We are sitting a sesshin for the next five days. Postings may or may not appear. Join in why not and sit a little longer, or perhaps add a meditation period on a park bench at lunch time.
Monastic Retreat
Honouring the Buddha
When I am gone.
And the house seems empty.
Do not thou.
O plum tree by the eaves.
The spring forget.
The above verse appears on the side of the stupa at Shasta built in memory of Rev. Master Jiyu-Kennett.
Gathered in the gloaming last evening the community at Shasta circumambulated the stupa three times, all the while singing exquisitely. A new chant I was not familiar with. Simply walking and listening surrounded by the gathering night, in the presence of this magnificent white marble stupa, was yet another treat I wish to mark here. The circling of the stupa three times, a Buddhist way of showing respect and honour, was part of a ceremony performed on the fifth day of each month. On the sixth day there is a ceremony in remembrance of Rev. Kennett’s death; sixth November 1996.
This evening I found out the route of this poem, which is essentially a death poem. I felt sure that Helen Waddell was part of the picture and I was right. At the very end of her biography there is an excerpt from a letter written 9th April 1918. It reads thus:
H.W. to Dr. George Taylor
A scrap of Japanese verse from an old book of my father’s that I turned up the other day.
When I am gone,
And the house desolate,
Yet do not thou, O plum tree by the eaves,
The spring forget.
(My camera has died. So until it is resurrected, or I get another one, photos will be absent. Sorry about that.)
Question at the Healthfood Store
Close to the ground
Squinting at a package
Ricola.
Does that say…
With Echinacea?
Honey Lemon with…
Is this what I’m looking for?
She bent down and asked
Are you a Buddhist Nun?
I pause, much distracted.
Then. Yes, yes I am!
We talked and then
Wrote down this web address
And left me still sitting down.
Before she left
She said, God Bless
Shook my hand and said
Hope that’s OK.
Of course, I assured.
Then I bought the Ricola’s.
Honey Lemon with Echinacea.
Hope that’s OK.
For the woman and her friend. I hope you find what you are looking for. I did!
The Greatest Teaching of All
A grand day out.
Dizzy from animated, noisy truck riding, conversations I wander off alone. First nose to nose with deer then a passing glimpse at bear scat. Manzanita berries are on the menu, apparently. Picking my way along. Pass abandoned boat and a pick-up, sans engine and most of everything else. Signs of mining, gold mining I find out later.
Scrub oak and pine, everything dry as dust. Silence, no wind no breeze, blue sky. Rustles in the dry oak leaves. A chipmunk? Squirrel? Who knows. I lay me down. Fall asleep. Wake and wander about. Gaze out past trees to distant forest hills. What a treat! Two or three hours in the wilderness. No particular purpose. No destination. No biting insects! No threat nor fear. No NOTHING.
Then, back to help load the log splitter. We set up an easy rhythm together, she operated the hydraulics, I swung in the next log. A rare chance to work along side novice monks. What a treat! Lunch and amiable chat about deer under the deck, mountain lions and re-roofing plans. Then tea and seniors talk of sewing the kesa, quilting and re-learning balance after hip replacement. All the while work continues.
We go home towing wood and log-splitter. My work companions elderly wet dog in the back and another novice helper beside. We are all dusty-tired, the dog too. Mt. Shasta, almost devoid of snow save for the glaciers, is in view as we weave our way down Strawberry Valley. Which appears again to be dotted with mini slag heaps. I never travel this road without that thought, of slag heaps. They probably reflect a geological event millennia old. Who knows?
A truck passes. Emblazoned on the cab side, Never give up. A split second later the novice in the back seat asks, Have you any advice for us (novices) please Rev. Master Mugo? I pause. No, not really. What IS there to say to these very able, well informed, up-to-the-mark young monks? Err, well Never give up! Never give up on your fellow trainees. Never give up on yourself.
This was a favourite teaching of the late Head of the Order. He meant by it so much. So much that is important in terms of maintaining harmony in the Sangha. As we say, Harmony IS the Sangha Treasure. Thankfully I hit a spot with my truck-inspired teaching. We chatted back and forth on the subject until we were home.
This pair had obviously studied their Taitaikoho (How Junior Priests Must Behave in the Presence of Senior Priests), Eihei-shingi (Dogen’s Monastic Rules). One of the instructions is to always be diligent in the presence of a senior and take the opportunity to ask for teaching. The last rule, number 62, states: For you seniors will always exist; there will always be someone senior to you both when you are a first grade unsui and when you become a Buddha. This is the greatest teaching of all.
Nothing like being out in the wilderness to return home once more to humility. And wonder. One is never so old for that. Monk or not.
Drink Your Weeds!
During the second WW my mother drank dandelion coffee, because there wasn’t anything else. People are still drinking dandelion coffee, even making their own.
There are plenty of reasons to celebrate the dandelion. People eat the greens and crowns. Make wine and fritters from the blossoms. But for me, dandelion-root coffee is the real prize. Because organic, fair trade coffee is pricey, it’s easy to quantify the value every scoop of dandelion coffee that I brew.
Suite Mck
See also recent comments on the Giving post.
This is transition day – Bay Area up through the burning hot Sacramento Valley to the heady heights of Mount Shasta.