Heart of Great Perfect Wisdom Sutra and Homage to the Prajna Paramita

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other
people won't feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of
God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others."--Marianne Williamson

Flower of the Week:

Kangaroo Paw--a weird, quirky, hidden guy that I adore

Buddhist Lesson of the Week:

Heart of Great Perfect Wisdom Sutra and Homage to the Prajna Paramita

Some cool variety of Calla Lily in the garden

I'm going to talk more about the chants that we perform every day in the zendo after our two periods of morning zazen. To pick up from last week, after we do the nine prostrations to the Manjushri figure seated at the back of the zendo, we rearrange and sit seiza (on our knees) and pass out chant books. The next chant we do is always the Heart of Great Perfect Wisdom Sutra, in either English or Japanese (in Japanese it's called the "Makka Hannya Haramita Shin Gyo"). After that we chant a homage to the Perfection of Wisdom (also known as the Prajna Paramita.)

The Heart Sutra is known as the "second-turning" of the wheel of dharma. The first turning was Buddha's teaching of the Four Noble Truths, and it is enacted through Theravada Buddhism. The Prajna Paramita is thought to be another important revelation of the Dharma, and it is what provides the basis for Mahayana Buddhists to practice (Zen is a Mahayana tradition.) Mahayana Buddhists also place the utmost importance on the "first-turning" (or the Four Noble Truths,) but just add the teachings from the Heart Sutra, and all of the teachings that branch off of it, or that were inspired by it, as well.

It's sort of a matter of pride and accomplishment here when you're able to recite the Heart Sutra (in English) and the Homage to the Prajna Paramita from memory, without need of the chant book. Of course, that's only the beginning...the longer you're here, you're able to recite more and more of the chants from memory. I am able to recite both the Heart Sutra and Homage from memory, of course :)

Heart of Great Perfect Wisdom Sutra:

Sea Lavender Statice

Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, when deeply practicing prajña paramita, clearly saw that all five aggregates are empty and thus relieved all suffering. Shariputra, form does not differ from emptiness, emptiness does not differ from form. Form itself is emptiness, emptiness itself form. Sensations, perceptions, formations, and consciousness are also like this. Shariputra, all dharmas are marked by emptiness; they neither arise nor cease, are neither defiled nor pure, neither increase nor decrease. Therefore, given emptiness, there is no form, no sensation, no perception, no formation, no consciousness; no eyes, no ears, no nose, no tongue, no body, no mind; no sight, no sound, no smell, no taste, no touch, no object of mind; no realm of sight ... no realm of mind consciousness. There is neither ignorance nor extinction of ignorance... neither old age and death, nor extinction of old age and death; no suffering, no cause, no cessation, no path; no knowledge and no attainment. With nothing to attain, a bodhisattva relies on prajña paramita, and thus the mind is without hindrance. Without hindrance, there is no fear. Far beyond all inverted views, one realizes nirvana. All buddhas of past, present, and future rely on prajña paramita and thereby attain unsurpassed, complete, perfect enlightenment. Therefore, know the prajña paramita as the great miraculous mantra, the great bright mantra, the supreme mantra, the incomparable mantra, which removes all suffering and is true, not false. Therefore we proclaim the prajña paramita mantra, the mantra that says: "Gate Gate Paragate Parasamgate Bodhi Svaha."

**What this is relating is essentially the story of Avalokiteshvara, the Bodhisattva of Compassion, realizing The Heart Sutra and relating it to his dear follower Shariputra. There is a lot within this, and it can be (and is) analyzed and comprehended deeply and often by those who study Zen Buddhism seriously. Essentially, I believe it to be the teaching of emptiness, impermanence, and interconnectedness.

I suggest reading it slowly to yourself a few times to fully understand it.

The mantra "Gate Gate Paragate Parasamgate Bodhi Svaha" translates roughly to "Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone altogether beyond, O what an awakening, all-hail!"

A beautiful pink rose hanging from a trellis at the entrance to the herb circle in the garden

Homage to the Prajna Paramita:

Homage to the Perfection of Wisdom, the lovely, the holy. The Perfection of Wisdom gives light. Unstained, the entire world cannot stain her. She is a source of light and from everyone in the triple world she removes darkness. Most excellent are her works. She brings light so that all fear and distress may be forsaken, and disperses the gloom and darkness of delusion. She herself is an organ of vision. She has a clear knowledge of the own-being of all dharmas, for she does not stray away from it. The Perfection of Wisdom of the buddhas sets in motion the wheel of dharma.

Glorious baby yellow plums growing on a tree right in front of the yurt

Life at the Center:

Wild cucumber

I have been feeling pretty open, raw, emotional, and philosophical this past week. There has been a low-hanging, dense fog sitting in the valley for most of this past week, and I think this might have something to do with it. I also had a familiar visit from my anxiety this past week, and it stuck around for a couple of days. My anxiety here is definitely different than it has ever been...whereas usually it's a slow, painful march into anxiousness and then a struggling climb back out of it again, here it's been more like a roller coaster--one moment I'm completely fine, even joyous; the next moment I'll be deeply shrouded in the familiar fog of anxiety, only to be totally fine again the next moment after that. I guess that "totally fine" is relative; I still had an edge of anxiety, it was there, lurking, even if not immediately present. However, I was able to work, engage in conversation, think, and even laugh openly and genuinely. Also, experiencing my anxiety through the lens of my increased awareness meant that I could actually catch on to the usually fleeting thoughts that are indicative of what's making me anxious. It was interesting, because usually I can't clearly see what it is that induces the anxiety, and here I could spot them and hold on to them, and learn from them.

English Lavender

At first, I was obviously unhappy with the anxiety returning. It was...disappointing to see it manifest here, in a space where I am so obviously healthy and happy and safe. On the other hand, I never really thought that it would just go away, just like that. My time here has largely been about practicing acceptance of what is happening in every moment as it is; of course, I thought that practicing this acceptance would mean that I would no longer be anxious--how could I be anxious about anything when I am inherently accepting? But of course, I'm not inherently accepting, not at all, not yet...and so for now, I am accepting the fact that my anxiety is here. It is a part of me. A very integral, defining part of who I am as a person. Instead of pushing it away, hating it, abusing it, punishing it, I am now working on accepting it, and giving it compassion...thus accepting myself, and giving myself compassion. Already I feel so much better about it! It's so much easier to love than hate, even when it comes to aspects of myself, and realizing this has really made me more peaceful, at least for now (I am sure to forget this lesson from time to time.)

As far as exterior events in the center are related, this has been another fairly laid-back week. I had Monday off for Memorial Day, as did most of the residents here, except for the farm and half of the garden. This meant that the kitchen had the day off, and so in order to feed ourselves we had "open kitchen," or that we had to cook for ourselves. I was overwhelmed by the thought of having to cook for myself in such an expansive kitchen, but luckily I didn't have to worry about it too much. In the morning I took a long, lovely, striking hike in the hills around the gulch and then came back to attempt lunch, only to have it made for me or donated to me by three lovely, lovely, people. Travis, a wonderful human and a fellow D&Der made me a quesadilla; Rebecca, a beautiful human and a fellow gardener made a lot of veggie pizza with a beet-based sauce that she shared; and Dina, a stunning individual who works in the guest program made some lovely mini-quiche-type things that she shared. Everyone was sharing and cooking for everyone, and it was so, so beautiful and complete. It was a simple and quietly wonderful example of the kind of happiness and connection that comes from community living.

Grosso Lavender

On Monday we also had our last writing class with Catherine. I'm definitely going to miss that class. There are a few others from the class that have also expressed that they're going to miss it, and Catherine said she could email us her prompts, so that maybe we can do them on our own, in an informal manner. I'd be interested to see if we can find time to do that; I think I definitely benefited a lot from this class, and would like to try to keep with the work it provided. The assignment this week was to write an 11-line narrative. When we were done, we were told to write an additional 10 sentences, with the goal of making the story somewhat of a palindrome. So, the 12th sentence had to somewhat reflect the 10th sentence, the 13th reflected the 9th, and so on. It was interesting, because originally I had the story end at a high-point, and this exercise enabled me to bring it back down again. I'll post mine below, along with some lines from another exercise we did at the beginning of a few of the classes: we started out every class with a short period of sitting, and the exercise was to write down one or two sentences describing what we noticed during the sit. 

On Wednesday we received a wonderful dharma talk from Juryu, the priest who led the one-day sit that I partook in a few weeks ago. I really enjoy Juryu's dharma talks--he's quiet, thoughtful, and particular with his words. He's also very honest and open with what he's discussing, without any unnecessary flair or pushed agenda of any kind. When listening to his talks I feel like I'm remembering something I know but didn't yet before know that I knew. His talk had a lot of different ideas, all of them intriguing. I feel like one of the essential messages of the talk was that we should not pay much credence to feelings, because they are fleeting and internal. Instead, we should focus on our actions. Sometimes, we need to focus on our feelings in order to better guide our actions, but in the grand scheme of things, it is not what we feel that matters as much as what we do. 

Pink rose

He talked about how people who practice Zen often try to obtain some sort of "zen" feeling, especially when we sit. Sometimes, we obtain such a feeling--usually characterized by some sort of radical openness, acceptance, understanding, or calm. We then try to hold on to that feeling as we go about our days. He argued that this is not zen; when we are in the zendo, we are in the zendo...as soon as we leave the zendo, we are doing something else, and we need to experience that fully without holding on to feelings we had moments before. If we work in the garden, we should not be zen and working in the garden; we should just be working in the garden. We need to be able to experience every moment as the result of everything that is a part of that moment, in whatever shape and form it has. Holding on to notions or feelings limits our ability to fully live presently, even if they are calm and accepting feelings. It's a lot to think about, and I think probably pretty hard to actually enact--but, as with everything here, it can only come with practice...or only comes in the practice.

Something else that he talked about that was especially intriguing to me is that people sometimes feel like they need to "fake it till they make it," or pretend that they feel love or passion or interest in something they're doing until they actually do feel love, passion, or interest in it. Juryu said that this isn't how it works. The doing of the activity itself is the love, passion, and interest. He talked about how he loves his kids, but that in every moment he doesn't necessarily have a loving feeling towards them--sometimes he's frustrated, upset, tired, etc. Nonetheless, he cares for them, nurtures them, and parents them. Even if he doesn't always feel in every moment an aware love for his children, that doesn't matter--the care, nurturing, and parenting he does for them is love.

There is no point in feeling love for something, for someone, if you do not act on it, act like it. Acting out the love is how we live in enlightenment. Not acting out the love does not benefit any being. This felt like a sort of affirmation in my recent ambition to let everybody know how much they are loved. If I love someone and do not let them know, what is the point to loving them?

Some cool variety of rose, I don't know what it's called

There were also two birthdays this past week: Reed, a thoroughly pleasant and intriguing apprentice in the Maintenance department with soft, wondrous eyes had his birthday on Thursday; Juniper, a delightful friend with an easy-going, open, soft personality and an impressive knowledge of plants had her birthday on Friday.

Ornamental Poppy in garden

Today (Saturday) there's a big wedding happening here at Green Gulch. The bride is the daughter of our Central Abbess Linda Ruth Cutts. The ceremony took place in the zendo and the reception is in the garden. We had to prep and prim the garden this past week to get it all prepared for this grand event, which meant a whole lot of weeding and mowing. We also are going to market at Ferry Plaza for the first time this season today. Rebecca, the aforementioned pizza cook and lovely human being, is going to market for the garden. We had to collect herbs to sell and Rebecca and I made 10 bouquets to sell as well. In addition to those bouquets we were asked to make arrangements for the tables at the wedding or the rehearsal dinner (or something.) Anyways, making bouquets is different from making formal arrangements for the altars, and so it's fun and challenging in a different way. It's been a rewarding past few days in the garden.

Living in increased awareness also leads to an elevated, more pervasive and persistent understanding of my own mortality. It is somewhat intimidating. No, it is very intimidating. Especially because I do not believe in any sort of afterlife at all, I'm keenly aware that this is it. When I die, I will absolve into nothing. If anything remains of me, it will not matter to me anymore. Anyways, it just makes me pay attention to what makes me happy, which has increasingly been the splendor of other beings. It's also made me feel more concern for making sure I feel fulfilled in this one life, to burn brightly and fully, with nothing to remain. 

Some rabbits hanging out behind the herb circle at the back of the garden

Song(s) of the Week:

First off, I'm sorry for not having a book for this week. I just finished The Language of Flowers a few days ago, and I haven't started a new one yet. To make up for it, I'm going to post three songs this week, all by Asaf Avidan, who is wonderful. These songs all really characterize for me my experience in Hawaii, because we listened to them all of the time, but I thought I'd share them here for now, because they're all so, so beautiful...and I feel like the lyrics are pertinent to what I've been feeling lately, in all of the myriad forms. He sings a lot about heartbreak, and loving desperately and fully. Although I feel the importance of loving fully, right now I don't feel any desperate need to do so, so that's something.

Asaf Avidan & The Mojos, "One Day/Reckoning Song"
(This is the Wankelmut Remix)

No more tears, my heart is dry

I don't laugh and I don't cry

I don't think about you all the time

But when I do –I wonder why

You have to go out of my door

And leave just like you did before

I know I said that I was sure

But rich men can't imagine poor.

One day baby, we'll be old

Oh baby, we'll be old

And think of all the stories that we could have told

Little me and little you

Kept doing all the things they do

They never really think it through

Like I can never think you're true

Here I go again– the blame

The guilt, the pain, the hurt, the shame

The founding fathers of our plane

That's stuck in heavy clouds of rain.

One day baby, we'll be old

Oh baby, we'll be old

And think of all the stories that we could have told.

Asaf Avidan & The Mojos, "Turn of the Tides Under the Northern Lights"

The sun, it rises and sets

My homeward path is the place where it rests

Oh, where the sun goes, that'll be my home

From there I come, to there I go

Love is all I need to take

My heart is strong though my body'll break

My lungs will fill with the ocean's salt

My love will keep my heart afloat

The waves will tear my battered arms

But in my heart the water is calm

The winds will strip my bones from flesh

My love is strong, my heart is fresh

My eyes and ears will feed the sea

My heart will keep on guiding me...

Back home...

Guide me back home...

Back home.

Asaf Avidan, "Different Pulses" **definitely one of my favorite songs

My life is like a wound I scratch so I can bleed

Regurgitate my words, I write so I can feed

And Death grows like a tree that's planted in my chest

Its roots are at my feet, I walk so it won't rest

Oh, Baby I am Lost...

I try to push the colors through a prism back to white

To sync our different pulses into a blinding light

And if love is not the key, if love is not a key,

I hope that I can find a place where it could be

I know that in your heart there is an answer to a question 

That I'm not as yet aware that I have asked

And if that tree had not drunk my tears

I would have bled and cried for all the years 

That I alone have let them pass

Oh, Baby I am yours...

Palindrome Story:

The main throughway is dusty and dense with sweating adults and laughing children. I look between the shoulders of two women wearing complimentary polka-dot dresses and notice an old and aching ride, echoing its forgotten years throughout the carnival grounds. I slowly navigate my way towards the ride, a grandfather of machinery that was long ago built to distract and mollify. The attendant stares at me warily as I place my hand onto the crooked railing separating the empty ride from the noise and busyness surrounding it. I slowly guide my palm along the railing as I approach the attendant, letting the dark-green splintering paint chips fall to the ground in my wake. The attendant stands stiffly, seeming almost unsure of what to do as I hand him my ticket and float through the turnstile. I sit down in the bucket seat and absorb the dark coolness and isolation of the memories that characterize the loneliness of this ride. Slowly, the machine creaks forward and steadily gains momentum while the wind and motion push me into my seat. I whirl past the lights and cacophony below, flying from smells of funnel cake and cotton candy to odors of decay and tainted loneliness in a matter of moments. People do not look up at me, swinging above them in the moonlight, a phantom of the fair, and appeaser of ghosts.

I slip away into the night, sighing with the clouds in relief at my ascension.

People do not look up at me, as they rush around below, content with distraction and consumption. The ground below me becomes a blur, a flash of yellow bulbs and purple signs and the red wigs worn by clowns. The giant, old, tired ride begins to complain of the burden of my weight and expectations. It begins to sing to me about its memories of fulfillment and joy as it begins to slow down, readying for another long slumber. I can feel the attendant's eyes on my backside as I coast closer and closer to him, until finally I am settled back onto the hard ground. The ground beneath me is dirty and unkempt, and the tracks my feet left as I ascended and then returned can be clearly seen in the dust. The attendant comes and helps me unbuckle and then rise from my seat, clearly uncomfortable with begin so close to another human being. I pat his hand as I walk away, and watch goosebumps rise on his arms. I look around and see the two polka-dot dresses consuming candied apples in constructed satisfaction, and I turn to catch one last glimpse at my momentary mechanical companion. I return to stroll once more down the throughway, content to be different from the rest of the shambling masses collected here, content to be forgotten.

A Few Words About Sitting:

A sweeping feeling of relief at existing in this moment as opposed to the ones before, with the fire crackling in the corner.

Preoccupation with the fact that my mind is preoccupied.

The building creaking and settling, belaboring its burden of remaining upright.

My teeth pushing into my lower lip, gently sinking and sliding into the skin.

Writing that previous sentence in my head in anticipation for this exercise.

Amusement at the direction my thoughts seem to consistently follow in every recent zazen.

Feeling adrift and askew and misplaced from time.

Thinking about someone I wish I couldn't think about.

Noticing a familiar shortness of breath.