Grandma and Grandpa

Dear Web log,

I told the kids in my classroom to always behave in school as if your Grandma was there watching you, or some other person that you honor and respect. This is usually an effective treatment for potty mouth and to quell unsuitable conversations, but also serves to remind me to strive for virtue.

If you wouldn’t say it in front of the Dalai Lama, don’t say it at all.

In our house a portrait of the Dalai Lama looms over the living space, we affectionately call him Grandpa. His presence helps to remind me to be kind to others; his gentle gaze encourages me to delete 90% of comments I write on face book.

Q. (put to They) how do I use a bike lock when I am trying to banish all attachment?

A. (from They) do not lock your self to the tree.

-KZ

P.s.

The other day at 2 am, I saw an owl the size of a brown paper bag, standing in the middle of the highway, looking at me with yellow headlight blinded eyes as I rolled by at 45mph. It didn’t matter that he didn’t see me, only that he looked at me, with living unblinking eyes. Alas, by default I choose no-action and go to work.

…And hours later, after some thought, I wished I had thicker gloves and a blanket.. I should have taken that stunned owl off the road, the highway being no place for an owl to stand.

I drove on, worked the night shift, and five ours later found myself driving on the same highway in the company truck, and morning traffic was nimbly avoiding an animal flattened on the roadway, with a wing, stretched to the sky, in surrender.

I will no longer work the night shift without my owl gloves and a blanket.
I am again attached.

P.P.s

They is my authentic, certified, bone fide spiritual teacher.

Heckling Buddha

Dear Weblog,

My teacher (Sogyal Rinpoche) is working with me to understand the true nature of the mind. He says it is what the great Buddha came to understand when he sat under the Bodhi tree so long ago.

It is said that when that Buddha reached enlightenment the whole Earth shuddered with joy, and for that moment there was no illness or violence on the face of this world. Utterly unverifiable.

Apparently the true nature of the mind is difficult to grasp for four reasons, the least being that Buddhism is the practice of not grasping. Why it is so difficult to grok.

First, because the mind is so intricately intertwined with our experience, it takes a bit of mental origami for the mind to witness itself with any clarity or understanding. When you are looking for nothing, how do you know when to stop?

Secondly it is vast, the understanding the true nature of mind is like an ocean, so vast and encompassing that it is difficult to understand using common tools. Even our language finds it hard to express and convey its obtuse angles with traditional grammar and spelling.

Thirdly, it is wonderful; the understanding of the true nature of the mind is nothing short of release from all suffering, which is pretty cool, considering we exist in a harsh world under a cruel sun. Don’t get me started on the Moon.

Fourthly, the true nature of the mind is too easy to believe; through strategy or skill, we can simply allow the mind to rest in its naked state. Which is, according to the Shambala Center security guards, not the same as resting naked.

So there you go, if you can grok this giant, wonderfully simple true nature of mind that is right before your eyes, then you too can make the Earth have a buddhagasm.

So here I am searching for the true nature of the mind and it occurs to me that the instruction is revealing in itself. How we are taught and learn is a shadow that points to the echo of the reflection on the moon of the true nature of the mind.

My teacher would like me to find something, so he offers a description and I look. Sounds pretty straightforward right? But in this method of searching you are only looking for what matches this description and discarding other things of value.

It is as if your mechanic is helping you fix your Chevy over the phone, he asks you to look for the solenoid, a small black cylinder that is hooked to battery and ignition. So you tinker a bit and look at things, some are not black, some are not cylindrical and others are not hooked to the battery. Eventually you will find it, the item that matches the description, but your understanding is not increased, only your vocabulary, as you learn to call that thing the solenoid.

For many years I was a self-directed spiritual learner and as such I found many things, it’s the Montessori approach to Enlightenment. I discovered meditation before I knew what it was; finding great value in quietly sitting and training my mind into a restful state. I found visions, with the help of some visionary substances, and even a bit of wisdom although gritty and unrefined.

Then as I am learning about Buddhism I learn that these things have names. As my teacher describes something, I recognize it as a concept I am already familiar with. For instance, when I learn of samsara, which is basically the false world of desire that entraps us, I understand it is something I recognized a long ago but only as the crushing river of unguided thought.

My point with the Chevy Blazer that will not start is that I have already had a motorcycle that would only start if I kicked the solenoid while pressing the starter. I discovered this on my own by paying attention to the world. Although it took a master to tell me the names and functions of the parts, I already can see that the little black thing is between my start button and battery. And I know the value of a swift kick.

I have heard said that you should seek what the master sought; do not seek the master’s footsteps. I am not sure my spiritual teacher appreciates this as we are trying to start the truck in the shade of the Bodhi tree. I ask him to whack the solenoid while I try to crank the engine, he smiles, wiping greasy hands on his civara, as the engine shudders and starts, an oilgasm.

Looking back where I started I am no longer sure where I am headed or what exactly I have covered, such as it is, we will let it be.

-KZ

obtuse platitudes

Dear Weblog,

The Buddhists said that if you have something precious, something in your hand that you want to hold onto, it is best not to hold too tightly. What at first seems contrary to common sense soon reveals itself to be an obtuse platitude.

Imagine clutching a coin over a deep well, if you were to open up your hand it would fall, irretrievably into the void. This clutching and grasping seems like the practical way to hold onto this small treasure. The drawbacks are that your hand is closed and shut, which is no way to live, and didn’t make much sense to me, until I was told that the hand represents your heart (not the literal blood pump in your chest but the heart you use to write songs and poetry) and the coin represents what you desire. I am not sure what the well is. Perhaps there was not a well in the story. I wasn’t listening very carefully.

They told me that no matter how hard you squeeze you cannot get oil from sand. Apparently they have not been to the western slope of Colorado where oil shale is everywhere; I am pretty sure that is sand and oil just waiting to be squeezed.

So how do you hold on to what is precious while opening yourself up to life, love and the future? You have to turn your hand over and let the coin lay in your open palm, and then it will remain without grasping. What does this mean for your heart? I guess we are reminded to look at things in a different way, in a way that embraces openness and change; embrace faith instead of fear. And if a harpy swoops down and swipes your coin then we are reminded not to dangle our treasure over a well like a sucker.

Apparently the Buddha does not wear 5 pocket jeans. If he did he could pocket the coin and still have his hands free to write poetry. As for me, I choose to represent my desires with a finely-honed, harpy-slaying, bowie knife.

Money isn’t everything.

-Kleine Zwemmen