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Newsletter of Dharma Rain Zen Center Portland, Oregon Volume XXVII Number 2 March-April 2002
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By Mark Sosetsu Stauffer
From one viewpoint, there isn't a way to be anything but our natural Self at each moment. Often I have found myself knee deep in thoughts about exterior formalities trying to fit in, not stand out, and be "normal." Funny enough, another side calls me to act out, be original and somehow special. Is that normal? Although many openly debunk the word normal for being inaccurate and used as discriminatory rhetoric, the way we think and act in many realms of our lives would suggest that belief in "normal" is alive and at work.
One way that the word normal is commonly used is to express an absence of pathology, insanity, deformity or disability. When we take up the practice we study ourselves. Zazen makes us aware of the thoughts of our mind; often there is a fear of the various forms of disease. The first noble truth of Shakyamuni is that as a sentient being, unsatisfactoriness or suffering exists. Old age, disease and death are unavoidable. So often there are thoughts and emotions about wanting to be free of illness. Is practice geared toward an idea of normal, one that is safe from anxiety, depression, trauma, paranoia, etc.? More than a few times I have witnessed my false belief that a realized practitioner is safe from mental illness, is sane and normal, let alone peaceful, humanly wise and mindful. Sometimes, ideas of abnormality are personalized by saying "I am" such and such and a mental box is created. I don't mean to take away from the existence of mental illness or words used to communicate about them; it can be nice to put words to a condition that has previously been seen as a person's moral, spiritual problem. Sometimes, a mental construct suggests that we cannot be "good" practitioners or "enlightened" because of some natural setback. Do you think it is normal for humans to have such thoughts? Is our self/Self free from illness?
Another use defines normal as average. So someone who is exceptionally healthy or highly disciplined may be abnormal in this light. Let us say that normal is boring, average, and safe to our minds, where abnormal is risky, exceptional and plain-old out-there. Picture riding a teeter-totter as a metaphor for this relationship to normal and abnormal. When at the top it might be exhilarating and at the bottom hard on the rear and legs, we have a sense that at any moment we are going to get jerked in the other direction. (Some of us like it that way.) When in the middle, the rider is not being jerked. The rider could feasibly extend the legs to the ground and sit on a balanced plane. If the rider sat still with their partner (other), the teeter-totter might lose its descriptive name, seeming uneventful and purposeless. Echoing my personal experience, some wish that they (or their situation) were more normal, and others presently at even keel, who feel unchallenged, say, "I should really live life, get out there and do something." At times, a self-concept emerges striving to be exceptional or dissociating from unwanted abnormality, while at the same time there exists an unstable feeling and self-consciousness about "standing out." We know we are on the teeter-totter, what now?
On the teeter-totter ride many internal and external voices exist: "I'm up here!" "Ouch! my butt hurts!" "Let's go higher!" "I'm getting dizzy!" "Look how I play nice!" "Hey partner, you aren't doing it right!" "Look! I can balance!" "My partner's side is better/worse!" or "I'm tired of up and down." The voices have shown my own preoccupation with the rider. At times, I have wanted the approval of my teacher, of others at the Zen center and even of myself. Approval that meant I was special and exceptional, sometimes just worthy. Attempts to be average, fit in, conform and appease can be attempts to feel valid and worthy. What degree of preoccupation with "I the rider" is normal?
Another way that the word normal is used is to say natural. For example, it is normal to experience unsatisfactory feelings. After a close person dies, it is normal to grieve. I have used this version of the word normal to release and accept when I have pushed for something unrealistic. When I helped paint the Zen center house, as front person I put a lot of needed energy into the project, but truthfully the project was bigger than could have been expected. I took on unrealistic expectations of myself and the project, and eventually was mentally and physically worn out. Gyokuko left a copy of an article on the signs of burnout outside the door of my room at the Dharma house. After I read it, I let the project go internally and externally, and I came to find out that IT would get done. The world doesn't rest on Me. In this instance, it was natural and normal to have limitations. In this case, limitations are the ideas of our mind, which are simply ideas and cannot be made real or imposed on reality.
I have also noticed using the terminology of normal as natural to justify an unwillingness to experiment with life and challenge beliefs about karma. As examples, I have heard said by myself and others that it is normal "to feel tired after work and not have energy for anything," "to need eight or so hours of sleep to have a good day," "it's natural to be defensive when someone challenges you aggressively." How many beliefs about what is normal limit realization of Self? Should naturalness be pointed at by the word normal?
Paraphrasing Dogen, to study the self is being actualized by the myriad beings. In the context of this article, I take this to mean that we must be aware and watchful of the trappings of beliefs like normal. If we are willing to risk and experiment, to study what is not caught in words, we may realize something and make real a fundamental truth: there isn't any permanent and separate self.
I want to end on a humorous note by quoting a candy bar slogan: "Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't!"
by Fred Green
I was
10 years oldWhen
uncle saul
first put
that dime
in my little handsAnd I was
still
10 years old
when he
took it
back
after
I'd found
another
dime
on the street.Today
I am
35Mother
is 58And she's
still
talking
about thatdamn
dime.
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By Heidi Enji Hoogstra
It started rather simply, as a conversation between friends. I mentioned I was considering taking steps to get a chapter of the Buddhist Peace Fellowship started, and my friends encouraged me, saying they were interested and all it would take is three to make a group. I'd already had experience nurturing an email group with our Dharma Rain Sangha group, so the next thing I did was create a Yahoo group, thinking it could be the primary means to disseminate information as well as a forum to supplement our real-time face-to-face conversations and connections.
A group was already beginning to form. Then I set up a meeting time, and spread the word with the help of Kyogen and his legendary email list. It's been a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, and in that process finding out that I really am ready to make the commitment of seeing a group come into existence and helping to make it thrive. Also in that process I have rediscovered a passion for issues of peace and a newfocusfor my expression of that passion.
Of course the birth of a group cannot be all about me and my visions for the group, but must be about the visions of all the people coming together to form that group, so now the nitty-gritty work begins. We have had three meetings, look forward to the fourth in four months, and have had some serious discussions on the Yahoo group. (Every person who has attended a meeting happens to have email.) We have expressed our wishes for the group in some pretty cool core focuses. We face the work of uncovering how those core focuses determine the structure and the activities of the group.
One of those activities has already begun. I had began attending the weekly Friday evening rallies of the Portland Peaceful Response Coalition on Pioneer Courthouse Square. While heartening to be a part of these voices for peace, I felt Buddhist thought and method had something to offer that was lacking from the cheerleading that I heard. Again, putting one foot in front of the other, I stepped into the space that needed filling and started a meditation vigil. With the help of the fledgling Portland Buddhist Action Group (our working name until we are officially a chapter) I came up with the title "Buddhas Not Bombs" and promoted it on our Yahoo groups as well as on a progressive web site called Portland.Indymedia. At our second lively meeting, the Portland Buddhist Action Group endorsed the vigil as an official action of the group, making it our first on-going event.
Putting another foot forward also meant braving stage fright and stepping up to the open mike offered by Portland Peaceful Response and spreading the word with the rally participants about the meditation vigil. There are many different ways of advocating for a non-violent world; I started advocating for the Buddhist method of looking within, letting go, and making a practice of being Buddhas. Response to "Buddhas Not Bombs" has been overwhelmingly positive. On the way to and from this activity, I have had people ask me, "What does that mean, Buddhas Not Bombs?" My response would be some variation on the theme that Buddha advocated that we look within and let go of a fearful or angry response to violence. Moreover, we should find our true compassionate Buddha nature. As we walk past each other on the street, it's like instant mondo, and as we part, I usually receive some form of "That's cool," or "Congratulations." During the vigils people are respectful and rarely try to speak to us. I have a clear plastic box marked "Flyers here" and people will quietly open it and retrieve one. As far as interruptions are concerned, one notable exception was a security guard who was questioning my right to do this. While at the protest when George W. Bush came to town, holding my sign, (not doing a meditation vigil) I found myself explaining the Buddhist thought that we are all Buddhas, we just may be sleepy stupid Buddhas and we need to wake up. Incidentally, that person remained unconvinced that Afghan peasants did not deserve to be bombed. However he was intrigued by the idea that we are all Buddhas, whether we know it or not.
The global events of this fall and winter have helped many of us to stir up our spiritual practice and to really dig to find our edges and places where we need to do internal work. They certainly have for me. Many in America would not understand - perhaps you of Dharma Rain can - but I have to say that I am grateful to the events of September 11. I would rather they hadn't happened, as well as the subsequent violence by my own country, but because they did, some encrusted pieces of my encrusted self were shaken loose. Long accustomed to finding my progressive political views different from the majority, I found a pride had lurked there in that difference. I found lurking in my self-identification as a pacifist a judgment that really wasn't very compassionate.
While I still feel compelled to follow the path of a pacifist, this Truth arising from within has shifted. I find I am more aware of the interconnectedness that Thich Nhat Hahn speaks of, seeing that I contain the perpetrator and the victim. I see the interconnectedness that His Holiness the Dalai Lama speaks of, seeing that we all just want to be happy and free from suffering. I see that I can advocate for nonviolent responses to violence without losing this connection of humanity. I don't have to lose this connection even with those who have different viewpoints. I am also grateful because my sense of my self has expanded. I have stepped forward just as the fabled Zen cook did, thinking, "If not me, then who? If not now, then when?" I am learning that becoming an activist is really about being brave, selfless, and just doing it.
Out of my efforts I have found a strong voice for peace that is gaining strength, and I truly believe the Buddha's teachings are behind me on this. I have been reciting our kesa verse (the old translation). It has had an effect on me and seems to be an affirmation. "I wish to unfold the Buddha's teachings, that I may help all living beings."
Further information:
I will help anyone who does not have email but would like to get involved by teaching them how to set up a free internet email account and join the Yahoo group or groups.
All are welcome. Email me at hyperlink "mailto:enji@earthlink.net" enji@earthlink.net, or write to me at PO Box 14613, Portland, OR 97293 for more information on the group or its activities. My phone number is in DRZC's Member Directory. Don't miss out on this opportunity to get involved.
National Buddhist Peace Fellowship Statement of Purpose:
To make clear public witness to practice as a way of peace and protection of all beings
To raise peace, environmental, feminist, and social justice concerns among American Buddhists
To bring a Buddhist perspective to contemporary peace, environmental and social action movements
To encourage the practice of nonviolence based on the rich resources of traditional Buddhist teachings
To offer avenues for dialogue and exchange among the diverse American and world sanghas
Some Core Focuses of the Portland Buddhist Action Group:
To give voice to an engaged Buddhist presence in Portland
To stimulate and support our understanding of peace matters through sharing of knowledge, clarifying of feelings and positions in a group setting, and meditation
To seek ties with local organizations, Buddhist and non-Buddhist, whose focuses are similar to ours
To plan events and to act with the Buddhist Peace Fellowship statement of purpose as our guide![]()
The Trainee is back! This month's Trainee image is rather large. In the interest of faster page loading, we have put a small image on this page. Click on image below to go to a larger (and more readable!) view.
by Deb Martin
It had originally just been an afterthought- a way to extend my Dharma vacation to the city - visit some friends at ZCO, enjoy the Still Meadow bunnies, sit a little more, and oh yeah, artwork, that sounds nice. But going to the brush workshop with Kaz Tanahashi turned out instead to bring me more in touch with my practice than my efforts to meticulously tease out the secrets of the Genjo Koan at the workshop during the days before.
Forty people, most without prior experience, began after morning sitting and breakfast facing a blank sheet of paper, a shallow tub of ink (black ash water) and a bamboo brush about a half inch thick made of three different animal hairs. I could appreciate how bringing newcomers to deeply share the experience of someone's hard-earned skill is the second art of a master. We started with ourselves, that is, the character "hito." This seemingly simple two-stroke endeavor turned out to be very complicated. Approaching the page, the character begins not with the ink on paper, but with your posture (very specific): fingers just so on the brush, elbow in a particular relation to your torso. Paper, neither leaning left nor right, neither forward nor backward. First you dip your brush, removing the excess ink with 10 lateral strokes. Already this was requiring deep concentration - you could practically break a sweat before making a mark, but were prevented in doing so by Kaz's instruction that one was also required to smile.
Then, there's the actual stroke, always curving around before the brush touches the page. Then it rests, sinks, rests and moves - only to end again, rest, sink, lift and continue off the page. Distinct, sure, fluid beginning, middle, end. And like chopping wood, needs a good "follow through." My results were all over the map depending on which element I'd forgotten. Soon there's no escaping the obvious: you are this stroke on the page! Of course, it also doesn't belong to you. One person said how much she liked the work because there you are - black on white, like it or not, nothing to hide. Distracted mind, hesitant mind, abrupt mind, loving mind, critical mind, impatient mind, present mind - it all expresses itself in the end. Our kind instructor said of our mistakes, "Now you can smile and celebrate your errors - no where to go but up!"
We repeated this exercise page after page, observing all these elements with Kaz's voice frequently asking us to remember: "Are you smiling?" and "Are you holding your brush upright?" which usually found me doing neither. As we moved on to other characters (earth and heaven) I finally got why this was such a perfect practice for our ancestors and not some charming folk art to pass the cold days in the monastery. My favorite form was a cursive script, "Nothing" (Mu, or Wu). Drawing this character began by making tight circles turning upon itself, then midway, it just breaks free - it almost goes off the page horizontally, then returns again, only in wider, freer loops, ending much like it began. I did this one over and over, enjoying its wordless expression of practice in the body. Kaz wanted to make sure we all became good at nothing. The character is derived from pictograms that combine "dancing woman" with "fire" (fire in the sense of turning something to nothing). I saw it as the oxherding pictures in one stroke.
Towards the end of the workshop was another practice - we were told now to express ourselves, be free and interpretive. Now it was difficult to let go of the form! To this purpose, in one exercise we placed a small white paper in the center of outstretched newspaper. You were then told to just paint with these huge (and fun) mop-like brushes. Ignore the white - no thinking! How hard this was, even if you began with a quiet in-the-moment mind, another split second and you'd see the white approaching and try "to DO" something, then let it go. Kaz could peg thinking-strokes like a pro. But, no matter, apparently there's no "bad day" in calligraphy, and all the results were entirely unique - a brief intersection of ink and plane of paper - the traces of actions on rice paper. Nothing hidden. You. Not you.
Driving home, I was stuck by how this work had answered an unformulated question I'd been simmering about the balance of form and freedom in our practice. I had experienced a "real loose" home practice after Rohatsu, not resisted it, and then found freedom not free - having its limits. In brushwork, one naturally gives way to the other: when doing the form, do the form completely, when free, be free. Also, in form there is freedom, and freedom begs form.
At the end of the workshop, one person became my hero for a simple act of honesty. As we gathered into a closing circle with our one chosen brushwork piece to show and tell, you could see everyone deliberating arduously over their best to represent oneself. One monk in training brought what appeared to be a large amorphous circular blob and said, "I chose this because I was afraid this was going to happen the whole workshop." Sure enough. Kaz was genuinely pleased with this brave soul's circle, nodding with a deep, "Yes, yes. This is your self portrait." Thank you to G. for holding up the mirror.
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