I forget where we're going to start. This week I'm involved with a cooking workshop. And cooking for me has changed over the years, so it's something different than it used to be. I sometimes wonder if what I'm interested in is what is interesting to people taking a workshop, but that's for them to say. I used to, when I started cooking, think that there was things that you could learn, where you could master and develop your skills in your repertoire of great dishes. And now I'm interested in tasting things very carefully. And in the language of Dogen Senju, our illustrious ancestor,

[01:29]

Let your heart go out to things, and let things return and come home to your heart. So this is rather different than producing masterpieces. You know, somebody was going to make a video of me a few years ago, and the advertising for it was, Ed Brown would teach even inveterate meat eaters how to produce vegetarian masterpieces. And I tried to explain to them that's exactly not the point. I want to encourage people to taste and smell and sense, and be willing to eat something less than a masterpiece. And to be willing to cook something less than a masterpiece. To be willing to be something less than a masterpiece.

[02:31]

To let their heart go out to things that are less than masterpieces. To let their heart go out to themselves, to others, to our imperfect, flawed human beings, and to imperfect, flawed fruits and vegetables, and handle them with respect and care and love, and do something delicious with them. And we don't call those usually masterpieces. For masterpieces you have to reject a whole lot, throw it in the trash, and then you have to berate yourself and others to get it together. I've worked with some people who are busy producing masterpieces, and I can tell you it's painful. And I'm sure that when people have worked with me, when I was trying to produce masterpieces, I know they found it painful. One woman said, you know, years later, she never told me the time, one time Ed came up behind me.

[03:32]

It was like a dark shadow. And I forget what it was, but you know, you put the wrong starch on the wrong dish. So, I was busy making a masterpiece, she was in the way. And someone said to me recently, we could do, Sharon said to me, you know, we could do great medicine, except for these terrible plants that we have. Anyway, onwards. I also want to share with you tonight a saying that I'm very fond of by the Zen master named Tenke, who is a Japanese teacher. See with your eyes, hear with your ears, taste with your tongue. Nothing in the universe is hidden. What else would you have me say? So, I want to start by telling you some of the things that we would have him say.

[04:40]

How can I make a masterpiece? Geez. How can I live a foolproof life where I will not be criticized, attacked, demeaned, disrespected? How can I love myself? How can I approve of myself and others? How can I get others to perform up to my standards? That's a good one, huh? How can I get others to love me more the way they should? There's lots of questions we could ask the Zen master. It's mostly in our wishful thinking on our part that there are such situations. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Excuse me. That's a masterpiece. Oh, nice. That's the masterpiece. That's a masterpiece. Well, today the blue jade got me.

[05:47]

Somebody gave me a piece of bread and I was standing outside and it ripped it out of my hand. I felt traumatized for about five minutes. Attacked. It was just an attack. Blue jade here didn't used to be like that. Okay. So, nothing in the universe is hidden. The things that we think we would like to accomplish and prove and demonstrate about our capabilities in the way of producing masterpieces, in the way of getting others to conform to our idea of what they should do for us, it's no secret that that's not going to work. That wasn't a secret.

[06:49]

That wasn't hidden. But we're pretty good at hiding and the way that it's done is to... The way to hide is because you... In order to hide something you have to know where you put it and then not look there. Otherwise you just kind of stumble on it, you know. But if you know where not to look then you can keep it hidden. Anyway, that was inside. So... Taste and see with your eyes. This is, you know, to come... Some people, you know, say to come to your senses. And so when I teach cooking I try to teach coming to your senses, trusting and developing your own sensibility, your capacity to see and smell and taste and touch and think and feel and sense

[07:58]

and let your heart go out to things and let things come home to your heart. You won't necessarily get it right. You won't necessarily be successful. It won't necessarily meet other people's standards. But you will be a living, functioning human being in relationship with things. So we could also say that spiritual practice is about relationship and actually relating to things. And this is to develop the capacity to relate in a wider way than just to try to control the object of awareness. So, for instance, of course, basic sensibility and mindfulness of breathing is not to have a particular idea of how you want your breath to be until it could get together and be like that. It should be deep. It should be long. It should be tranquil. It should be calm. Don't be agitated. And if you tell your breath, and as soon as you're aware of your breath,

[09:00]

you try to make it the way you want it to be, pretty soon many people have noticed you can't breathe. Your breath stops because somebody's telling it, do this, don't do that. You're trying to control your breath. So mindfulness, actually, to have a relationship, then is in some way to value or appreciate or enjoy or delight in, be interested, curious about your breath, have some warm-hearted feeling for your breath. Mostly we try to follow the breath by effort, and we forget. And as soon as we're relating, we're trying to make it better. We try to do this with ourself, with our thoughts, our feelings, our mind, our body.

[10:02]

We try to do this with others. As soon as we're aware, we want it to be better. Don't look at me like that. Why are you talking to me like that? And we try not to feel certain things, and to feel other things that are more acceptable. We try to think acceptable things. It's actually, of course, a skill or a capacity of meditation to entertain conflicting thoughts, rather than eliminating the opposition. I'm going to sit still, but I feel like moving. Shut up. You're going to sit still. You will not even think about moving. We're going to meditate now. This is a czarist, or, you know, totalitarian state.

[11:06]

Most of us are living under rather severe rulers. We don't like to entertain or listen to the opposition, whatever it might be thinking or feeling, that doesn't agree with the present program. So in meditation, actually, it's possible to sit, and it's actually much easier to sit still if you allow the thought, I'd really like to move. Oh, you would, huh? Oh, yeah, I can understand. It's hard to sit here, isn't it? But I'd really like to move. And you're not trying to say, shut up and don't tell me that anymore. It's like, fine, I'm happy to hear that. You're unhappy. Whatever. And you can listen to yourself think things that you wouldn't necessarily want to hear.

[12:08]

And part of that is the capacity also to no longer believe you have to act on every thought that happens to pop into your head. I want to move. Okay, let's go for it. You have some capacity for this. So mostly we try to follow the breath with effort, and the other factors here are, classical factors are enjoyment and ease. The factors of concentration, of being absorbed in the object, of having a wholesome, warmhearted relationship, is that you can enjoy the object of awareness. That enjoy means it moves you. So your breath moves you. You allow your breath to move your body. You don't hold your body against the breath. Is that mouse still around? Every time I talk, mouse, mice coming out.

[13:14]

And the dendo, too. They heard you're a really good speaker. So enjoyment is to be moved, to allow yourself to be moved. To be moved is joy. In Buddhism, there's about five stages of joy, from the joy which is a slight trembling, to the joy where your hair rises on end, to the joy that's rapturous and oceanic, to the joy where you're actually transported. Apparently, literally, in the sutras, a disciple of the Buddha would be sitting and would have hurt his foot and be unable to walk, but just visualizing the Buddha would be transported in his joy to the Dharma assembly and be there listening to the Buddha. Of course, he had a hard time getting home. Anyway, joy is to be moved.

[14:20]

So you surrender. You're not trying to do breath. You're not trying to, through your effort, breathe. You're letting your breath breathe you. You're surrendering. You're giving your body. It's an act of generosity. You're generous-hearted. Your generous, good-hearted offering of your body, your mind, your awareness, to your breath, to the sensations of breathing. And where are they? Where are those sensations? Can you actually touch them and feel them and know them and sense them? It's very curious to me. I spent years sitting up straight and it was only after years I realized that I was just breathing in the front of my body because I had been told to sit up straight. So I kept my back straight and then the breath was just in the front.

[15:21]

And I thought one day, like, well, why wouldn't my breath also be in the back? It's way more enjoyable to breathe in the front and the back. And then I spent more years breathing in the front and the back and then part of the reason I mentioned the other night having trouble sitting still, part of the reason was I kept the base of my pelvis firm because if you didn't, you might just fall through. But I discovered you could also breathe at the base of your spine, in your pelvic area, the perineum. And you could actually breathe there too. And then when you breathe there, you actually can sit. Instead of sitting on your tight ass, you sit on the cushion. It's way more enjoyable to sit on the cushion than to sit on your tight ass. I can assure you. It's way more settled and grounded

[16:25]

and you actually let your body settle onto the cushion. You're actually here and you have support then. You have support called the cushion, the ground, this earth, rather than your tight ass. Your tight ass keeps you vertical. Anyway, this is joy. To let something move you, to resonate, to let your heart resonate with something. And this is also related to Eve. Because Eve is how you... Eve is the quality of being home, at home where you are. Can you be at home where you are? Or are there some improvements you have to make before you can be at home? And somehow the improvements never get made, accomplished enough that you can be at ease. Except for when you're not related to anything. I can have ease when I'm down at the pool, thank you.

[17:26]

Or, you know, on vacation in Hawaii, on the beach. I have nothing to take care of, nothing to relate to. Happiness is not having to relate to anything. That's really ease. This is America, folks. This is the American dream. Happiness, ease, is never having to relate to anything. In sin, ease is taste, see with your eyes, taste with your tongue, smell with your nose, feel your feelings, think your thoughts, and make yourself at home in this being, this body, this mind. Make yourself at home here. Find some ease where you are, this place, this time. Sensing like you're being in the world, being alive. And this is considered, of course, true ease, rather than the ease which depends on separating yourself from things and hoping that they don't get to you.

[18:26]

This is the usual idea of ease, or calm. I'm going to set up what in Zen is called a nest or a den, usually at the base, the top of the, the top of the neck, you know, right below the occiput, little nest or den, and I'm going to defend it and separate myself from anything that could happen, and it'll be nice and quiet there. Because I'm going to refuse to relate to anything. And if I have to relate to it, I'm going to be annoyed. And I'm going to feel threatened and attacked. This is, that's our, that's, anyway. This is one of our tendencies. I'm very good at it, so, in case some of you will feel I'm attacking you or criticizing you for this behavior. I know it very well. Anyway, ease is being, actually true ease is being with things and being at ease with your sensations, with your experience.

[19:28]

How do you have, how will you ever have true ease with your experience? This is part of the point of sitting, you know. If you find out how to be at ease with what it is to be alive. And obviously, it's a challenge. Or, you know, we have more people who will say an incentive all across America and around the world. And there's some other, you know, factors here about relationship. Or some, you know, rather than the relationship that's based on trying to control the object of awareness, having some wholesome, good-hearted, warm-hearted relationship with the object of awareness. So, like your breath, if it was your breath, or if it's the, your breath you could find, you know, delight. You could find joy, ease. You could take an interest. And you can appreciate the virtue. You start to appreciate the virtue of your breath. Whether you,

[20:29]

whether it meets some standard of perfection or masterpiece or not. You know, you can appreciate wonderful quality of inhalation and exhalation of the sensations that are arising and passing away. And you can feel moved and inspired and you can release tension. In cooking, it's tempting for people to try to, to want to make the food special. To want to make food reflect well on you. So, traditionally, how people did this is to add more. A friend of mine went to the Culinary Institute of America in Hight Park, New York. So, while he was there, there was one particular teacher. Everybody called each other chef. So, the teacher comes over and says, Chef, what are you making?

[21:32]

And he would say, he would say, Carrot soup. And then the teacher would say, And what should carrot soup taste like? And then he was supposed to say, Carrot soup. Carrots. Because it's well known that people, if you start to make a carrot soup, and then you can put in orange, and ginger, and cloves, and cinnamon, and sweet basil, and cumin seeds. And after a while, does anybody know it's carrot? Or is it yam? Or winter squash? And did anybody actually value what carrot taste like? And what about you? Do you have to make yourself into a production to walk down the road? To show up someplace? To be in a relationship with something? Do you have to be special, interesting, dynamic, important?

[22:33]

Or can you just be carrot soup? Tasting like carrots. Can you just be you? So, this is enjoyment. This is appreciating the virtue of something, rather than having to turn it into something that you think will make a good enough statement on your behalf to the world. Can you allow yourself to just be carrot? And be interested in what's going on. See what you can discover. See what you can notice. Let your heart go out to things. Let things come home to you. And be in relationship, appreciating things, seeing what we can do together. Thank you. A while back I met with a woman

[23:42]

who wanted to be in a relationship. And she kept saying, you know, I want to find my guy. How do I do that? How can I tell whether he's my guy or not? How would she know? And in the meantime, of course, she's not going to practice her mating. She's going to wait until her guy shows up. Because if it's not her guy, why bother? But you could, you know, just try, the next person, you know, each person, good morning, and good afternoon, and how are you, and what's up, and how are you doing, and what's been happening. And you would be relating to each thing, each person, each, you know, object in their way. And then different things happen with different objects,

[24:45]

but you're in relationship with each object. One of them might turn out to be your guy. But then again, you know, a few years later, he might turn out not to be. But now you have good practice of relating, and you don't mind. You go on, you know, relating. I want to tell you, so, I've got this sort of side track here, I'm awfully sorry, but, you know, what the heck. Rilke, poetry, food, relationship, taste with your mouth, see with your eyes. So here's a poem by Rilke, same master Rilke. First I'm going to give you the Stephen Mitchell version, which is in Sonnets to Orpheus, and then I worked out a version with a friend of mine who's from Germany, survived the bombing, and he was a little boy.

[25:50]

The Stephen Mitchell version is round apple, smooth banana, melon, gooseberry, peach, how all this affluence speaks, death and life in the mouth. I sense, observe it in a child's transparent features while he tastes. This comes from far away. What miracle is happening in your mouth while you eat? Instead of words, discoveries flow out, astonished to be free. Dare to say what apple truly is, this sweetness that feels thick, dark, dense. Then, exquisitely lifted in your taste, grows clarified, awake, double meaning, sunny, earthy, real. Oh knowledge, pleasure, joy, inexhaustible. So one of the wonderful things about this poem

[26:57]

is several things I like, but you get at the end there that this isn't just about tasting things, but that when you taste something so carefully, this is also emptiness, enlightenment, realization, attainment, fulfillment, you know, vastness, the void. And it's not because you separated from these things, it's because you met something and you related with something, and you let your heart go out to something and something came home to your heart so thoroughly that suddenly the world opened up. You get that in the poem? Herman and I did a version that's much more literal. So in some cases, it doesn't sound exactly like good English,

[27:58]

but he said it's not good German either. It's unusual German. It would be in German, it's unusual German for a German person. So we kept some of that unusual for a German person in German and unusual for an English person in English. Perfect apple, pear and banana, gooseberry. Where did that melon come from? Anyway, perfect apple, pear and banana, gooseberry. All of these speak death and life into the mouth. I sense, read it in the face of a child who is tasting them. This comes from far away. Are names slowly disappearing in your mouth?

[29:01]

In place of words, discoveries are flowing out of the flesh of the fruit, astonished to be free. Dare to say what it is we call apple. This sweetness, compressed at first, then gently unfolded in your tasting, becomes clear, awake and transparent, double meaning, sunny, earthy, here. Oh, realizing, touching, joy, immense. This sweetness, compressed at first,

[30:08]

then gently unfolded in your tasting, gently unfolded in your tasting. So it's our capacity for some of us, so to speak, practice to bring yourself carefully enough to your experience to gently unfold it, or to let the experience gently unfold itself within your awareness. There's this quality about this, you know, that's a little scary. What will happen? What will unfold if I actually open to see something? Can I let my experience gently unfold within my awareness? So this is different than producing masterpieces. This is also, of course, different than,

[31:11]

many of you are familiar with my story about when you go to the supermarket, and the packages sit there on the shelf. They're very bright, they're very colorful, and they say, Buy me, buy me, buy me, buy me. And then, you know, if you happen to be interested, it's a little bit like that Japanese folk tale about, you know, in heaven there's a hollow tree, and you're having a great time in heaven. You're doing just fine, aren't you? And there's a voice inside the tree that says, Over here, over here, it's really cool. Take a look, check it out. And you think, No, I'm doing just fine. But finally, you know, the voice keeps going like, Over here, take a look. But you hear, it's really cool. And finally you go over and you look

[32:13]

into the hollow tree, straight to hell. But anyway, buy me, buy me, buy me. And if you stop to ask, you know, the package, it says, I'm quick, I'm easy. I'm quick, I'm easy. You won't have to relate with me at all. You won't have to look at me, taste me, touch me, feel me, sense me, think about me, notice me. You know, you won't have to. You can put me in the oven, set the timer, go away, watch television, do whatever. I'll be there for you just the way you want. The same as I always have been. And I'll taste exactly like I always have. I'll be there for you.

[33:14]

I'm a comfort food. You won't have any surprises. You won't have to relate to anything. You won't have to think about what to do, make any decisions. You know, how do I cook this? How do I make it? How long? How much? You won't have to have any experience. See, this is the opposite. You know, this is some other life. This is not a satisfying life. This is not fulfillment. You know, I know it's the American dream not to relate to anything, but this is not. There's no true satisfaction here. There's no true fulfillment. Like in the poem, letting your experience unfold, letting the apple compressed at first explicitly unfold in your taste will clarify the ways loneliness, double meaning, sudden, earthy, clear, oh, touching, joy, realizing, immense.

[34:16]

Stephen Mitchell changed it to inexhaustible and Herman said, it's immense, it's immense. That's, you know, being with something so intimately and carefully and letting it move and unfold that it's not this little thing anymore. It's the vastness of the universe. It's what we in Buddhism, you know, say empty. It's empty. It's not just this little thing. It's vast. It's joy. It's touching. So there's an interesting dilemma here, or problem sometimes. We were talking a little bit in my group this morning.

[35:22]

Because, you know, if you actually start to notice things, you know, sometimes this is considered to be rather arrogant and pretentious. There was a woman who wrote a column in the Chronicles several years ago and she was a student at the Culinary Academy in San Francisco. Then she went to visit her sister in St. Louis. They went out to a bar. And she said, when the waitress came, she said, I'd like a bass ale. And her sister said, she means a Budweiser. Because, you know, if you want a bass ale, that's putting on airs. What? Are you no longer, you know, I guess we're not good enough for you anymore? Budweiser's not good enough for you? We're not good enough for you? You know, what have they been teaching you out there in California?

[36:25]

That you actually notice something and, you know, you have some preference and you don't just, you know, put up with. In America, you know, we have, you know, they're working on Squared Tomatoes now. They were very proud of it when my daughter and I visited Davis a few years ago to check out the school. But even as it is, you know, tomatoes don't have to taste like tomatoes. People buy them as though they were tomatoes. I went to the, you know, the something or other school and I forget what it's called. It's a cooking school in Newark. Natural Gourmet Cooking School. It was February. I wanted to make, we made them today. Tomato sauces with chilies and different things. And at that school, you only use fresh. You cannot use canned. So we got these tomatoes and we peeled them

[37:30]

and then we cooked them and blended them. We had pink, pulpy water. It had no taste of tomato. But that, you know, in this roundabout way was more natural. But anyway, there's tomatoes that don't taste like tomatoes. Strawberries that don't taste like strawberries. And this is America. That's all right. They cost less. Go buy them. Anyway, the same woman was describing how her father came to visit and she thought since her father was a chemist

[38:31]

maybe she could interest him in things. And they went to different restaurants that she liked. And finally he said, I think, you know, my wife and I are going to go to the ballgame today. Maybe we can get a hamburger without any goat cheese. Or mushrooms. And finally he said to his daughter, I'm 65 and I think I know what I'd like to eat now. And it's meat and potatoes. And he said, it's only food. It's only food. So this is what I bring up, you know. Is it only food? And then if you think it's something more than food, is something wrong with you? Because only food is only you yourself. Are you only you? You don't matter? It's only food. It's only blood and sweat and tears and people's work and nature and the sun and God and bounty and divinity

[39:35]

and, you know, the earth and land and water and... That's all. What did you think food was, you know? Or here he says, it's life and death in your mouth. This comes from far away. And then everything is here. And it's, oh, but it's only food. So is there something that's not only food? Are you? Are your thoughts, are your feelings, is anything in life just... Or is it all just, oh, it's only food, it's only the earth. Why is the dog getting ruined, you know? Well, it's only the earth, it's him. It's only the water, it's getting polluted. It's only our lives. But on the other hand, you know, you could go to the extreme of... Oh, well. We could have some, we'll choose the business and find out what happens. You know, so there is another extreme where things get to be

[40:35]

just a little too, you know, precious. And everything is, you know, baby this and baby that. We'll have some baby arugula with some baby beets and baby banana. We'll practice, you know, getting pesticide here. Vegetarian food. Vegetarian food. So again, this just points out that, you know, it's any one of us. What finally matters is that we care, I care, any one of us cares. And, you know, enough to appreciate something that we let, you know, we can... It's not only food, it's an amazing beet, you know, it's an amazing radish. It's wonderful. It has vitality and exuberance and inspiration and aliveness, you know.

[41:40]

And it comes to us and it nourishes us. And it satisfies our appetite and brings us joy and well-being. It nourishes our body, mind, spirit. Because we give our attention to it, we take the time to be with it. We actually are in relationship and not just trying to tell it what to do and what not to do. And whether we like it or don't like it or if it measures up or doesn't measure up. You know, that we actually will be with it. So I memorized another Rumi poem too. Well, we'll see if I memorized it or not. I wanted so badly to give you this poem on Monday, but then I couldn't memorize it in time for my talk. So I thought I'd save it for tonight.

[42:42]

And I thought it would go better with tonight's talk anyway. So here's how it goes. It's about a walnut. A walnut kernel shaking inside its shell makes a delicate sound. But the walnut taste and the sweet oil inside makes unstruck music. Mystics call the shell-rattling talk. The other, the sound, the taste of silence. We've been speaking poetry and so-called soul-growing secrets for long enough.

[43:52]

After feasting fast, after days of sleep, stay awake one night. After all this bitter storytelling, joking, and serious consideration, we should give ourselves two days between layers of baklava. In the quiet seclusion where soul sweetens and thrives more than with language. After all this bitter storytelling, joking, and serious consideration, we should give ourselves two days between layers of baklava. In its quiet seclusion where soul sweetens and thrives more than with language.

[44:54]

Anyway, if you can't find some baklava to curl up in, perhaps your bed will do. Thank you.

[45:05]

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