In Place 53

 

Han Shan was not young

his ability to scale slick rock faces

in rainy winter stuns her; what

does falling down on her pasture path mean

 

 

She sits by her space heater in the hut reading of Han Shan's adventures in a thin robe high in the mountains year round and shivers at the thought. Just getting back to the house after an evening's introspection will be enough adventure for her old bones. Is there anything left in her flashlight's batteries, she wonders. The bridge! That rushing high water! Thus the exurbs become wilderness. 

 

Down to the stream to watch the jade flow
or back to the cliff to sit on a boulder
my mind like a cloud remains unattached
what do I need in the faraway world

--Cold Mountain (Han Shan) tr. Red Pine

In Place 52

 

Home-dyed blue muslin and cranberry thread

stubby fingers advance a millimeter

something something Shakyamuni

eyes cloud over, hands shake

 

Promising, with thin fabric, to make promises to herself, she takes up the unaccustomed needle. Sew a straight line to represent walking a straight path.

 

Though there is no space even for needle to enter,
Yet it controls all the mountain peaks around.
It is not unusual for a tiny particle to contain the whole world.
Mt Sumeru enters into a mustard seed and becomes one with it.

-- Songs of Preceptor Naong (1320–1376) tr. Whitfield and Park

In Place 51

 

Quietly hazel roots explore duff

twitching past rotting cottonwood

to sip snowmelt as it rushes past.

old brain trustingly mimics hazel

 

 

With the little dog, she investigates the nearby river. Water flows over stones, never the same water twice, but also never the same stones twice. A hazel tree attends hazel-ness. An osprey hammers the water surface and carries away surprised protein.

Fish and dragons live in the water without being aware
And they move around with the currents and the waves.
Since from the beginning they never left it, they neither gain nor lose,
If there were no delusions, then whence might enlightenment come?

 

-- Collected Poems of Muuija (1178–1234) tr. Whitfield and Park

In Place 50

Once a month a silent retreat

with sangha, otherwise

every day no other sound

than wind, or rain, or creek.
 




The old woman's current community meets monthly at a rural home an hour's drive from her farm, to spend the day in group zazen and a few other practices. She's torn between her habitual hut practice and the notion that Buddhism requires company -- what even are precepts for in the middle of nowhere, alone? But every beloved poem by Han Shan, or Stonehouse, or Ryokan convinces her she's doing real work. As does the rain, as does the moon behind clouds.


    Movement isn’t right and stillness is wrong
    and the realm of no-thought is confusion 
    instead the Patriarch didn’t have no-mind in mind
    any thought at all means trouble
    a hut facing south isn’t so cold
    chrysanthemums along a fence perfume the dusk 
    as soon as drifting clouds start to linger
    the wind blows them past the vines

    -- Stonehouse (Shiwu) tr. Red Pine

In Place 49

Mornings roll past, putting shadows 

in motion. Darkness caresses each

object; each object caresses light.

The old woman's eyes adjust

 

One of her children, long grown, has left behind a celebratory birth quilt; she spreads it as an altar cloth. In a shallow raku dish she places maple seeds. Moving them from one dish to another, she offers them as "incense;" a mouse accepts the offering. Shadows of ash and cottonwood chase one another as yet another day, amazingly, for no reason she can discern, brightens.

Absolute truth is emptiness of all dharmas,
Hence there is no reason to be obsessed with things.

-- Collected Sayings of Preceptor Baegun (1299–1375) tr. Whitfield and Park

 

In Place 48

 

 

I've built a fiberglass-roofed hut
where there's nothing to take away.

After eating,
I conk out.

When the hut was completed,
it was a children's playhouse.

It had long been abandoned —
covered by blackberries.

Sometimes I live at the hut,
trying out Nagarjuna.

No need to go shopping.
No movies, no popcorn.

Though the hut is nine feet square,
Nowhere is there a place not here.

Within, an old nun
gawks out the window.

With her "instinctive knowing what to do"
she trusts being/time.

The neighbors can't help wondering —
what's going on in there?

For now, the old crone is present,
losing track of Meaning.

Knowing she does not know up or down,
she looks straight ahead.

A wide window below green cottonwoods--
five star hotels can't compare with it.

Just nestling in her zero-g chair
all things are settled.

Thus, this mountain nun
doesn't squint at circumstances.

Living here she no longer
hankers for escape.

Who would proudly arrange place settings,
trying to lure guests?

Doing as a Buddha does
cannot not be what a Buddha is.

Thusness can't be
looked toward or away from.

Meet the lineages and spiritual friends,
absorb their guidance.

Salvage fence boards to build a hut
and don't give up.

When your begging bowl breaks,
which it will, relax into your day.

Open your face
and walk, de-stressed.

Thousands of teachers
babble, but the message isn't garbled.

If you want to benefit
from dwelling in your hut,

Don't expect to be polishing that begging bowl
forever.

 

 

In Place 47

In late summer this work began;

in another summer she brings pears

and apples to sit and pare

while watching the sun go down





It could be objected that the old woman having a retirement income is hypocritical in presenting the half-hermit life as if it were a thing. Her response is that she's suspended by her obligations between the way of a householder and the way of a hermit. Yet there can be value in reflection wherever one is.

Do not look back on the past, nor anticipate the future, but take whatever is brought forth by the present and endeavor to dispose of it as best you can.
—Hung Ying Ming, Discourses on Vegetable Roots (tr. Isobe)

In Place 46

In spring, dandelion and nettle tea,

in summer, mint and blackberry tea,

in fall, chicory and mulberry tea,

in winter, fir needle and dried vegetable tea

She sees that with the cultivation of a little knowledge, one understands the earth is inclined toward generosity. She reciprocates by treading lightly -- has gardened without chemicals for fifty years, and, to the extent possible for her, used hand tools. She knows she has not been as faithful to these principles as she could have, and that this has not dented the world's problems, but when she goes from garden to zazen, seldom feels that nagging sense of something left unaddressed. It is in the present moment, and only there, that there can be this simplicity.

Sacred refers to that which helps take us (not only human beings) out of our little selves into the whole mountains-and-rivers mandala universe.
--Gary Snyder, The Practice of the Wild 94

In Place 45

Food and drink, free for the labor,

are the proper business

of humans; she strives to make

gratitude her main possession

She grows more vegetables than she needs and puts herself in a position to give some away, thus paying her debt of gratitude.

The Buddhist path itself is understood as something that brings gratitude and joy.
-- Paula Arai, Women Living Zen 151

In Place 44

Plant vegetables; this provides

exercise and sharpens observation

as well as making food and tea

available to you and others





We cultivate ourselves indoors and we cultivate ourselves outdoors, hoe in hand.

A couple of beds inside the fence, of kale, chard and potatoes mostly, keep the old woman busy in her tiny kitchen. As she waters the garden, small birds dart through the spray to catch a drop.

We empty our minds in the hall for creating buddhas, where some naturally open their flower of awakening in this monastic garden in the hills.
-- Hongzhi, quoted by Dogen in Eihei Koroku, 250 (tr. Leighton and Okamura)

In Place 43

Inspired by her stairs,

the old woman undertakes

to clear more stream bed;

instant rock garden





Between the stones she has tucked comfrey, mint, and mosses. In drought, she waters the stones, hopefully keeping the “garden” alive till winter.

Plans and events seldom agree
Who can step back doesn't worry
We blossom and fade like flowers
We gather and part like clouds
—Shiwu (Stonehouse, tr. Red Pine)

In Place 42

In summer she, grunting, hauls 
 
large stones from the dry wash

up to the hut to make steps

for those who keep to a path




She had no idea she could move anything so heavy. Samu with appropriate sweat.

Back by the stone bridge, mind returns.
Where now the things that troubled me?
— Han Shan (tr. Red Pine)

 

In Place 41

Year round, here, she can make

yard tea; always something green:

fir needles, blackberry leaves, nettles --

easier in high summer





Hiding from the westering sun, she hangs shades from the eaves.



    Yunyan was boiling some tea. 
    Daowu asked who he was making it for. 
    Yunyan answered, "nobody special."
    "Why doesn't he make it for himself, then?"

    -- Soto Zen Ancestors in China, Mitchell, 72.

In Place 40

Horses and bison tread

past her south window at dawn;

she pulls back the east shade.

how many days without sun?





The few mornings the old woman has awakened at the hut instead of the farmhouse have been notable for a certain quiet sublimity, especially in winter, with the small creek roaring nearby. One could say that in the exurbs one can experience something of what Chinese hermits go to remote mountains for, but then, one should be able to practice anywhere without making distinctions, yes?

By blue waters, in green hills are places to stroll quietly; near valleys, under trees are places for clearing the mind. Beholding impermanence, do not ignore it, for it encourages the mind to search the Way.

-- Keizan, "Instructions on How to Do Pure Meditation" (tr. Nearman)

In Place 39

She has worn a path

deep enough to feel her way

with feet on glassed grasses:

ice on gate awakens her





In frost, the path is reliable, but in rain, its heavy clay slickens. She carries small flat stones, and when her foot slides, she drops one in that spot and tamps it in with her heel: slowly a cobblestone way is established.


    All night, a gentle rain fills the darkness outside
    My long years of hard travel are over at last

    -- Ryokan in Great Fool: Zen Master Ryōkan: Poems, Letters, and Other Writings 140 (Abé and     Haskell, tr.)