I vow to taste the truth of the Tathagata's words. Good morning. I'm happy to introduce our friend, Ryujin Paul Haller. Paul was born in Belfast, Northern Ireland. He began his Buddhist studies in Asia, in Japan and Thailand, and began formal practice at San Francisco Zen Center in the early 1970s. Over the years, Paul has held many responsible positions at Zen Center. Paul received dharma transmission in 1993 from our teacher Sojin Roshi, and Paul is now the Director of Outreach for San Francisco Zen Center.

[01:25]

Welcome, Paul. Thank you, David, and thanks for the introduction. Can you hear me okay? Is it picking up the sound well enough? Well, hard to tell from here. I sort of felt as I was walking in that the whole room was part of the interaction with the guy next door. I don't know if you realize, David, how many attentive ears you've had to that extent. It made me think of a definition someone gave me once of dukkha, suffering, you know, one of the significant notions in Buddhism. They said, the definition of dukkha is there's always something. And I was also thinking of an idea that came into my own head once was

[02:30]

The difference between things getting in the way and things being the way. And what is that shift that goes on for us? When is the interaction with the neighbor part of being in the way? And when does it get in the way? When does the noise coming in the window be something that distracts, disturbs, separates us from this precious practice? And when does it turn us towards it, become it, engage it? So that's part of what I wanted to talk about this morning. I wanted to talk about the notion that Dogen Zenji, the finder of Soto Zen in Japan, this style of practice in Japan, one of the tasks he set himself in his life was to write a hundred essays on practice.

[03:36]

And he got up to 97, I think, and then he died. But when you read them, one of the notions that you see that comes up constantly for him, or he chooses to express, is this arising, way-seeking mind. And this is a good illustration of it. Does this interaction, does this event, does this phenomena, does the phenomena of the sound of a power hose hitting the roof, Is that something that inhibits your practice? Is that something that prevents it, that limits it? Or is that something that simply is, that manifests what is? And I think we'd all like to say the latter. I was rummaging around Mel's office right now as I was supposed to be preparing for my talks.

[04:45]

It's a fantastic place. I think everybody should have 30 minutes in there. Look at all the pictures and all the little things hanging on the wall. One of the pictures up above one of his bookcases is a childlike drawing, and it's two figures, and one has like, you know, sparkling clear mind, and then the other one is more focused around the heart, and it says, when the mind is clear, the heart opens. So on one hand, we have this teaching that says, The nature of suchness is that everything is the way. The sign on the roof, the interacting with the neighbor, whatever kind of feelings that brings up, it's just what is.

[05:58]

And then we have another kind of teaching that talks about the actual yoga, the actual way we work as human beings. When the mind is clear, the heart opens. When the sound on the roof fills us with a vexation, with an annoyance, with a sense of disturbance, we do experience it as getting in the way. So one of the phrases, so in the city center, we're having our fall practice period, and the theme of our practice period is Zen mind, urban mind. If you think about it, if you look at this sweep of Buddhism, you know, as it's gone from India throughout Asia and now to America, you know, one of the significant features that I think is reasonable to say is that the center of activity of Buddhist practice is shifting, you know.

[07:26]

In early Buddhism, and not so early Buddhism, the center of Buddhist activity has located around monasticism. And it's not too clear yet, I think it's a little early to say what it is here in the States and in Europe, but it doesn't seem to be that. In most schools of Buddhism, it's not simply monasticism, and within a Sangha, the generous support of those who aren't in monastic practice. And also, if you look at the demographics of the world, especially in the last 50 years, maybe since the Industrial Revolution, more and more people live in cities. I mean, it's a fact that can't be argued against, you just have to look at the demographics.

[08:31]

There's a flight from the farm to the city. So if we think of our practice and its availability and its applicability, you know, then this statement, you know, Zen mind, urban mind, takes on a very significant relevance. What is our practice in the environment in which we live and which more and more of us live? Whether we like it or not. You know, whether you like it or not, your neighbor's building is about 10 feet away from the Zindo. This isn't a mountaintop. You know, this isn't Tassajara with 150,000 acres of wilderness. Here we are. So this is the theme we set for ourselves. You know, Zen practice is a little bit like being in fourth grade.

[09:36]

You know, you go into fourth grade and you're quite apprehensive because you don't know how to do fourth grade. You've never done it before. You feel a little bit uncertain. But what would be the point of being in fourth grade if you knew all the things that you're going to learn? You should just skip it and go on to fifth grade. So we're figuring it out as we go along. And not only is that something, that's not just something we should put up with, that's actually the nature of our existence and that's the nature of our practice. It's live, it's dynamic, it's creative, it's interactive. You don't know what your neighbor is going to say. Maybe he's going to yell at you, maybe he's going to make more noise just because he feels coerced. Or maybe he's going to say, well, let's find a compromise.

[10:45]

I'll start on the back half of the roof where it's not quite so noisy and your agenda and my agenda can be matched. So let me offer you, so towards the end of his life, Dogen, the finder of this style of practice, he wrote an essay. One of his last essays was called Bend Away, which is one way to translate it is wholehearted practice of the way. So how wonderful if we could find a way to live a way to be that we felt wholehearted about, that made us feel whole, that made us feel heartened, that give us the fortitude, the courage, the openheartedness to live this life fully.

[11:46]

So that's implied in our practice, that sort of existential endeavor. himself when he came back from China and felt like he had got the basic message of practice. You know, one of his first declarations was that, you know, I'm involved in something more fundamental than a religion, than an ism. He said, it's more fundamental than Zen. And then, of course, he set out and established a whole school of Zen. But I think it's helpful to remember that in his mind and in his heart what he was engaging in was more fundamental than just creating or complying with some set of ideas and standards. Wholehearted engagement in the way of life, in the way of being, of the way of coexisting with our neighbors,

[12:54]

So as I read it, there was a phrase that stood out in my mind that I'd like to offer you as an example of his notion of what it is we're all trying to do when we practice. He said, allow all things to exist in enlightenment, enabling us to live out oneness in the path of emancipation. So what does it mean to allow all things to exist in enlightenment? What does it mean to not experience our lives in a way that we separate, that our welfare and the neighbor's welfare are different, they're in opposition? by what he chooses to do with this Saturday morning is in conflict with what we choose to do.

[14:01]

And how, as we explore that, does that actually help both of our lives, all of our lives? How does that bring about a diminishing of human suffering? How does that bring about a fundamental okayness about our life? How does that bring about a sense of joy? Is that too much to look for, to want, that our life should have joy? So in another one of his late essays, the essays that he wrote towards the end of his life, Dogen devoted almost the whole essay to talking about arising this mind, this way-seeking mind.

[15:07]

And the way I think about it is, asking something like this, what is it to practice with this? With anything. You know? The annoyance that comes up when you hear your neighbor doing what they do. The itch on your face when you're sitting Zazen. The feeling of settledness as you sit Zazen. The feelings that come up when you read the latest atrocities in Kosovo? How do we keep our hearts open now that we have such good communication and we can hear about all the tragedies and atrocities that happen in the world every day?

[16:17]

So we just skip on through to the funnies and read the cartoons or look at the movie section. So how do I practice with this? So time and time again, Dogen stressed this question, this way of engaging life. And when he talked about his own life, for him, there's a significant point in his life where he felt this question started to have a relevance. And then it simply guided his whole life. He took the question and the question said, well you should go off and practice.

[17:22]

So what is the rudder on our life? What is the rudder on your life as you traverse the waters of the years and the month and the experiences and the relationships and the circumstances? Is it all just coincidental and circumstantial? Is there a guiding light? Is it like a rudder on a ship that helps it steer its course? So as Dogen talked about a rising, way-seeking mind, he referred back to a teaching in Buddhism. I should stop about 11. Okay.

[18:35]

I just realized I'm getting excited about my own thinking. It's funny how that happens. Where was I? All of a sudden I realized, this is really interesting stuff. Oh, I remember. And this, I have to confess, this did kind of intrigue me. He started to talk about a Buddhist teaching that says there are three states of mind. It's a Yogachara teaching, an early school of Buddhism, and very roughly, and don't hold on to these definitions too well, because they're not so good. Three states of mind, and the first state of mind is a state of mind that's convinced by self and other.

[19:48]

It experiences reality as there's me and there's you, and we're separate. And then, of course, since I'm me and there's us and there's them and we're separate. And since that's the way things are, I think about what's good for me. Will you like me? Will I give a good talk? It's basically a self-referencing system. Will we have a good experience here? Why don't they stop so we can do what we're doing more conducively and get enlightened by the samadhi of the quiet mind? So this is the first state of mind. Reality simply is self and other. Then the second state of mind is we interact, we influence each other.

[20:54]

There's a dynamic exchange. Why would we search our lovers and friends if we were nothing but separate? What would be the point? So this state of mind starts to see interaction. starts to see the mutual welfare that our life can have. And then the third state of mind realizes that everything is this dynamic occurrence. And then out of that dynamic occurrence, we start to create. entities you know if you sit and you close your eyes and you pay careful attention you see that this thing that we call a body is nothing but sensation and if you pay careful attention for five minutes you see you know one moment it's a sensation in your knee next moment it's some feeling in your back next moment it's a sensation of thought

[22:22]

that existence is this vibrant, dynamic, ever-changing event. So those are the three states of mind. So we may think, oh well obviously we should all aim for the last one. That's what we should be striving for. And this first one that sees self and other, this discriminating mind, this is the enemy, to be banished, to be suppressed, to be controlled. Well, amazingly enough, in this essay, Dogen says, this first mind, parikalpita-sabhava, as it's called in Yogacara, he said, this mind, initiates entering the way.

[23:29]

This very mind that so many of us, as goods and students, wrestle with to control, to suppress, to set aside, to avoid, initiates entering the stream of existence, the stream of experiencing the way and discovering emancipation. He then goes on to say, it's not enlightenment, but it initiates engaging So one of the questions for us then is, how do we use our discriminating faculties as an aid to our practice rather than just experience it as a hindrance? And this for me ties back to urban mind.

[24:42]

You know, one of the wonderful things about monastic practice is that it simplifies your life. It's also one of the terrible things about it. There's some part of us that has an appetite and a passion for our life. And in the stricture of monasticism, we move between embracing it with devotion and struggling with the constraint but to the extent that it does support a clarification of mind and a settling of mind and an opening of the heart. It draws us into an experience, a more connected experience with our existence. In my experience living in San Francisco as I have for the last 20 years, this is not so easy to pull off as you move around the city, as you move from this interaction to that interaction, as you allow yourself to read the newspaper and discover what's going on in this world, as you bump into people who were stressed and upset

[26:12]

feeling alienated and confused and angry. You know, recently I've been teaching, as David was saying, I'm the director of iREACH. So one of the things I do is I go to different places and talk about practice and actually try to give some experience of it. So one of the places I go to is a drug rehab place. And I don't, probably many of you are familiar, but in AA and now NA and all other sorts of circles, you give your name and then you say, you know, my name's Paul, I'm an addict. And I was thinking, well, in some ways, this is like, my name's Paul, and I'm a human and I suffer, you know.

[27:18]

And then I was thinking, well, the 8-fold path is like the 8-step path, you know, instead of the 12-step path. And actually I find it very helpful. They got it right away. I thought, okay. You know, I'm addicted to all the ways that I clink. I'm addicted to my fears, I'm addicted to my yearnings, I'm addicted to the ways I get sad and lonely, I'm addicted to the ways I get confused and uncertain. So, as we engage this way-seeking mind, it opens up And it simply and directly offers us a teaching. You know, one of these classes I was teaching, someone was telling me how they have, as they've shifted addictions, sometimes this happens,

[28:34]

as she cut off substance abuse to become a compulsive eater. So she gets up in the middle of the night, goes to the refrigerator and eats. And she's significantly overweight and not in good health. And so this doesn't help her life. This doesn't help her body. It doesn't help her self-esteem either, the sense of being out of control. So, how different from the exquisite serene poetry of 9th century China? of the hermit monk with 30 years of meditation saying, the shadow of the bamboo sweeps across the steps and not a single mite of dust is raised.

[29:54]

But yet, this is her life. And the marvelous compassion of Dogen's teaching is that the question still applies. What is it to practice with this? What is it to practice with being a compulsive eater who gets up in the middle of the night and goes to the refrigerator and eats? So, for every one of us this question has a direct relevance and complete application. And of course, it asks us to figure out, well, what is practice? And how does it apply to that situation?

[31:07]

So, you can think about that, hmm, what would you say to this person? Would you read her that early Chinese piece of Zen poetry? What would you say? So, I'm running out of time, but I want to read you a poem, a piece of a poem and say a little bit about it. This is a poem called Hugging the Jute Box. It's about a little boy who goes to live with his grandparents in the Caribbean. What will they do together in their old age? It's hard enough keeping yourself alive, but this wild boy, loving nothing but music, he'll sing all night, hugging the jukebox. When the record pauses, that live second before dropping down, Alfred hugs tighter, arms stretched wide, head pressing on its luminous belly.

[32:17]

Now, he yells, a half smile when the needle breathes again. They've tried putting him to bed, but he sings in bed, even in Spanish, and he doesn't even speak Spanish. He sings and screams, wants to go back to the jukebox. Oh mama, I was born with the trumpet in my throat, spent all these years trying to cough it up. He can't even read yet, he can't tell time, but he sings. And the chairs in this old dance hall jerk to attention. The grandparents lean on the counter, shaking their heads. The customers stop talking and stare, goose bumps surfacing on their arms. His voice carries out to the water where the boats are tied and sings for them all, a wave. For the hands now roosting in the trees, for the mute boy next door, his second best friend, for the hurricane now brewing in Barbados, a week forward neighbors will be hammering boards in their windows, rounding up the dogs and fishing lines.

[33:21]

But Alfred, hugging a jukebox, the names of the tunes gone dark, will still be singing, doubly loud, teasing his grandmother, put a coin in my mouth, and believing what she wants to believe, there is not an end of the island or the tablets of this life that have been scribbled on are to the sun. So something in us wants to live. Something in us passionately wants to be alive. And it's not so reasonable. something in us doesn't want to be contained by the strictures, by the conventions that surround us. So how do we let this question, what is it to practice with this, how do we let it ally, align with this passion of our lives?

[34:33]

rather than set them in opposition. Either I can be a good Zen student or I can be fully alive. That was part of Dogen's realization. What he was relating to, what he was bringing forward was not compliance. It was the very stuff of life. It was the passion and the caring. And our newspapers are filled with stories of this passion and caring turning into negativity and destruction. It doesn't mean we should destroy it. It doesn't mean it's inherently evil. It means we should be careful.

[35:39]

It means it's a powerful force. But it also means that powerful force will support and guide, enliven and vitalize the way. That it takes the way and makes it visible. It takes away and makes it something. There is no practice without someone practicing it. So, our style of zazen is quite peculiar. Our style of zazen takes on a very definite restriction, sit up straight, a definite restriction of keep the mind in the present, keep attention here.

[36:54]

But then it takes on this passionate expression. Everything that comes up without exception is a very grand of existence is the very manifestation of existence. Everything that comes up is Buddha. This very mind, this very expression is Buddha. Nothing less than Buddha. Hugging the jukebox is Buddha. So what if it doesn't make sense? So what if it's not reasonable? So what if you don't understand it? Thank you.

[37:53]

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