No hindrance

Gardens occupy the mind/bodies of gardeners. The vegetable gardener benefits from the garden not by receiving vegetables alone, but also by having a relationship to the natural realm; by exercise, fresh air, quietude, focus. And the world benefits from the gardener's renewed equanimity as well as, perhaps, some of the food. 
 

Monastery gardens focus on food but also on medicinal plants and plants for craft, ranging from bamboo to indigo, as well. Asian monasteries are often located in or near forests to which they have access for making anything from furniture to roof-beams.

Hermits often don't have as many resources as monasteries, unless they reside near one with which they have an arrangement, or near a kindly disposed settlement, perhaps. Most hermits are agile enough, until near their end, to be their own gardener, herb-gatherer, wood-cutter, carpenter, glazier, cook, tilesetter, candle-maker, or whatever needs arise. Their resources are, within reasonable limits, whatever or whomever they can reach. I reach for many things, in season, right here on this 1/5 acre lot. There are dandelions, cat's-ear, spearmint, peppermint, lemon balm, blackberrry, Oregon grape, calendulas, marigolds, nipplewort, deadnettle, plantain, self-heal, thistles, herb-Robert, camellias, cascara (use with caution), ash, Douglas fir, cedar right at hand, and a short walk along the street provides, with permission, rose petals and hips, birch foliage, hawthorn, bigleaf maple, assorted pines, deodar, crabapples, pie cherries, broadleaf plantain, chickweed, chicory, and on and on. Some are for topical agents, some for medicine or tea, some for walking sticks or to prop up peas or beans.

Concerning the peas or beans, we do have the usual variety of vegs and fruits, and the family also collects a bag of vegetables each week in summer from the Youth Garden CSA. These they use during the week, and then the day before the next batch arrives, I raid the leftovers for things to add to my own stash of vegetables for chopping and pickling.

It's a small, satisfactory, labor-intensive and meditative practice. I'm more in-the-zone at the cutting board than anywhere else. Enough diced root and leafy veg to fill the rice steamer is enough to fill several small jelly jars with pickles, or combine two batches to fill several pint jars.

I don't use quart jars any more, because I go through the contents too slowly.

 

 

The idea, then, for much of the year, is to steam a handful or two of (soaked) black beans, pinto beans, chickpeas, split peas, lentils, or rice or tofu or pasta, open a small jar of pickles to throw in at the last minute, serve into a bowl, sit down, be thankful, and eat.

Stonehouse noticed his food routine made up the bulk of his practice.

Lunch in my mountain kitchen
there’s a shimmering springwater sauce 
a well-cooked stew of preserved bamboo
a fragrant pot of hard-grain rice
blue-cap mushrooms fried in oil
purple-bud ginger vinaigrette
none of them heavenly dishes
but why should I cater to gods
(tr. Red Pine)

Life is short. If you have salt, reach for the salt. If you don't have salt right now, reach for the dried kale flakes you've made. There's always something, until there really truly isn't. And "really truly isn't" comes to us all in its own time. As it will do so whether we have salt or don't, there's no need to rush around or fret. This is called "no hindrance."

The nothing zazen is good for

Chitting potatoes

Rev. Dainei, my Dharma brother, chose the following quote as the footer for a recent email:

It is necessary for us to keep the constant way. Zen is not some kind of excitement, but concentration on our usual everyday routine. If you become too busy and too excited, your mind becomes rough and ragged. This is not good. If possible, try to be always calm and joyful and keep yourself from excitement. Usually we become busier and busier, day by day, year by year, especially in our modern world. If we revisit old, familiar places after a long time, we are astonished by the changes. It cannot be helped. But if we become interested in some excitement, or in our own change, we will become completely involved in our busy life, and we will be lost. But if your mind is calm and constant, you can keep yourself away from the noisy world even though you are in the midst of it. In the midst of noise and change, your mind will be quiet and stable. -- Shunryu Suzuki, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind (emphasis added)

 The more time I spend with Zen, the less I know about it. Maybe you have had this experience as well. I'm going through a phase of making it to a fair number of sits, thanks to teleconferencing. Sometimes we chant, have dedications and bows, and so on. I'm grateful for these opportunities, as they do seem to help with centering.

I come most alive in the in between times, cutting chard and lifting a few potatoes, then sitting at the hut's "kitchen" table with cleaver and chopping block. I cut up potatoes, garlic scapes and chard stems, with some dried chili pepper, and steam them for fifteen minutes or so, meanwhile chopping greens (chard leaves, dandelions, a cabbage leaf maybe, some clover buds and self-heal) to put into the steamer in the last minute. I drain these and stir in some olive oil, soy sauce, chili powder and sesame seeds, briefly offer the bowl at the altar, and dig in. Have with water or "yard tea" -- currently dock, ash leaves, fennel, herb Robert, self-heal and camellia leaves -- and, after a while, go check some chitting potatoes and water the garden beds and young trees from the rain barrels.

This routine requires very little if any thought, and also very little if any thought suppression. There's no aim here to "become enlightened."

Strangely enough, what has sold me on the effortlessness of "concentration on our daily routine" is that I'm in the early stages of cognitive decline. Memories and words are getting harder to access. Since I don't have many responsibilities nowadays, there's little cause to be stressed about it. Loss becomes not so much "oh, I lost that" and something more like "this is what there is right now" -- which is of course the entire universe.

My youngest, who lives with us (he's 42) also goes out and "just gardens." He remembers to stop by the strawberry bed on his way back to the house. He finds me resting in my chair and holds up a ripe strawberry. I open my mouth and he pops it in, like a starling feeding its chick. This is the nothing zazen is good for.

--shonin

 

A shorter "eight great realizations"

One can find enough to do for a lifetime in a few short phrases: be undesiring, be content, be tranquil, be practicing, be mindful, be meditative, be discerning, be steadfast.

It doesn't take much from us to do these things, but there is a consistency of "effort" called for. We might call it be present, be present, be present.

If we think it is easy to practice because we have a beautiful building, that is a mistake. Actually it may be quite difficult to practice with a strong spirit in this kind of setting- where we have a handsome Buddha and offer beautiful flowers to decorate our Buddha hall. We Zen Buddhists have a saying that with a blade of grass we create a golden Buddha which is sixteen feet high. That is our spirit, so we need to practice respect for things.

I don't mean that we should accumulate many leaves or grasses to make a big statue, but until we can see a big Buddha in a small leaf, we need to make much more effort. How much effort I don't know. Some people may find it quite easy, but for someone like me great effort is needed. Although seeing a large golden Buddha in a large golden Buddha is easier, when you see a large Buddha in a blade of grass, your joy will be something special. So we need to practice respect with great effort. -- Shunryu Suzuki, Not Always So.

-- shonin 

But live

 As shonin approaches 77, she takes stock of her intellect and finds it ... gummy. The most one can hope for is that this is a peaks-and troughs experience, and she's going through a trough. But she knows, by interior inquiry more than from doctors, who tend to wave her off with talk of sleep apnea, that she's not getting enough brain food by day as well as night. She spends some time with her cannula, whiffing concentrated oxygen, and watches earnest videos by younger and brighter folks as the days wear on.

When there is some energy, she walks, cooks, gardens, gathers herbs and forbs for tea, plays at being doshi (altar officiant) for a tiny sangha. During the last peak, she read aloud some poems to YouTube.

It's a long, slow spring with April frosts, confusing for plants that have seen temps as high as 80F already. But she, and they, persist.

After all, what is there for the living to do, but live? 

-- shonin

Reverse takuhatsu

 

"Entering the village with bliss-bestowing hands"

 For Buddhists (and anyone like-minded): if you have been going for walks, and you live where pindapata/takuhatsu is not a thing, and you pass something like a Little Free Pantry along your route, carry a little appropriate something with you, bow to the pantry, put in the something, bow again, and be on your way. 

Don't think about what just happened. Just admire the shadows of trees on the sidewalks and the singing birds. Everything is the same as everything else in the realm of giving and receiving.

 -- shonin  

Rapid niche depletion

Putting this here to remember that it was said, because it's a fairly succinct statement of our continuing problem in 2026, which is rapid niche depletion by our species. Fascism, which while we are attempting with little success to contain it, prevents our addressing said destruction, which meanwhile goes on apace even when not accelerated by the fascists.

 -- shonin 

If you put God outside and set him vis-a-vis his creation and if you have the idea that you are created in his image, you will logically and naturally see yourself as outside and against the things around you. And as you arrogate all mind to yourself, you will see the world around you as mindless and therefore not entitled to moral or ethical consideration. The environment will seem to be yours to exploit. Your survival unit will be you and your folks or conspecifics against the environment of other social units, other races and the brutes and vegetables.

If this is your estimate of your relation to nature and you have an advanced technology, your likelihood of survival will be that of a snowball in hell. You will die either of the toxic by-products of your own hate, or, simply, of overpopulation and overgrazing. The raw materials of the world are finite. 

If I am right, the whole of our thinking about what we are and what other people are has got to be restructured. This is not funny, and I do not know how long we have to do it in. If we continue to operate on the premises that were fashionable in the precybernetic era, and which were especially underlined and strengthened during the Industrial Revolution, which seemed to validate the Darwinian unit of survival, we may have twenty or thirty years before the logical reductio ad absurdum of our old positions destroys us. Nobody knows how long we have, under the present system, before some disaster strikes us, more serious than the destruction of any group of nations. 

-- Gregory Bateson, "Form, Substance and Difference," Nineteenth Annual Korzybski Memorial Lecture (1970), reprinted in Steps to an Ecology of Mind: Collected Essays in Anthropology, Psychiatry, Evolution, and Epistemology (1972)

An appropriate response

From the Blue Cliff Record

Case 14: Yunmen’s “Appropriate Response”

A monk asked Yunmen, “What are the teachings of a whole lifetime?”

Yunmen said, “An appropriate response.”

Shunryu Suzuki says: "Buddha's teaching (as attained by Buddhas) in its pure and formless form, is not expressible by word or idea. Hence, the contribution of each sect to Buddhism is to give system to the scriptures, to set up the true words of the Tathagata ... in a consistent way so that people may understand and follow Buddha's way of life." (Wind Bell corrected text)

That is, that which is real is beyond words, but words can point to the real --provisionally.

Words have no meanings of their own, but are assigned meanings in our minds. The slipperyness of word meaning can be demonstrated by examining the almost universal misunderstanding in English that the prostate is to be referred to as the "prostrate," a verb or adjective supposed to indicate "lying down."

The reason we understand someone who refers to the prostate as the "prostrate" is they use it in either an implied or complete sentence, usually within a context. In language the context is a paragraph, in the world the context may consist of prior conversations or locations. Someone saying, at the front desk of the doctor's office, "I'm here about my prostrate," is likely to be understood and not even corrected by the receptionist.

Language is actually algebra, in which something is conveyed by means of an operator and operands.

Just as a=b is an equation, so is "that stick is a hoe handle." In the real world, "hoe handle" is an abstract concept, but the stick really is a thing, and it's useful to know that the speaker sees it as material shaped by human agency toward a desired end, thus having added value by means of the applied concept. A concept is, for purposes of the material universe, an illusion, but in the case of a hoe it is a useful one. 

In order to convey information, which is made up of a mixture of ideas about things and ideas about ideas about things, we must constantly embed the ideas in formulae, in which the operator ties together two operands, a symbolic representation of a subject and an object, in either a metaphorical equivalency -- assertion -- or denial of equivalency -- refutation. 

In other words, we rely on metaphor to get anything said, trusting in the transitivity of equivalency, a tool used both by those hoping to formulate and communicate a truth and those hoping to deceive.

Information is news of difference (Bateson). To form an argument for purposes of convincing someone that we bring them information requires three implied or actual sentences: 

a = b, b=c, ∴ a=c (assertion), 

or 

a = b, b≠c, ∴ a≠c (refutation). 

The three sentences of the argument form the structure of a complete paragraph. This is solving a system with equations (in disguise).

It's very, very difficult for two humans in conversation to solve systems with equations on the fly, especially if one of them is using chicanery in the construction and conveying of some of the information in order to achieve an end at variance with the end that would benefit them both. Often each is trying to do this to the other.

Where there is plenty of greed, anger and ignorance, there is much politicking and commerce, hence advertising, scamming and so on. These are all about broken promises and failure to honor contracts, and are made possible by appeals to greedy illusiveness by means of malevolently employed enthymemes: incomplete or incorrect paragraphs and incomplete or incorrect sentences, many of which are carefully nurtured fallacies. 

Dukkha is Buddha's word for the not-quite-rightness of the world as he has found it; much if not nearly everything about human behavior seems off to him, like a cart wheel set off center on the axle, causing the cart to go down the road jolting itself apart even in the absence of potholes ... "dukkha, dukkha." We all are of the nature to become ill, to become old, and to die. Accepting that this is so, and helping one another home, so to speak, is wisdom -- a centered wheel and a smoother ride for all. But the world's common sense is non-acceptance: ignorance, greed, and anger that our illusory, greedy expectations have not been met.

Buddha offers a remedy for our vulnerability to fallacy and its consequences, from disappointment all the way up to life-threatening danger. He noticed, immediately upon seeing the morning star, that the remedy would be difficult to explain, because even honest use of language involves imprecision: no one has the exact same set of meanings of signifiers. 

And those who do not mean well are apt to capitalize on the apparent similarity between inadvertently imprecise honest speech or actions and purposefully imprecise (dishonest) speech or actions.

Yet he persisted. The risk, to him, was worth the gamble.

This is why Buddha speaks of "expedient means" (upaya). Even his most direct verbal teachings made use of language; even at their most formal they were all expedient means toward the ending of suffering, yet inevitably open to interpretation, leading to perceived contradictions over time; the more so as agreed-upon meanings of words drifted.

When we talk about Dharma, just as we talk about anything, our talk does not approach the reality of dharmas (phenomena), or, in the case of Dharma, what we might call our secondary reality -- of ideas. 

And yet we trust in Dharma (the set of available truths about dharmas -- Thusness) to hone our behaviors toward the lessening of suffering -- ours and that of others.

There is some truth in truth, enough so that we if we intend be on its side against injuring, lying, stealing, misuse of pleasures, and misuse of resources, a way forward can be found.

Buddhists speak of the paramitas. Theravada traditionally lists ten; Mahayana  six. But it seems clear, as commentators have noted, that the two lists are just two ways of covering the same ground. The main thing is to provide, as best we can -- toward whatever is before us -- an appropriate response.

 -- shonin 

The long haul

Grass, trees, fences, and walls bring forth the teachings for all beings, usual people as well as sages. And they in accord extend this Dharma for the sake of grass, trees, fences, and walls. Thus, the realm of self-awakening and awakening others is fundamentally endowed with realization lacking nothing, and realization itself is actualized ceaselessly. (Dogen, Bendowa, tr. Hoshin and Daien)

Historically, Buddhists have been all about "nature" and some masters, more than others, have included rocks and "fences and walls" within, or hinted that they should be included within, the circle of "sentient beings."

Suppose we, as individuals, were proved to be a kind of baggage, hauled around by the consensus chorus of our mitochondria as convenient packages of nutrients, "intended" as means of preserving the long chain of replication and nothing more?

Lovelock and Margulis proposed, after studying the evidence that Earth's biosphere and geosphere seem to form a self-regulating system that "just happens" to keep the Earth within the temperature and humidity ranges that protect the integrity of DNA-carrying organisms, a hypothesis that the system is itself purposive, a survival project, so to speak.

Were we to decide that's how it is, wouldn't Dogen's quote above remain much the same? All support all, but some may realize it less than others, simply because the illusion of self-importance promulgated by our DNA code is quite powerful. Even those who "get it" relapse continually, and zazen is often described as a process of noticing this and returning, again and again, to realization. 

So, patience is prajna practice for good reason. I say to myself, "hey, self! Be patient with yourself and others." A few minutes later, I may say it again. This is practice. Life is short, yet we are all in this for the long haul.

 -- shonin 

 

 

It's a thing

Dogen makes much of shikan-taza as being the whole of practice. "Although it is said that there are as many minds as there are persons, still they all negotiate the way solely in zazen." 

He's not wrong. Stillness is where you find true-ness. At the same time, his monks had to get up and go clean the zendo sometime, and there was also construction, maintenance, cooking, water carrying and farming going on. His explanation was that at the root of all this activity there is still that same stillness. Whether or not you fan yourself, air is air.

When we lived for eight years in the outskirts of one small city and I worked in the larger city across the river, I often biked to work along established bicycle routes and across the wide river on a bike bridge, a scenic round trip of some sixteen miles. In heavier weather, I took the bus.

Bodhidharma splits up practice in much the same way. If wall-gazing does it for you, he says, gaze away! It is, when you do it, the entirety of practice. On the other hand, everything else is waiting for you as practice: the whole of life's activity. One of my hardest-working spiritual teachers, a Hutterite, Barbara Maendel, put it drolly when handing out our farm chores from a seemingly endless list: "a change is as good as a rest."

Zazen is the bicycle. Just get on it and go. In heavier weather, a change is good too. Just get on the bus and go.

Life practice is the bus. If you're sitting in the doctor's waiting room, sure, you can work on your stillness, but also there's the check-in and the visit, which may provide vexations. The arriving and the departing may stress as well -- that near-miss in the parking lot, say. Everything seems to push and pull. To deal with these as Dharma practice, form Dharma life habits.

Bodhidharma breaks life practice into four parts: absence of resentment, acceptance of circumstances, absence of craving, and accord with Dharma. 

To form the habit of not resenting can be a big change in lifestyle for many of us. It means accepting circumstances just as they are, with no craving for them to be any different. That doesn't mean don't swim when you fall into the water, it just means don't spend your swimming energy on uselessly grieving the fall or being angry that you were bumped. Swim. 

Accord with Dharma means embodying Buddha's truth by living the six wisdoms (paramitas). Six tools are available to bring us to the place of non-resentment: giving, ethical discipline, patience, effort, meditation, wisdom.

"Giving" is practice in being kind, a way of cultivating a cooperative, productive and peaceful community.

"Ethical discipline" is self-regulation: holding anger, greed and delusion in check, we foster a cooperative, productive and peaceful community.

"Patience" is practice in accepting circumstances as they are; it's rooted in letting go of the past and especially the future, allowing the community's cooperation, productivity and peace to unfold unforced.

"Effort" here is not the willful struggle that might be envisioned by the ascetic, but the steady self-application to practice that leaves behind the constructed self composed of greed, anger and delusion. This too benefits the community.

"Meditation" in the midst of life practice is that stillness in the doctor's waiting room, increasingly expanding into the visit and the coming and going. You may call it equanimity. It is beneficial to the community.

"Wisdom" here is "prajna," an ongoing appreciation of the ontological truth of the Dharma: "thusness." An insight into thusness is provided by the idea of dependent origination: all things are what they are together, in the same nowness, and nothing exists separately. As our illusion of separateness fades, our actions spring from this realization, and we benefit the community.

shonin painted six rocks, each with a paramita, as mnemonic devices. What, she's 76.

To see Dogen's practical application of the principle of life practice, samu practice, read his "Instructions to the cook," Tenzo Kyokun.

If you only have wild grasses with which to make a broth, do not disdain them. If you have ingredients for a creamy soup do not be delighted. Where there is no attachment, there can be no aversion. Do not be careless with poor ingredients and do not depend on fine ingredients to do your work for you but work with everything with the same sincerity. If you do not do so then it is like changing your behaviour according to the status of the person you meet; this is not how a student of the Way is. (tr. Anzan Hoshin and Yasuda Joshu Dainen)

Hongzhi sums up. "You must purify, cure, grind down, or brush away all the ten­dencies you have fabricated into apparent habits. Then you can reside in the clear circle of brightness."

The bicycle in good weather carried me to the entrance of the building where I worked. I arrived exercised and healthy, ready to benefit the community.

The bus, in heavy weather, stopped right in front of the same building. I arrived rested, composed, ready to benefit the community.

Not saying I always rose to the occasion. But that clear circle of brightness -- it's a thing. We should all look into it.

 -- shonin 

Just walk

In a lovely manga I've been reading, the Solo Mountain Climbing Girl, near a three thousand meter summit making and having coffee, asks: "I wonder ... 'why is the mountain beautiful/no matter who lays their eyes upon it?'" (A haiku.)

In the next panel she replies to herself, "You are allowed to ask, but you are not allowed to answer ... to limit nature's splendors with words would be foolish." [sip, sigh]

The first three of Siddartha's Four Sights* are: an old person, a sick person, and a corpse. From these he drew the conclusion that drastic measures might have to be taken to avoid these unavoidables, so he took his hint from the fourth sight, that of a meditating sadhu, and left home. 

These sights and their significance stick with him over time:

I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape having ill health.

I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.

-- Upajjhatthana Sutta (“Subjects for Contemplation”) 

So far, so good. He's seen entropy and its inevitability. He also experienced the unsatisfactory path of the self-abnegating sramana.

He and I, raised in different cultures, may not have quite the same take on why one does whatever one does next. Buddha, or certainly nearly all his followers then and since, clearly thought there was some kind of afterlife with rewards and punishments, though he denied the unchanging soul depicted in his natal Brahmanic faith.

The legends do seem to show Buddha expecting his new monks to be able to keep to the path of non-harm as soon as they have accepted his positive instructions on how to live. On finding that they would need guide rails, he reluctantly provided them.

Bodhidharma mentions, almost in passing, that precepts are already implicit in awakened behavior:  "Bud­dhas don't keep precepts. And buddhas don't break precepts." But I think we will all agree the bar is high on that one. Perhaps something more alarming was required by a society already steeped in its own juices -- and still is.

The idea of hell is even enshrined in the Sotoshu's basic statement of faith, stated as applicable to all laypersons and priests (and made up of quotes cut and pasted from Dogen), the Shushogi:

When there is a spiritual communication of supplication and response, devas, humans, hell dwellers, hungry ghosts, and animals all take refuge.

I personally have no reliable data confirming an afterlife or multiple lives, and little if any basis for speculation on these matters. As such, I have no notion of extinction as a goal for escaping the wheel of karma. Per Occam's Razor, I try to ascertain if what I see and do in this life will fill the bill for what I might call the "yearning to do well."

Concerning teleology and eschatology, then, I am allowed to ask, but not allowed to answer ... to limit reality's splendors with words risks entangling myself further in the vines of delusion.

Even without the carrot and stick of heavens and hells, we notice how it feels to treat others well or badly, within our circumstances and cultural touchstones. For me, Buddha's admonition to ground my actions in wisdom resonates with my understanding that to assist in slowing inevitable entropy, while ultimately futile perhaps, is nevertheless exactly that which is ethical.

This entails attempting a drastic reduction in environmental and social harm (as perceived), as way opens. I have elsewhere compared Buddhism with Permaculture, to try to elucidate ways and means. 

Everything is "emptiness." But it may be that wise actions help empty out the emptiness of greed, anger and ignorance through a disciplined process of subtraction.

Simplify, simplify, simplify. Simply fail, again and again, to reach into the world with greedy hands.

Hence the various stories in which teachers and abbots say "when eating, just eat. When walking, just walk."

 -- shonin 

 

*Actually this story is originally told of an earlier Buddha, Vipassi, who is said to have lived long ago. It's not told of the young Siddhartha Gautama until centuries later, but, as Siddhartha himself is said to have said, Buddhas tend to follow similar timelines.