Worry Before Dawn

I wake at dawn. Sometimes to worry but most often to simply be awake. It is a special time of peace before rising up to greet the day with all the activities that follow thick and fast and one after the other. The word Uhtcear came to my notice this evening via a couple of websites and the idea caught my fancy. UHTCEARE (n.) Pronounced- oot-key-are-a. It’s an Old English word meaning ‘lying awake before dawn and worrying’. I hope you are not one to suffer thus.

The fact that there is a specific word for predawn worrying sessions is fascinating but the predicament is no joke of course. As a child my first thought on waking, and this is really sad, was What have I got to dread today? It was usually a visit to the dentist, Five more days until the dentist…. Early days of monastic training had me jumping out of bed at the sound of the wake-up bell without a second thought. Rarely did I wake before the bell so my early morning thought dissolved, never to return. Not in that form anyway.

If you are one who appreciates verse try – An ode to uhtceare! With a hat tip to Mark Forsyth’s book – The Horologicon

Comprehension Gone Wrong


I loved that the eggs advertised were (I mistakenly thought) from care-free hens. In my minds eye I saw them relaxed and singing away as they do after laying. I grew up on a free range chicken farm. Ah, care-free days!

But quickly I realised I’d made a simple comprehension mistake and care-free hens had to change to cage-free hens. However the sound and sight of those happy hens, my early friends and companions, remain in my imaginings as I write.

Going Beyond Vengeance – A Story

This story draws on different versions of the tale, particularly from the book, Beyond the Pale of Vengeance, translated by Rev Jisho Perry (a monk of our Order) and Kimiko Vaga, and published in the USA by Shasta Abbey Press. A short version can also be found as ‘The Tunnel’ in Zen Flesh Zen Bones, published by Penguin / Tuttle.
Beyond the Pale of Vengeance

Ichikuro, the son of a samurai warrior, journeyed to Edo in Japan to become a samurai at the service of Lord Saburobei. But he became involved with the official’s wife. When the affair was discovered, though he didn’t intend to, he killed his master in self-defence. He was deeply ashamed. And fearful of the consequences, Ichikuro and the master’s wife took flight.
They took to thieving, and soon became deadly bandits. But his partner in crime grew so greedy that Ichikuro became completely sickened by everything. In the end he left and journeyed to a neighbouring province, reduced to wandering, aimless and distraught. Then one day, he came upon a Buddhist temple. He confessed his crimes and talked of giving himself up. But the priest there saw that Ichikuro was genuinely remorseful and wished to make amends. He knew that he would certainly be executed. He advised Ichikuro not to throw away his life, but to dedicate it to the benefit of all beings. Thus Ichikuro became a monk with the name Ryokai, and he went on pilgrimage to atone for his past.
And so Ichikuro, now Ryokai, resolved to help travellers in whatever way he could find. But his deeds felt completely trivial alongside the enormity of what he had done. The more he helped, the heavier his burden seemed to become. Then one day he came across a group of anguished people standing by a fragile walkway. Their friend had just slipped and fallen into a deep gorge. He was told the walkway was there because it was impossible to build a road through such sheer mountains. Many travellers had been injured or had died.
At once Ryokai realised the great deed he inwardly was being called to undertake. He resolved there and then to dig out a tunnel through the mountains to make the route safe.
Being a Buddhist monk, Ryokai begged for food alms by day and spent his nights digging the tunnel. The local villagers were convinced he was mad in attempting such an impossible task, and no-one offered to help him. So he worked on alone. And much time went by before, gradually, the villagers’ scorn began to turn to sympathy. They started to help him. And after 20 years, the tunnel was more than 2,000 feet long.
But before the tunnel was completed, the son of the official he had killed, found out where Ryokai was. By now he was himself a skilful swordsman and warrior, and he vowed to kill Ryokai in revenge, to defend his family’s honour. As the son approached, enraged, the villagers, and by now stonemasons who had joined them, realised what was about to happen. They surrounded Ryokai. They pleaded with the son to let Ryokai live until the tunnel was completed. They promised him he could then do what he wanted.
After much arguing, the son very reluctantly agreed, and he just waited. Time went by. Ryokai kept on digging. The son grew impatient of just waiting. To hasten the day he too began to dig, as he realised Ryokai would not try to escape. So the two enemies sat side by side, hammering and digging. Months and months went by, and the son continued to work alongside Ryokai. Despite himself, he came, at times, to respect the old monk’s intention, determination, and patient effort.
Then, at last, the tunnel was completed and people and opened up a safe route for travellers. ‘Now kill me’, said Ryokai. ‘My work is done. My great prayer has been answered. If you wait until tomorrow the villagers will surely stop you. Please kill me now’.
But the son could only sit motionless in front of Ryokai. Seeing the old monk infused with such inner calm and joy made the idea of killing him inconceivable. Crawling towards Ryokai, he took his hands into his own, all thoughts of revenge forgotten – how could he possibly kill someone from whom he had learnt so very much? Tears streamed down his cheeks.
(This text adapted by Paul Taylor (Lancaster) is from the book Beyond the Pale of Vengence, published in USA by a monk of our order.)

*The service included inviting representatives of different faith communities, each to read or tell a story from their own faith tradition. The guidance was that the stories needed to last no more than five minutes each – there were four stories. As part of the service the congregation was divided into four groups and each group went on a journey round the church to hear each story in turn. This was in keeping with the national theme for Holocaust week, of ‘Journeys’.

Tweet 1001! A New Place of Buddhist Training Starts

It was all due to Heather in Edmonton who showed me boldness when I was but an innocent aboard the Internet, stepping falteringly into it. She signed me up for Twitter in 2006 at the very start of what has grown to become a huge micro blogging phenomena and this post is Tweet 1001. A screenshot of my 1000th Tweet is copied below.

1000th Tweet.
1000th Tweet.

Before those of you who shudder at the tinkling of social media talk move on, the tinkling can’t be all bad. Not all silliness, inane jabber, time-wasting and brain cell degrading. This 1000th Tweet above is, by shear coincidence, about the Field of Merit Project renting a property. This is a major step towards opening the doors to another place where people practicing within our order can go and retreat at. Well I couldn’t be more delighted to use SM to let people know about that. Over on the Field of Merit Facebook page 232 people have so far seen this: Facebook

More photographs of the new property can be found here. And yes, I’m rather careful about how I use SM and especially how long I spend gazing at my computer monitor. A story from China to wonder at.

What’s in a Cobweb?

The other afternoon I was laying on the floor resting my back when, glancing up towards the window, I spotted a cobweb. The light from the window catching the grey and fluffy thing made of web strands  – nothing complex or fancy! No sign of an actual spider. Today I’ve been thinking about cobwebs. There is something about them that has one recoil if it’s yours, or stand in judgment if it isn’t! Without too much forethought we bring it down, remove it, get rid before somebody else sees it.

Fluffy cobwebs heavy with accumulated dust and who knows what else indicates what? Poor house keeping, irregular dusting, infrequent cleaning, a slovenly attitude generally? Spot a cobweb in a public place and ones attitude towards that place might diminish. Cobwebs signal neglect and following on from there that the people responsible for the place are negligent. Cobwebs just cannot be tolerated at home or away. They have to go. But like anything that brings on a strong response they are teachers showing us our own minds. Over hasty removal of cobwebs means their teaching can easily get missed. What a shame.

It is all too easy to rush and remove that which is causing a disturbance. That’s to fix the situation out there so (we imagine) peace can return in here. But really we all know that doesn’t work in the long-term. There are an endless procession of cobwebs in our lives which, especially if guilt and shame are in the picture, almost without thinking we jump in to push it into a cupboard, burn, bury or bin it! Out of sight maybe, but like my teaching-cobweb, not out of mind and eventually one acts. Hopefully wise action based on something deeper than guilt and shame or judgment. So, it doesn’t hurt to allow disturbances to hang around, to be with/sit with our webs in a gentle and compassionate way. Welcome cobwebs but best not to let them hang around too long! Mine went this afternoon.

Information about the difference between cobwebs and spider webs here.