to know is art, we've been having a series of encouraging talks. And this is, I believe, the fifth. In fact, I know it's the fifth in this series. And seeing that some of us have just come to session today, and also because I've been a school teacher. So I'm just going to say a little bit about each of the talks that have been given before. Just a few, pull out a few words of those things that stick with me. The first, before I do that, when I was looking for my typescripts of some of these things, this by accident, encouraging words.

[01:12]

And these were not written, you know, down and composed by Dobin. They were given at a talk. They were given, you know, much as Mel might thank us after session is over, rather informally. And they were recorded by Cohen Ager, who was then his attendant. and you know is our last one in our ancestors that we recite. Monk Ann was appointed work leader on the last day of the second year of the Eno Era. That's about 1240. It is now the 25th day of the fifth month. We're in the middle of the rainy season and the thatch roof hut is leaking. When I went to Zazen, bellowing waves spread from the eaves across the floor of the monk's hall. I thought that was going to happen. In the adjacent hallway, the monk's assembly of pure ocean moved to the center of the monk's hall and were stranded there.

[02:22]

I asked Ian to fix this. He took off his dharma robe and together with the carpenters, he went up hapless onto the roof to oversee the work. Although the rain was falling hard, it didn't bother him. I felt like writing a poem for him. In my image, there was a precedent for this kind of appreciation. Since then, six months have passed, nearly 200 days. I have not yet composed my poem, but I have not forgotten about it either. And I just love that. It makes Jogen so human, you know. He's got a reason for putting it off next year. It was customary for ancient Buddhists not to pick up the brush in the hot season, but to write poems in the cold season. We need to respect this custom. So, if any of you haven't been to Veracruz, put it on while she looks like I am.

[03:27]

Take comfort. We're heading toward the one-year mark since Monk Heian took his position. The monastery fences have been constructed. This is the fortunate way our efforts ripen. Coming down from the north on an empty boat, he shares his knowledge with community, personally presenting his subtle understanding. His effort brings rejoicing to all of us. This monastery is far from the main road and people do not visit casually. Those who have high aspirations in a monk's trapping bag find their way here. They leave the world and join this patch of grass. With full commitment, sharp ears, and joyous heart, they vie for the ancestral fields. Sometimes they take the form of a fighting demon. Sometimes they use a thousand hands and eyes. Who would say that receiving Dharma

[04:29]

and continuing the answer's path is not an artisan's craft. So in this series of talks of encouragement, sort of like cheerleaders. Anyway, the first one was given by Meili, and I'm just going to read the first paragraph. It's from continuous practice. And I happen to have worked on editing this. On the great road of Buddha ancestors, there is always unsurpassable practice, continuous and sustained. It forms the way ring and is never cut off.

[05:31]

Between aspiration, practice, enlightenment, and nirvana, there is not a moment's gap. Continuous practice is the circle of the way. This being so, continuous practice is unstained, not forced by you or others. The power of this continuous practice converts you as well as others. It means your practice affects the entire earth and the entire sky in the ten directions. Although not noticed by others or by yourself, it is so. Thank you, Meili. So, the next talk was Galleys. That's your soul. And it was about one of my favorite people. But I like him better with his daughter, but this one's just the opposite. And you've heard part of this.

[06:33]

But this is embedded now, instead of the record of Lehmann Pond, it's in Dogen writing about Lehmann Pond. Lehmann Pond was an outstanding person in the ancestral Sikh, trained with Matso and Shito and many other enlightened teachers. One day he said, miracles are nothing other than fetching water and carrying firewood. You should thoroughly investigate the meaning of these words. Fetching water, and these, again, are Dodo's words. You should thoroughly investigate the meaning of these words. Fetching water means to draw and carry water. Sometimes you do it yourself, or sometimes you have others do it. Those who practice this are all miracle Buddhas, although this is only noticed once in a while. Miracles are miracles.

[07:35]

It is not that things are eliminated or that they perish when they are not noticed. Things are just as they are even when unnoticed. Even when people do not know that fetching water is a miracle, The fact that fetching water is a miracle is undeniable. I guess it's still a miracle when it comes to us to all this place. Even when you do not know that miracles happen 3,000 times in the morning and 800 times in the evening, miracles do happen. And next is from Alan, and I'll be referring to some other things of Alan's. And his people, and we go on with the rest of the talk.

[08:40]

But this is from the thing he talked about vows. And it's, again, it sort of refers back to the things about continuous practice. Those who in past lives were not enlightened will now be enlightened. In this life, save the body, which is the fruit of many lives. Before Buddhas were enlightened, they were the same as we. Enlightened people of today are exactly as those of old. And the next comes from grace. I have to tell you, though, because she told a really good joke at the beginning of the talk. And I only usually remember three jokes. The last one I heard, the worst one I've ever heard.

[09:44]

And then one that was really important to me. I heard it when I was just finishing my graduate, well, my master's degree. And it's a real anti-male, anti-male academic joke. Let me tell it. And I'm obsessed about, how can I find this? But the other joke, someday I'll tell you. Anyway, that one was a joke that Lori Snoddy had just gotten over the internet. So that's our review. I gave a talk almost eight years ago in this seat, and I wish you so.

[11:13]

And they had a name, it was called Nine Patch. And I'd been teaching school then. And yet, I was very interested in early American things. And because I worked outside of school teaching, mainly with my hands, I tend to, in school teaching, to do a lot, to work with clay or paints or sewing. And I, you know, as a mother of children, I've always wanted both my sons and my grandsons There are many to learn to sew, as well as the women in the family. And I've been told by some of the 30-year-old boys that were learning to sew that it was really dangerous. You could hurt yourself much more by using that needle than you could by playing football. Their mothers at least got some respect.

[12:17]

There's the opportunity for that joke. I thought about that talk on and off, but forgotten it for years. And then in sitting, I don't know if this happens to some of you, but things that you haven't thought about for years sort of come drifting through. And that went through and all of a sudden I noticed I couldn't really remember much of it. And that was very important to me at the time. They were encouraging words that I was supposed to give. And then I realized that, you know, things really do change. And I don't think that I discarded some of those patches, those things, but somehow they were integrated into my life in something else that arose, risen instead.

[13:25]

And I started looking at them, and that's basically the base of my talk today. Some of them are very simple. They're sort of, you know, advice that you can give yourself when you feel like things are falling apart during Zazen. And I found when I tried to fit it into this grid of nine patches, it had moved more into the shape of a mandala or sort of a web like this, then into his neck. So these patches, these little squares, aren't going to think that they're at least divided. Oh, I have the nine patch. I didn't say anything about that. It's a very big thing in early America. And it's the first thing we teach children when they sew. And it's, you know, it's careful recycling of the little pieces. cut out and then put together just nine squares, simple as can be, three stitched straight, you know, three by three, and then usually bound with something.

[14:40]

And every once in a while, if you're interested in fabric, you'll see really old ones in a museum. When we did it, some of the kids made doll blankets, you know, and used them that way, or book covers, or whatever they wanted. Anyway, so I found the things that I remembered most were the things that I connected to people, people I considered my teachers, and whose faces I can remember. And the first one, strangely enough, is the combination of Picasso and Mel, many of our teachers. And I'd gone to Picasso's show in New York, a giant, giant Picasso show at the Museum of Modern Art.

[15:40]

And there was this picture that I remembered. I'd actually sort of recreated it. And I went to look it up again in a book. I found that I had redrawn it somehow in my mind. There are things like this in New England. You read them all the time. It was of this woman wearing a very elaborate shawl, but the whole thing was very loosely drawn except for just some details in the middle point picked out, which then informed and brought to life the whole picture because you could take that and just in your mind's eye it went across And, you know, Mel often says, he's told me that in show time, when I asked him, what is the most important thing your teacher ever told you?

[16:42]

And he said, take care of what's under your nose. And I tried to remember that, and then recently I asked him, well, I tried to take care of my nose, But sometimes it seems like the whole world is there under my nose and needs taking care of. You reminded me very quickly, when you take care of the smallest thing, you think it takes care of the whole universe. So there's Picasso. And so the next one came to me from recently, very recently, from Joseph Goldstein, an Apostle brother.

[17:43]

And he said we should be very grateful for boredom when we recognize boredom. Because when we recognize boredom, it tells us we are not paying attention. It's a real gift. And I, you know, I thought, well, I'm never bored. I'm never bored. But I know how often I play movies, sit on that cushion and just play off movies. And I know that's a sign that underneath some place there's the boredom, there's the running away from the real practice. So the next thing, and I've been particularly aware of it and I saw it very recently, is intimacy. And the real gift of intimacy we have here, sometimes we've never even spoken to each other, but what we know about each other through the intimacy of practicing together.

[18:55]

And it seems to me also with our relationship to love, And to hear people's questions, and to hear his answers, and to just watch the space between him and the person that's asking the question, is such a great gift. One of the things I read from today, which, you know, is actually from the thing on miracles, the thing about Dogen's fascicle about miracles, about fetching water and carrying firewood. And the beginning of that is about the miracle of intimacy between a teacher and their student. There are two stories right at the beginning. Anyway, in one form that we see that intimacy here, I think, is when we leave the window, and when now God shows to us.

[20:13]

And that's such a precious moment of intimacy with our Teacher, that we take the time to be fully there. It took me a long time to be able to take that time. I always saw this line of people hurrying to get out behind me, or I felt they were hurrying to get out, And I was, you know, halfway out the door. And Mel was reminding me, and another thing that has sort of gone with this, that's been a great strength for me throughout my world, out in the world and in the Zen-do, is that Gassho is not going up, down, or coming up, but that moment of Zazen at the bottom of Gassho. that's always there for you, even when you're not in places you might be comfortable making connections. So, the next person, the next thing I want to talk to you about is our cosmic mood, which again is sort of, you know, the small thing in the whole universe.

[21:24]

And the person who brought this I'd like to talk about it, was kind of Gary Roshan. He talked a lot about posture and the body and coming back constantly to the body. And when I heard him talk at first, his English was very, very bad. Never got to be wonderful. But I sometimes would, you know, And I finally came, about flowers, and I finally came to be able to figure out that Bud was a bird. And what he talked about was visualizing, well, not visualizing exactly, but having strength in your wardrobe.

[22:29]

And it's a very, very gentle strength. And in your hand you're carrying something very delicate and very precious. And you're protecting me from that strength. Something like a baby bird. Or a baby garden. And that's an image that just stays with me so much. I think I use it every time I have to give Zazen instructions. And I get it to myself over and over again. When I feel my thumbs going up like that in tension or falling apart like this. So the next one is Suzuki Roshi's frog. And I wish Nel was here because he can do a pretty good imitation of this. And some of you have heard this. Some of you have probably heard it many times.

[23:33]

But anyway, the frog is a wonderful model for Zazen. The frog just sits there. Something goes by, snaps it up. Something you don't like, it doesn't like, spits it out. So my other part of the frog story is... I can't remember it to be a frog now, I'm embarrassed. But the words for frog, the symbols for frog in Japanese or in Chinese characters are the word that means come back.

[24:37]

So the frog is the... I can't think of the word. No. No, not anything as high class as that. The mascot of gamblers, and I have been known to be a gambler. I began to feel so guilty about winning so much money from my friends that totally No, rotating, this $90 goes to the Zen Do, and this $24.15 goes to the men's shelter, and this $87.35 goes to the Buddhist Peace Fellowship. I'm sure they could never figure out why they got these strange monks. But at least for the time being, I'm giving it up. But those words, you know, You come back, you throw out your money, you ask for it to come back.

[25:42]

But to me, those words come back and that frog sitting there. Wonderful, because I have this other image in my mind, which I spoke about long ago, of the well-meaning mother. You know, she means very well for you, the best for you. She tells you to sit up straight and to do your homework. and not talk while you're eating, which we all remember every day here during session. And what happens is, after a while, the well-meaning mother, who really means well, can be transformed by the child and the mother of the relation into the mean mother. And sometimes that happens to me during sadhana. I'm my own mean mother. You know, I'm telling myself, self-restraint. Can't just self-restraint. And so those words, I finally have really worked hard on drafting that, you know, instead of turning myself into this.

[26:46]

To just use those words, come back. Not to beat myself up for everything I'm not doing, I've never done, and will never do probably in this life, but just come back. going to have to go fast. So I'm going to come to vow. I'm going to skip some of these things and come to vow, which connects to some other things. And my vow has been reasoning to work on self-cleaning. It's a very uncomfortable place to me. when you really believe that there is no self.

[27:54]

Really, it's just something you've constructed as such. And you might know it, but you don't realize it in that way. And one of the things that really was something that Thich Nhat Hanh said that was sort of a reminder that you can really get into a duality kind of thing on this thing of self and no-self, was something that I read in Thich Nhat Hanh's Living Christ, Living Buddha, that there is no no-self without a self, and vice versa, of course. And that's sort of comforting. But the other thing that has really been a big comfort to me and a big tool for me in terms of self. To know self is the business of discontinuity.

[28:58]

Because it's not, you know, that here's this whole self that we've got there and that no self out there that we're looking for or something. But we keep building this shell with the stories we tell, with the constant I and mine and me. And it's so hard sometimes to let go of. But I think when we're sitting here, and we can watch some of the things we do, just watching the edge of the pain, and watching the time, and seeing that it isn't a thing here, that it moves, that it changes, that sometimes it's totally gone. And then we can drop that story.

[30:02]

My leg is killing me. Just drop it and watch. and try to stop building that great shell that my friend Grace described the other day, this way, that grasping, the hand, punch, the fist, going back and forth. And which Alan described in his poem. It says this comes back with that feeling of grasping. clinging to stuff. Mine is like broken bottlenecks as you are dizzified in yours. The truth is we are about as tough as windows, fragile but yearning.

[31:03]

Tough enough on both sides to go wide open. is more like a crustacean. I can feel it in my body, like there's something soft and vulnerable inside, this crust on the outside that is hard and uncomfortable. There's actually a disease called scleroderma that has some of those symptoms where the skin will harden up So I said something about discontinuity and I'd like to read this which was part of Alan's and this is actually the part from Nagarjuna.

[32:34]

Ancestor Nagarjuna said, the mind that fully sees into the uncertain world at birth and death is called thought of enlightenment. Indeed, when you understand discontinuity, the notion of self does not come into being. Ideas of name and game do not arise. Fearing the swift passage of the sunlight, practice the way as though saving your head from fire. Reflecting on this eternal life, make endeavor in the manner of the Buddha raising his foot. And of course, again, that's the story of Buddha in a past life standing on one's foot for seven days. I guess it was the preparation for him getting up on the seventh day and walking up with those steps and saying, That discontinuity, that noticing the discontinuity, gives us so much space in our saying, this is my pain.

[33:53]

This is my body. That's another thing we should know. The mudra, is it the mudra? The mudra is sitting. The legs are still. Not my legs. There are so many languages in which there is no my directly. You have to say it in a relationship. This is to me, instead of my leg. Or this is to you. But it's a relationship rather than... I think some forms of traveling. In some languages, in Japanese, we very seldom use the word we. With my six lessons of Japanese and the things I picked up from my 20 words I picked up from my mother-in-law about what children shouldn't do.

[34:59]

But you almost never use the I except to say Well, is anybody encouraged yet? Somebody raised their hand. So I'd like, we have a few minutes, so I would like to leave some room for questions or comments, or if you have an encouraging patch on your little baby blanket. Yes. reminds me of something some Zen master said, I don't remember who, was commenting on Descartes, who said, I think, therefore I am.

[36:03]

And the Zen master said, oh, that's very good, but he forgot that. Along with that goes Was that thing about miracles, was that Dogen? A thousand miracles in the morning and a hundred miracles in the evening? Yes, yes. Thank you for sharing that humanity with Dogen. I just want to make a comment about another funny language thing.

[37:10]

When people complain about pain, he'd say, the pain will help you. And then he'd laugh. I thought about that for many years. And I know he's right. So he encouraged me. We were having coffee once. I think it was Bailey and myself and Dolly. And I've been complaining about pain, you know. I don't know if anybody else goes through this, but I've had times in my life when I thought my pain, my arthritis in my knee was worse than anybody else's pain. And Dolly said, well, you know, can't you think of anything good about the pain? It took me a long time to get it, and it certainly brings me back when I'm wandering.

[38:27]

But you remind me of something that Suzuki Roshi said in one of the last lectures he gave, the last public lectures, when he was in a lot of pain. He said, I just remember that no matter how bad the pain is, how much suffering, that it's only a small, small drop in the suffering of Buddha. It's on the back here, usually it's one of these symbols that you have, one of the symbols that you have on the front of statues of the Krashna Paramita, but I just stuck them on the back this time.

[40:59]

And that's of the lotus in full bloom, the lotus in, I'm going backwards, in the lotus in seed pot form. present and future, but it represents the transiency of life and the continuity of life. So it's a nice message to people. When we want this to stop, it's going to stop. We may not know what's going to come next, but it'll change. Well, I have a clock and it says it's four minutes after that we should stop.

[42:01]

I think it's time for you to move your legs.

[42:06]

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