I vow to taste the truth of the Tathagata's words. Good evening. So, a little while ago I was having some breakfast, I mean, no, no, some dinner, and I'm a little bit tired, and I'm going to be sitting here for a little while, and I'm going to be talking to a friend of mine, Sabrina, who called to say goodnight, she'll be asleep when I get home. And she said, guess who's here, Mom? And I said, I don't know. She said, Lucas. And I said, oh, great. And she said, do you want to talk to him? And I said, sure. So then there was a silence, and I said, hi, Lucas, hi, Lucas, and still nothing.

[01:04]

And then Sabrina came back on, and she said, Mom, when you don't hear anything, that's Lucas. So it's just like Buddha, you know, you don't hear anything, that's Buddha. In my middle years, I have grown rather fond of the way, when the spirit moves me, I leave my solitary hut and go and see the things that only I can see. I follow the stream to the source, and sit and watch the place where the clouds pile up. Or perhaps by chance, I meet a woodsman, and we laugh and sing, with never a thought of

[02:10]

going home. So, as all of you witnessed on, well, not all of you, but most of you, on Sunday morning, when the baby Buddha emerged from his mother's body, he took seven silver steps, and pointing one finger to the heavens and the other to the ground, proclaimed, I alone am the world honored one. So that's what I want to talk about tonight, about I alone. And I'm going to use myself and a story that happened to me this last Christmas, by way of example, I alone. And I was thinking that probably most of you know me by name and by face pretty well, and

[03:20]

that I've lived here at Green Gulch for a long time, you might know that. But only probably a few of you know how I like my coffee, and I imagine that none of you know about my secret affection for trains. Is that true? So, if there were something like a being or a soul or a person, then I alone would be riding through this life on a train. My father jumped a train when he was fourteen, headed for Hollywood. And his father worked for the railroad all his live long day. So, I really do love trains, and I get excited around trains.

[04:23]

Not at all like airplanes, which scare me. So, I was thinking about my grandfather, who I don't remember so well, he died when I was pretty young, but the couple of times that we visited him in San Antonio, Texas, his house actually was built on railroad property. So, in the middle of the day, he would reach in his pocket and pull out his watch. It was on a chain. And then he'd say, it's time. And my dad and me, and probably my brothers and sisters, but I never noticed, went out in the yard and waited, kind of like at attention. And then I would start to feel it in the ground. I think the closest I've ever come to this feeling is a San Francisco earthquake.

[05:30]

And then the sounds of the screeching and clanging of metal, heavy metal, truly heavy metal. And then all of a sudden there would be this kind of breathtaking moment when the train would just fill the sky above my tiny little head. And I'm seeing it right now. And the best part was the engineer at the top of the train, way up at the top of the engine, with the hat and the scarf, you know, just like you'd expect, and his sleeves rolled up and he was leaning on the window with one arm and smiling and waving at me, I alone. And then my grandpa said, okay, now do this, go like this. So I go like that and the train whistled for me. So this last Christmas I had the very great gift of riding a train from here to Portland,

[06:42]

Oregon and back again. It was what I thought of as my Christmas present. What I didn't know is that inside of that gift there was another gift, a bigger gift that I hadn't planned on. And I'm beginning to understand that for me in this life, and maybe for some of you, that joy and sorrow are both packed into this one human heart. They're kind of a set. The reason that I went to Portland was that Grace's father, my dear friend Grace, her father Peter was in the hospital and on a ventilator with very little possibility that he would be able to be taken off the ventilator. And I really liked Peter, so I wanted to go and see him and say goodbye. So we had a couple of days, in fact we left on Christmas Eve and we got on the train over

[07:51]

in Emeryville and I didn't sleep really, it was at night we started. But it was Christmas Eve, Sabrina was with us and I brought lights, plugged them into the little compartment and the stockings and nibbled reindeer food and all that stuff. And got it all set up and then in the morning when we woke up, we left about 10 o'clock I guess, when I woke up I looked out the window and it was kind of like a miracle but there was snow all over the ground. We were in the Cascades and it had snowed the day before so the sky was blue and the ground was white and I was on the train, I along. I think Sabrina, what she liked the best was the snack bar. It was okay, maybe the mystery will appeal to her later in life.

[09:00]

So, let's see, I wanted to tell you. Oh, okay, so that was Christmas. We spent through lunch on the train and then after lunch we got to Portland and we were taken from the train to the hospital and I went to Peter's room and he looked really good. He had oxygen for the first time in years. Like my dad, he'd been a smoker, big time smoker. So, emphysema had destroyed his lungs and he could no longer breathe on his own. So, he was pretty happy because he was pink. He was well ventilated and so I walked in and he smiled and said, well actually he couldn't talk because the ventilator was in his throat, but he mouthed, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas. Peter is what I used to hear called a gentleman.

[10:12]

The old school, like maybe some of your dads. Very nice man, very good company. So, we spent the day with Peter and the family and it was very pleasant and at the end of the day I planned to go home on the train and so we went back to the hospital to say goodbye. And when I got there, the family had passed around this clipboard and everyone was crying and there was a single sentence at the bottom of a long kind of practical list of questions and things that Peter had written to his nurse and it said, should I go today? And in some ways I feel like I'm still there in the room with everyone, you know. It's one of the reasons I'm talking about this is to kind of bring it forward. And I feel like that room where the people we love go to go is always with us.

[11:23]

It's here, you know. It's part of my life. So, the family wanted to talk together and I offered to stay with Peter so he wouldn't be alone and they all went out in the hall. And while he and I sat there, I watched him and, you know, he looked like a well-seasoned meditator. He had a very calm expression. He was looking straight ahead, very clear-eyed, and we didn't speak or communicate. Every once in a while he'd turn to me and smile. And I just came to treasure that time of shared silence with him. And I thought, when I thought about it, I thought it's not so different than the shared silence that we have in the morning together, you know, just being together.

[12:24]

It's quite wonderful. So, I was thinking about what he might be thinking about and I wondered for a while if I should try to say something or offer him. Here I am a Buddhist priest, you know, should I give him something? I couldn't think of a thing, you know. But it really seemed that he didn't need anything, that his whole life had congealed into the present moment, the one we're always trying to study. You know, he didn't need anything. His past was done, his future, there wasn't much of a future, a few hours maybe. And he appeared to be perfectly content. For some years before that I had spent some time with Peter at the helm of his boat.

[13:31]

He had a boat that he loved called the Juliet, which was named after Grace's mother. It was a wooden trawler and he would drive it around the water. He lived in the San Juan Islands and we'd drive it around the water, around the islands, we'd go around the islands and round and round. And it was great fun. And I kind of felt like that's where I was again, you know, back in Peter's boat. Only this time he was headed out for the open ocean, you know. I had the look of a sailor. So when the other people came back to the room, I left for a while so they could talk with their father. And I happened to go to sit down in one of the waiting areas. And ironically there was a program on, a science show, and Stephen Hawking, do you all know who Stephen Hawking is? Anybody not know who Stephen Hawking is?

[14:34]

He's a physicist who has advanced Lou Gehrig's disease. So he's completely immobile, except for his mind. And he's also on a ventilator. And the interviewer was asking him questions about outer space, which is his specialty. He's written lots of books about outer space. And then at the end of the interview, the man said to him, can I ask you a personal question? That kind of got my attention. And Stephen Hawking speaks through a computer that uses his eyes to communicate. And so he said, he typed out, yes, you may. And the man said, are you a happy man? And there was a pause and then the computer typed out, yes, I am a happy man.

[15:34]

And I thought, that's not what I expected. That's odd. And then the man, also obviously surprised, said, well, how is that so? How are you a happy man? And Stephen Hawking was a little while and he said, because I'm deeply curious about life. I thought, boy, that's the secret. For a student of the way, that's it right there. I'm deeply curious about life. It's not about conditions. It's about curiosity. What's going to happen next? So, I wrote these notes when I was waiting there in the room. It strikes me at this time how utterly simple life really is. When it's now. When it's I alone.

[16:38]

In this moment, in any given moment, there is nothing to add and nothing to be taken away. No matter how hard I try, like a cat chasing its tail, it can't be gotten and it can't be lost. From beginningless time, this life has come to me as a gift. But not the gift of a thing. But rather the gift of a deep affection from beyond my ordinary way of thinking and feeling. The I alone for which nothing whatsoever is outside. I alone am the world. Am honored. Am one. So when the family came back into the room, Peter called us all around. And there must have been, there were some lab techs and doctors and nurses and all the children. And we all got around the bed and Peter said with this very clear voice,

[17:47]

he actually got some air out of his mouth and he said, Now. That's the last thing he said. Now. There was no debate. So we all put a hand on him. And I had my hand just below his left knee. And then the doctor started this morphine drip. And he said to Peter, You nod when you're ready. So pretty soon Peter nodded. And then they very carefully, very gently like a baby, they unhooked the ventilator. And I'm not sure what I expected, but I know I expected something other than what happened. I think we all did. Because all of a sudden Peter started to smile. He got this big grin on his face. And it just got bigger and bigger.

[18:47]

And he looked at each person one by one. And he smiled and he smiled. And it started to look like he was going to pop, you know. He just looked so radiant and happy like a sunflower. You know, eye alone. One by one. And then he's still smiling. He closed his eyes for the last time. Kept smiling. Finally he went to sleep. And several days later, he still had a little bit of ability to breathe. A couple days later, when everyone else had gone to sleep, he became still. So I really don't know what's true about death or about dying. I don't know much about it really. I just feel like I watch. And I feel that way about living too, for that matter.

[19:52]

But it did seem as though whatever it was, whatever the invisible boundaries are that separated Peter from the universe, dissolved right there on the spot, you know. The four great elements returned to their own natures like a baby taking to its mother. So I was thinking about this in preparation for Sesshin, which often for me thoughts of death come up when I'm getting ready for Sesshin. You know, I kind of take care of old newspapers and business and tidy up my space. Put on a new setsu tip and stuff. Return all my phone calls. I kind of shut down. And many of you in this room are going to be joining me alone in this room for a week of silence.

[21:03]

We'll come in that door and find our seats one by one. And we'll stay there until the bell rings. And then one by one we'll get up and make circles for Kin-hin. And one by one we'll sit back down and we'll eat and we'll walk and we'll sit and we'll rest. And that's about it. And I think that's just about it always. It's very simple. When you find your place where you are, practice occurs, actualizing the fundamental point. When you find your way at this moment, practice occurs, actualizing the fundamental point. For the place, the way is neither large nor small, neither yours nor others. The place, the way has not carried over from the past and it is not merely arising now.

[22:14]

Accordingly, in the practice enlightenment of the Buddha way, meeting one thing is mastering it. Doing one practice is practicing completely. So I wanted to end this talk this evening by reading you something that I wrote last summer. It's an essay for this celebration that I did with my teacher, Reb Anderson, Tenshin Roshi. And I found this and I thought, well, this is kind of something I want to share with people. So I hope you don't mind if I read it to you.

[23:17]

For what is the venerable Shakyamuni revered? This is from Dogen. It's a fascicle in the Shobogenzo called the document of heritage, the shisho. And you can read this fascicle in Munanabdhudra, which we have in our library. For what is the venerable Shakyamuni revered? He is revered for his way of awakening. For what is great master Yunmen revered? He is revered for his way of awakening. So at the beginning of this essay, I basically am disclaiming any ability to understand the fascicle. It's kind of standard disclaimer. I don't have a clue what this means. But then I got a little toehold on this sentence of Dogen's.

[24:27]

Without ancestors' mastery, there is no merging of realization between ancestors. So here was the common thread, a suture for tying the ancestors together. Their mastery of the Buddha's wisdom. Great master, Shakyamuni Buddha. Great master, Bodhidharma. Great master, Ehe Dogen. Great master, Shogaku Shunrya. The inconceivable mastery of the Buddhadharma. All for one and one for all. There was entry here for me in that I have some understanding of mastery through my own study of both Dharma and of tea. For example, I know a master when I see one. Last year at the Omotesenke New Year gathering in San Francisco, that's the tea school that I am a part of, I sat on the wooden benches with the lovely ladies in their kimonos

[25:31]

and watched as one senior student after another competently made tea for their guests. And then to my deep surprise and delight, one of the senior teachers, easily 80 or 90 years old, appeared in the doorway and said in a quiet voice, O-usu o-sashi agemasu. I will now make a bowl of thin tea. For the next 40 minutes I was utterly transfixed by the simplicity and the artlessness of her tea. Her movements reminded me most of watching my mother's practiced hands making the morning pot of coffee. Only daily repetition for decades of time can bring such quality to a craft. There are actually some forms of tea which one is not allowed to perform until you are over 50 years old. The silent benefits of age for wine and women. This teacher is tiny too, like Suzuki Roshi, the same gene pool.

[26:32]

Yet her power and presence shook the ground beneath my feet as she moved lightly across the room. Just keep walking in the morning mist and by and by you'll be drenched to the skin. No effort, no choice, no turning away. And then this morning, being Monday, during the priest meeting, I had a mini vision of the shisho, this document of heritage, while Pat Leonetti was reading Lou Richmond's cricket story. I saw for a moment a place in the body of reality where all the Buddha ancestors emerge without regard for time or sequence. This place opens with the arrival and closes with the departure of each new ancestor, one by one by one, like inhalations and exhalations. There is blood there too, lots of blood. The document is written with blood. Brain swelling, sudden infant death, mass murder,

[27:35]

rifles fired in a high school library. For that reason, for the suffering of this world, this place has been given to us for opening and disclosing the Buddha's wisdom. It's kind of ordinary when you see it, just a round black cushion in a dimly lighted cow barn. But after you sit on it for a while, night and day and day and night, you begin to understand some very simple things, like the sun, the moon, and the stars. Your body begins to get it first, shooting pains through the knee and the hip, heart-pinching memories of long-lost love. Little by little, you're tuned in as the first chill of autumn brings the sweet scent of sesame soybeans. By winter, you've forgotten how you got here, the breath now visible and grand. Years go by, but not you. You, for some unknown reason, refuse to leave.

[28:36]

There were chances, lots of them, but they only made you darken in your resolve. May skin, indeed, and sinews and bones wilt away. May flesh and blood in my body dry up. But until I attain to complete enlightenment, this seat I will not leave. This was the statement by Shakyamuni Buddha as he sat beneath the Bodhi tree. So, big shot, you got what you came for, the end of suffering and the beginning of suffering and all of the suffering in between. You see how it works, and that qualifies you as a Buddha ancestor. However, until you come out of the forest and find those who might likewise understand, the Buddha's way will not appear in the world. The document of heritage is about giving all you've got for the benefit of others with both hands until your hands both fall off.

[29:37]

Thank you very much.

[29:49]

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