Tao Yuanming: Returning to Fields and Gardens

 https://poets.org/poem/returning-fields-and-gardens-i

Returning to Fields and Gardens (I)

Tao Yuanming

Translated from the Mandarin by Arthur Sze

When I was young, I did not fit in
with others, and simply loved the hills and mountains.
By mistake, I fell into the dusty net,
and before I knew it, it was thirty years!
The caged bird longs for the old forest.
The fish in the pond misses the old depths.
I cultivate land along the southern wilds,
and, keeping to simplicity, return to fields and garden.
Ten acres now surround my house;
it is thatched, and has eight, nine rooms.
Elms and willows shade the back eaves.
Peach and plum trees are lined out the front hall.
The distant village is hazy, hazy: and
slender, slender, the smoke hanging over houses.
Dogs bark in the deep lane, and a rooster
crows on top of a mulberry tree.
My house untouched by the dust of the world—
ample leisure in these bare rooms.
I was held so long inside a narrow bird-
cage, but now, at last, can return to nature.

From The Silk Dragon II: Translations of Chinese Poetry by Arthur Sze. Copyright © 2024 by Arthur Sze. Reprinted with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC, on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.

Kaira Jewel Lingo: Coming Home

 

Come Home to Yourself

Your true home is this body. This mind. This moment. There, says Kaira Jewel Lingo, you’ll find peace and freedom.

Kaira Jewel Lingo

15 April 2024

But the stone that the builder refuse
Shall be the head cornerstone,
And no matter what game they play,
Eh, we got something they could never take away;
We got something they could never take away

—Bob Marley, “Natty Dread Rides Again”

You already are what you want to become.

—Master Lin Chi

All of us go through times of transition, challenges, and difficulties. We may have faced or will face times of loss, confusion, or heartbreak, when we realize we cannot control the way our life is unfolding, whether in our personal lives or in the world around us. With mindfulness, we can learn to move through these intense, challenging times in ways that don’t add to the suffering and difficulty that are already there. We can even learn to open our hearts to the richness and wisdom these times of immense disruption can bring us.

When we touch this experience of coming home, it is like we have finally arrived home after a long journey.

A key step that can help us begin to settle ourselves when we are profoundly unsettled is to come home, to ourselves, in this moment, whatever is happening. This is one way of speaking about mindfulness, or being present: coming home to ourselves. When we bring our mind back to our body we come home. We could consider this state as our true home. This home inside of us is a home no one can take away from us, and it cannot be damaged or destroyed. No matter what happens around us, if we can find this home inside of us, we are always safe.

When we touch this experience of coming home, it is like we have finally arrived home after a long journey. We experience a sense of peace and even freedom, no matter how confining the outer circumstances. Coming home to ourselves feels like belonging; it is a state that holds us and enables us to hold others.

This is so important because we can live our whole lives estranged from this home within ourselves.

My mentor Thich Nhat Hanh, whom his students call Thay, or “teacher” in Vietnamese, sums up his whole lifetime of teachings with one sentence: “I have arrived, I am home.” For him, the principal aim of mindfulness practice is to experience that we have already arrived, here and now. There is nowhere we need to run to or be, other than right here in the present moment. And we experience ourselves at home, no longer looking for some refuge outside of us, in some other place or time, when we touch the truth that all that we long for and search after is here inside of us.

We can experience encountering this spacious and free place of our true home in unexpected moments as we spend more time tuning in to what is happening inside us and around us. One morning, when I was a novice nun, in slow walking after our early morning sitting meditation, I was very present and able to be aware of nearly every step. I began by being aware that as I was stepping with my left foot, I was at the same time stepping with my right, because my left foot could not be without my right. And vice versa. Then I saw that my arms were also contained in my feet, so I was also stepping with my arms. Then my hands, my stomach, brain, sense organs, heart, lungs. I was 100 percent with my body. So I was tasting the earth with my feet, listening to it, looking at it, feeling it, knowing it, smelling it with my feet. My heart was loving it, my lungs breathing it in and out.

Then I turned my attention more toward the Earth and knew I was also walking on cool streams of water flowing under me, and hot, fiery liquid deep below, in the center of the Earth. I imagined walking on the feet of those directly opposite us on the other side of the planet. The soles of my feet touched the soles of a little baby taking tentative steps, and a pregnant woman, and an old grandpa. My feet touched the feet of a lonely, isolated person, and someone carried away by hatred and anger. I was also walking on the feet of someone who was right then doing walking meditation and enjoying the present moment. I was one with those walking the Earth whose hearts were filled with love and peace.

We can’t find what we need to meet tomorrow or a month from now because we can’t control or exactly know the future, but we will find what we need for right now.

If we’re not aware of what is happening in the moment because we are caught up in our thoughts or reveries, or in the grip of worry or other strong emotions, it’s like we have left our house. If we stay away for a long time, dust accumulates and unwanted visitors may take up residence in our home. Things like stress and tension accumulate in our bodies and minds, and over time, if we don’t tend to them, they can lead to physical or psychological illness.

But the beauty of awareness is that we can always return home to ourselves. Our home is always there, waiting for us to come back. There are numerous ways we can go home to ourselves: by being aware of our breath, by being aware of body sensations or bodily movements, and by connecting with the reality around us, like the sounds in our environment. And when we come back home in these ways, we are able to take stock and survey the territory of our being, seeing clearly what parts of our inner landscape need more support, where we need to pay more attention.

It is especially tempting in times of transition and challenge to abandon our homes, to leave our territory, in search of answers, perhaps by worrying about what will happen in the future. This is precisely the moment when we need to return to the present moment, feel our bodies, and take good care of ourselves now. Because the future is made of this moment. If we take good care of this moment, even if it is very difficult, we are taking good care of the future.

It may also be hard to come home if we sense that unresolved pain has accumulated and we don’t want to face it. We may get into the habit of avoiding our home completely. We don’t want to be with those raw, unprocessed parts of our experience that are painful and may be quite scary.

If this is our situation, it is important to have compassion for ourselves for not wanting to return home to face these places inside of us. And yet the only way we can heal them, move through them, and make our home a more cozy place is to turn toward them. As the teaching goes: “The only way out is in.” Or through.

How do we do this? One of the ways is to stay with what is here and now, on the platform of the train station so to speak, watching the trains of our thoughts and plans come and go, rather than jumping on a thought-train that is heading into the future, or another thought-train that takes us into the past.

Those plans, worries, and anxieties will surely arise in our mind, but we can learn to notice them and take good care of them rather than feed them and get pulled away by them. Bringing our attention to our breath or to the sensations in our body helps us to stay on the platform of the now. The past and future are not the place where we can come home to ourselves and resource ourselves with the elements we need to move through our difficulties. We can only come home to ourselves in the present moment, in the here and now.

We can spend lots of our time and energy trying to predict or control what the future will bring. This doesn’t usually serve us. In truth, we don’t need to know what the future will bring. We just need to be right in this moment, and if we touch it deeply, mind and body united, we will find we have all that we need to meet the present. We can’t find what we need to meet tomorrow or a month from now because we can’t control or exactly know the future, but we will find what we need for right now.

Meditation: I Am Home

Let’s practice connecting with our present moment experience. Sit, lie, or stand in a comfortable position that supports you to be alert and also relaxed. You may like to set a timer with your phone or an alarm clock for ten minutes if you wish to be aware of time. Most of these meditations are short, and you can practice them throughout your day.

Begin by feeling the contact between your body and whatever surface is supporting you. Let yourself rest in this place, returning to this moment, here and now. Invite whatever parts of yourself that may still be dispersed to come back and settle.

Set the intention to come home to yourself, to be present for yourself. You deserve this care, you are precious and unique, in all the world there is no one else who brings the precise combination of gifts that you bring. Allow yourself to arrive here as fully as you can. And welcome the many parts of yourself home.

You may already begin to feel yourself settling into the home inside of you: the place of your strength, wisdom, and clarity. A place that is trustworthy and capable of providing you with refuge in the storm. But if not, continue to stay with awareness of your body sensations, sounds, or breathing. A sense of coming home will develop over time. It may not happen the first time you meditate, but as you become more attuned to yourself, you will find you have been at home all along.

If it’s helpful you can repeat inwardly, I have arrived. I am home.

If it supports you, you can connect the words with your breathing, arrived with the in-breath, home with the out-breath.

Arrived in the present moment, home in myself, just as I am.
Arrived, arrived,
at home, I am at home,
dwelling in the here and dwelling in the now.
Solid as a mountain, free as a white cloud,
the door to no birth and no death is open,
free and unshakeable.
—Plum Village song

This teaching is excerpted from Karia Jewel Lingo’s book, We Were Made for These Times, published by Parallax Press.

Who Is the Boss?

 

https://plumvillage.org/articles/blog/monastic/who-is-the-boss

Excerpt:

Aimlessness, Busi-less-ness
Aimlessness doesn’t mean we are just roaming or floating about like a boat on the ocean without a rudder, being thrown hither and thither. No, we bring our mind home to our body, we are fully present with what we are doing, for the sheer joy of doing it. When we are fully present while doing something, it is joyful, it is nourishing. We are our most beautiful self. We’ll have a result. We may even say, “I want to go in this direction.” But while we are doing it, we are not lost in “I want to get there, I want to get there, I want to get there.” With that kind of state of mind, we are not truly in the present moment; we are trying to be in the future, which is not possible. The only moment we can be in is the present moment.  To be present, to practice aimlessness, is being our most beautiful self.

Song of the Grass-roofed Hermitage - The hermitage itself: Everywhere

 

https://shorturl.at/dGIBH

On The Way: The Daily Zen Journal

December 22, 1999

Song of the Grass-Roof Hermitage

Shih-t’ou (700-790)

I’ve built a grass hut where there’s nothing of value.
After eating, I relax and enjoy a nap.
When it was completed, fresh weeds appeared.
Now it’s been lived in – covered by weeds.

The person in the hut lives here calmly,
Not stuck to inside, outside, or in between.
Places worldly people live, he doesn’t live.
Realms worldly people love, he doesn’t love.

Though the hut is small, it includes the entire world.
In ten square feet, an old man
Illumines forms and their nature.
A Great Vehicle bodhisattva trusts without doubt.
The middling or lowly can’t help wondering;
Will this hut perish or not?

Perishable or not, the original master is present, 
Not dwelling south or north, east or west.
Firmly based on steadiness, it can’t be surpassed.
A shining window below the green pines —
Jade palaces or vermilion towers can’t compare with it.

Just sitting with head covered, all things are at rest.
Thus, this mountain monk doesn’t understand at all.
Living here he no longer works to get free.
Who would proudly arrange seats, trying to entice guests?

Turn around the light to shine within, then just return.
The vast inconceivable source
Can’t be faced or turned away from.
Meet the ancestral teachers,
Be familiar with their instruction,
Bind grasses to build a hut, and don’t give up.

Let go of hundreds of years and relax completely.
Open your hands and walk, innocent.
Thousands of words, myriad interpretations,
Are only to free you from obstructions.
If you want to know the undying person in the hut,
Don’t separate from this skin bag here and now.

Shih-t’ou (700-790)

Shitou Xiqian was an early Chinese Zen master. He was called one of Zen’s two great jewels (the other was Mazu Daoyi). For some years, he meditated continually in a hut built on a rock at Nan Monastery, and was thus called Shitou (“Priest Rock Head”)

Excerpted from Cultivating the Empty Field: The Silent Illumination of Zen Master Hongzhi trans by Taigen Dan Leighton 2000

While many of us have pined for the likes of a grass hut hermitage to live and practice in, meditation in the midst of activity and the chaos of urban life has a depth and value more of us are coming to appreciate.

Rather than create a dichotomy of mountain/retreat/realization vs. city/distractions/compulsion, why not a mind that doesn't create division? Why not a practice that works anywhere? Not that the refreshment of the mountains doesn't have a place for us, but why not create a life that is just enough right where you are?

Instead of engaging the mind where everything is never quite right and we are always seeking for that just right place to train, we can return to the grass hut hermitage within that is always there for us not dependent on outside circumstances.

Make your upper garments into a monk's robe
Make your chair your sitting cushion;
Make the mountains, rivers and great earth the sitting platform;
Make the whole universe your own personal meditation cave.
This is the true practice of the sages of the past and of today.

– Hakuin (1748)

From Blue Sky Hermitage,

Elana, Scribe for Daily Zen

Under the shade of cherry blossoms - Issa

 

Just as the rain falls on everyone

So does the sun shine on everyone. 

My refuge is your refuge,

Your refuge is my refuge.

As Issa said, "In the cherry blossom's shade,

There is no such thing as a stranger."

I have this image of strangers taking refuge under cherry blossoms 

While a drizlling rain falls.....sharing the intimacy of a small space.

H Byrne - Dec 17, 2023: the Dharma - inner and outer refuge

Live Session Summary, Sunday, December 17, 2023: 

It was good to be with you for our Live session today. We continued our discussion of finding true refuge in challenging times. In today’s session we discussed the second refuge: refuge in the Dharma, or in the truth. 

I recapped key points from last week’s session on refuge in the Buddha, or in awakening, emphasizing that ‘inner’ refuge in awakening is recognizing our own ‘Buddha nature,’ the capacity we each have to wake up out of suffering and confusion. As the Buddha said, ‘Be a lamp unto yourself, be a refuge to yourself. Take yourself to no external refuge…’ 

We then explored the second of the refuges—refuge in the Dharma, or in the truth. When we look for refuge to the Dharma in the ‘outer’ sense, we take the teachings of the Buddha (the Buddha’s dharma) as an inspiration, in the same way that with the first refuge we take the Buddha himself as an inspiration for us on our path of awakening.

Taking refuge in the Dharma in the inner sense involves our own transformation—it means finding freedom through opening fully to our experience in the present moment, taking refuge in the way things are whether we wanted them to be that way or not. I spoke about the different images and metaphors we use to convey this sense of finding peace and freedom in life as it is in any moment. These include:

o Saying ‘yes’ to what is (Eckhart Tolle)

o ‘Radical acceptance’ of our experience and ourself (Tara Brach)

o ‘Welcoming the guests’ (Rumi)

o Opening to all of our experience—to the ‘full catastrophe’ (Zorba the Greek)

o Enlightenment as ‘Absolute cooperation with the inevitable’ (Anthony de Mello)

o Non-clinging, non-resistance, non-judging, non-denial

o Coming back to ‘Square One’ (Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche)

o ‘Peace is this moment without judgment…’ (Dorothy Hunt)

It could be said that all of our suffering comes from being in conflict with reality, being in a struggle with what we’re experiencing. For example, when we’re caught up in wanting or craving, we’re 'here', but the mind is wanting to be somewhere else or have something else; When we’re experiencing anger or aversion, we’re here, but we’re wanting this person, situation, or experience to be different; When we’re experiencing stress and worry, we’re here, but our mind is in the future thinking about the ‘bad’ things that might happen if … In each case, there’s a gap between where we are and where we want to be and in that gap we experience suffering.

When we come back to our direct experience—to the body, breath, emotions, etc.—and out of the stories and narratives in the mind—we are no longer caught up in unconsciousness, clinging, or aversion. We’ve come home to ourselves, to the truth, to life as it is unfolding. We’re letting life be life, ‘dancing with life’ rather than trying to wrestle it to the ground… 

We discussed how meeting life wholeheartedly as it is does not mean being passive or doing nothing. It may be wise and appropriate to take action to bring about needed change—for example, in the face of climate change or working for a lasting peace in the Middle East—but beneficial and meaningful change can only come through acceptance of how things are, not in denial or resistance. We must begin where we are: As James Baldwin said, ‘Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.’ 

Refuge in the Dharma comes in meeting our experience here and now with acceptance and without clinging, resistance, or denial. 

In the meditation we practiced cultivating a non-controlling attitude towards all that was arising—and seeing that our awareness—what Ajahn Chah called ‘the one who knows’—is not fearful when we are caught up in fear, or angry when we are swept up in anger. We can rest in awareness and allow whatever is arising to come and go in its own time. In this way, we deepen insight and dispassion (non-clinging) that frees the heart.

I shared the poem by Li Po, ‘Zazen on Ching-T’ing Mountain.’ 

Let me know if I missed anything. I look forward to our next session on Sunday, December 31 at 9am eastern. The theme will be cultivating wise intention as we begin the new year. Have a great week and a happy holiday season. Warmly, Hugh 🙏🏻 💜 🌻

John O'Donohue: "A Morning Offering"

 

John O'Donohue: "A Morning Offering"

I bless the night that nourished my heart
To set the ghosts of longing free
Into the flow and figure of dream
That went to harvest from the dark
Bread for the hunger no one sees.

All that is eternal in me
Welcomes the wonder of this day,
The field of brightness it creates
Offering time for each thing
To arise and illuminate.

I place on the altar of dawn:
The quiet loyalty of breath,
The tent of thought where I shelter,
Waves of desire I am shore to
And all beauty drawn to the eye.

May my mind come alive today
To the invisible geography
That invites me to new frontiers,
To break the dead shell of yesterdays,
To risk being disturbed and changed.

May I have the courage today
To live the life that I would love,
To postpone my dream no longer
But do at last what I came here for
And waste my heart on fear no more.



"A Morning Offering" by John O'Donohue. Text as published in To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings (Doubleday, 2008).

Mary Oliver's 'Wild Geese'

 Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

-poem read by Hugh Byrne on Dec 6, 2020

@thichnhathanh: Living with all the Madness, a que...

@thichnhathanh: Living with all the Madness, a question from the audience during the 2007 Stonehill College retreat. https://t.co/zzVx96zla3

m.twitter.com/...

The awkward present moment

Awkwardness can only be felt in the present moment, and it is often exactly that feeling from which we are constantly rushing away.  Rushing towards an imagined future.

An inward look will identify awkwardness to be an opportunity to sit to identify that gift that it really is;  to observe the awkwardness, to deeply feel it, to let it settle, and then find peace and refuge in the present.  Wouldn't that be a lovely preparation for the moment of death?

-CSL

Ideas from Thoreau

Ideas from Thoreau. The row THOREaU.
Thoreaus message about time and eternity. We drink from eternity not a stream...
I also thought of the passage from the writer who said that doing meditation is a refuge not a test. Certainly the Thoreau's poem is about drinking in the stream of eternity, a metaphor for meditation and meditation as a refuge.

In my thinking I also wanted to talk about my poem the Guru Gurumph.

The Refuge of Sitting

Developing a disciplined sitting practice is a matter of commitment and patience. For many practitioners, it is not easy, even for those who have been sitting for a while. Sitting every day must become a priority in our daily lives rather than just one more thing we have to do. This requires a great deal of dedication, because meditation is not supported by our culture at large. Watching television is rarely criticized as being selfish, whereas a common question that practitioners bring up is whether one “deserves” to sit, implying that it is selfish to do so. Here are a few tips:

Plan to sit at the same time each day. One of the benefits of doing this is that one gets to know the mind that doesn’t want to sit. Personally, I like to sit immediately upon waking up in the morning. For many people, this seems to be a good time, before we become engaged in the activities of the day. But if you have small children or a demanding job, this may not be possible. And some of us have rebellious natures, so any routine presents a problem. Then we need to be flexible.

Another common question is how long to sit. Generally it is better to sit for a shorter amount of time than to sit way beyond our capacity. If we are constantly struggling to stay still, we may find ourselves wanting to throw our cushion against the wall instead of sitting on it. This should be avoided; after all, our frustration is not the cushion’s fault. We should determine for ourselves the amount of time we sit - there are no set formulas. Too long, and we may never want to sit again; too short, and our practice won’t develop.

It can be helpful to set an electronic timer rather than having to watch a clock. Because the practice is to let go of thoughts about the past and the future, this will free you from having to think or worry about time. You can simply set yourself a specific amount of time to sit and rely on an external sound to signal when the sitting is over.

It is important to sit with the clear intention to be present. At the same time, we need to let go of expectations. In a very real sense, what happens when we sit is none of our business. The practice is to accept whatever arises instead of trying to control our experience. What we can control is our wise effort to be present with what is. We can spend a lot of our sitting time dwelling on memories of past sittings or fantasizing of those to come. When we read or hear about the benefits of meditation, it is tempting to dwell on the stories of wonderful outcomes instead of doing the work of actualizing these possibilities ourselves. There can be a big gap between what we have read about and what is actually happening. Sitting is a way of putting our bodies behind our aspirations.

Some of us sit only when our lives are going well. When difficulties arise, we stop our practice rather than sit with disturbing emotions such as anxiety and anger. Others sit only when facing a big challenge, hoping that sitting will help us get through it. Being aware of these tendencies is part of what we face in sustaining a regular practice.

What hinders and intimidates beginners especially are experiences such as restlessness, sleepiness, and boredom. If we view these energies as part of the practice itself instead of what we need to get rid of in order to meditate, our sittings will be smoother and we will develop the inner strength to be able to be with all experiences with greater equanimity.

Even so, only rarely is sitting practice sustained without help from others. This cannot be overemphasized. To sit with others is a way to feel newly inspired and able to continue. Usually it is easier to sit for a longer amount of time in the company of others than to sit alone. Peer pressure can be a good thing. By sitting with others, even once a week, we reinspire our practice, while in sitting alone we learn self-reliance.

Whatever technique one is using, remember that the spirit of practice is more important than the technique. Finding a way to enjoy just sitting is key. Sitting meditation is a refuge, not a test.

Narayan Liebenson Grady is a guiding teacher at the Cambridge Insight Meditation Center. She also teaches regularly at the Insight Meditation Center and the Barre Center for Buddhist Studies.

True Seeing

True Seeing

Zen ethics is grounded in the realization that one does not know what’s right. This “not-knowing” is the refuge from which all moral action originates. It’s a refuge that can’t be relegated to the role of moral abstraction and remains a free and alive expression of the moment. What’s offered us in the place of moral certainty is doubt and love, which are nearly synonymous. Doubt wears the hard edges off our best ideas and exposes us to the world as it is. When the great Zen master Ikkyu was asked, “What is Zen?” He replied, “Attention! Attention! Attention!”

This very attention to a world thats not of our contrivance is an act of love, for we can only love what we truly see.

- Lin Jensen, "An Ear to the Ground," Tricycle Summer 2006

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Chick Lindsay

clindsay@wwt.net

check out Warren's Aug 29 2021: commentaqry on Ikkyu's 'Untitled' poem. "At a waystation, returning from Drizzly Road on my way to Always-dry road' ...both part of life...no judgment needed. 

Sit Alone, sit with others

Sit alone, sit with others

By sitting with others, even once a week, we reinspire our practice, while in sitting alone we learn self-reliance. Whatever technique one is using, remember that the spirit of practice is more important than the technique. Finding a way to enjoy just sitting is key. Sitting meditation is a refuge, not a test.

–Narayan Liebenson Grady, from “The Refuge of Sitting,” Tricycle, Winter 2003
Read the complete article on tricycle.com

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Chick Lindsay

clindsay@wwt.net

Search for an edge where I feel alive

Recommendation to talk to shadow when drawn to evade hurt by eating... emotional eating is a deadening factor here...., a deadening action

ACKNOWLEDGE, ACKNOWLEDGE

Embrace the loneliness of walking towards what I really want, towards my passion... feel and be mindful of that hurt, of that fear.... rather than deadening it, rather than retreating into the comfort of eating.

or said differently: take refuge in the present moment...not refuge in thought, in food or other stuff.

clindsay@wwt.net