At Empty Gate Zen Center this time of year marks the beginning of our calendar and an increased schedule of retreats. This January we will hold our usual 3 day retreat, followed in February by a one day retreat held in Garberville, Ca. One of our long time Dharma Teachers, Ken Berman, holds a monthly retreat there and has asked us to join him in February. In March we will hold our annual 8 day retreat from March 7-March 15. We will hold a precept ceremony that week.

Kyol Che time is also a time for all of us to look into our practice-life and make an effort to make it stronger. Some of us decide to add more sittings to our week, or keep a more regular sitting schedule. Others might choose to do more bowing or more mantra practice during the 90 days of Kyol Che.

This year my commitment during Kyol Che will be a bit different. My ongoing writing project is heating up. I will be spending more of my time for the next year writing than I have up until now. During retreats you may find me in my office writing rather than sitting in the Dharma Room.

My hope is that we all can take some time during this time of the New Year and look deeply at why we are practicing and match our efforts to support that Great Vow. May we all stay active in the life of Empty Gate and support and nourish each other’s practice. May our efforts help each other, and may the world around us be healed through those efforts.

Suffering as an experience can range from minor irritation, like our unhappiness with the weather, to the stark shadow of our impending death. We can say that suffering permeates our subjective view of our life. This is a very important point. Suffering is intimately connected to our view. Suffering is not in the actual moment; it is in the reflection we have about the moment. Most human beings fear death and want it to stay as far away as possible. It is so logical and makes so much sense to us to fear death that if someone does not fear death we think they are crazy. And yet, to fear death means to reflect on death. Death is death, no more no less. But, I doesn’t want to die. It is the existence of the observer, the phantom I which is created out of the accumulated thoughts and feelings we have in reflection of experience which creates the suffering.

As true as this is we also must acknowledge the universal experience of I. The human consciousness inherently (if healthy) creates this reflective I. However, that doesn’t mean this I is clear and sees things as they are. “I” is also by nature distorted by its point of view. Our view is conditioned by what we have experienced in the past and our fears about the future. Because “I” can only reflect on what it knows, it’s perspective is by definition incomplete. Therefore its judgments and decisions are based on incomplete information. In addition, the information we do have is colored by our fears, desires and anger. These hindrances play havoc with our decision making, thereby maintaining and often increasing our subjective experience of suffering.

[hits table with zen stick]

When you and I were born, we sprung from our mother’s uterus, dropped into the doctor’s arms, and screamed, “WAAAAAAAAH!”

[hits table with zen stick]

Are Buddha and you the same or different?

KATZ!

The Buddha is wearing gold; Kwan Um Zen students wear grey.

Happy Buddha’s Birthday, everyone.

I’d like to take a look at the story of the Buddha from an unusual
angle. The Buddha was born a prince in a kingdom in India. His father,
the king, decided that, to make him a really great king, he would have
to pretend that there was no suffering, old age, sickness, or death in
the realm. The amount of deception and lying that had to be maintained
to shelter the Buddha from all of this must have been incredible.

The Buddha couldn’t know that people got hurt. He couldn’t know that
people didn’t have enough to eat. He couldn’t know that they succumbed
to illness. What happened, then, when the Buddha played with his
friends on an elephant and one of them fell off and got hurt? How did
they hide that from him? How did they conceal the fact that his
grandparents died? How did they hide the fact that his elderly uncles
and aunts got sick and died?

In short, the Buddha spent the first twenty-odd years of his life in
total ignorance. And this total ignorance was supposed to make him a
great king. How does ignorance make someone a great king? Really, the
whole idea that deception and falsehood would make a great king seems
quite absurd.

As the story of the Buddha unfolds, we learn that one day he noticed
somebody suffering. He noticed sickness. He noticed old age and he saw
a corpse. With that his whole world exploded. Everything that he had
believed about life was wrong. All of the things he was taught, all of
his ideas, everything, was wrong. It was all made up — a man-made
illusion. It’s no wonder that when he finally attained his true self,
the Buddha decided that his path would be based on truth, because he
had been lied to his whole life.

If you think about it, our own stories are no different than the
Buddha’s. We also grow up being lied to — however well-intentioned the
lies are. We are also brought into this world in a very narrow corner
of the universe. Each of us has our own different situation that we’re
born into. But when we’re born, our parents, relatives and teachers
begin a subtle process of deceiving us, telling us half-truths and
lies, for the purpose of making us what they call “good citizens.”

When young, how many of us had a relative die and our parents didn’t
tell us? One summer my grandmother died while my brother and I were in
summer camp. My parents called and told me to come home to the funeral,
but told me not to tell my younger brother where I was going because
they were afraid it would hurt him too much.

We go to school and the socialization process starts to make us into
“good citizens.” So sometimes a very subtle, and at other times, a very
unsubtle process happens. We’re molded, pushed to become a certain way.
Often, we willingly buy into this process. We desperately want to be
accepted. We want friends, we want love, we want so many things so
badly that we’re willing to sacrifice our own perceptions in order to
win love and approval. We begin to realize that when we act in certain
ways we elicit a smile from someone who is important to us. We
conclude: “Oh, I’ll do that again. This is great. I do this, and I get
a hug. I do that and I’m liked. I do this and I’m accepted.” We really
are very smart. We look around, see what works for us, what we think
works for us. So, just like the Buddha, we grow up in an environment
where we’re lied to and told half-truths. We really don’t know anything.

How did the Buddha react when he discovered that his life had been a
sham, a charade? He said, “Holy shit! I gotta get out of here! This is
crazy!” So he left. He left his wife, he left his child, he left the
opportunity to be a king and all the wealth you could imagine, in order
to find his true self.

But Buddha isn’t the only one who has that kind of experience. All of
us sitting here have had similar experiences. For me, I was fifteen and
in my sophomore year in a high school English class. I had a young
teacher at the time who must have been twenty-two or twenty-three years
old. She decided we would study poetry by bringing in lyrics from rock
‘n roll songs. This was 1968. She believed we could learn poetry this
way. It was a great idea.

I was a bit conservative at the time, and I liked Simon and Garfunkel,
so I brought in one of their songs. I presented it in class and we
talked about it and everything went well. Somebody else brought in the
song, “Hey Jude” by the Beatles. We read the song and the teacher said,
“OK, great. What’s it about?” I liked to talk in class so I raised my
hand and I said, “It’s about love, it’s about a person wanting
somebody, and that kind of thing.” In the back of the room was a guy
with long, red hair who raised his hand and said, “Nunh hunh. It’s not
about that.” He said, “It’s about shooting heroin.” He went through the
whole song, line-by-line, and showed how it was all about shooting
heroin in your arm.

That guy totally blew my mind. I realized that the world wasn’t
necessarily the way I thought it was. All of the beliefs and ideas and
everything else that I had were just a creation. They weren’t really
true. So great doubt appeared for me like it did for the Buddha.

In our Zen tradition, we have the story of Dok Sahn, who was a sutra
master in northern China. He had heard about the Zen practitioners in
southern China who sat all day long facing the wall and did nothing. He
said, “This is crazy! They’re not studying sutras. How do they expect
to get enlightenment?” Dok Sahn was so sure of himself that he knew he
had to personally go and teach these monks the true way. Apparently, he
was a very famous sutra master and had some standing in the Buddhist
community.

He walks hundreds of miles to go teach these crazy Zen monks a lesson.
As he approaches the first monastery, Dok Sahn stops at a tea house and
encounters the woman who runs it. She sees him carrying a bundle of
books and says, “Oh, what’s in that bundle?” The sutra master replies,
“That’s the Diamond Sutra. I am a great Diamond Sutra master. I am
going to teach these monks a lesson. They’ll learn the Diamond Sutra,
then they’ll understand the true way.”

So the tea house woman says, “That’s very interesting. But I have a
question for you. If you can answer this question, you can have your
lunch for free. If you can’t answer, you have no lunch.” Dok Sahn was
very prideful so he responded: “I can answer any question about the
Diamond Sutra. I know it all.” “I already understand,” the sutra master
boasts. “OK, you ask me. No problem.”

The tea house woman says, “In the Diamond Sutra it says, ‘Past mind
can’t get enlightenment, present mind can’t get enlightenment, future
mind can’t get enlightenment. ‘With what kind of mind will you eat your
lunch?” The sutra master was stumped.

Dok Sahn couldn’t answer at all. Suddenly, this great question
appeared: “What is this? I don’t understand everything.” Just like the
Buddha, who realized that his whole life had been a lie. just like me
sitting in that classroom, realizing I didn’t know what was going on.

Reaching this point is very important in our practice. Because it’s at
such a moment we truly understand don’t know mind. We truly realize
great doubt. What is this? If we’re really honest, and truly practice,
we are able to hold great doubt. We don’t hold it like an idea, but as
a direction in our life. “I don’t understand. What is this?” Not
knowing is the heart of our kong-an practice. ‘What is this?” Who is it
that thinks they know everything? We’re all crazy. Why? Because we hold
so tightly onto our opinions, our ideas, our feelings, our desires, our
anger, trying to hang onto a little bit of security in this very
insecure world.

With his great question, the Buddha went off and pursued every
spiritual practice that was around at the time. All of them had one
major problem: They all believed something. As his practice deepened,
he realized that all belief systems were limited. “That’s not the way,”
he decided. “If you believe anything, already you have lost the way.”

Eventually, the Buddha just sat down. He sat down for six years.
Breathing in, breathing out. What am I? One morning he saw the morning
star [claps] and realized great enlightenment. What did he see? What do
you see in front of you right now? Is that great enlightenment?

The Buddha taught us that everything is already enlightened. Everything
is already complete just as it is now. So, like him, we have to use
this great question and deep practice of breathing in and breathing out
to let go of our ideas, our opinions, our situation — everything.

Breathing in and breathing out. Only let go. Then when everything
disappears, the truth is right in front of us. We already have it. It’s
already all around us. Why make something more? That’s the truth of our
way. So, any idea, any belief, any understanding, throw it away, open
your eyes, and perceive.

Then we say, helping all beings is possible. If you cling to your idea
or your belief, helping all beings is not possible. It’s tainted by a
fixed idea. So, in Zen we say, throw away all ideas, perceive this
situation as it is and correct action becomes possible. The correct way
is very clear. But, if we cling to something, we lose it.

I’d like to end with a poem written by a very great Zen Master. It’s a
poem that I use to begin a Yong Maeng Jong Jin. The poem, called
“Original Face,” is by Zen Master Seung Sahn:

Your true self is always shining and free.
Human beings make something, and enter the ocean of suffering.
Only without thinking can you return to your true self.
The mountain is always blue.
White clouds coming and going.

Thank you very much.

This talk is inspired by the life of Zen Master Seung Sahn. Through his teachings and his action he was a consistent example of authenticity. Being with him would shake the foundations of my “I, my, me” mind. Things would feel surreal; my usual evaluation and control would loosen. In it’s place would appear spontaneity and humor. He showed me how one can be committed to a vow of service to the world while at the same time completely enjoying the moment. His teaching expressed spontaneity, a moment centered life lived with the purpose of attaining true self and helping this world.

He did not push us to understand the sutras, or be experts (as he was) in the Buddha’s teaching. Rather he pushed us to attain the Buddha’s mind which means to understand our true selves and manifest it in a way that helps others. About three years before I received Inka, authorization to teach, a group of us were out to lunch with Zen Master Seung Sahn. My brother asked him: when will Jeff become a teacher. He replied: “When he learns how to eat noodles.”

This poem to me expresses the heart of his teaching.

ORIGINAL FACE
–Zen Master Seung Sahn

Your true self is always shining and free
Human beings make something and enter the ocean of suffering
Only without thinking can you return to your true self
The high mountain is always blue,white clouds coming and going

When Shakyamuni Buddha had his big awakening, he was gazing at the Eastern star. In that moment he completely realized that he and the universe were one thing. Even to say one thing takes away from the completeness of the experience. His experience was complete, no trace of I. He realized that not only were he and the universe one, but that it was true for all beings, all of us . Zen Master Mang Gong’s famous calligraphy states “The whole world is a single flower.” Just as a flower is made up of stem and petals, pistil and roots, so is the complete universe made up of parts which are themselves complete.

Your true self is always shining and free.

You are already complete. Hui Neng, the 6th Patriarch, said: You should know that so far as Buddha-nature is concerned, there is no difference between an enlightened man and an ignorant one. What makes the difference is that one realizes it, while the other is ignorant of it. The Buddha’s teaching says, without cultivation you are already complete. Our authentic, real self needs no cultivation. True self is always shining and free whether we are aware of it or not. Our task, our practice, is to become aware and to actualize our true self, to be it in this very moment.

Zen is not about self improvement. We don’t strive to become something, or to overcome our deficiencies. We practice to allow the natural, authentic unfolding of buddha-nature to manifest. Our effort is about clearing away delusion and ignorance. This means getting out of our own way, allowing this magnificence, this authentic true self to manifest. In this way healing and world peace are not an impossible distant dream, but exist right now, right here in this very moment.

Human beings make something and enter the ocean of suffering

Our true self may indeed always be shining and free but most of the time we experience painful difficulties in our lives. We are constantly dissatisfied with the ways things are. The Buddha said that we suffer because either we don’t have what we want or we are afraid of losing what we do have. Moment to moment we struggle to control and force the world to fit into the mold of our desires. That is what Zen Master Seung Sahn is pointing to when he says that human beings make something.

Listen to this sound (hit). Each of us hears this sound. Before thinking we can recognize it for what it is. Just (hit). But some of us don’t like that sound: “Why did he hit the table so hard”. Or some of us really liked it: “That is so great, I really could get the deep meaning of that sound.” Either way we are making something. The sound itself is just as it is. How I feel about it is making something. This making something creates likes and dislikes. Then, as the Buddha said, if I don’t get what I want I suffer. If I do get what I want then I am afraid I might loose it. Or, I might like this sound, but the next sound might hurt my ears and I won’t like it. We are perpetually at odds with and trying to control our reality.

In Buddhism we talk about the Three Poisons–greed, aversion and delusion. These three poisons point to the way we make something and enter the ocean of suffering. Can you recognize them in your own life? Can you see how your desire for things, or rejection of things color your perceptions and actions in the world? Can you admit to the inauthenticity of your actions driven by these three poisons?

The first poison is greed or desire. I want, I need, give it to me, please, please please I really want it. I need to get it and I need to figure out a way to get it. Maybe I can just take it. I know it is yours, but I need it more than you. And anyway, my needs are more important than yours. I’m even willing to fabricate a story in order to get what I want. And I will repeat this story over and over until I finally believe it–mostly.

Greed interrupts the natural flow of things. Adding my desire into the equation of life, trying to change or alter the way things are to bring me satisfaction, ultimately leads to suffering.

Aversion or hatred is the second poison. Aversion is essentially rejection. Get that thing away from me. Hatred and averision arise in response to something we don’t like or want to happen to us. It often leads us to push away, at worst culminating in violence. Hatred and anger can overwhelm us, causing us to act in inauthentic ways in order to get relief from these feelings. The natural,authentic flow of life is rejected and more suffering is the result.

The third poison is ignorance or delusion. This poison follows directly from the other two. Our greed and anger force us to act inauthentically and loose contact with the original, natural flow of things. This inevitably leads to a sense of separation. To live with that separation I make up a story or narrative to explain who I am and why my greed and anger are justified. More and more true self is lost and I live in the dream of my narrative. This is fundamental delusion. The more contrived our delusion is the more we suffer. The more rigid we become trying to justify and bolster our story, the more we suffer, and the more we cause suffering for those around us. This “making” of likes and dislikes, good and bad, right and wrong, leads us father and father away from an authentic, natural unfolding of our lives.

Only without thinking can we return to our true self.

Without thinking means before thinking, or not attaching to thinking. Seeing things as they are, not how we would like them to be. Decartes said “I think therefore I am”. A Zen student asks: “If I don’t think, then what?”

Before thinking is easy to talk about but difficult practice. Our desire, anger and ignorance are so powerful, so encompassing and solid that we don’t even recognize their impact. Many people who first hear about before thinking find it absurd. Others feel that it is impossible to not attach to their thinking.

This leads us to the realm of Zen practice. Though our delusion seems enormous and our suffering feels so daunting and profound, Zen practice offers us a way to deconstruct our delusion. We can live a more centered and grounded life, in order to work with our desire and anger, so that we can reconnect with that authentic natural self which is always shining and free.

Quiet the mind. Breathe gently and deeply in and out. Observe what is happening just now. Find your balance point where desire and anger don’t control you. Allow your actions in life to come from this place and mindfully pay attention to the results. This is true Zen practice.

From the Chinese and Korean Zen tradition we learn that it takes three things to practice Zen–Great Question, Great Courage and Great Faith. These three greats form the foundation of practice. Together they show us a path, a way to live which will bring us into more alignment with what is natural, authentic and true. In this way we can find our true self and help this world.

Great question is the first of the three greats. Great question means asking the question: “What am I” and “what is this”. Asking these great questions bring our meditation and mindfulness alive. As we sit in meditation, these questions brings energy and focus to our silent work. Mindfully asking these questions as we go about our everyday lives offers a way to bring our meditation out of the Dharma Hall. What is actually happening right now? What do I feel and think about it all? How are my thoughts and feelings coloring my view of what is happenning right now?

Moment to moment we are called upon to respond to all sorts of situations and conditions. How clearly can we really see what is going on? As was said in the discussion about making something, usually our view of the moment is colored by the three poisons. Using Great Question as a focus of our Zen practice, we can begin to observe the moment more honestly, more free of the biases of our desire, anger and delusion. As we let go of our biases, we can experience our lives more directly and honestly. We use these questions to clarify our life.

Great courage is the second great. Great courage means to make a great effort, whether the moment is difficult or easy. This effort is critical to Zen Practice because our delusion is so strong. Life is very uncertain and we are very vulnerable. We cling strongly to our own delusion to protect us from these risks and uncertainties. In our Zen practice we need to push beyond what is comfortable. This is one of the important lessons we learn on a meditation retreat. Much of the time during retreat we are unhappy and want it to end. Just making it through helps us build a stronger center. We need to become better able to observe our desire and anger without losing ourselves in them. I may want something, but by applying great effort , I may not need to satisfy my desire. I may be angry, but I may not need to strike out. I can watch it, observe it and not act on it. We need great courage to honestly face our feelings and thoughts as they are, so as not to be lead astray by them.

Great faith leads us back to the true self which is always shining and free. We believe in our true self, in the authentic unfolding of life. This is not about believing in something outside ourselves. We are the universe, the universe is us! As we begin to see the falseness of our own delusion we can begin to experience directly the completeness and authenticity of this moment. We can have faith in our own experience. While standing in the rain, we get wet. It is possible to believe our own senses, untainted by the three poisons. Listen to the wind. Hear it and appreciate it for what it is. Feel it on your face and you experience truth.

These three greats, practiced moment to moment, grounded in meditation and mindfulness, offer us all an active and dynamic way to practice Zen. They help us actually relax the tight grip of our feelings and thinking and return us to our true self.

The high mountain is always blue, white clouds coming and going

Here we return the realm of the natural unfolding of the universe. The mountain itself is always blue, whether we realize it or not, whether we like it or not. The clouds coming and going do not bother the mountain. In fact, they coexist peacefully. The mountain helps the clouds form and the clouds give moisture to the mountain. In the same way our struggles and triumphs nourish our awakening.

In the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, enlightenment is depicted as a two headed dragon of wisdom and compassion. In a moment of centered authenticity, wisdom and compassion appear. We have the clarity to see things as they are and the courage to open our heart. We naturally treat the world and the things in it with love and compassion and are concerned about others, not only about ourselves.

Authenticity is the path to peace and healing. Don’t try to be someone other than yourself. Allow your Zen practice to help you listen deeply to your true self-your deepest and most authentic expression of the buddha’s mind. There are 86,400 seconds in one day. Imagine how many experiences we live in all these seconds. How will we live them? Will we remain lost in the dream created by the Three Poisons, or will we wake up to this moments magnificent unfolding of Buddha nature?

This is the workshop on Zen and psychotherapy. First of all, be aware
that this is about Zen and psychotherapy, it’s not about Zen and
psychology. There is a difference. I’m not approaching this from a
perspective of human psychology. I would like to look at the process of
psychotherapy and its relationship to Zen. The question is how Zen
impacts the process of looking at and working with your karma. Zen and
psychotherapy are both about this process, so in a sense they are not
very different. If you are a Zen student, everything you do is Zen. So,
we can look at this question from two perspectives: how does a Zen
practitioner who is a therapist use their Zen practice in their
therapy? And, as a psychotherapy client, how do you use your practice
to deepen your psychotherapy?

As a therapist, you have to stay present and in the moment. You need to
be able to get out of the way to let the process happen. I think the
most important perspective which relates Zen to psychotherapy is to
view the person you’re working with as the Buddha himself. That implies
not sticking someone into some narrow classification, but looking to
see who the person really is. You can use diagnosis as a tool, but
always be careful not to box the client into some idea of who she or he
is. When people ask me what my technique is I say, “what I do best is
listen well.” I try to listen deeply for who the person truly is.
Everyone who comes into therapy has some problem or some situation that
they want to talk about. The first thing you do is to find out what
that situation or problem is. The more you explore, the more you find
out what got hurt and what needs to heal for a more natural expression
of true nature. In a sense, psychotherapy is about untying the knot of
karma and finding the more natural self, finding authenticity.

Zen teaches us that attachment to our thinking is the root of our
suffering. Much of our lives we are stuck in and act out of rigid and
repeating patterns of thoughts and feelings. So, to find simple ways to
interrupt these patterns, even for a moment, can be very helpful. Most
people aren’t even aware of what their minds are doing. I usually start
off a session with five minutes of meditation. Sometimes that seems to
be the most important thing that happens during the whole hour,
especially for someone who doesn’t have a regular sitting practice.
Just teaching clients a little meditation and giving them a feeling for
what goes on in their minds can be an incredible eye-opener for them. I
can’t tell you how many people say to me, “I love this five minutes of
meditation we do here.”

As a client, you have to find a way to express yourself and to get to
know yourself better. If you’re a Zen student and you’re a client in
psychotherapy, an important tool you have to find out about yourself is
practice. Mindfulness and breath are wonderful tools for calming the
mind and working with a problem. I often suggest to people I’m working
with to watch their breath as a way of returning to the present. I’ll
suggest that they do walking meditation when they go from their desk at
work to the bathroom or the water cooler. We all have our breath to
return to when we get overwhelmed; just breathe in, just breathe out,
just feel your body for ten breaths. Breath can help contain feelings
which seem out of control. If we can return to the breath, we may not
need to react so fast; there’s some space. That’s also part of what
we’re learning when we’re sitting in the dharma room. Thoughts and
feelings come up but we don’t have to do anything about them–we can
contain them with the breath. The breath can cut the chain of thinking.

Student: I find that the stronger my psychotherapy or analysis got, the
weaker my Zen practice became. The one replaced the other… like it
wasn’t necessary because the therapeutic process was so strong.

Kitzes PSN: OK, I can’t argue with your experience. It seems to me,
though, the more you stay with your practice while in psychotherapy the
deeper the psychotherapy becomes. Practice can give you access to so
much more than just thinking. If you just stay in a “psychotherapeutic
mind set,” you may get attached to your ideas. The process of breathing
and witnessing allows you to see your attachments. This will increase
what you can do within a therapeutic framework. Remember, in Zen
meditation we’re not really trying to explore something, we’re working
with don’t know mind and letting everything be. Psychotherapeutically,
you’re looking to explore something–so, they’re two different things.

Student: I’m in a psychology program that emphasizes not knowing as a
therapist, but what then differentiates good therapy from bad therapy?

KPSN: Keep a don’t know mind and you’ll find out! If you have an idea
about it, you’ll never find out. I remember last week I had a session
with somebody that was terrible–I was off… I just didn’t feel
connected. But, when they came back the next week they raved about what
a great session we had had the previous week. You just don’t know!
There are all sorts of processes going on that I may not be aware of.
This is also true for the client. They may realize something important
that happened in a session many days later.

I don’t think you have to worry too much about whether you’re doing
good therapy. As a therapist, your job is to be present and authentic
and then let the process take care of itself. Give the client that
you’re working with the space to go where they need to go. You may say,
“I think we need to look at this,” but once you start looking at it,
give them enough room to find out what’s true for them. Suzuki Roshi
said, and I’m paraphrasing here, “A really good shepherd gives his
sheep as big a pasture as possible, and then he watches. If you don’t
watch, you’re a lousy shepherd because you will lose your sheep. But if
you pay attention you will let them be and you won’t lose them.” You
don’t try to control the situation, you let the situation teach you.
Thank you very much for your attention and good questions.

This being the first posting to my Blog I want to give you a sense of what I will write about. I am most interested in the intersection of practice and our everyday life. Our training is very important for our ability to meet this very moment directly, with wisdom and compassion. My background of dedication to Zen Practice and my training in and my work as a Psychotherapist inform my take on life. Deep and awesome states in the Dharma Room are important, but without grounding, they are, like all of our experiences, transient. Like the Buddha said, these experiences are like a phantom, a bubble, or a dewdrop. Zen practice can help develop the flexibility and aliveness to meet this very moment freshly.

My interests are varied and I hope that what I post on this blog will reflect that. I enjoy reading the news and keeping up to date so you may see me post on some of the important political and cultural issues of our times. If political, please remember that they are my views and do not reflect the views of Empty Gate Zen Center. Empty Gate is an open community. People of all political persuasions, ethnic or racial backgrounds, and temperaments are welcome to and do practice with us.

I also hope to comment on the everyday occurrences that occur in our lives. One of the valuable teachings I received from my teacher, Zen Master Seung Sahn was a deep appreciation for the absurd. We all develop a worldview, a way of getting by in a very unsettling and multilayered existence. We weave a tapestry of self, adding new strands to the old, hoping to make sense of things and not be overtaken by events or feelings that we can’t control. This creates a false sense of self, which can cause strange and uncomfortable happenings in our lives. I hope to use this blog to expose this absurdity in my life and the lives of others. A healthy sense of humor about our selves and others is critical if we hope to have a long-term Zen practice.

Last night at around 3AM my wife and I were awakened (for the third time) by our dear sweet cat. She had already disturbed our sleep enough times that we had banned her from the bedroom. On a trip to the bathroom my wife Sheridan found a dead rat on the living room floor (Kwan Sae Um Bosal). Whether our cat Sophie was punishing us or trying to get back in our good graces with her conquest we will never know. Anyway, this did not help our sleep in any way.

While trying to get back to sleep I was reflecting on how much goes on in the nocturnal world that I am not aware of. Our cat spends hours outside at night interacting with a variety of animals and insects that we never see. Seeing the dead rat on the floor was undeniable proof that there are many rats living with us on our property in Oakland California. How many of us really want to admit to the fact that we live with rats all around us. It reminded me of how many things we deny or just conveniently forget about. This denial may help us find some comfort in our world, but importantly, it holds us back from seeing things as they really are. If the Buddha made any point, he taught that seeing things clearly is the prerequisite to enlightenment. If we are not dealing honestly with the way things are we will never break the stranglehold that suffering has on our lives. Uprooting this denial and dishonesty is the path to freedom.