The following quote is from Undivided Activity (Zenki) Zen Master Dogen.

Birth is just like riding in a boat. You raise the sails, row with the oar, and steer. Although you row, the boat gives you a ride, and without the boat you couldn’t ride.

But you ride in the boat and your riding makes the boat what it is.

More of this tomorrow.

What makes Dogen different from all other thinkers? someone asked when I gave a talk at St. John’s College in Santa Fe.
“His deep trust in action,” I replied. “Facing the enormity of the problems in the world, we often become cynical doubting that individual action can make a significant impact. Dogen’s view of the power of each individual action can be a driving force in challenging this cynicism.
So wrote Mr. Kazuaki Tanahashi, translator of Dogens works. Written in 2001

Zen Master Dogen indeed trusted in action. My monastic upbringing and practice points to even the smallest action, such as putting your shoes straight, as having deep significance. Small actions, big impact.

Out walking these past couple of days. I’m sure ‘somebody’ can name the features in the above photograph taken on Monday. A memorable day not least because my hat evaporated into thin air. Or so it seemed! I’ve got others. No worries.

More from Dogen on action as I once again drag my luggage south on public transport.

Thinking of a woman driving south this am to visit elderly father in hospital. Go safely.

Of Gravity and Light

What we need most, we learn from the menial tasks:
the novice raking sand in Buddhist texts,
or sweeping leaves, his hands chilled to the bone,
while understanding hovers out of reach;
the changeling in a folk tale, chopping logs,
poised at the dizzy edge of transformation;

and everything they do is gravity:
swaying above the darkness of the well
to haul the bucket in; guiding the broom;
finding the body’s kinship with the earth
beneath their feet, the lattice of a world
where nothing turns or stands outside the whole;

and when the insight comes, they carry on
with what’s at hand: the gravel path; the fire;
knowing the soul is no more difficult
than water, or the fig tree by the well
that stood for decades, barren and inert,
till every branch was answered in the stars.
John Burnside

Helps to read this several times. Enjoy and thank you to Mark for forward the poem on to me. Mark, if you have a photo which I can add to this post that would be great.

Up north of the boarder.