THE BRIDGE

I will go back to the seemingly esoteric.  There is that gut level or experiential quickness that I am so sure of. Oh it saved my life a few times. But then I remember and tally up and keep account. I feel confused and get caught in my experience and the memory of this narrative with two streams, movement, currents, bubbles and swirling waters. Underneath this surface it slows down. How do I separate the slow moving quiet waters from that chatty skittering, roaring and groaning surface that is exposed? I can't do it. And so it goes, in my body which is mostly water. I can make a bridge as in yoga, or a back bend. This recognition is slower, methodical and takes a different kind of energy. Not the sprint but the long distance plodding. The streams have cognitive ease built into them. There is no illusion of skill there. It just is.The breath and my watery body are two actual streams. Very absolute alone unto themselves with the relativity of one to the other. "When you mix them you know where they are" (from the the Song of the Jewel Mirror of Awareness.) That is if you do not deny their existence.

The Zen poem The Jewel Mirror of Awareness intrigued and captivated my imagination. It pointed to different ways of knowing. The subtlety of the thought process involved is a study of depth in a puzzling metaphorical cascade that is plunked into my hands to play with. When the book Thinking Fast and Slow was given to me, I chewed softly on it. Fast and Slow how simple. Chomp chomp. It is so much easier to go fast to attain and sanctify our belief in the fallacies we have created. The illusions of knowing why we chose to do what we do and pat ourselves on the backs for our success. Ah! but there are so many things we have no control over.

Robes and Reality

3/9/19

Think Neither Good Nor Evil plants us right in the middle way. What has that to do with a robe a bowl, a barely literate man running into the mountains and encountering a former military man who wants to take what you have? This sounds like a plot to some cheesy novel about truth and faith in the fields of a foreign country. But what if it was all perverted and the robber was not “an originally honest and good-hearted straightforward man?” Suppose he wasn’t any of that and just took the robe?  What version might we be reading?  What does “think neither good nor evil" have to do with this?’ The story would have moved from the truth to a lie. Continuity would be disrupted. That robe represented more than the physicality of truth and faith.

Trump stole the robe. Now he is sweating in a massive perversion of faith, truth or as we call it, dharma.

As I tried to write I remembered a book called The Robe.    It is in Christian context but here is the synopsis from Wiki.

The book explores the aftermath of the crucifixion of Jesus through the experiences of the Roman tribune, Marcellus Gallio and his Greek slave Demetrius. Prince Gaius, in an effort to rid Rome of Marcellus, banishes Marcellus to the command of the Roman garrison at Minoa, a port city in southern Palestine. In Jerusalem during Passover, Marcellus ends up carrying out the crucifixion of Jesus but is troubled since he believes Jesus is innocent of any crime.          

Marcellus and some other soldiers throw dice to see who will take Jesus' seamless robe. Marcellus wins and asks Demetrius to take care of the robe.

Following the crucifixion, Marcellus takes part in a banquet attended by Pontius Pilate. During the banquet, a drunken centurion insists that Marcellus wear Jesus' robe. Reluctantly wearing the garment, Marcellus apparently suffers a nervous breakdown and returns to Rome.

Sent to Athens to recuperate, Marcellus finally gives in to Demetrius' urging and touches the robe, and his mind is subsequently restored. Marcellus, now believing the robe has some sort of innate power, returns to Judea, follows the path Jesus took, and meets many people whose lives Jesus had affected. Based upon their experiences first Demetrius and then Marcellus becomes a follower of Jesus.

Marcellus then returns to Rome, where he must report his experiences to the emperor, Tiberius at Villa Jovis on Capri. Marcellus frees Demetrius, who escapes. However, later on, because of his uncompromising stance regarding his Christian faith, both Marcellus and his new wife Diana are executed by the new emperor, Caligula. Marcellus arranges that the robe be given to "The Big Fisherman" (Simon Peter).

Robes have physical presence, significance and represent the intangible, untouchable in our experience. We exist and the valence is neither good nor evil but what we do with and how we manifest our faith in self and other. Take the robe, do not take it, touch or not, steal or not, give freely or not. Consequences of conscious will pursue us and the choices we make. I would say that after reading some of Ryokan’s poetry he would attest to that.

William Stafford, Ryokan, Think Neither Good Nor Evil

3/3/19

These words crossed my mind today as I was meditating. “I don’t have to prove anything.”  A few minutes later, I was startled enough to gasp out loud and sink down into my cushion to hear a Buddhist teacher read very similar words that were among the last ones the poet William Stafford wrote. We have also been studying the Zen poetry of a wandering itinerant monk calligrahper named Ryokan.  And at the same time, we are studying Koan number 23 of the Gateless Barrier called Think Neither Good Nor Evil.  Buddhists seem to study a lot which could be a run off from sitting meditation. The words, thoughts, emotions, actions etc., just flow out in various forms.

In brief informal discussion after the sit and class, I said “both Stafford and Ryokan were conscientious objectors”.  Stafford to WW2 and Ryokan to the temple society of his time 1758-1831. Both would become revered poets. Without thinking either good or evil they both knew their true selves existed and went their way.

Calm mind, no price not even an arm koan

Towards the latter part of December, I found a long-term patient in the day room. He had been tied into his wheelchair with the hem part of his t-shirt hooked over the brakes and hand grips in back of the chair. It was by chance that I saw him. The tied patient was not in his usual seat, which piqued my attention and part of his belly was exposed. I found that odd. He is always so neatly dressed.  A table was placed in front of him too. So, he was behind the table with his back to the wall and windows which overlook the park. The whole picture of him sitting there was just wrong. I went over to him and saw the shirt wrapped around each handle on the right and left side behind his chair. I immediately without hesitation undid the shirt. But I knew the table would be too heavy for me. Then I walked over to the nurse’s aid and quickly and quietly told her that it is illegal to tie up patients. Then I told the nurse and a maintenance person standing in the doorway. Then I told a speech pathologist when we were downstairs doing paperwork, then I told my director, who told the director of the facility, then they asked for my written statement, and last week the New York State Department of Health interviewed me. There are some details for brevity and that I have left out just so we can experience some points.

Some of the points are that if I had not undone the tie, I could not have a moment of peace. I would not have a calm mind, that laws exist to protect innocent people and bring justice. And there should be consequences for wrong actions, unethical behavior and violence. I had to make quick decisions, and choices in that time frame. I had to tell the aide it was against the law. Obviously pleading with her that it was wrong and inhumane would not get the point across but breaking a law did. That is a large point in a very thorny situation. 

As for peace of mind, it exists as a thing that brings no accolades but a quiet resilience. No one can give me peace of mind, because it is not theirs to give even though insurance companies, investment advisors, all the money in the bank and full pantries give that illusion along with gurus, teachers, bosses, spouses, and friends sometimes give relief. It is temporary.

Oh, and there was a camera on in the day room. What if I had ignored my reality and that man? Forever on film I would be a star of the macabre. What if his wife had found him like that? What if another patient or their families had seen him restrained? What if someone else saw that? Maybe they did and then did nothing. But my mind is clear enough to be able to see into the big panorama of dharma. If only for a few seconds, or minutes.