That Question

To that question

You could never

Ask me,

I still

Don't have

An Answer.

What are those questions that we can never ask? Too personal, too painful, too close to the answer we think we already know, to the answer we don't wish to hear? Is there knowledge we really don't want to have? Skeletons better left in closets? Loves that ought not speak their names? Dead better left buried and forgotten?

Questions hang unasked in the air, potentials not actualized, thresholds unpassed. How can we reply? Perhaps we feel that unformed question and strain to hear it. We lean into the moment to catch a hint. Do we dare to break the spell of silence and give voice to the question we feel is hanging between us? Can we tear away the veil?

To act in response to unasked questions, to projections of questions that really are our own gives rise to a world of shadow boxing, puppets dancing in thin air. What you think that unasked question is may be really nothing more than your own question to yourself. Do you have an answer now?

Scottish Zen?

I love this commercial. Here we see the teaching o' th' Dharma as done in my ancestral home, the Scottish Highlands. Notice the grandmotherly care our Scottish Master shows for his poor students! How fortunate indeed they are to have found such a kind teacher! Even Lin-Chi could not have been so diligent with the dip-stick. Lucky lads!

Mu Monday

Sitting very still, I go with the pain,

Following breath, in and out are the same.

Now I go to hang my hat on the wall,

But there is no hook on which to hang the hat,

There is no wall to hang the hook.

There is no hat to hang or fall.

There is no floor onto which to fall.

There is no one to hang this non-existent hat.

Has a dog Buddha nature?

No!

Void of any and all characteristics,

This Buddha nature is.

There is no dog to have anything,

There is nothing to be had.

No ears, no eyes,

Not tail to wag this no dog.

Ha ha ha ha ha!

Mountain - Six Views

Mountains rise,

Rivers fall,

Cutting like knives,

Sand and wind,

Rain and cold,

The quaking Earth itself,

Great sculptor

Without hands.

This second batch of photos were taken in the Virgin River Gorge, in the extreme southwest corner of Utah state. All of these shots were taken out of the window of our car, going about sixty miles an hour. Every time we make the trip up there from San Diego my mind is blown by these astonishing rocks and the spectacular interplay with them and the sky, clouds and light. There is no shoulder on the road and only one place to pull over and park, so I am always frustrated by the many great potential photographs I see zooming by. Each trip I try to capture a few good ones. I hope you like these.

Note: Yesterday, looking at my photos on another computer than my own big imac, I noticed that the photos when clicked on were huge files, difficult to view. I have made these files today smaller, but on my computer they now look quite small when clicked on for enlargement. I would appreciate feed-back from you, dear readers, how do the expanded files look to you? Too big, too small or jussst right?

Sky - Five Views

Yesterday, Brad Warner posted a blog on Hardcore Zen entitled "Utah is Psychedelic", based on his experience driving through Arizona and Utah on his way back east. I recently made the same journey when my wife and I went to visit family in Cedar City. I took about a jillion photos of the drive (thank you Diane for doing all the driving!). I agree with Brad. How did the sky get so huge out there? Here are five views.

Click on each photo to see full size.

Thornton Hospital Poem #2 - Though

Though cruel be the wheel

That turns night and

Day,

Sweet be the

Fate

To fall beneath its'

Tread.

My second night in the hospital was nearly sleepless. I had a drip line in my right arm and I was still running a fever. The pain medications, rather than making me sleepy, seemed to induce a serene but wakeful state. When rosy fingered dawn began to lighten my east facing window, I opened my notebook and began to write. This is the poem that came to me. While not quite automatic writing, this one came to me nearly complete as is. The funny spacing, drawing out the words, is meant to suggest a slow reading of each word.

This poem evokes a feeling I sometimes get when I'm in pain. Rather than feeling depressed, I feel a kind of joy in the experience of just living. It seems that the totality of life, the pleasures and the pains are all here to be experienced together. Being on the cutting edge, so to speak, of life, it all seems beautiful, even the painful parts! This is why we are alive, simply to experience it all, the whole thing!

Zhaozhou often quoted this saying by Sengcan:
The great way is not difficult
if you just don’t pick and choose.

Thornton Hospital Poem #1

I'm really glad they

Built this hospital for me,

Its' worth getting sick just

To come here and see.

High on one wall

A black lacquer painting.

In gold,

A woman stands behind

A happy poet,

Drunk,

On both

Words and wine.

I was back in the hospital for the last few days, thanks to a nasty bacterial "shower" that developed in the course of the routine exchange of a billiary drain. It runs through my transplanted liver and into my small intestine (more information than I'm sure you wish to know). It isn't the first time this has happened and I'm pretty sure it won't be the last time.

What made this visit stand out, though, is that I got sick many hours after the procedure, at around 1 AM and so found myself in the emergency room of a different hospital, the much closer Thornton Hospital in La Jolla. After a quick examination, they admitted me to a private room on the second floor and started an aggressive course of IV antibiotics and antifungals.

After a day or so I started feeling a bit better and settled in and began taking a closer look at my surroundings, and lovely surroundings they were!

Thornton Hospital is part of the UCSD system, but was founded by the astonishing grants from many of San Diego's wealthiest families, chief among them the Thorntons, and may the blessings of the Lord be upon them evermore! It is simply the most beautiful hospital one could ever wish to find oneself admitted to. Built around a large open court, the angled glass ceiling rises four or five stories high, illuminating the large central space with daylight. The floors are of beautiful marble, with tasteful geometric inlays. Generously comfortable couches and chairs are arranged in carpeted areas and the walls are decorated with antique Chines art, with cabinets of lovely Chinese ceramics of the finest quality.

I established a daily routine of Zazen in my room followed by 20 minutes of walking the halls with classical music on my ipod. Then I would lie in bed for the next few hours (often with an IV drip in my arm) and read from my Kindle or from one of the books I had brought along. Along the way I was inspired to write a few poems, such as the one above. The photo is of one small panel in a much larger piece, one of my very favorites. In it we see the poet seated at his low table, books spread out before him, along with a wine jug. A lovely lady stands in attendance and behind, above, a full moon rises in the black lacquer night.

I felt just like this lucky fellow, my books spread out, my verses before me. In attendance, a wonderful staff of nurses to help me heal. True, there was no wine, but Thornton has a room service style food program. Simply dial up the desk and a short while later a very nice spa-type meal of ones own choosing was delivered by smiling kitchen servers.

I had a few medical adventures there, all was not skittles and beer. But my stay there was certainly memorable and I have a few pretty good new poems in my notebook. Now, really, it's not worth getting sick just to go there, so guard your health closely. But if fate does draw you there, I recommend the fish tacos, a true San Diego specialty.