the rain will stop
the sun will come out
washing-can-be-hung
outdoors on-the-line
again, to dry.

Until then
Take heart
Anicca is our friend.

I love Foxgloves. This afternoon I was delighted to find them flowering their fairy-bonnet flowers!

Kasia climbing in Yorkshire, just take a moment to take a close look. I went first to the expression on her face, to her eyes clearly directed towards here next good move. One good move, and then the next. Then there are her limbs coordinated; arms and hands and fingers and legs and feet and toes moving at the bidding of her intention to move, upwards. The whole of her enlivened with intention. Energized. Her hand, her fingertips glued to the rock, there is just a whisper of a handhold in what is probably Gritstone, this being the Peak District.

But see, she isn’t in danger so close to the ground and with a guide close by too.  Yet she is going, intent on getting up that rock face. Maybe she will be in danger of falling from a height later on. For now, it is just a matter of the next move. Here’s the embodiment of commitment, mentally and physically.

It is quite common for people to get stuck, tread water, walk in circles not knowing which way to go, what to do. People in this state wonder and question themselves, ‘what is my purpose in life’ while wishing and wanting to move, to move out of the impasse they are stuck in. Which foot to move first where is the next handhold. In order to move, to make a decision I need to know why, first! My experience is that purpose emerges out of action.

Our young climber is searching for a handhold, her left hand connected to her arm seems to be impossibly long. (I missed that extending arm when I first saw this image.) As with climbing so with life in general. One needs directed intention, not so much for a goal out in front more to keep moving. Move a hand, move a foot, keep moving and sometimes one has to make a seemingly impossible reach, or traverse and find a new line in the rock. That can feel dangerous, risky, feels like putting ones very life on the line. Yes.

The life of the Buddha Shakyamuni is a great example to follow. He was clear, he intended to find the cause of suffering – and he did. Then he taught the Four Noble Truths so we can do the same. Living life feels like climbing up a cliff face, even tackling a perilous overhang or two is called for.

So do reach for that impossible handhold, we are designed to do that.

This is for a young man who is circling a cliff face, he knows it. I trust he will extend himself and climb.

don’t fixate on right and wrong,” the book says “not to fuss over black and white, you miss out on the beauty of grey.

From The Art of Simple Living, 100 Daily Practices from a Japanese Zen Monk for a Lifetime of Calm and Joy.

Ah yes! I like the word ‘fixate’ here. In the course of a talk or article, we will frequently mention ‘the opposites’, such as right and wrong, light and dark, and here in this quote above, ‘black and white’! So this is pointing to rigid thinking, holding to ideas – holding on TIGHTLY to ideas, opinions, views. Rigidly. That’s a common experience and quote often one only knows how much of a grasp after having come out of the other side. ‘Cricky! Didn’t know I felt that strongly about – whatever’!

But here there is the possibility of ‘grey’? That there is actual beauty in grey and I’m not thinking this is pointing to what we talk about as ‘the middle way’, or the ‘Third Position, beyond the opposites’ although there is a certain elegance in discovering a way between those hard unrelenting twin pillars of right and wrong.

The other morning early there was a wisp of cloud running along the bottom of the valley below. Above clear sunlit hillside and towards the monastery, again sunlit trees picked out in the early morning sun slanting shadows. Such beauty and yet one’s eyes pick out the sharp, clearly defined edges rather than the whispy grey cloud, which quickly dissipated. Mentally or in other spheres we tend to dismiss the ‘grey areas’ as we sprint towards clarity. Between right and wrong, there are many shades of grey where clarity has to give way to ‘not knowing’, to giving time and space for clarity enough to move, to make a decision. To leave a patient in their room to settle and rest, or wait a moment. It’s a judgment call, a grey area to tolerate until the time is right. To leave.

Seems to me there is much more grey than sharp edges to our daily lives. Beauty lies there, tolerance, patience, compassion and a certain discomfort of ‘not knowing’. Not knowing is grey. I’m OK with grey.

So simple and so many are doing it.

I lit a candle
I made an offering
I rang a bell
We sat
We sang
We bowed
Thank you all

Thanks to the group member who circulated this to others sitting at the same time.

There are very many unsung heroes, one can’t sing for them all. However tonight I will ‘sing’ for Bethany an NHS nurse who told me about a book she is reading. She reads one page in the morning and one in the evening, well done I say. The book is, The Art of Simple Living, 100 Daily Practices from a Japanese Zen Monk for a Lifetime of Calm and Joy. I’m not recommending it but I’m pointing out that books such as this one work as an introduction, a seed which grows and sometimes flowers, opening the way to life-changing decisions. Or simply teach about how to live a better life, no formal religion required. For some of us though, no better no worse, there is an irresistible pull inwards ignited by those inky pages. That’s inwards to our deepest heart which cannot be laid aside at will.

Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind by Shunryū Suzuki was my seed book discovered in the 1960’s. I’ve heard about many books that sometimes literally fall off the shelf in a library or bookshop or call from a friends bookshelf. Now the field is wide open; so many books, so much information, so many influences, so easy to be pulled this way and that. Which way is the right way, is there a way? Forward?

Then there are the stray people who float into one’s life sometimes briefly sometimes for the rest of one’s life. So many people who influence without even trying, not even a little bit. Casting my mind back now to what I’d imagine Bethany’s age might be and to who then, at that age, influenced me. That would be Hayden my boss who taught me photography and how to drink like an adult. And to respect myself. At the end of his life he suffered the indignities of Parkinsons Disease and Dementia.

That’s it Bethany, I said I’d write and I have. Keep up the good work and enjoy your life.