Repose

"We actually do belong."--Fu, our abbess

I have definite interest in writing a blog for this past week, but I have absolutely no interest in this present moment in doing it in the regular fashion that I conscribed two months ago. Right now, in this moment, I am feeling so entirely contemplative and sensational.

I hope you forgive the absence of pictures this week, it is just not what I am inspired to do right now.

Today, I began to wonder in a more concentrated manner what exactly it is that drives me to write this blog. I know that I enjoy writing in general, quite a lot. Often my days off here are entirely devoted to writing in some fashion, either in the form of this blog, letters, or recently, fiction. It helps me process my thoughts, to have to organize them in a matter that is coherent enough to be understood by someone else. I think that even when I do not intend to write down my thoughts, I form my comprehensions as though they are to be written, especially when they topics are of a rather profound nature. But, why do I feel the compulsion to share my writing, share my life, with whoever? Why should I presume that anybody wants to read what I think and feel about a rather soft existence at a zen center, working in a garden?

Apparently, people do like reading my thoughts, as I can see that the blog gets a fair amount of traffic. This is very humbling. Thank you to all who read this for allowing me a sense of legitimacy.

I think a primary reason for me wanting to share my thoughts with people stems from a rather innately human place; we are a gregarious species, and we connect to each other through speech, most especially speech that is vulnerable and genuine. I so inherently have this desire to connect to people, to feel accepted and loved, for exactly who I am. This is entirely natural. Although it might be easy to look at it as an insecurity, which I don't think is inaccurate, it is such a true and expected insecurity, I am not ashamed of it.

I also think that being so entirely open and honest on such a public platform (this blog) allows me to feel more comfortable with doing it in person, with humans, face-to-face. A lot of my insecurities and subsequent anxiety stem from a belief that people do not actually care to know what I think or feel, especially if it's negative. This, of course, is not true; people who truly care for me truly wish to know how I am, even if they can't relate or help. My time here has especially helped me see this. I am inspired by those who are open and vulnerable with me, and I admire their attempt at connection through such rawness. I attempt to do the same now, and hopefully always. It helps with the insecurities and the anxiety, helps with my self-confidence and self-acceptance.

It is a striking realization that there are people who want to know who I am, truly, just as much as I want to know who they are, truly.

Life at the Center:

This will only be a quick synopsis of important events from this past week, lest I forget about them (should I really want to remember everything, though? My own mortality is perhaps a sufficient enough filter for deeming the important aspects of my life as I approach non-existence.)

On Sunday we started a new class, this time taught by the priest Shokuchi, who is also head of the Guest Program. This class is an examination of the five skandhas, or aggregates. They are what is principally deemed to be false, or empty, in the realization of the Heart Sutra. They are what comprise existence as a human.The skandhas are: Form, Sensation, Perception, Formation, and Consciousness.

Our first class was primarily just a long, but very interesting, introduction to the skandhas. There are a couple of things that we learned in that class that I found to be particularly interesting that I would like to share.

The first is the Buddha's theory on time, which is essentially that every moment is comprised of a momentary appearance and disappearance of the universe, held within itself, unconnected from all that it came from and all that is yet to come (except for, perhaps, what happens to be congruous with what had happened previously and what will happen.) It is also called a "Theory of instantaneousness." This does not mean that, according to the Buddha, every moment can be separated from karma. It just means that every moment should be evaluated for what it is, can only be evaluated and accepted for what it is. It is like a snapshot of existence in everything, and life is the film that is comprised when all of those snapshots are run alongside each other. That is how there is no continuous self, because, just like everything else, it only exists as it does moment to moment. It is a part of Buddhist practice to watch and get in touch with the story we create.

The other thing I want to share is the "Four Inverted Views," which are the basis for not realizing thusness and actuality. I just found them to be wonderful things to consider "inverted," or "backwards," "illogical". These are:

1. Understanding the repulsive as attractive

2. Understanding suffering as ease

3. Understanding the impermanent as permanent

4. Understanding the no-self as self

I'm looking forward to exploring the skandhas more.

On Tuesday we were treated to a field trip to Sonoma County, near the town of Sebastopol. In the morning it was just the garden crew, Reed (the maintenance apprentice,) and Clark (the grounds apprentice.) We went on a small tour of the California School of Herbal Studies, where Juniper took classes for 8 months a few years ago. She served as our tour guide and showed us their wonderful garden that was absolutely full of medicinal plants. We walked around for an hour or so, with Juniper teaching us all about the plants and their uses, as well as the history of medicinal herbalism (from the Western standpoint.)

In the afternoon the farm crew was able to join us in a tour of Singing Frog Farms, which is a super neat farm that is causing quite a stir in the agricultural community right now. They have a lot of interesting alternative approaches to organic farming, the most evident one being that they're a no-till farm. They also continuously grow crops in their beds (no need for cover crops,) don't really weed, and only use drip irrigation, among other interesting innovations. I suggest checking out their website, if you're interested in knowing more: http://www.singingfrogsfarm.com/about-us.html

On Wednesday we were treated to a dharma talk by our abbess Fu. I've taken to just writing down quotes of things she says during talks, because she is so wise and profound in her understanding and teaching. Her talk was ostensibly about interconnectedness, and how suffering is caused by the misunderstanding (inverted view?) that we are alone. I just want to share some of those quotes now.

"We are created by all the things that we aren't."

"Truth of the cessation of all life--(that) all things must end--that's us. What's sadder than that?"

"The other side of cessation is amazement."

"(We are) not turning towards the darkness, not yet. It will come (in death)."

"The ultimate reality is that there is nothing happening right now, despite all evidence to the contrary."

"Happiness is not the goal (of Buddhism), heaven's not the goal...we are trying to understand the reality of existence."

"Go ahead and fly, you're going to crash. Go ahead and live, you're going to die."

Last night (Friday) I went to the city with a group from Green Gulch, consisting of Juniper, Claudia, Jenny, and Travis. We went to a show called "Mortified" in which five people read excerpts from their teenage journals. It was awesome. In between every act there was a short musical act performed by the band The Freeze, in which they improvised a song about what was just read, which was also wonderful. It was so heartening to realize that everybody was awfully awkward and confused as teenagers. It's a series that's been going on for a while, and they have rotating people who perform. Everything in the show last night was so wonderfully raw and graphic. My favorite one was a romance novel that a woman shared that she wrote when she was 17, which was wonderfully awkward. 

This guy (in clip below) presented this story last night, and let me just tell you, there is many more graphic scenes from his diary than what is shown here. It ended with an entry in which he admitted he was "bisexual" (although adult Leonard told us that he is, in fact, gay.)

It inspired me to look through my diary from when I was a teenager, which I have here at Green Gulch. The entries weren't really funny, which was disappointing. They were definitely awfully anguished in parts, and in other parts surprisingly poignant. I found myself touching on the idea that nothing is permanent and everything is empty before I had ever studied Buddhism, which is probably why I had such a proclivity to it when I was finally introduced to it.

Anyways, the parts that stood out to me the most were the poems I wrote. I don't write poetry anymore--I don't feel and experience life in quite the same way as I did when I felt compelled to organize my feelings into abstract verbal expression. I wish I could still feel that inspiration.

I was inspired by "Mortified" to share these poems. A disclaimer (especially to my parents), a lot of these poems touch on my feelings of loneliness, confusion, and depression. Being a teenager was not easy for me (of course, is it really easy for anyone?) I want it to be clear that I am much less lonely now. If I could ensure my teenager self that maturing (even just for another 5 or 10 years) allows more awareness and self-confidence, I would. Although, everything happened as it did. I think that my feelings of loneliness as a teenager have helped shape me into the person I am today, the person who seeks to be unflinchingly compassionate and who loves people openly and deeply. There's a quote that circulates the internet every once in a while in an attempt to cheer up the lonely masses of people who accumulate there for scraps of human connection (of which I have participated regularly and willingly.) Anyways, the quote is lovely if not cheesy:

"The loneliest people are the kindest.

The saddest people smile the brightest.

The most damaged people are the wisest.

All because they do not wish to see anyone else suffer the way they do."

So, here is the poetry, presented chronologically in the order I wrote them in. It is angsty, ignorant, emotional, visceral, honest, poignant. I hope a future version of myself is not too embarrassed by my decision to share all of this now (also, I do not blame anyone for choosing to not read the poetic ramblings of a hormone-riddled teenager.) These are all written, I'm guessing, around the ages of 16 and 17. 

I am also struck by how many of the ideas presented in these poems are resonant with struggles I am having now (but the struggles now are often far more multi-faceted than they were in high school...or maybe that is a delusion. It probably is. That's just how I want it to be.) They are struggles I have always had and always will have, but I continuously forget about until I am confronted with them once more, believing them to be unique manifestations, unaware of the patterns. It is so human to look for patterns. 

They're also full of Zen and Socratic questionings and reasonings, which are apparently my natural proclivity. 

Reading these inspires a certain amount of compassion for myself, back then and now. 

I think teenage me would have wanted these to be read by someone, at some point.

There are love poems in here too, so be warned. I will not disclose who they were written about :)

There are a lot, 18 to be exact. How did I feel this much?

Anyways...

Poems:

1. 

What do I do? I try to stay true.

But it's so hard.

I don't know. Don't throw the old me back

I like the new me better.

She's stronger.

Then why aren't I strong?

I am strong. I just want to fall back.

Why? Don't ask me.

You know better than I do.

Failing cannot equal my standing

So don't let it.

I'm talking to both you and you (me).

Don't let it.

Would this be easier to do without resilience?

Probably.

Just allow whatever happens to happen.

Don't form attachment.

But don't not try either.

Just be strong. Confident.

Then it will come to you,

Even if not in the form you originally expected.

It's true in all cases.

Be true, that's what to do.

Don't fall back, stand.

Tree, wind, rock

Not sand.

2.

Risk the cold to

Have the view

Softly padding

An airy you

Light is dimming

Stars lip snow

Blanket my back

Cup my toe

Skin on moon

Rug on green

Hair is naked

Hug my spleen

Wish for yellow

To have sips

Wave my hand

In elegant rips

Lightning soft

Envelope space

Cushion time

Ripen my face

Shadows remain

Sun beams go

Linen and leaves

Tangle slow

Risk the dark to

Have the heart

Softly pulling

This empty cart.

3.

Dry land is thrust

Upon a sea--

Although empty,

Content to be.

Dust darkens air

Hiding the sky

We cannot know

If the moon cries.

Land and sea can

Love each other

If only the green

Wasn't smothered.

Forget colors

Remember fog

Resting our head

On floating logs.

Raise my body

Above my soul

Soon inspire

It's heathen toll.

Do not surprise

The sleeping heart

Swimming alone

Throughout the dark.

4.

My ribs collapse around the hole,

The sand disguises broken parts.

Pushing against the empty folds,

The old waits for new life to start.

The sun tries to shine on shadows,

Skin waits on soft, missing the mold.

Hide me until the ashes heal,

The warm wind invites the scarred cold.

Flurries trapped inside the stiff fog,

Someone's layers must surely peel.

Red turns to dust, yellow to grey,

Broken, frayed splinters break the seal.

No voices crack the river's way,

The shade waits during the day.

Hide the moon, she should not see.

Who says flowers grow during May?

Rains come, wash the pain from the bed.

Something's lost, I can't find the key.

The hurt cannot share lies aloud,

Glass reflects what you want to see.

Strength holds up dusty fortresses

The sky cannot be seen in clouds.

Life turns to memories in gauze

And nothing is seen by the crowd.

What compels the crickets to sing?

Do they wish to hear some applause?

Lovely Spring nights live in the grass,

You were barefoot on the see-saw.

5.

The green wall invites me

To places I cannot go.

The sun loves the tall tree

And then hides in its shadow.

The breeze softly lips my face

The road winds towards the bottom.

The stars are waiting in space

Afraid of being forgotten.

Why must all things yearn to heal?

Pain is beauty in the black.

The clouds dance with the gray and teal,

The mist fights the swirling, bringing it back.

I leave a trail of quiet joy

Followed like a shooting star

Happily wishing that a boy

Would feather dust my scars.

6.

Love abruptly shoots the sky

The white fog turns to yellow, to black

And back

Ghosts cannot tell if it's a lie

The tightened string sings for slack.

Life swirls and runs right by

The quiet afternoons tease my skin

The sun finds its way in

Clouds try to comfort, but instead cry

Feeling airy, feeling thin.

Love abruptly shoots the sky,

Whispering, what to do?

The pink is tempting after so much blue.

The clouds sing my, oh my

While the rain cleans an abandoned shoe.

Life swirls and runs right by

It yearns to live on in history

With glorious skin of ivory

Quenching the perpetually dry

This is no one's story.

7. 

(This one was also featured in my blog "Go Big (Island)")

Waves upon waves

Of mahogany tide

Floating suspended

Shifting inside

My thoughts scatter

The fish that hide

Gazing outward,

Along for the ride.

Limitless moon

Match sighing stars

Dripping with salt

That stings my scars

Messages elapse

Stuffed inside drawers

Memories survive

Traveling afar.

Afraid to begin

Afraid of fear

Boats soar by

Unaware I'm near

Contemplating life

Lying with tears

The water reflects

My heart as a mirror.

Complete in myself,

A hole without you,

The ocean carries me

Right on cue

Towards a harmony

Way overdue

A land full of sand

With nothing to do.

8.

Courage evades those who think,

Worldliness evades those who remain ignorant.

Heat seeks equilibrium

Cold seeks impassivity.

Who knows my ways?

Who wishes to?

Loneliness is a human creation

We share with other organisms.

Patience evades those who live,

Love evades those who hide.

Darkness seeks light,

Black seeks color.

Who knows my ways?

Who wishes to?

Knowledge is a human creation 

Brought forth from rebellion.

Triumph evades the timid,

Egotism evades the modest.

Pain seeks redemption,

Hurt seeks healing.

Who knows my ways?

Who wishes to?

9.

Love and compassion are not a sin,

So why does my heart freeze from within?

Loneliness is gray and triumphs time,

My punishment for my unrequited crime.

I see him move, I hear him talk,

But time means nothing to a persistent clock.

Surely I am wonderful, I feel it like the sun,

But how can I be loved if I haven't begun?

Is it bravery or cleverness that evades life

When opportunities and shadows wound like a knife?

Love and compassion are not a sin,

Although in this hole I cannot win.

I wish for yellow and warmth to fill,

But instead find emptiness that slowly kills.

Where can I find continuous strength?

Somewhere that provides instead of pains?

I live with his life, I crumple when he cries,

Can he not feel my heart when he has my eyes?

I pull away from myself, unsure of what to do,

When all I want is simply you.

10.

The sunlight and brown leaves

Suspend the warmth throughout the trees

Down they fall, hand in hand

Crunching toes around the sand

Peaceful afternoons rest in ice

Packed up tight and taped up twice

Thoughts of them surround my hair

In frantic flurries, attracting stares

I long for the sun and grass,

The taste of rain, the smells of past,

Wood, and glow that left

So long ago

Return happy creatures, Asleep

In the anticlines of cliffs so steep

Surrounded by water not cool

But sad and empty of renewals.

Hello little friend, gone away

Tucked in thoughts of happy days.

11.

Patterns are all that remain

After I board this train

Wishes and dreams so close

At once, no longer enter my doze

Cities bright as stars

Are no longer quite as far

Opportunities flash as signs

Replacing once bitter sighs.

Places to be, things to see,

I am off to create a better me

One who can love again,

One who knows when is when,

One who can feel the sand,

And does not follow demands.

I am ready to start life anew

Once so empty without you.

12.

I wish for some turbulence.

The water remains too still,

No matter how far I swim.

Too much calm can slowly kill

As I sit and watch, always,

The waterfall roar and swirl

Unaware of empty days.

The lucid spray sings and twirls,

Caught up in its own beauty

And docile imperfections.

It all simply eludes me,

Floating in no direction.

Currents carry me away!

Away from this nothingness

Save me from what makes me stay,

Trapped behind debris and mess.

Tide, sweep me from this cold pool

Here, I have nothing to do.

I need my spirit to rule

Somewhere far and fresh and new.

13.

Muscle on bone

Heart in a home

Soft breath on skin

My life begins

Side by my side

Happy torn sighs

Direct the night

And block the light.

Dreams in full bloom

Shadow the moon

Heads tend to touch

Want you so much

Sidle closer

I need you, sir

A sad yearning

Breaks the morning

14.

Bravery is evaded, pulled back to bed

As you pull yourself forwards, always ahead.

Sitting and dreaming of you far away

While my loneliness forces me to stay.

Your smile shines through your dusty clothes

I can feel your strong touch as I doze.

Your eyes are bright from your new start

Miles gone I think of your heart.

I think of your eyes, so warm

I think of your mind, so torn

I miss your awkward stance

I miss your silly dance

You are in my thoughts

Even though I am caught

Between yearning

And the burning

Of every thought I know you didn't have.

15.

The night's rustling heat

Pushes away the edge of sleep

Limbs ensnared in sheets

Run with empty thoughts the mind keeps

The soft smell of rain

Packages the heart's achings

Dreams clung to in vain

Wash away with the storm's takings

Years of nothing sit stale

While the body itches to change

Its patterns so pale

But still held far back by loose chains

The sun adds the sky

Tired baby plants add the mist

I watch trails go by

Content in the warmth's loving kiss

16.

When the only person who's ever

Loved you is yourself

When the only power you can

Master is the sun

When the only place you've felt

Comfortable is so alone

The only way to grow is

To scratch the dry dirt

And watch the rain sweep by

And hope for new life

At last.

**Disclaimer: No, I don't think I ever believed the only person who loved me was solely myself. I imagine I did this for dramatic effect. I know now, and have always known, that people love me.

17.

Surrounded by people like a shadow

With so many trails but nowhere to go

Frozen in dreams of capturing sunlight

Admiring the moon alone at night

One can never realize all that one now has

But it's easier to forget when sad.

There's so much beauty alive in the world

Wondering in amazement as life unfurls

But also pain and struggle all around

Yet still more true by our own minds we're bound

Sometimes it's hard to remember others

When you're trapped crying under your covers.

18.

The night moves with heavy, broken sighs

Cloaking my tired naïveté

Burning with thoughts of your warm, kind eyes

Wishing there was something I could say

To make you look past my years and skin--

My inexperience and closed heart

If only you were allowed within

To know how my past pulls me apart.

If only I could believe that you

Loving me was even possible.

Song(s) of the Week:

Just because I think they're beautiful.

"Clair de Lune"--Flight Facilities

If I would know you, would you know me?

Don't go, tell me that the lights won't change,

Tell me that you'll feel the same, and we'll stay here forever

Don't go, tell me that the lights won't change,

Tell me that it'll stay the same,

Where we go

If I would know you, would you know me?

Don't go, tell me that the lights won't change,

Tell me that we'll stay the same,

Where we go

"Wait"--M83

Send your dreams

Where nobody hides

Give your tears

To the tide

No time

No time

There's no end

There is no goodbye

Disappear

With the night

No time

No time