Bare: Straightforward Reply

I felt horribly depressed and discouraged, but for some reason it came to me: supposing I imagine I am the Buddha before all the Buddhas, the only Buddha, the original Buddha (if there ever was such a Buddha).

Then there is no one to guide me but me.

What do I do? How do I do this? How do I find my way?

The answer came at once.

I create my way.
Minute by minute,
I make the unfolding path.
With each step,
I construct the bridge,
as it grows.
The trail is blazed,
and it glows.
A beacon seen,
from miles away,
for others who may follow.

Then suddenly, I knew what I had to do,
and so I got up from my cushion,
and cooked supper.

Banter: Silly Answer

In Chinese Buddhism, or Ch’an, which later spread to Japan, where it is called Zen, the story goes that a famous master named Bodhidharma brought Buddhism to China in the 6th century. A common koan (a riddle one contemplates to obtain spiritual insight) associated with Bodhidharma is, “Why did Bodhidharma come from the West?”

Then, one day, while I was brushing my teeth, the answer came to me!

He came to find the answer to the burning question, “Why did the chicken cross the road?”

For, (my mind continued unabated) as he was strolling across the fields in ancient India, he spied a slip of rice paper being blown by the wind, and when it came his way he snatched it up. On this piece of paper he saw the question, and just had to know!

‘Somewhere out there,’ he thought, looking in the direction from which the scrap of paper had blown, ‘there must be an answer!’

And so, he made the long hazardous journey (all such journeys being long and hazardous in those days) to China.

But when he got there, he realized that these people knew nothing of the Buddha’s teaching (sometimes referred to as the Dharma), and out of compassion for the people of China decided to teach instead. Consequently, he forgot all about the chicken, until many years later when he was close to death. Then, all of a sudden he recollected the original reason for his quest.

‘I must know!’ He realized.

Hence, when, some time after he died, somebody decided to dig him up (though why that was, I don’t recall), all they found in the grave was one sandal. (Thus, it is said that if you see a man walking wearing only one sandal it could be him.)

And so, here I sit, by the side of the road the chicken crossed, waiting for Bodhidharma, so that I can provide him with the answer to this burning question.

(GRINS)

Banishment: August Musings

On the first anniversary of the beginning of my current meditation practice

During meditation I noticed that my feelings are often based on how I think I ought to feel. When I ask how I should feel, given the larger picture (in relation to the scheme of things—whatever that might be) I don’t know because I don’t know all that is happening or what is going to happen. (I probably don’t even have a clear idea of what has happened.)

The effect of this is to enable me to create distance between myself and my feelings without judging whether I should have these feelings or not. From this calmer ‘background,’ I look at the feelings, thoughts, etc., as if they are objects.

But are they really? If so, to whom do they belong? And who is it who is examining them anyway? Can the examiner be distinguished from the examined, or is this just a way of talking?