVELY game of Dungeons and Dragons, and it was a good day.

Jizo and Tara at the front of the zendo

Kuan-Yin, the Chinese female-form of Avalokiteshvara. She
greets us as we enter the zendo

Shakyamuni Buddha on back altar, in front of
Manjushri, wearing a robe of clouds

On Saturday (yesterday) we did the all-day sit. All of the new farm and garden apprentices partook in the sitting for the day. We started at our normal morning sit time (5 am) and finished at 6 pm--but there were quite a few breaks. After the first 2 normal periods of zazen we did the odd and ethereal Full Moon ceremony, did our soji like normal, and then really started on the day. During all-day sits we eat breakfast and lunch in the zendo, in a style called oryoki. It's a hyper-ritualized manner of eating, similar to a tea ceremony. There's a particular way for doing every single thing while eating, most particularly how to hold the utensils, where and how the utensils are placed when not in use, the way the food is served, the way it is cleaned up, and how the bowls and utensils are arranged and de-arranged and re-arranged prior to, during, and after eating. It would be far too much for me to write about what all of these steps are, but I think you can google YouTube videos of it, if you're interested. I was sitting in between two very adept and skilled practitioners and priests who did it all pretty quickly, so it was hard for me to copy them. I definitely missed a lot, but I think that's okay and expected, especially you're first time. I had two favorite parts of oryoki: the first was in the beginning, when they are just about to bring the food in,  they do what I can only surmise is a symbolic offering of food to our big Manjushri statue in the zendo--while this food is being served, there is a super fast-paced and dramatic drumming happening, complete with a drop. My second favorite part was at the end of the meal, after we use water to wash our three bowls, we were supposed to keep a little bit of it in there to offer to the beings in the Hungry Ghost realms. I forgot during breakfast, but remembered during lunch. We literally pour a little bit of our cleaning water into a bucket for them (and then drink the rest.)

As far as the actual sitting goes, I honestly found it a bit anti-climatic. It wasn't really that hard, honestly, which sounds super puffed-up of me to claim, but I think it's true. I was kind of hoping more inspiration or insights would come, but none came, which is maybe how it's supposed to be anyways. We're not supposed to go into sitting with the hope of attaining some sort of goal, so I guess it's good that it just happened as it happened, and was nothing special.

All of our knees feel kind of shitty, though, so that's something.

Altar with Manjushri, Shakyamuni Buddha, and Bodhidharma at back of zendo

Book of the Week:

I finally started reading a book for fun again! It's a book that my mom suggested I read a little while ago. It's about a girl living in San Francisco who works as a florist, so you can see why my mom thought I might find it pertinent. It's called "The Language of Flowers" by Vanessa Diffenbaugh. It is fiction, which is honestly a nice break (there's a lot of people here who don't like fiction because apparently they don't like a great time.) The "language of flowers" spoken of in the book is in reference to an actual language established in Victorian England, in which people communicated messages to each other through floral arrangements called "tussy-mussies" or "nosegays". Every flower had some sort of meaning, and because Victorian England was so restricted, this was often the only way in which people could express their emotions to each other. The protagonist of the book has an intimate knowledge of this language and uses it to help the people she builds bouquets for...as well as herself (there's some personal growth in her character guys, rest assured of that.) This book helped inspire the topic for the class that I gave in the garden (The History of Flower Arranging.) I printed out a list for us to keep, and you know, maybe keep in mind when we make arrangements.

Song of the Week:

"No Diggity" by Chet Faker

I keep getting this song stuck in my head, and so I'm going to put it this week. I personally like this Chet Faker cover way better than the original by Blackstreet. I don't really think it's pertinent to the lesson of this week or zen or anything...unless you consider the understanding that everything is Buddha, then this song is Buddha.

Proud male quail perching on a bench

Malaysian Pantun

Today in our class with Doris she had us do an exercise where we wrote poetry (I'm not really sure why, but it was nice.) It follows a format where each line is associated with a number, and the number repeats through the poem, so essentially the poem is just comprised of a changing arrangement of 8 lines. She provided the third line (or the line associated with the number 3) for us ("I do not know"). Other than that, we were free to write what we wanted for the other repeating lines. I kind of like what came out for me, so I'll post that below.

What constitutes

The all-pervading emptiness of love

I do not know

How to feel compassion for nothing

The all-pervading emptiness of love

Seeping into my inner cosmos

How to feel compassion for nothing

What better way is there to live?

Seeping into my inner cosmos

An understanding of nothing

What better way is there to live?

An adoration of emptiness

An understanding of nothing

What constitutes

An adoration of emptiness

I do not know

A bumblebee visiting some spirea

Yellow Yarrow

This crazy poppy growing in front of our yurt

The Principal of Emptiness

This post is going to be in-lieu of a typical "update" post for this week. My family is here visiting, and as such I don't really have the time I normally would to invest in a full-on blog post. Instead, I decided to write down some of my thoughts on how, as an atheist and a scientist, I find no problem with the Buddhist understandings that everything is empty, there is no self, and everything is connected.

The Principal of Emptiness

The principals of both emptiness and no-self are easy to accommodate to modern scientific understandings of how the world and universe work. If you've ever taken a chemistry class, one of the first things you learn is that the vast, vast majority of what constitutes an atom is empty space. The most common analog I have heard is that if you were to place a pea in the center of a football arena, it would be spatially similar to that of an atom; the pea would be like an atomic nucleus, and the outer edges of the arena would be where you could find an electron. So, essentially, there is a whole lot of nothing in an atom. It is, essentially, empty.

Now, think about the fact that all of the matter around us is composed of atoms interacting. All that anything is is the electrons of atoms coinciding with the electrons of other atoms or not. If atoms are primarily emptiness, and everything is comprised of atoms, then we can deduce that everything is primarily emptiness. Although this is hard to tangibly and effectively wrap our minds around most of the time, it is in fact our reality.

This reality of emptiness that has been provided to us by science has been figured by Buddhists for hundreds of years, without anyone even knowing about the existence of atoms and all of their inherent emptiness for most of all of history. I would imagine that most Buddhists in the world today still do not know about atoms, and yet the fundamental truth that everything is empty to them is undisputed. They do not need the evidence (although many Westerners, myself included, find comfort in that evidence.)

In the heart sutra, it is said that "form is emptiness and emptiness is form." To a lot of people at first glance, this seems paradoxical. Form should be the opposite of emptiness, and vice versa. Of course, again, Buddhists have long understood that there is not only no contradiction between form and emptiness, but there is also no duality between them. They are the same thing. From a scientific standpoint, this is true as well. "Form", or maybe "matter", should be what exists instead of emptiness...but when considering that matter is comprised mostly of emptiness, that duality is lost and form and emptiness can exist inseparably.

I guess it might also be interesting to evaluate the claim that "emptiness is form". Although it is perhaps easy to see how form can be emptiness, it is harder to see how emptiness can be form. But then again, atoms are emptiness and they are form. It becomes more interesting still when considering the "vacuum of space". Surely that is emptiness without form...but there is form there too. The laws of physics are a form. Time and space themselves are forms. Even anti-matter is a form. These are all things we can see and measure (even if sometimes it is only through mathematics.) The fact that we can think about gravity waves, black holes, relativity, anti-matter, and "vacuums" means that there is something there for us to grasp...and in that ability for us to grasp it there is form. The fact that we can think about all that happens in that "vacuum" or in that "emptiness" proves that it has form.

If we follow this same line of logic and reasoning, it is also easy to understand how, scientifically, we have no self. Looking at who we each are microcosmically, we are all just clouds of colliding electrons. Even thinking about the atoms that would constitute my body and brain, it's hard to pinpoint when they actually become "me". My body is constantly, unceasingly, trading elements within and without it with its surrounding environment. Oxygen enters my body through my breath, runs in my blood, and then leaves. Carbon enters my body through food, gives me some energy, and then leaves. Even the atoms that comprise my cells are in constant flux--not to mention the cells themselves. Cells are born incessantly and die incessantly. In no way is there anything in my body that is distinctly "mine". Perhaps the sequence of my genomes in my DNA could be "mine", but even those mutate and change throughout all of our lives. 

Where am "I" found in all of this? How can the brain that has created this ego logically feel content with its creation after considering even the brain and mind have never been a constant? That is why we should live every moment as the person we are right then, because physically, literally, we have never been the same person up to that moment and we will never be the same person after that moment.

On a macrocosmic level, we can also see that we have no self. As a being, I am so overwhelmingly insignificant and fleeting compared to the grandness that is the universe. The universe itself is insignificant and fleeting when compared to itself. We cannot comprehend with our grasping, cursory minds how completely huge the universe is. Even on our own planet, it is humbling to encounter giant whales, ancient red woods, or everlasting mountains. Considering how small we are, who are we to claim we have some distinction? It would be like a mote of dust claiming it is somehow separate from all that led to it and all it is yet to be.

Which of course leads me into thoughts on interconnectedness. As is perhaps evident by now, I believe that through the understanding that there is no self we can clearly see our interconnectedness. I build my tissues with the same air that somebody else held in their lungs. I continue my life through the consumption of another life, which in turn continued its life through the consumption of another life. One day, all of the elements that fly in and through me will one day no longer attach themselves to any heartbeat or breath or thoughts and will settle into the flow of electrons in bacteria, fungi, ferns, trees, snakes, dogs, babies, oceans, and clouds. We all came from stardust, and to stardust we will all return.

The Eightfold Path

"Faith is, above all, openness--an act of trust in the unknown."--Alan Watts

"Cessation of suffering is not the same thing as happiness."--Doris (a priest here)

Flower of the Week:

Fox Glove. This one in particular might be my favorite one in the garden.

Buddhist Lesson of the Week:

The Eightfold Path

Lady's Mantle--good for small arrangements

If you can remember from the Buddhist lesson of last week, the Eightfold Path is the means for achieving the fourth Noble Truth, which is to escape samsara, or the cycle of birth and rebirth, and in so doing to escape from suffering. The Eightfold Path is something that all Buddhists keep in mind in order to live good, thoughtful, and meaningful lives. As it is is with most things in Buddhism, the Eightfold Path is intentionally vague; it is supposed to be open to interpretation for every situation as it arises in life. As such, I'm struggling to come up with descriptions for exactly what each one is supposed to mean; such things exist, but I definitely believe it to be more pertinent to let them guide you as you best see fit. If anyone really wants me to help give some context for them, I can come up with something, I'm sure...just let me know. The Eightfold Path is separated into three categories: Wisdom, Ethics, and Concentration. 

Wisdom

1. Right View/Understanding

2. Right Intention/Thought

Ethics

3. Right Speech

4. Right Action

5. Right Livelihood

Concentration

6. Right Effort

7. Right Mindfulness/Awareness

8. Right Meditation/Contemplation

Life at the Center

I am continually grateful for my time here. Yesterday officially marked our first month living here, and so now we're allowed to leave the valley and venture into the "real world," if we so choose...which I haven't particularly felt like doing yet. I have everything I need here: good food, a wonderful place to sleep, a healthy occupation, clean air, wonderful company, sunlight, and fog.

A mama Buddha, dressed up for Mother's Day, watching over the baby lettuces

Practice

If I'm being 100% honest here, and I don't really feel any need to not be 100% honest, I am basically asleep during both periods of morning zazen. The fact that this place is essentially a summer camp for adults lends itself to a plethora of non-stop awesome activities and very little free time. I usually sleep about 7 hours a night, and then during my days I'm just going non-stop from 4:15 am to 9:00 pm. I definitely want to be awake during the periods of zazen, but my body and brain are tired. I of course have considered drinking some caffeine on top of my daily stretches before sitting, but that doesn't seem right to me. Also, I'm pretty sure consuming caffeine on an empty stomach, especially super early in the morning, will just make me anxious more than anything. As we aren't supposed to have any specific goals while we sit, and we are supposed to just accept whatever comes while sitting, that's all I'm doing so far. I'm hoping that through sitting more I'll be able to eventually reach a point where my mind is just quietly awake during morning zazen without actually nodding off every 10 seconds (without making it a goal...I don't know, zen can be hard.)

A quilt of baby lettuces

Last Sunday the dharma talk was given by our abbess Fu, who is a lovely human being. Typically around here the Buddha's birthday is celebrated every year on the first Sunday of May with a great pageant involving large puppets. I guess this year they decided to not do the pageant, as it was a lot of work for the community. Instead they only did a small pageant for their kids' program. The dharma talk was also about Buddha's birthday. Fu read the grandly fantastic story of the Buddha's birth day, which involved a large parade involving all sorts of creatures, including a large white elephant and dragons. Fu is very funny and approachable, and has absolutely great comedic timing, so hearing her talk is often like watching an incredibly deep and thought-provoking stand-up routine.

Our Sunday class is still going great; Doris, the instructor, has a way of teaching and approaching a subject that is very easy for me to absorb. She also talks about Stephen Bachelor quite a lot, who is a man who was a Buddhist for many years but is now Atheist, and he writes books about that whole experience and what he learned from it all. Obviously, that is right on up my alley. I have not read any Stephen Bachelor yet, but I definitely have keen interest in reading some of his stuff (when I have time to read again, which might not be for quite some time, unfortunately.)

In my Monday class with Catherine the Tenzo we did another very interesting writing exercise. She had us write 7 lines of description of a place, 7 lines of dialogue, and 7 lines of a short story. The three sets of 7 were to be unrelated to one another. Once we were done writing, she had us combine the three groups into one cohesive piece of writing. It was very interesting, and most stuff turned out to be almost like poetry. It was another fascinating sampling of how the brains of the people in the group worked. Although all of the initial three parts were to be unrelated, most people had some sort of inherent theme across all of their parts that came together in a rather poignant way. I can post mine below.
**Disclaimer: It doesn't make any sense. Just approach it as poetic or interpretive or whatnot and make of it what you will.

On Tuesdays Fu gives a class on the 4 Bodhisattva vows (which I'll probably talk about some other time); I initially did not sign up for the class because I didn't want to overwhelm myself. However, upon hearing from everybody who took the class the previous week that it was incredible, I decided to attend. It was indeed very good, and of course, because it was Fu's class, very funny and entertaining. She actually ended up talking far more about the Six Perfections/Paramitas (which I'll probably talk about some other time) for most of the class, but it was still very interesting.

Work

We have essentially just been getting the garden ready for the plant sale that is happening this weekend, which basically just entailed our normal work of making sure the garden looked as beautiful as possible...but also involved baking cookies.

Claudia is giving us space on Monday afternoons to work on a project in the garden. I chose making teas from what we have in the garden, which we eventually will sell. There isn't too much growing in the garden right now that can be made into a tea, but right now we're sporadically harvesting anise hyssop, lemon verbena, and blackmint to be dried. I'm excited to become really well versed in tea making (although, I suppose it's technically tisane making, because we aren't actually harvesting any tea plants.)

Some more fox gloves--they're very abundant
everywhere right now

Every other Tuesday we do crew meetings in the afternoon. Crew meetings primarily involve announcements/other things Claudia wants to talk to us about, and then check-ins. Check-ins are when we go around popcorn style and talk about ourselves. We talk for about 5-10 minutes each, and nobody interrupts or even really reacts while you're talking. It's nice, to be able to freely (and completely honestly) reveal to a group of people how you're truly feeling on the inside. It is also incredibly conducive to group bonding, and building trust and camaraderie in our crew. The last crew meeting I just talked about how refreshing it is for me to just be truly happy for the longest period I can remember, since childhood probably. There's a part of me still waiting for the other shoe to drop, and for me to get depressed again, but for now that is not the case. I have been talking to several people about this around here, but something I realized is that I'm so unbridled in my happiness right now only because of the fact that I am not depressed; I am, essentially, immensely enjoying the fact that I can enjoy things. I keep getting spontaneously super excited about random things (which I've always done, but it's way more frequently now.) I love it.

This past week's crew meeting Fu came to join us. She participated in the check-in, and as it always is, it was interesting to see the more human side of her. Not that she's not apparently human, but it's easy to idealize the priests around here, especially the ones who have been here for a long time--it's heartening for my practice and for my self to realize that even people who are enlightened (or close to it) still struggle with human foibles such as loneliness and stress. I was also struck by the realization that it is her job to be wise, and that's pretty much it. Most of her days are spent listening to people, and then being expected to deliver to them wisdom. How wonderful that that role is still available for people in society, even if it is diminishing. It is also very odd, but then that oddness is magical.

A few days ago there were some people camping in the garden (which is something people aren't supposed to do.) The next day a whole lot of stuff was missing from the garden's cob shed, including some tools, all of our matches and incense for our little altar, and Claudia's Thich Nhat Hanh book that we had been reading from every morning. Nobody here wants to assume that people stole them, or that it was the people camping in the garden who did so. Everybody just keeps saying "well, they probably needed to use them, and hopefully they'll return them soon." I guess we'll see.

Three of us from the garden got trained last week to be docents for school tour groups here, which we'll do for the first time on this upcoming Tuesday. I'm pretty excited about this, because I like teaching and I like kids and I think it will be an interesting challenge. We will be taking the kids on a 6-stop tour around the farm and garden, teaching them about compost, the seeding shed, the kitchen garden, the cob shed, bees, and the orchard. I like all of these things very much, and I am interested to see what kind of things I end up wanting to talk to them about.

The nursery all ready for the plant sale!

Community

I think for this I kind of want to talk about what my week looks for each day, typically. I don't know if I'm doing this because I think people will find it interesting or because I kind of want to show-off how busy I am, but either way, here it is.

Sunday: Morning zazen, soji, breakfast, class, dharma talk, lunch, free time, dinner, free time

Monday: Morning zazen, soji, breakfast, work meeting, work (harvesting herbs), lunch, chidening (my zendo job where I tidy the altars), work (making teas), evening zazen, dinner, chidening, class

Tuesday: Morning zazen, soji, breakfast, work meeting, work (making compost), lunch, work/crew meeting, evening zazen, dinner, class

Wednesday: Morning zazen, soji, breakfast, work meeting, work (usually making flower arrangements,) lunch, work, evening zazen, dinner, dharma talk

Thursday: Morning zazen, soji, breakfast, work meeting, work, lunch, work (orchards), yoga class, dinner, D&D

Friday: Late breakfast, work, lunch, work, free time, dinner, game night

Saturday: Free day

Some bigger lettuce on the farm

Some things worth noting from this schedule that I haven't noted in past weeks, or that are new for this week:

Thursday evening yoga class instead of evening zazen. There is no evening zazen on Thursdays for anybody (you of course can go in and sit in the zendo on your own if you feel so inclined;) instead of that we are offered this FABULOUS yoga class. It's primarily for the farm and garden crews, but others are welcome if they're available--we typically have a few guest students and people from other programs there as well. The instructor is named Tanya and she is incredible. Before every class she asks us where we're being bothered (it's usually hips, knees, and lower backs, from zazen and our work;) she then creates an entire class to help us with those spots that lasts an hour and a half. It is fantastic. At the end, when we do corpse pose, it feels like we're doing it for days. I feel like I'm underwater, and forget myself completely. It feels more restful than sleep. It's amazing that such a class is offered to us for free, and we are all immensely grateful for it.

This past week I was invited to play Dungeons & Dragons with some people here, which I am SUPER STOKED for. We're still just in the phase of building our characters, which takes quite a long time, but I'm excited nonetheless. A whole lot of people have interest in it too, which could potentially be an adventure. In the past I've only played with 3 people (including myself) and one Dungeon Master. There are easily 6-8 people interested in playing with us, not including the DM. Only the DM and myself have played before, and I'm the only one that's played the particular version we're doing, so that will also be interesting, having to be a guiding force with my (relatively speaking) modest experience.

This past Saturday (yesterday) Qayyum (the farm manager) took all of the new apprentices on a circumambulation around Mt. Tamalpais (usually just called Mt. Tam.) It's the biggest mountain in the area (but still very humble, compared to the mountains I'm used to---it's peak is only at 2200 feet or so.) Nonetheless, it took us 9 hours to walk all the way around. It was rainy and foggy the entire day, which limited some of our sightseeing opportunities but added a mystical and ethereal energy to the whole day.

I was actually pretty anxious about the hike the night before, and the morning of. In the past (as many of my college friends know) hiking--or really any sort of prolonged period involving physical activity--got me right anxious. I think a big part of it is feeling somehow inadequate, or that I will in some way be holding the others back. I don't like looking weak or in any way inept to others, especially those that I respect immensely. Anyways, anxiety was creeping into me for the first real time since coming here. I talked to a few of the other apprentices about it, and they were all very supportive. Dominic, one of the farm apprentices, gave me a wonderful reading on courage that actually definitely helped inspire me.

Some onions growing on the farm

Somehow I found myself getting ready for the hike with my yurt mates, and in the car on the way to the hike. Somehow I found myself embarking on this long day with the others. I really think that the practice here helped me immensely. I was honestly not sure I would make it through the day without having an anxiety attack, and yet I did it. I kept loving and being compassionate with myself in the beginning, saying things to myself like "Don't worry, love, you are strong and keeping perfect pace with the others," or "You are fine love, everybody here supports you, you are fine." About two hours into the day Qayyum gave us all beans to carry with us (to instill in them some sort of transformative energy, I think he's genuinely curious as to whether they'll grow differently or not.) For the rest of the day, whenever I felt myself getting anxious I would pour all of my attention into the bean in my hand; in this way I was able to ground myself in my real body, as it was existing in reality (which was doing just dandy,) and not becoming attached to my mind body (that was telling me I should be freaking out.) Towards the end I didn't even need the bean, but instead was complacent and acceptant of just walking in the rain with such fabulous people. I am honestly kind of amazed that I was able to see such success within myself in regards to something that has plagued my mind state for so long.

Book of the Week:

Since our Thich Nhat Hanh book has gone missing, instead we've been reading from Wendy Johnson's book Gardening at the Dragon's Gate. In case you don't remember who Wendy Johnson is, she is the one who established the farm and garden apprenticeship program here at Green Gulch, and is one of the early garden managers here. She led us on our walk through Muir Woods a few weeks ago. Anyways, it is full of zen wisdom and insights about gardening--it's also neat because all of the gardening she's talking about is actually about the garden here, the garden I work in. Anyways, she's lovely and the book is lovely.

Song of the Week:

"All My Days"--Alexi Murdoch

This song is heavily featured in a lovely movie called "Away We Go," which is super cute and I highly recommend it for anybody. I have been listening to it quite a few times since I moved here, and I think it's beautiful and poignant. I think I'll post all of the lyrics to this one...I think its sentiments ring true for a lot of people, but it's especially ringing true for me here. The "you" in this song could still be referencing myself, in the sense of Borges' "The Other." I almost think it's more beautiful that way, but maybe that's because that's where I'm at with my life. I'm finding myself, it's all I've been looking for...and as it relates to yesterday, when I'm here, as I'm here, even breathing feels alright.

Well I have been searching all of my days

All of my days

Many a road, you know

I've been walking on

All of my days

And I've been trying to find

What's been in my mind

As the days keep turning into night

Well I have been quietly standing in the shade

All of my days

Watch the sky breaking on the promise that we made

All of this rain

And I've been trying to find

What's been in my mind

As the days keep turning into night

Well many a night I found myself with no friends standing near

All of my days

I cried aloud

I shook my hands

What am I doing here

All of these days

For I look around me

And my eyes confound me

And it's just too bright

As the days keep turning into night

Now I see clearly

It's you I'm looking for 

All of my days

Soon I'll smile

I know I'll feel this loneliness no more

All of my days

For I look around me

And it seems you've found me

And it's coming into sight

As the days keep turning into night

As the days keep turning into night

And even breathing feels all right

Yes, even breathing feels all right

Now even breathing feels all right

It's even breathing

Feels all right

The Peach Stand

The red dirt slopes downward to a rocky, dry creek bed. The brush around the great, old juniper trees are scratchy and brittle. I stand by the dusty road, watching the cars amble by under the shade of my fruit stand. Looking around, I can see the great alpine peaks hovering over the valley beyond the tree tops.

A bright blue pickup truck approaches the stand at a simmering crawl, creaking and settling loudly as it rolls to a stop. I stand and scratch my sweating scalp under my sun hat, stretching subtly as two figures come to look at my peaches. The young woman in the couple is heavily pregnant and looks to be steadily uncomfortable in the heat of the bright sun. The young man stands back a way from her, his eyes bright with adoration as he watches her gently smell the fruit. Looking down, I see the slanted foot prints of running dogs.

Looking carefully at my customers, I recognize the deep and protective look in the man's eyes. Suddenly, I remember a long lost wished-for life where I was the one heavy with child in that man's arms.

"I just want you to know that I like you"

"I like you too"

"I just want you to know that I like you like you--like if we were in the 2nd grade"

"I want to pretend we're in the 2nd grade too--I just want you to know that I don't just like you, olive juice."

"Olive juice."

"What an interesting turn this friendship has taken."

Closing my eyes, I can smell the wet dirt and the aching needles from the great trees. Closing my eyes, I can hear the far off rush of an awakened river.

"I blame the stars in your eyes."

Slowly and softly I set my body on the old and forgotten swing and push off over the shallow ravine.