There's a beautiful garden in front of me, I'm lucky. This is the first Sunday of the month when we welcome, I mean every Sunday of the month we welcome, every day of the month we welcome young people to practice, but especially this morning we have a great opportunity. So I wanted to start by introducing you to my faithful friend who sits inside of my bell. Do you know what kind of a creature this is? Anybody know? Hallow guys. You're right, it's a penguin. Do you know about the penguins at the San Francisco Zoo, what happened to them last year? They've been kind of sleepy, kind of relaxed penguins, and some new penguins came from out of state, from the zoo in, I think, Ohio. These penguins had a lot of energy and they jumped into the water with the San Francisco penguins and began to swim around and around and around in their ancient migration pattern

[01:24]

that they follow. You know where penguins live? Do you know what continent they live on? You got it. So these penguins that visited San Francisco were remembering their homeland and they began to swim around and around the circle and all the penguins were activated and there was no way to stop them. And they tried, you know, to change the lighting, to warm up the water, to drain the water a little bit. Even when they drained the water, they kept going in this pattern, in this migration pattern. And I think that the new friends that came into the block really helped the local penguins wake up a bit to who they are. So I have the treasure of keeping this penguin in my bell and a friend of mine named Charlie Mallet gave me this penguin. It was kind of a sad story because when he was in his early thirties, he got very sick and realized that he couldn't live much longer.

[02:26]

He got a rare kind of cancer when he was really young and he began, as soon as he knew he was ill, he began to give away everything that meant something to him. So he gave me the penguin and his only request was, please keep it in your bell and whenever children are present, let him come out. So thank you for giving Charlie's penguin a chance to, Charlie's angel, giving Charlie's true angel a chance. And for a long time, I kept it wrapped up in the bell pretty carefully so that he could pop out and rest. But in honor of the activated penguins of San Francisco, now I just let him peek out all the time. So he's ready to jump forth and serve. So I wanted to talk just a little bit about how important it is to be alert and also solid at the same time, a little bit like the penguins in the zoo, to both be alert with all of your senses, awake and aware, and also to be quiet and solid like this penguin when he or she

[03:33]

rests in my bell. And you know, a few days ago, I had the great pleasure, my son's special sweetheart is a student at the University of San Francisco and she invited me to go to the University of San Francisco and hear His Holiness the Dalai Lama speak. Did anybody else attend that? Great. And did your children come? Oh, too bad. Well, I'm lucky because I got to sit next to Olivia Leonard, who was very good. She's four years old. We sat up in the very top of the bleachers. True, Nancy and Daniel gave her a lot of candy during the teaching so she would be quiet and eventually it didn't work out and they had to leave. But for the first part of the teaching, do you know who the Dalai Lama is? Anybody know? Can anybody make a guess? The Dalai Lama? I bet some of you know. He is the, oh great, he's a Buddhist, what did you say?

[04:41]

Tibetan leader. Yeah, that's right. He likes to describe himself as a simple monk. You know, in fact, that's true, he was born as a very poor child on the highlands of Tibet about 65 years ago. And when he was four years old, Tibetan teachers who were looking for the person who was meant to be the leader of Tibet found the Dalai Lama and recognized him and they showed him some special religious objects and he took to them just like the penguins took to the water. So they knew this is really the spiritual leader and teacher so they actually began to train him and he's been a wonderful teacher both in Tibet and now in India where he lives. But that's not what I want to tell you about. When we met with him a few days ago, he welcomed everybody, especially young people. And somebody asked him, what's the best thing to do when you're afraid? And he thought for a long time and he said, run away.

[05:46]

I thought, that is a great answer, would you think of that answer? What do you think the best thing is to do when you're afraid? Well lots of people have different ideas. But then he laughed and laughed and said when he was a young monk, probably the age of many of you, anybody here 10 years old or close to 10 years old, just your age, a wild dog got loose in the Portola Palace where he was teaching and began to run around, it was running right toward the young Dalai Lama and he saw the dog coming and unlike the Buddha who welcomed the angry elephant, the Dalai Lama turned and ran away as fast as he could from the dog. And his tutors, his teachers, laughed and laughed and laughed because they said they'd never seen a Dalai Lama run that fast. He was really fast. Then he came back and he said, but still I think if we can stay solid and stay present

[06:51]

even when we're afraid, that may be the best thing of all. And encouraged us to really develop simple practices that help us stay solid. So if I take Charlie's Angel Penguin out of the bell and hold the bell up, one practice that I know really well that I learned from a good friend who works every week in the San Francisco County Jail with people who are in prison, she says they teach meditation and yoga and at the end of each session, let's see if we can do this together, it's one precious minute of being as solid as we can, so at the end of their sessions they put their right hand on their heart and left hand on their tummy and say to themselves, I am here, but only to yourself. And then enjoy breathing for one minute. So I'm going to ask us to just do that.

[07:56]

Let's see how quiet we can be to really listen to our heart and to our breathing and to the sound of the younger children who are practicing by making little sounds. I'll ring the bell and in one minute I'll ring the bell again. This is an alternative to running away. So knowing we are here, let's enjoy our breathing for one precious minute. Oh, thank you.

[09:27]

You know, some friends suggest if for one minute out of every hour of the day when we're awake, we could take just one minute's worth of time, put our hands on our heart or do whatever it is that helps us settle down and enjoy our breathing for one minute. It's a good alternative to running away. And there are also some other simple alternatives. See the figure here? She's Tara Buddha sitting there and do you see how she's sitting? Does she... What do you notice about her right leg? Is it all folded up like a pretzel, like a Buddha pretzel or not? What do you notice about her leg? Anybody notice? What do you see? It's stretching out, right? What did you say? You said something good that I didn't hear. Feet to feet, right. So her foot is ready to step forward and get up and serve.

[10:31]

She's really solid but she's also ready to get up and serve. And do you notice what's happening with her hand, her left hand? She's making what's called a mudra or a teaching gesture. This is a wonderful universal mudra with the left hand. Can you do it? You know this gesture? What does that mean usually when somebody goes, how are things going? And they go like that. What does that mean? What does that mean to you guys? Feeling good, all is cool, all is well. Well, it's a great ancient mudra. Actually, when Tara Buddha makes this mudra, when this mudra is made, it actually, the thumb stands for wisdom or understanding and the forefinger for compassion or for willingness to join the heart of the world. You put them together, wisdom and compassion go together. It means all is well. And then these three fingers stand for the three treasures. In lots of different traditions, these treasures are alive.

[11:34]

In our tradition, they mean awakening, good teaching that holds you strong and sure, and then the community that supports you. So it's wonderful. Right in the gesture of the hand is the teaching. Why talk so much? So if things are getting a little tense in school and you're not quite sure you know the answer and the teacher keeps asking, you can always go like this. It's, again, an alternative to running away. And you notice, if you'll notice, another time you'll have to come in with Michael and Leslie and all your wonderful guides with Jeremy and Meg. Come in and have them take you to the main altar because there, there's another wonderful teaching mudra that the Buddha is doing and it's like this. See if you can take your right hand now because you're all sitting on the ground and put your right hand just on the ground right in front of your right knee. When the Buddha was practicing meditation,

[12:38]

he began to have a lot of doubt and uneasiness. The one thing that really helped him, along with sitting still, was putting his right hand on the earth, calling on the earth to support him. So sometimes when you're feeling a little unsteady and uneasy, you can do this. Just put the right hand on the earth. Come back to your true self. Or you can experiment with this. Another very simple mudra is without the all is well and wisdom and compassion are together. You can just hold your hand up like this. Anybody have any idea what this might mean? It has to do with being afraid. Any idea? What do you think? I surrender and don't be afraid. That is excellent. It's so great you said that because when you guys are lucky enough in two minutes, no, like 30 seconds to go outside, surrender is one of the things we're going to talk about as a group.

[13:40]

Yes, I surrender. I am open. I'm not afraid. It's an ancient mudra. So you can think of these. If they're useful to you, wonderful. If they're not, run away. There are lots of ways we can practice. Do you have any questions? Anything you want to bring up? Then I think it is time to open the doors and go out to a wonderful day. Thank you for coming. Let's enjoy our breathing while the young people go out. Goodbye. Bye. Bye, sweetheart. See you later. Bye. Thank you for your answer. For speaking up. Hi, Elisabetta. Hi.

[14:42]

Yeah, I don't know that mudra. Ask Yvonne. Come here, sweetie. Leslie, do you think he'd like to play with the kids? Do you want the bell? Do you have the bell? No? There are warm seats here in the front for anyone who'd like to come and absorb some of the energy of the young people. Warm seats right up here in front. Don't be afraid. Fear not. It's good for your practice. Good morning. I mean, it is such a joy to practice with the young people

[15:52]

and have them be here. I wish you could see their faces. You'll have to just feel it in the hall. Blah, blah, blah, blah. It's a wonderful statement from Shoyu Shaku. Shoyu Shaku, where he says, I hear their voices as music from paradise. A line from poetry. Today is September 7th. Can you hear me? Good. I'd like to dedicate this morning's talk and practice and our discussion and our time together here at Gringo to a young student of the Dharma, Matthew Frick,

[16:52]

a 16-year-old boy who made the decision to take his life three days ago. Our community is caring, our love and connection with this marvelous, uncommonly bright boy. He was part of a coming-of-age group of children who grew up at Zen Center. Davey Weintraub, Nathan Wenger, Ko Tanahashi, Max van der Steer, Clay. Matthew didn't grow up at Zen Center, but he was Nathan's best friend. And for two years, he worked with Ethan Patchell and Noah Levine, two young students of the Buddha Ethan grew up at Zen Center, grew up here at Gringo and Noah in the wide circle of meditation practice. For two years, they spent one day a month deeply looking at what it means to be alive

[17:53]

and to take our place in the world, what it means in all of its complexity and richness and to take up that question through the lens of practice. A courageous young man. I didn't know him well, but I truly admired him and was moved by him. A dark soul with dark eyes, dark hair, dark, beautiful, complex mind. And we joined his family yesterday and truly hundreds of young people in a small memorial hall in the heart of the mission. Keep bearing witness and being with this young boy. On the wall in the room where he took his life, in his bedroom, he wrote, no regret,

[18:56]

no pain, no blame, just beauty. And his parents, he was their only child, his parents will maintain that room as a shrine, as a living shrine. I think yesterday, I had real misgivings about attending because I didn't know the child so well, although I loved him, I did. And his parents, they're incredibly courageous. And I'm really glad I went because just to sit and to be present and to watch, especially the young people, he was a senior in high school, just to watch everybody filing through and bearing witness and being with him, greeting him and comforting each other was an extraordinary gift, an honor, and a mystery. So today is September 7th.

[20:03]

We're sandwiched, we're sandwiching or embracing this Sunday and next, the 11th of September, when our life as North American, our life as human beings changed in a very radical way. And aware of the suffering that is alive in the body of the world, we deeply determined not to run away, but to take our place. And I'd like to investigate with you this morning, what does that actually mean, to take our place? I've been reading a wonderful book by a psychotherapist, a book that my same friend who taught me the I Am Here meditation gave me an article, and I've been waiting for the book to come forth. It's called The Healing Through the Dark Emotions, where Miriam Greenspan, the author, looks very deeply at what it means

[21:05]

to actually welcome and take our place in the body of grief, fear, and despair, to actually welcome these emotions and to work with them, to see them as accurate reflections or expressions of the situation in which we live in these times. So I've been extraordinarily grateful for this book. You know, sometimes you pick up a book, a novel, this summer my daughter gave me a book, The Lovely Bones, which was a very intense novel, and I read it as a Dharma book, as a book that, like The Three Treasures, like awakening, teaching as Dharma, teaching our truth, truth that's old truth and resonant truth, and community, that book was such a book. And this saga of welcoming and healing

[22:06]

through the dark emotions has been good. I'm sensitive to the word dark, not wanting to have a value judgment, dark is bad, light is good, very sensitive of what that means. And when we use dark in this context of today's talk, we're referring to what's not revealed, to what's not seen, to what's often pushed underneath the surface. And again, I'm thinking of Matthew Frick and his life, his beautiful incandescent darkness, darkness in that way, the welcoming darkness, we say in the Zen tradition, right in darkness there's light but don't see it as light, right in light there's darkness, not only darkness. So taking up this work, how do we actually become fully endowed human beings, as His Holiness was speaking of the other day,

[23:08]

willing to stay put in the middle of a world that is running often out of scale, the situations that we're facing. How do we actually welcome those dark emotions and learn from them? I'm also... not only am I sensitive to the value judgment of dark and light, but also I want to honor the fact that the truth that grief and fear and despair, and of course anger, the uninvited guest. Anger... I won't reflect on anger today because anger has its own light and world. My teacher Thich Nhat Hanh said, Anger... Would you let an emotion as strong as anger walk the streets without a chaperone? And I remember asking,

[24:09]

What's the chaperone? He said, Mindful awareness is the chaperone. So in the case of these dark emotions, sensitive to the fact that they have their own energy, life and incandescence, grief, fear, despair, and they can't be resolved or transformed from undifferentiated shatteredness into usable material. I'm a gardener at my core. Luckily I'm a meditating gardener, otherwise I'd spin out of the world, I know. So I believe in transformation and in alchemy, but I also believe in letting rot happen slowly, letting decomposition happen slowly. It takes as long as it takes. So healing through the dark emotions means staying put, recognizing and looking at our lives for the long haul.

[25:10]

And there are certain very helpful practices that we can take up. Two days ago, when His Holiness finished his address, the president of the University of San Francisco, who is a monk, a Christian monk, I think a monk, a marvelous man, closed the address by quoting from His Holiness, For those in need of a bridge, may I be a bridge. For those who are thirsty, may I be water. For those who are afraid, may I be a guiding path. And, you know, this vow, this strong vow to accompany the dark emotions, to accompany, attend and be present for. I think of a child that I know.

[26:19]

I don't know him personally. He's, I think, a 10-year-old boy, like the children that were here this morning, some of the children. And he's a very kind of hypersensitive child, unique individual, maybe like Matthew Frick when Matthew was 10. He has an uncommon ability to put together very complex puzzles. And his parents continue to give him puzzles. And they got more and more complex. And finally, he received a puzzle that was too hard for him to put together in one sitting. And he went to sleep very agitated and woke up in the night crying and crying. His mother went into the room and said, Jeremy, what's wrong? And he said, It's the puzzle. And when my friend told me this story, I thought, that's such a great expression of what's wrong with so many of us

[27:20]

or what's undisclosed or unacknowledged. It's the puzzle of how it is that we can't put all the pieces together. And each piece is alive, vibrant, dark, calling out for its mate. And we can't put them together. And are we willing to live in a world where the puzzle is unresolved or incomplete without us putting ourselves right in the mix? So this is what's very much coming up for me in these hours and days. And, you know, it's a wonderful time of the year. We're heading toward the fall equinox from the fall equinox until the winter solstice, the darkest time of the year, when we're turning toward the dark. We talk a lot about turning toward the light. Could we actually make a vow that in this season

[28:21]

we'd be willing, wholly willing, to turn toward the dark, to take it up, to welcome the dark? Darkness visible, says William Styron, describing his own voyage with darkness. Could we be that stable and that willing to stay put that we welcome the darkness? Let all sorrows, says the Dalai Lama's teacher from, I think, the 9th century, Shantideva, maybe the 11th century. Sorry, Shantideva, I know you were alive. Your teaching continues. Let all sorrows, he said, ripen in me. That's a kind of welcoming of the dark. Let me, in the fullness of my life, the vibrancy of my creativity and being, welcome darkness. Welcome the puzzle. Take my place.

[29:21]

So, you know, I'm grateful to my friend and teacher, Joanna Macy. She's joined us here at Green Gulch, and we're about to start a class, a whole series of classes next week looking at Zen poetry and great teachings of the Buddha, sewing Buddha's robe, and I have the pleasure of being part of a class that's looking at courage and constancy in difficult times. And we'll be taking up some of these practices that really help us stay courageous and constant. I know right around the riots that happened in Los Angeles, around Rodney King, and then again in the aftermath of the attack on the World Trade Center, my friend and teacher, Joanna Macy, convened circles of friends, and in the center of the circle of practitioners, we took a whole half day to do this. We had a safe place, a pile of meditation cushions, some pillows, some Kleenex, a bowl of water, and objects that represented despair,

[30:28]

anger, grief, and fear. And we spent a lot of time in meditation and in walking, circling around the center, and when individuals were ready, they could go in to the center of the circle and take their place and welcome and be comforted by the puzzle, by the dark emotions. And grief is an extraordinarily important place to begin. I can really feel the force of grief, given what we've experienced in the last few days with Matthew's crossing. Miriam Greenspan says in her Dharma treatise, Healing Through the Dark Emotions, that grief is essential to human life, and she's been a psychotherapist

[31:29]

for about 30 years. She's also a mother who's lost a child at birth. Grief is essential, and what is the gift? What is the dark gift of grief? She says it's the gift of tears and the gift of gratitude to be alive. And yesterday in the funeral home, in a mission, I could feel a little bit of this without preempting the extraordinary grief. There was a tremendous gratitude for a life, although briefly lived, well-lived and fully lived. And the access point to that life seemed to be through the gravity of grief. Poet Robert Bly visited us years ago at San Francisco Zen Center, and it wasn't exactly a reading. It was more a recitation or a presentation or a singing of poetry. And in that evening,

[32:31]

we were together for about three hours. After about two hours, he said, Shall we take a break, stand up, stretch? And the entire assembly said, No! And he said, Zen practice is good. It gives you a stomach for grief. He said, In the olden days, human beings understood that unless they descended to the grief that we feel and know in our world, we were less than full human beings. He talked about the authentic life depending on willingness to welcome grief or to live with grief. Here's a beautiful poem about that from Robert Bly, one that he sang us that night. He asks, What is sorrow for? Or what is grief for? It is a storehouse of wheat, barley,

[33:33]

corn, and tears. You step up to the storehouse on a round stone. And the storehouse feeds all the birds of sorrow. An ancient practice of once a year leaving a storehouse open so the birds could be fed. And the storehouse feeds all the birds of sorrow. And I say to myself, Will you have sorrow at last? Go on. Be cheerful in autumn. Be stoic, yes. Be tranquil, calm. Or in the valley of sorrows, spread your wings. Or in the valley of sorrows, spread your wings. I think that my experience is that meditation practice,

[34:34]

in whatever tradition you take it up, has a stomach for grief, a willingness to ground, not in morbid grief, but in a recognition that the puzzle can't be complete without the dark threads. They're absolutely essential They're as essential and as nourishing and necessary as barley, corn, wheat, and tears. I think a lot, as a gardener, I think a lot about the landscape of grief as I know it. You know, deep abiding grief, a kind of sorrow for the situation of our, not only our individual sorrow, but the sorrow of the world. I know when my parents died

[35:35]

within three months of each other, I felt like my life, as I knew it, had been shattered by grief. And you know, when I grew up as a little girl, we had these wonderful old French plates and my mom died about five years ago next Sunday, the 14th of September. And she always wanted me to have these plates and I went home and helped my sisters and I took care of the arrangements for my mother's crossing. And I brought back these plates and one plate was chipped and actually it had a hairline seam crack right through it. And it was my most treasured plate because it was broken. But after our family ate on it for quite a while, it began to, you know, the glue couldn't hold. We glued it together so many times. So I already had that plate.

[36:36]

I had it for years before my mother died and after she died, I came back home to Green Gulch and took out the plate and the two pieces had come apart again. And I looked at the two pieces and actually took the plate down to the greenhouse at night and dropped it from up here on the floor, just let it fall. And it shattered into I don't know how many pieces, like a puzzle. And I was so relieved because it exactly matched how I felt. Then I picked up the pieces and I dropped them again and again. They became little tiny pieces. And eventually, I kept those pieces for a good long time and eventually planted them in the ground and planted plants that love the dark, kind of witch-like plants, you know, kind of haunted plants. I did a garden of haunted plants

[37:37]

for my mother. It's kind of like my revenge or my statement to my mother. And Arlene and Daigon live in the house where I planted that garden and happily, most of those plants have died. But if they dug down deep, they'd find my shattered grief in the form of yellow plates from France. But luckily, we stay on the surface most of the time. And we don't have to experience the shattering of grief. And yet, it makes us whole and true. So I have very strongly the image of grief shattering, breaking us apart, making, we say, a broken heart. This is a wonderful, wonderful statement from a rabbi that I love. There's nothing so whole, says Rabbi Menachem Mendel. A Hasidic rabbi from Kotsk.

[38:39]

There's nothing so whole as a shattered heart or a broken heart. So grief gives us the opportunity to be wholly present in the puzzle and to welcome the brokenness. And there's a lot more to say, but I want to, I think, I feel there's a stomach for grief in this audience and you know what I'm talking about. Every one of us accesses grief in a different way. Now, I'm not only talking about personal grief, which is strong, vivid, and commanding, but the grief that we carry for the life of the world and how we live in the world and where we are in the world. And our own shattered lives open us, welcome, welcoming in the darkness of what is happening in the world. We circle around that pile of pillows and take our place, going in and out. Fear, fear is,

[39:40]

if it's not attended to, it can paralyze you, make you numb, paranoid, frantic, and even violent. Fear is an incredible teacher. Fear not, that ancient gesture. Really, it was so beautiful that the child said, Surrender, because there is no remedy for fear except to open up your hand and recognize it as a formidable and friendly teacher. So in the Native American tradition, in many traditions, the naked palm, the naked exposed palm represents willingness to welcome fear and to see fear as an ally. Even without recognizing how strong fear is, we won't have a sense of how to protect life, and there is a reason to be afraid. And Carl Sagan tells, in one of his later books,

[40:41]

he tells about sending a capsule into outer space and trying to decide what to put in that capsule. If there is intelligent life or any form of life in outer space, what would we want to make known? There's a beautiful, the way it was resolved was very interesting, a simple drawing of a naked human man and human woman standing next to each other with their hands held open like this. We come in peace, fear not. That's what was circulated in this capsule. No language, just the gesture. What gesture would reveal the heart and soul of life on earth? So that gesture is very important and I think can be very helpful. Abhaya, fear not. Abhayagiri, Ajahn Amaro's monastery. You know, fearless mountain. Fear not, or fear not, you are welcome fear. Come in. That's a wonderful story

[41:44]

that's not often told in the canon of children's stories, in honor of the kids today, of the fearless one. What's his name? Oh, fearless Jack. Had a real problem. He wasn't afraid of anything and he didn't feel anything. He wasn't afraid of anything and he didn't have any joy. What can I do about this? Oh, you should go to the enchanted castle. Go to the enchanted castle, see what happens. So he goes to this enchanted castle and in the first watch of the night, the first night, these wild leopards come out and he wrestles them to the ground, pushes them underneath the tape, ties them up in a knot and goes back to sleep. He's not afraid of anything. The second night, a halved man comes out, a man whose only half of his body is present. The other half is bones. And fearless Jack says, let's use your bones and play a dice game. If I win, you go away. If I don't, I'm history. He's not afraid of anything. Takes the bones,

[42:44]

plays a dice game, wins, and the halved man goes away. The third night, he encounters a horrific giant. Same thing. And of course, he's awarded true love, the princess, right? Always the princess is given away. I'd like to see, I know in some stories the princess gets the prince, but I wish it were more that way often in the stories. But anyway, whether or not, there is that one wonderful story where the princess gets the prince and she runs away. She doesn't want the prince. She doesn't want to be married. She doesn't... That also has to be welcome. So he's given the princess and he says to her, I want to love you, but I don't feel anything. I'm not afraid of anything and I don't care about anything. She said, that's not cool. She goes to the wise woman of the village and asks her what to do and she whispers in her ear. So fearless Jack is sound asleep and the princess comes with a vat of cold water.

[43:47]

She says, Jack! He sits up and she throws the water in his face and he goes, Ah! Becomes terrified of what's unpredictable, what's not known and comes to life. Such a wonderful story and it's never told. I love that story. So could we actually see fear as an ally because it helps us recognize how much we care, makes us vulnerable but also helps us become alive or turn to life. Probably the most difficult of the dark emotions to speak about is despair and I know that in the mission mortuary yesterday there was the bright metallic taste of despair.

[44:48]

And we're frightened of despair because it leads us to, you know, it's the continuation of the road down through grief. Unrecognized grief can lead to a despair that is without bottom. My mother-in-law is experiencing some real despair. She lost her husband, her mate for almost 40 years, 50 years they were married and Charlie died a few years ago and the despair is just now taking hold in her life. She describes it as a weight or a cloud and everyone wants to medicate her and she's saying let me just stay with this because Charlie's there in this. She's not taking any medication. She's not much fun but she's a... But I'm...

[45:49]

Luckily we have a stomach for grief and despair and fear and I'd rather have the unadulterated despair than some smiling jack-o-lantern. So, you know, heaviness and a kind of gravity, density. She's describing it so vividly. And to welcome to welcome darkness and despair may, you know, unwelcome we stay on the surface. Welcome we can go down into the depths a little bit and feel that depth. Walking on the roof of hell says poet Isa I gaze at the flowers.

[46:52]

But despair welcomes you to the roof of hell. You can gaze at the flowers they don't give you anything but they're there on the roof of hell. They're on the roof of hell with you. And despair is the only cure for illusion. This is from a author of a wonderful book called Earth Walk. Despair is a mourning mourning period for our fantasies. Some people do not survive this despair but no major change for a person. And this is a little raw to even bring up given, I think, what meant what what I saw close to a hundred high school students

[47:57]

experiencing yesterday. But I wouldn't I wondered about opening Matthew's body to those kids and I think it was the wisest decision that could have been made. There was nothing vague about what we were seeing. Nothing vague at all. And the oppression, the density, the darkness, the despair and longing and also the sense of faith in a life that was lived the way it had to be lived was very strong. So this is a little raw to even bring up but I do want to say despair is a doorway, can be a doorway. And that depends on each of us to open the doorway or not.

[48:58]

And, you know, how do we actually negotiate? Let me just finish by offering a few really simple practices. And these, again, through this wonderful book Healing Through the Dark Emotions where, to me, they seem very much like pathways that a meditator would take up. First of all, let me mention the three. To attend the emotion, to befriend it, and then to surrender to it. I mean, I read this like a Zen treatise. I'm looking at it and thinking, this is amazing. It's just like a practice document. You know, the word attend is a wonderful word from the French attend or attendere in Latin.

[50:00]

It means to stretch, to stretch toward or to stretch past what you think you can attend to. To be present, to accompany, to wait upon, to listen, to heed, the archaic uses, to wait for, to expect, to direct oneself to. This is to attend. So the first step in welcoming these dark emotions is to attend to them. Attend! Attend! Attend! Screamed a little girl years ago when we were in Muir Woods. She was pointing, a child, of course, from France. We were doing a walk at dusk to welcome, to listen to the owls. Attend! She said, and we looked up in a tree

[51:02]

and there was a spotted owl sitting on the tree, you know, really close. And we all got really quiet. There were about 20 of us. And we stood there as the forest got dark and I still remember that child calling out, Attend! It's a great reminder to us to stretch ourselves, tantra, from the same root, to stretch past what you think you can do, tantric practices, stretch what we think is good and bad, right and wrong, foul or free. So you stretch. First step is to stretch toward the emotion. And second, to befriend what's coming up, like the chaperone for anger. Could we befriend, could we walk in friendship,

[52:02]

side by side, like good friends do, to know, to trust, to like. The root of friendliness or friend is to love. Well, could we walk in friendship with these emotions without making a secret pact that we're going to solve the puzzle and figure out how to actually include that darkness in our lives. Could we at least walk in friendship together. Again, His Holiness' reminder, which is the vow of so many practitioners in all the different traditions of the world. May I be a bridge for those who want to cross the torrent. May I be water for those who are thirsty. May I be a comfortable bed of pillows for those who are weary.

[53:04]

You know, that willingness or readiness to befriend, to be a friend. A lot depends on listening here and really being attentive in your listening and in your friendliness. So first to attend, second to befriend, and then third of all to surrender, to loosen your grip, to relinquish possession. You know, the word is great. It means to deliver over, to render, to offer. So to relinquish possession of, you give up your idea of how the puzzle should be solved and you settle for the pieces. I can't put the plate back together, give me the shattered life. It matches. I surrender.

[54:05]

I am shattered. I am pulled out by a tide I cannot swim against. Right after my father-in-law died, again, it's Kate, my mother-in-law, who's so much in despair right now. The actual recognition of he will not be reconstituted to her. Right after I came home from the funeral and that whole experience and was swimming in the ocean with my daughter and with Lizzy Thorne, two children that grew up here in this community. We were swimming. The sea was warm, just like it is now. It was around this time of year. And we got caught in a riptide. I had surrendered my good judgment somehow and wasn't alert. And on the beach there was a large man wearing a yellow bathing suit. I always think of him waving to me, pointing to the ocean.

[55:08]

And we were being pulled out. I could see Lizzy and Elisa being sucked out. And he said to me, like this, which meant to swim lateral. And I recognized, oh, the reason I can't move is I'm in a riptide and so are my kids. So I called to them, swim along the shore. And they were too far beyond me for me to get them. And I swam along the shore. And the large man in the yellow trunks came out with a board and got the kids and took them on his board parallel to the shore. And we got out. And I thought, I never would have been that unattentive if I hadn't been in the grip of grief. I surrendered all of my usual judgment. And yet I remember that day as one of the most important teaching days for me, being carried out and then coming back and recognizing the only way to get out of a riptide too is to surrender and swim.

[56:09]

I know many of us remember Reb's story of the same thing happening, getting caught in a riptide. And there's no guarantee anyway. There are many different riptides. But surrender depends on loosening your grip a little bit. You know, to ride a horse well, ride with a light hand so you can really feel the connection with the animal or with your practice, with your life. It's a kind of surrendering of what you know and what you don't know, of the solution and the puzzle. I think it's probably our hardest work, and yet we have to do it. Thank you.

[57:14]

Thank you for your tolerance and patience and presence, for the opportunity to sit together, to be here in this extraordinary hall, to develop and welcome a stomach for grief, to attend, befriend, and surrender to what can't be, can't be known and can't be plotted somehow. And to do it together. I'd like to close with a... with a simple... a reminder from a poet and teacher Rainer Maria Rilke,

[58:15]

kind of in honor of the dark web. So, don't be frightened if a sadness rises before you larger than any you may have known. If an anxiety like light and cloud shadows moves over your hands and over everything that you do, realize that something is happening to you. Life has not forgotten you. It holds you in its hands and will never let you fall. Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any misery, or even any depressions? For after all, we never know what work these conditions are doing inside of us. So, in honor of the puzzle,

[59:26]

in honor of an uncommonly courageous sixteen-year-old child, in honor of each other, in honor of the fierce and bright call of the world, we offer this Dharma talk this morning. And could we close with just a minute of hand on the heart? You know, one way... I never time anymore because I learned that... I learned how many breaths are in a minute. For me, it's six or seven deep breaths, but then I'm a meditating reptile. When I practiced with beautiful children at Marin Primary School, one seventh-grader breathed 41 times. I said, Honey, aren't you hyperventilating? I think it was probably 20 times, but she was counting in and out. Just... maybe just become...

[60:27]

become clear, and we'll begin with silence, and after a minute, Diana will ring the bell, and we can go outside and enjoy tea. Come back here, please, and let's discuss together how we welcome these dark emotions. Thank you again for coming here today. Please enjoy your breathing. She'll give us one minute. Thank you.

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