Wednesday, 1 March 2017
Thursday, 23 February 2017
Sikh Koan
I see by my news feed where Sikh temples in West Sacramento, Rio Linda, and Stockton, California, recently opened their doors to refugees in the face of a dam failure and downstream evacuation.
In accordance with the dictates of their faith, they invited any of the 188,000 displaced people, of all races and faiths, to show up at their gurdwaras (temples) for food and shelter.
Fact is, feeding drop-ins is a core Sikh precept. I myself have accepted their hospitality, enjoying fabulous Indian food in a Montréal gurdwara absolutely free of charge. They didn't even hit me up for a donation.
Their example renders me thoughtful.
We Zenners go out with an empty bowl, and try to fill it.
They go out with a full bowl, and try to empty it.
Wu Ya's commentary: 「そうですね」
(Photo of The Golden Temple [Harmandir Sahib] of Amritsar courtesy of Ian Sewall and Wikimedia Commons.)
In accordance with the dictates of their faith, they invited any of the 188,000 displaced people, of all races and faiths, to show up at their gurdwaras (temples) for food and shelter.
Fact is, feeding drop-ins is a core Sikh precept. I myself have accepted their hospitality, enjoying fabulous Indian food in a Montréal gurdwara absolutely free of charge. They didn't even hit me up for a donation.
Their example renders me thoughtful.
We Zenners go out with an empty bowl, and try to fill it.
They go out with a full bowl, and try to empty it.
Wu Ya's commentary: 「そうですね」
(Photo of The Golden Temple [Harmandir Sahib] of Amritsar courtesy of Ian Sewall and Wikimedia Commons.)
Wednesday, 22 February 2017
Thursday, 16 February 2017
Good Song: Always Look on the Bright Side Of Life
Christian imagery notwithstanding, I maintain that this is the Zennest song ever written. I mean, c'mon, brothers and sisters: isn't it just a detailed exposition of Yunmen's "Every day is a good day"? (His one-line summation, I remind you, of our entire religion.)
Interesting to consider, now my MP3 library runs a week straight without repetition, that this was the first song I ever downloaded, all those years ago. It was a moment I desperately needed it – and coincidentally the beginning of my monastic practice – and it did not disappoint. I'm hoping it will work again now, for me and for all my fellow seekers.
Because these times aren't just dark, they're literally psychopathic. Crucifixion is an excellent metaphor for the way many decent, rational folks feel today, when the most spiteful of our number are seizing control of erstwhile stable nations and threatening to solve our little hand grenade problem by pulling the pin out.
At such times, it's nice to have a concise catalogue of relevant koans to ponder, to concentrate the mind and stimulate insight.
So here it is. Use it in good health, o sangha of mine.
And just remember that the last laugh is on you.
(Incidentally, a .wav file of this song is available at the bottom of this web page. Some of us've got to live as well, you know.)
The lyrics approximate:
ALWAYS LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE OF LIFE
by Eric Idle
Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best
And always look on the bright side of life
Always look on the bright side of life
If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing
When you're feeling in the dumps
Don't be silly chumps
Just purse your lips and whistle, that's the thing
And always look on the bright side of life
Always look on the bright side of life
For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow
Forget about your sin, give the audience a grin
Enjoy it; it's your last chance anyhow
So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath
Life's a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true
You'll see it's all a show
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you
And always look on the bright side of life
Always look on the right side of life
Always look on the bright side of life
Always look on the bright side of life
(Worse things happen at sea, you know)
Always look on the bright side of life...
I mean, what've you got to lose?
You know, "you come from nothing, you're going back to nothing..."
What've you lost?
Nothing!
Topics:
Christianity,
Eric Idle,
hermit practice,
koan,
Monty Python,
music,
video,
Yunmen,
Zen
Wednesday, 15 February 2017
Thursday, 9 February 2017
Hermitcraft: Solitary Sesshin, Pt. 3: Food
(A sesshin schedule template is available in Part I. For general tips on sesshin planning, see Part II.)
For an activity that's all about putting sensual stimulus in context, sesshin is remarkably dependent on food. Right food equals good sesshin; the opposite can significantly compromise it.
I've had best luck when sesshin meals conform to three principles:
1. Simplicity.
When preparing dishes from scratch, this is holy writ; you just don't have time for feats of gastronomic splendour. But even with pre-cooked food, extravagance derails the mind of sesshin. Simple, straightforward meals work best.
On the other hand, spending a day looking deeply tends to lead you to taste deeply, too. You'll find that simple food becomes remarkably delicious during sesshin.
2. Diversity
But you do want a spectrum of flavours and textures. This supports the sesshin theme of discovery and gives freshly-honed senses something to chew on. (So to speak.) My favourite sesshin dishes (see "Lunch", below) fill this requirement nicely, as you can throw almost anything into them.
3. Mindful restraint
This means not eating more, or more often, than you need. In a culture that bombasts constantly about more! and choice! and luxury!, it can be easy to forget that true enjoyment comes from the opposite: mindful consumption of just-enough. So when you reach that point, stop. If it later turns out you didn't fuel up quite enough to stave off obstructive suffering, issue yourself a snack.
Better yet, if you consistently fall in a hole at a given point in the day, schedule tea meditation there next time. (This is were recordkeeping shows its stuff.) Sit comfortably in a chosen location and enjoy a good cup of tea while meditating for twenty minutes or so. This allows you to maintain the forms; gain a meditation period; and care for yourself and your practice – for a Zen grand slam.
Application of these principles looks like this:
First thing in the morning I make a pot of good green – traditional, simpler than black, compatible with meals – for use all day, reheating as necessary. Since it's astringent (makes you thirsty), I serve water at meals as well.
Breakfast is a bowl of grain; fresh fruit; tea; and water.
I like a hot main course, typically brown rice with a blork of soy sauce and a little black pepper. That's it; no butter, vegetables, or other amendments. Porridge or other hot cereal are also good.
Lunch (see photo above) can be any leftover on hand; if none, then Bassho bowl or noodles. The first is a bowlful of brown rice with a protein source (beans, nuts, cheese, seaweed, cooked egg, leftover meat) and a vegetable. The second is the same again, but with ramen instead of rice. Because the soup is less consistent, I toss in more vegetables. I also use half or less of the very salty flavour packet.
For a side dish I prepare a flavour plate, an ancient Zen tradition designed to provide a sensory work-out. Traditionally it contains five flavours: sweet, tart, salty, bitter, and savoury. (Apparently the Ancestors didn't do spicy.) I don't obsess over these categories; just lay out a variety of colours, flavours, and textures. (This is one place where a good shelf of pickles pays off.)
And of course, tea and water.
Dinner is the same as lunch, except with ramen if I had rice before or vice-versa, and fruit on the side instead of the flavour plate.
Formal tea is my last meal of the day, taken with a snack during study period.
I don't observe oryoki at-table; when eating on the ground, I use my outdoor oryoki. If you find oryoki useful at-table, or you prefer to eat on the cushion, monastery-style, work up a solitary ceremony that fills your needs. Make sure to document it in detail. Not only does that allow you to share it with others, you'll forget many of the forms between sesshins and need a refresher course yourself.
Final hint: don't overthink things. Your food doesn't have to be Japanese or vegan or "Zen" or whatever. Just enjoy it. Experience it in depth, both preparing and eating. Be aware of every step and condition that brings food to your bowl, and the debt that implies.
Done properly, the ritual of eating will join meditation and work to become the third pillar of sesshin.
Congratulations; you're working the feed to feed the work.
For an activity that's all about putting sensual stimulus in context, sesshin is remarkably dependent on food. Right food equals good sesshin; the opposite can significantly compromise it.
I've had best luck when sesshin meals conform to three principles:
1. Simplicity.
When preparing dishes from scratch, this is holy writ; you just don't have time for feats of gastronomic splendour. But even with pre-cooked food, extravagance derails the mind of sesshin. Simple, straightforward meals work best.
On the other hand, spending a day looking deeply tends to lead you to taste deeply, too. You'll find that simple food becomes remarkably delicious during sesshin.
2. Diversity
But you do want a spectrum of flavours and textures. This supports the sesshin theme of discovery and gives freshly-honed senses something to chew on. (So to speak.) My favourite sesshin dishes (see "Lunch", below) fill this requirement nicely, as you can throw almost anything into them.
3. Mindful restraint
This means not eating more, or more often, than you need. In a culture that bombasts constantly about more! and choice! and luxury!, it can be easy to forget that true enjoyment comes from the opposite: mindful consumption of just-enough. So when you reach that point, stop. If it later turns out you didn't fuel up quite enough to stave off obstructive suffering, issue yourself a snack.
Better yet, if you consistently fall in a hole at a given point in the day, schedule tea meditation there next time. (This is were recordkeeping shows its stuff.) Sit comfortably in a chosen location and enjoy a good cup of tea while meditating for twenty minutes or so. This allows you to maintain the forms; gain a meditation period; and care for yourself and your practice – for a Zen grand slam.
Application of these principles looks like this:
First thing in the morning I make a pot of good green – traditional, simpler than black, compatible with meals – for use all day, reheating as necessary. Since it's astringent (makes you thirsty), I serve water at meals as well.
Breakfast is a bowl of grain; fresh fruit; tea; and water.
I like a hot main course, typically brown rice with a blork of soy sauce and a little black pepper. That's it; no butter, vegetables, or other amendments. Porridge or other hot cereal are also good.
Lunch (see photo above) can be any leftover on hand; if none, then Bassho bowl or noodles. The first is a bowlful of brown rice with a protein source (beans, nuts, cheese, seaweed, cooked egg, leftover meat) and a vegetable. The second is the same again, but with ramen instead of rice. Because the soup is less consistent, I toss in more vegetables. I also use half or less of the very salty flavour packet.
For a side dish I prepare a flavour plate, an ancient Zen tradition designed to provide a sensory work-out. Traditionally it contains five flavours: sweet, tart, salty, bitter, and savoury. (Apparently the Ancestors didn't do spicy.) I don't obsess over these categories; just lay out a variety of colours, flavours, and textures. (This is one place where a good shelf of pickles pays off.)
And of course, tea and water.
Dinner is the same as lunch, except with ramen if I had rice before or vice-versa, and fruit on the side instead of the flavour plate.
Formal tea is my last meal of the day, taken with a snack during study period.
I don't observe oryoki at-table; when eating on the ground, I use my outdoor oryoki. If you find oryoki useful at-table, or you prefer to eat on the cushion, monastery-style, work up a solitary ceremony that fills your needs. Make sure to document it in detail. Not only does that allow you to share it with others, you'll forget many of the forms between sesshins and need a refresher course yourself.
Final hint: don't overthink things. Your food doesn't have to be Japanese or vegan or "Zen" or whatever. Just enjoy it. Experience it in depth, both preparing and eating. Be aware of every step and condition that brings food to your bowl, and the debt that implies.
Done properly, the ritual of eating will join meditation and work to become the third pillar of sesshin.
Congratulations; you're working the feed to feed the work.
Topics:
food,
hermitcraft,
meditation,
oryoki,
rice,
sesshin,
tea,
Zen
Wednesday, 8 February 2017
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