In Place 21

The carpet comes in handy

for nine bows; with hands

uplifted, the old woman pauses,

thoughtlessly thoughtful of all






These bows are supposed to be prostrations from standing, but the old woman’s back and legs are beginning to fail her, so she now uses the railing of the cot as a grab bar to get to her knees and does her bows from there. This is sometimes accompanied by the grunts and groans of the elderly.

...we should know why we do prostrations. We do not do them to endear ourselves to somebody else. We do not do them for the Buddha. Such concepts are completely wrong. The Buddha is not a god of this world. We bow down to purify all situations from the past where we did not respect others.

-- Lama Gendyn Rinpoche

 

In Place 20

Mornings she repeats ancient texts

abjuring illusion, anger, fear;

speaks the names of

friends and others, ill or passed





Morning service at "Gogo-an" consists of Robe Chant, zazen, Heart Sutra, nine bows, Dedications (reading of the current Memorial List, reading of the current Well-Being List), Bodhisattva Vows, Refuges, six days a week. One can see from all the capitalization that there is certainly some risk of pietism, which she guards against warily. Heart Sutra is supposed to be chanted, but she’s not good at this and just reads it aloud.

Beings are numberless; I vow to free them.
Delusions are inexhaustible; I vow to end them.
Dharma gates are boundless; I vow to enter them.
Buddha’s way is unsurpassable; I vow to attain it.

-- Bodhisattva Vows

 

In Place 19

Through her south window

she may watch the neighbors' herd

of bison; they gaze in as well

she counts them friends





The neighbor's bison, she’s told, are really "beefalo." They are very impressive. The obvious equality of these beings with the old woman might be a clue to her question's answer.

If you are not caught up in the rules and ranks, there is no seeking.

-- Chao-Chou in Loori, The Heart of Being 51-52.

In Place 18

For study of old books,

soft light of rainy days

is good; the volcanic young man

helps with her homework





The hut is not off-grid; this is thanks to a long heavy-duty drop cord. The old woman has her steamer, tea maker, small heater, and a lamp. Much of her study consists in seeking out connections between talk of "enlightenment" and talk of the "precepts." For years her question has been: what does understanding reality necessarily have to do with compassion?

Bud­dhas don't keep precepts. And buddhas don't break precepts. 

-- attr. Bodhidharma (tr. Red Pine)

In Place 17

The old woman has found

a young friend, molded from ashes

gathered from the slopes of a volcano;

he points to the earth, his witness






This Buddha statue is of the historic Shakyamuni (Gautama Buddha) and recalls the occasion of his great enlightenment. Pressed by Mara, the king of the delusion demons, to prove his enlightenment, he points to the earth and calls it to witness. Acquired from a merchant somewhere, somewhen, she found his rough vagueness of appearance answered to her own vagueness of aspiration and effort, while his uncompromising posture and gesture provided her with a "way in."

Q: What is the Way and how must it be followed?
A: What sort of THING do you suppose the Way to be, that you should wish to FOLLOW it?

-- Zen Teaching of Huang-Po 52 (tr. Blofeld)

 

 

In Place 16

Preparing for a lack of shade,

the old woman dabs white paint

at the roof and rough-sawn walls

old wire fence makes an enclosure

Good paint is available at low prices (in five gallon cans) from the local recycler. The old woman has welded-wire fencing and tee posts left over from decades of farm projects. To build a little compound for the hut and its “raised” beds, she wraps fencing around a corner of the pasture. She gives the wire fencing a “rustic” look by inserting hazel prunings in the fencing vertically to a height above six feet. This is more practical than it looks, as it reduces the likelihood of the vegetables being grazed by deer. They are lovely to watch, but perhaps less so when they are partaking of one's kale.

Sitting, I meditate on emptiness
as fresh breezes fill the temple.
Words are inherently empty and yet
still I am fond of brush and ink.
My mind like ashes after the fire and yet
still I am tied to the world.

-- Miaohui (Grant, Daughters of Emptiness 121)

In Place 15

 

Rain comes, fogs settle in;
her ceiling does drip a little;
path grows muddy; to keep her footing
she throws flat stones in low spots

 

In summer she gathers stones — basalt, mostly — from the dry  creek bed and stores them for winter projects.

With the shade tree gone, the roof has been painted white; walls will be painted soon. It won't be as attractive as when the building was red, but Gogo-an would be too hot in the summer without its tree.

The fence is to keep deer (or potentially sheep) out of the small garden.

I always wanted to go to East Cliff,
more years than I can remember, until today
I just grabbed a vine and started up.
Halfway up wind and a heavy mist closed in,
and the narrow path tugged at my shirt:
it was hard to get on. The slickery
mud under the moss on the rocks
gave way, and I couldn’t keep going.
So here I stay, under this cinnamon tree,
white clouds for my pillow,
I’ll just take a nap.
— Han Shan (Cold Mountain, tr. Seaton )

In Place 14

Half householder, she lives here

part time, and so makes tea and rice

as needed, washing dishes outdoors:

pantry is under the bed

 

In use for more than a decade, her old steamer can cook many things, but is most in demand for rice (pre-seasoned with home-grown dried herbs, kept in a Mason jar underneath the altar) and vegetables (mostly beets, potatoes, kale, chard and zucchini, in season). The little coffeemaker is used to make what the old woman calls “yard” tea — seasonally available forage such as (deep breath) chicory, dandelions, nipplewort, narrow leaf plantain, crimson clover, deadnettle, cat’s ears, blackberry leaves, fir or spruce needles, money plant, Bigleaf maple flowers, and crop foliage such as kale, chard, beet greens, squash blossoms and leaves, pea and bean foliage, corn silk, and the like. There are two bowls that also serve as cups, a few utensils, a knife, and a cutting board. Water is brought from the homestead well in a half gallon bottle.

Do not arouse disdainful mind when you prepare a broth of wild grasses; do not arouse joyful mind when you prepare a fine cream soup. Where there is no discrimination, how can there be distaste?

— Dogen (tr. Tanahashi)

 

In Place 13

The old woman finds a bench difficult,

more so every day; one last sit

before she gives it up —tap bell, groan, rise —

lotus, half lotus? Ha!





When she first began sitting at the hut, use of the seiza or kneeling bench was easy for the old woman; but it became increasingly painful for her; here we see it being used for the last time and it has since been replaced by a chair. All things come to an end, as will the use of the hut, as will this old woman’s life. The book on the floor is an edition of some of Ryokan’s poetry.

Falling blossoms.
Blossoms in bloom are also
falling blossoms. 

— Ryokan  (tr. Tanahashi)
 

In Place 12

A friend donates chairs; with these,

two to four may sit thinking no thoughts

or thinking of thinking no thoughts

while gazing at knotty cedar

Four folding chairs came with someone’s spare card table.  It’s encouraging how many useful things one can tuck into an eight by ten shed and not feel that it is cluttered.

The first thing is to learn how to quiet the mind, relax the mind, and bring the awareness to the front so that we are conscious of what we're doing when we're doing it without all the commentary. 

-- Tenzin Palmo