The Unborn

Mysterious realm,

No other...

Unborn.

Without walls,

Where can the Mind

Not go?

This little poem was written several weeks ago, during a period when I was reading several books on the seventeenth century Japanese maverick/reformer Zen priest Bankei. Bankei was an interesting character, he came onto the Zen scene at a time when traditional Zen seemed to have lost it's way in empty ritual and form. Bankei attempted to cut through this with his preaching about "the Unborn", the unborn, deathless, eternal Buddha-mind that is the basis of all consciousness, in fact , the basis of all everything!

"When your awake, you're awake in the same Buddha-mind you were sleeping in. You sleep in the Buddha-mind while you sleep and are up and about in the Buddha-mind while you are up and about. That way, you always stay in the Buddha-mind. You're never apart from it for an instant."

He urged his followers (and he had many followers, his message spoke directly to a great many people in his day) to observe the Unborn at work in all things, especially in the sounds of birds, the rustling of leaves and the like. He said that the fact that we can instantly recognize these sounds for what the are without even trying in any way was the proof of the functioning of the Buddha-mind.

Even though he had put himself through the wringer of austerities and severe practices in his youthful quest for enlightenment, Bankei came to reject these extreme measures (like the Buddha himself), in favor of simply sitting Zazen and keeping the functioning of the Unborn in mind at all times.

There are two pretty good translations of Bankei's talks in print in English, Norman Waddell's "The Unborn: The life and Teaching of Zen Master Bankei" and "Bankei Zen" by Peter Haskel. There is also a chapter on him in the newly published "Zen Radicals, Rebels, and Reformers" by Perle Besserman and Manfred B. Steger.

Eternal Now

Sit quite still

And you will see,

Freed from the bonds of

Was and will be,

Into the boundless realm

Of is.

If you watch attentively,

You'll see that what is,

Endlessly,

Changes every moment,

Yet remains.

That's the nature of this

Perpetual domain,

Morphing constantly into something

Quite the same.

Today's Image: Xiena sits and watches the unfolding moment with her tiny robot friend during our family's recent Christmas celebration.

Don't Go to Hinksville

Oh I don't want to move to Hinksville,

The life they lead there is no damn good,

They like to tell you God is love,

But they'd kill you if they could.

I love ride this old blue marble

As it spins its' way through space.

I'd much rather sit on a grassy hill

And stare at my own true face.

No, I'm not moving to Hinksville,

For it's just a state of mind.

Where we think our thoughts unkind

And the blind deceive the blind.

My friend Barry Briggs over at oxherding.com has been running a thoughtful and thought provoking series this week on the topic of Wrong Speech. So I post this poem today with more than a bit of trepidation. It's pretty much a grumble about the daily world of samsara, the unhappy realm where we all spend far too much time. You all know the place, where we say one thing and think or do another, and where we impose our expectations on others in a similar fashion. I hope I'm not bringing you down, dear reader, with this rather negative meditation on one of our more unfortunate states of mind.

It is the hope, however, of all who practice mindfulness, to escape the snares of samsaric mind and dwell instead in the reality of the present moment, free from the self-deceit that makes Hinksville such a pain in the butt! Free to enjoy the ride on this lovely blue marble.

Today's image is an uncredited work I found on:

http://pointofview.bluehighways.com/

Old Fool

Call me an old fool,

But while others may chatter

About a search for the soul

And all...

I hold this world lightly

In an open palm

And smile anew at each

Passing breeze.

Sweet Drum

I left the many

And I took the one,

Now I dance to the beat

Of my own sweet drum,

And I don't have a care

For what may come,

Now I dance to the rhythm

Of my own sweet drum.

When you add the columns

And you read the sum,

You may gain the many

When you take the one.

And you won't be ruled

By the days to come,

When you dance to the beat

Of your own sweet drum.

This image of Shiva as Nataraja comes from the Exotic India site.

http://www.exoticindiaart.com/article/nataraja

Son House - Death Letter Blues

Over on facebook James Ford posted a clip of the Max Fliesher animation of Cab Callaway's Saint James Infirmary, citing it as an example of Zen master endorsed ultra-cool. I agree with its' ultra-cool character and in a similar spirit offer up this clip of the amazing Son House. Here he performs his classic Death Letter Blues, an unblinking musical look into the face of death. Son House does not flinch or look away, but rather tells it like it is! Does it get cooler than this?

Bodhisattva, Take My Blood!

Her ID card now so close

That even I can read it,

"Sandra C Espinosa - CPN

Certified Phlebotomy Tech"

So it reads,

But I don't believe it.

Surely this is Avalokiteshvara,

Bodhisattva of Compassion,

Fresh stepped from his/her Tusita Heaven

Or sprung to life from some far Ankor wall,

To plunge a painless needle

Into my pre-dawn arm,

Softer than a mosquito's kiss.

Bodhisattva, take my blood!

My latest operation at UCSD Hospital was a success! After a 9 day post-surgical stay, I am home and healing. I've actually been home for over a week, but have only now felt well enough to post here. I am delighted to report that the biliary drain I have had sticking out of my side for the last two years is now gone! Gone too are the 30 or so metal staples across my battle-scared abdomen, in their place a row of plastic tape strips which will drop off one by one over the next week or so.

The Biliary drain was a legacy of my liver transplant from two years ago, a blod clot in my new liver damaged the bile ducts. This leaking made me a very sick fellow and gave us all some rough moments. A trans-hepatic drain was installed to save my bacon and it did the job, but at a terrible cost. It had to be exchanged 17 times over a nearly two year period. Nearly every drain exchange (usually a out-patient procedure) landed me in the hospital for a couple of days with a variety of bacterial infections.

One positive thing I gained from my two year medical odyssey is a great deal of respect for all of the hardworking professionals at UCSD Hospital. Docs, nurses, techs of all sorts, even the folks in admissions who put the little wristbands on me. During this latest stay, I awoke one morning to find my blood being drawn by a young lady who bore a striking resemblance to the the amazing sculptured figures from the Ankor Wat temple in Cambodia. Sandra is Philippina by background, but she told me that one of here grandfathers has very classic "chinese" features. Whatever the specifics of her blood-line, she's a skilled phlebotomist and her needle indeed painless. Hurray!

Today's image comes from a very interesting blog recounting a Sabbatical trip to Ankor Wat, illustrated with many fine photographs. Check out Robert's Sabbatical at:

http://www.robertsabbatical.blogspot.com/