Category Archives: Out and About

The Grey Dog

Yesterday as we were leaving Portland on the Greyhound bus the driver, in jolly upbeat mood, made his statutory announcements to the passengers. There were ones about not smoking (anything), not drinking (anywhere), and then to sign off he said something surprising.

Sit back, relax and enjoy yourself. When you get home tell all your friends that it’s not so bad to travel by Greyhound after all.

It turns out that Greyhound has recently been bought out by a British company. The very same company that runs trains from Hexham to Newcastle in Northumberland, trains we use regularly. They are not so bad too!

The night before leaving Portland several of us visited the garden and home of two sangha friends. There is much I could say about our visit, the garden was as ever stupendous, the company inspiring and the food offering gratefully received.

For keen gardeners The Oregonian recently published an article about the garden planting and Marsh and Fear have been busy following the publication of the article. Well done it is not so easy to get this kind of business off the ground.

Thanks to both Gary and Anne for showing us around your paradise, and into your home, kitchen and hearts. A bow to Gary for traveling the Buddhist path with us, starting well before I did.

End and Beginning Return Unto the Source

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Wahkeena Falls. Wahkeena is a Yakimar Indian word for most beautiful.

The Wahkeena Falls emanate from a spring 900 feet above the Columbia River in Oregon. Yesterday I walked two miles to its source amidst lush greenery, an abundance of wild flowers and enveloped in welcomed damp cooling air. My walking companion described the flowing water cascading down the cliff side as rumbustious. What a wonderful word and aptly used to describe the boiling, whirling waters as they raced towards the Columbia. The mighty Columbia which in turn emanate from above the Columbia Ice Fields in the Canadian Rockies.

We are rather like whirlpools in the river of life. In flowing forward, a river or stream may hit rocks, branches or irregularities in the ground, causing whirlpools to spring up spontaneously here and there. Water entering one whirlpool quickly passes through and rejoins the river, eventually joining another whirlpool and moving on. Though for short periods it seems to be distinguishable as a separate event, the water in the whirlpool is just the river itself. The stability of the whirlpool is only temporary. The energy of the river of life forms living things – a human being, a cat or a dog, trees and plants – then what held the whirlpool in place itself is altered, and the whirlpool is swept away, re-entering the larger flow. The energy that was a particular whirlpool fades out and the water passes on, perhaps to be caught again and turned for a moment into another whirlpool.
From the book Nothing Special by Charlotte Yoko Beck

I liken the traveling life I’m leading at the moment to that of being carried along on a river. The whirlpools the encounters for shorter or longer periods with people, events, animals, temples, homes, business people, a gas station attendant. The list is endless. As with the whirlpool of a life so with these encounters, they are lined with gems of every possible kind.

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On Monday I’ll be riding the Greyhound bus from Portland to Spokane in Washington. The route follows the Columbia for quite a bit of the seven hour journey.

Thanks to Nic for sending the quote. A deep bow to your family for all you have created to help beings these very many years.

There are Ways and Ways

28th June. This posting has been edited and in places rewritten.

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The women’s waiting room early in the 1900’s

Amtrak? Not quite a ‘plane, not quite a ship, not quite a bus and not quite a train either. I’d call it a land cruise. Train travel is a sedate and dignified business here in the U.S.A. People arrive at the station well in advance and might board the train as much as half an hour before departure if starting from it’s station of origin. Train travel may well be coming back in fashion due to the sharp rise in gas prices. The train conductor is beside me, resplendent in a hat similar to ones worn be the Gendarme in France. There is an old fashioned formality in dress, decor and manner which is attractive and a tad disconcerting at times too. Passengers may alight for a cigarette but should stay close so as not to miss the All Aboard! Such announcements take me back to period films like Brief Encounters.

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The Compass Room at the entrance to the Seattle train station.
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Old Wooden seating in the Seattle train station.

After five days braving the highways and byways of Washington State in a rented car, I’m glad and grateful to be sitting on the train traveling from Seattle to Portland. The station in Seattle is being refurbished and restored to something of its former glory days in the early 1900s.

In the 1960s the station was renovated and in the process tiles in the toilets were covered with Formica and a false ceiling hung in the massive waiting room which obscured the chandlers and elaborate plasterwork decorations. The woman’s waiting room is to be returned to its original spacious elegance and the exterior will be renovated. As I walked out onto the platform to climb aboard I noticed vegetation high up on the clock tower. A clear sign that the renovation of this station is well due.

The Pacific North West where I’ve been traveling for the past days is a watery place, and a mountainous one too. On San Juan close to the main port of Friday Harbour where I stayed the snowy Olympics could be seen emerging from sea mist. Quite a sight! Mt. Hood and Mt. Baker stands sentinel to the East but not visible from San Juan Island itself. Mt. Saint Helen is another remarkable mountain in the area.

Traveling too San Juan through the maze of small islands I caught a whiff of what it must be like to be water born. Or rather born along on water in boats and ferries. I found it exciting in a certain kind of way, but it’s probably routine for residents and would be for me if I traveled this way regularly.

Early in my introduction to Buddhism as a laywoman, I said to the prior at Throssel that something was ‘exciting’. He said, If it is exciting it isn’t training! Now many years later with a bow to that monk, I’d say, Nothing, no feeling, is outside of training, excitement included. There are however ways and ways of being excited. Precepts are all important. While I’m traveling I know they protect, when kept to. I’m taking care out here.

Ryokan’s Hut

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Replica of Zen Master Ryokan’s hut – Gogo-an

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Zen Master Aido and Mugo with Gogo-an in the background

This is amazing! While publishing the poem and photographs last week Aidosan was leading a retreat at Shasta Abbey. Her spiritual linage comes directly through Zen Master Ryokan and much of her teaching is based on what has been passed on through his poems. Since I was relatively near to her temple near Olympia Washington I decided to go and visit her. By good fortune she was there and I was able to join her there and make it an over night stay.

We walked, we talked, we laughed, we shared meals and we sat and we sang scriptures. And everybody chanted, except me. I never did learn the scriptures in Japanese and that’s how they are sung here at this wonderful temple dedicated to Zen Master Ryokan. Aidosan is a direct spiritual descent of Ryokan, the only female decedent and the only Westerner. She did her monastic training in Japan in much the same way Rev. Master Jiyu did. That’s in an all male training temple and by all accounts it was tough going.

Aidosan had just returned from Shasta Abbey having lead a week retreat there which focused on the teachings of Zen Master Ryokan. I was told by one of our monks that it was a retreat unlike anything we have done here before. Since I was in Washington with some wiggle room in my schedule I asked if I could visit. Come! The door is always open.

It is not be possible to convey the deep impression this temple and it’s grounds made on me in during the brief time I was there. Rarely do I sit down on the ground with a cup of tea, which I did the afternoon I arrived, and then find much time has passed without my being aware of it. Tea mug empty and the sun falling down behind the replica of Ryokan’s hut. I’ve made a mental note to return and stay in the hut for a few days. Is this some kind of romance? Nope I don’t think so.

Much has happened on this piece of land and a huge amount of spiritual and practical energy has been invested in it. Now the place offers it back ten fold. Here is an extract from Olympia Zen Center News letter dated April 2008.

It has become the custom in the US in Soto Zen to make good use of existing building for the practice of Zazen. In our case, the home we found was inhabited by young men who had created a drug house. The neighborhood people were in fear of their lives as cars drove up and down the street all hours of the day and night coming in to purchase illegal drugs. Our offer to buy this house and change the situation became a gift and a light to the surrounding community and to ourselves.

Slowly and consistently we have transformed the landscape and the atmosphere. The Path of the Ancestors deepens with each season, and it encircles our Zendo with the spirit of our teachers. It is a natural unfolding of the light of practice. In walking the path, we confirm and authenticate the vow to realize practice in this time and place and to root it here for those who come afterwards.

During a break in the action I picked up a scripture book used in this temple. I gazed at the chants and took in the English translations as best I could without benefit of reading glasses. Ah yes, and here is the ancestral line which is the same as ours up to a certain point and then the names are unfamiliar where Roykan and his descendants come in. But what is this? Turning to the back page I find another list of names. The Matriarchal line? In honor of all those females who, from the time of the Buddha, have passed on the teaching this list exists. And at the very end is…Rev. Master Jiyu-Kennett.

Roots

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Mighty O Doughnuts

Yes, vegan doughnuts. Good, and good for you. The son of the family with whom I stayed here displays the doughnuts he had made early in the day. That’s a whale on his tee shirt.

In the past days I’ve met several people who have been working on their family history with a view to publishing either on the Internet or in book form. What a great legacy to leave behind for their future generations. One person has a journal written by a relative telling the story of his long walk up through California post gold rush. To have access to primary source material such as this is a real boon. Now with the Internet generations to come will be viewing relatives dancing with fire on You Tubes, and the modern doughnut and its maker here on ‘Jade’.

There is something here about the importance of ‘rootedness’. Of being part of a human clan from which to grow, mature and blossom.

This piece is for the doughnut maker and all that he will do and become. Have a good life.