...In this place of being, mountains are no longer mountains and rivers are no longer rivers. This is the place in which mountains flow and rivers are as diamond, the place where the life of the river is the mountain, and the expression of the mountain is the river, the place the scriptures describe when they say that the wooden figure sings and the stone maiden dances.
By Rev. Master Daizui McPhillamy, Former Head of The Order of Buddhist Contemplatives.

From an article titled When Mountains are Mountains

More links to O.B.C. Resources. The list of links grows daily.

On the monastic schedule the time between the end of meditation and morning service and breakfast is Temple Clean-up. As a young monk, under the direction of the Head Novice, one moved briskly from the meditation hall to ones clean-up assignment, there to scrub and polish. There were no gaps between activities, for tea or a chat for example, and no choice of assignment either. Early in the morning cold and hungry I'd sometimes weep, tears splashing into the sink or toilet I was cleaning. More often than not I'd long for the sound of the breakfast bell to bring the comfort of food and the warmth of the dining hall.

As a Senior the external pressure is off. There's no Head Novice assigning tasks just my fellow seniors slipping the cleaning card behind the name tag on my door. (I just wish I could remember who it is I pass it on to!) Within the confines of the daily schedule one is responsible for planning ones own time. Even writing that makes me smile. Planning! Own time? Even finishing cleaning the bathroom has eluded me today.

9.15 am Cleaning toilet. 9.20 am Toilet half cleaned, remember to make a phone call and send emergency e-mail. 9.40 am Finish cleaning the toilet, hurry to Brunch. 4.15 pm Clean the bathroom sink, floor and ledges. Empty the rubbish bins. Need to do something else, can't remember what now. The shower will have to wait until I next have one...

If there are tears nowadays they are either an allergic reaction to the cleanser or ones of gratitude. To bend and squat, to rub, scrub and polish are gifts. However the greatest gifts are the gaps, or more accurately the lack of them. Early training, lay or monastic, is learning to move from one activity to another seamlessly, constantly choosing to say Yes when the bell rings. Switching from one thing to another to another to another becomes reflexive action over time. The one who does fades in and out of awareness, as needed. Personal wishes and desires are there but not with such a loud voice, they too have a place.

For me and for those of you who read this the bell rings constantly not just for meals, meditation and work periods. Phone calls-emails-meetings-driving duties-town trip-classes-tea appointments-chats in the lane-walks on the bottom road-chats over the hedge-evening meditation-evening tea-seeking lost belongings-having a nap.

Could this be living Zen?

Atttention regulation and monitoring in meditation.

Thanks to Ed for finding the article. I'd certainly not come across this kind of study on my own...

Go anywhere in Britain and sooner rather than later you will bump into the bizarre. We seem to thrive on it. I've included the three silver birch tree trunks as my own contribution. I've title that legs hundred and eleven If you have never played bingo you wouldn't understand.

One man and his sheep.

Legs hundred and eleven.

Don't ask!

These pictures were taken on Friday in the grounds of an old Abbey close to Nottingham. This afternoon a small group of us visited Kirkstall Abbey a Cistercian house close to Leeds built by the monks from Fountains Abbey.

For reasons that make no sense somebody had the idea to route the main road into Leeds right up the length of the nave of the abbey church. Those on foot, with time on their hands, carved their names in the pillars for posterity. Normal then, rather bizarre now.

(Thankfully the road now runs beside the church.)

Former Muslim radical Shiraz Maher spent his student days campaigning for an Islamic caliphate in which execution for renouncing Islam would be written into the constitution. Now Shiraz is calling for moderation and greater Muslim integration into British life, a stance which has meant he himself is now labelled an apostate by some Muslim radicals, for which the penalty is death. He asks whether such an extreme punishment is really justified by the Qu'ran and the example of the Prophet Muhammad. 'Could I Stop Being a Muslim?', BBC Radio 4 FM
Listen on-line or to the repeat Sunday 27th at 5.00 pm GMT

This programme explores the issue of apostasy the formal renunciation of ones religion thus becoming an apostate.

Contrary to Abrahamic dogmas, there is no concept of an apostate in Hinduism or Buddhism, as everyone is accepted as one and the same. Converts to other religions from Hinduism or Buddhism are accepted in these communities, as there is no Hindu or Buddhist procedure that defines apostasy.
- Wikipedia.

Thank you to my monastic walking companion for bringing the concept of apostasy to my attention. This is a new word for me but not a new concept, thankfully not one we have in Buddhism. I'll listen to the recording of the above programme when I return to the monastery tomorrow.

Quick now, here, now, always—
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.
Little Gidding. T.S.Elliot

Please be assured that all is well here and the reason for sporadic postings is due to my need to concentrate on a piece of writing connected with my monastic responsibilities. This has been a collaborative effort involving working with my monastic colleagues here in Britain and also in North America. The process of working together has been an adventure and a joy. Now the text has been written the process of taking Refuge with a wider group of monks begins in earnest. I'll be traveling south tomorrow landing back in the monastery late Saturday night.

Thank you to those who have sent me gentle notes asking if all is well.

The sound of the engine changed from a purr to a full blow diesel rattle. There was no going back since we were on the final approach to the M6 Motorway heading North. If the car broke down we'd call out the break down service. Uh! no cell phone! No worries I've got mine. If we broke down we'd miss our appointment in Kendal. Going up a hill now. Are we loosing power? No, I'm just going slowly. We'd maybe not get to Throssel tomorrow. I'll need to at least have the garage check the car before we leave. If there's something seriously wrong I'll catch the train, no problem..

Privately and together we tot up the possible consequences and scenarios of one simple event. A car engine changing from it's customary and familiar purr to a worrisome rattle. We reached Kendal and parked for the day. It'll be fine when we want it. said my companion with confidence. And sure enough after filling up with petrol in the evening the car returned to its normal smooth running state. But that all of life's rattles mended so easily.

While machines rehabilitate, one way or another, we humans are rather more complicated when it comes to getting back on our feet. I have several people in mind who have had or are about to have major surgery. It'll be fine. or:

All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well. Julian of Norwich

This evening a chap reminisced about something he'd heard me say, off the cuff, in the Throssel kitchen while washing a plate. He was eighteen then, now his daughter is eighteen and he's thirty six. I remember him well, he had long black shining hair, he was shining inside too. Still is. I'm remembered as being somewhat stern, he says the novices were obviously on their best behaviour when I was around. That's not my memory of me and how things were, but never mind.

I passed on a plate I'd washed to the novice doing the drying. Err, Rev. Mugo the dish isn't quite clean. Oh never mind it will get clean next time around! That is of course an outrageous thing to say in terms of health and hygiene. What kind of example is that? The chap wasn't able to come again for ten years however the remark was remembered and he'd derived something positive from it. Beats me what.

This story proves once again that it is not the truth or falsity of the teacher's words but the sincerity of the student that moves somebody along, or brings them back.

I'm left wondering what I might have said off the cuff and caused somebody not to come back, ever. If there is anybody reading this and are in that position...please come back. As with my good friend above it is the student's sincerity that makes the difference. How could it be any other way?

Walter of Evolving Space is back in Singapore and writing again. Sometimes it's good to take a break and come back refreshed helping to make the world a better place. Mensch is the word, Walter is a mensch in the scientific community. Blush all you like I believe it is true. That's enough for Blogger Appreciation Day. Here's a picture taken last week at the British Library in London.

See Guy Kawasaki's blog for more on Mensch qualities.

If the right conditions are present, then flowers will bloom.
Soto-Shu Calendar

A nun from another tradition told me of a woman who had written from prison in East Asia. Every day they take me out and beat me and abuse me. Every day I do my walking and sitting meditation, and I am free!

It is sometimes the case that the conditions that seem wrong can be the very ones in which the lotus blooms. This comes about through the faith that blooming is not dependent on external conditions, and then acting on that.

May the flowers of the mind bloom in the springtime of Enlightenment.

For my good sister in the Dharma, may you flower where ever you are.