This podcast is offered by the San Francisco Zen Center on the web at www.sfcc.org. Our public programs are made possible by donations from people like you. Good morning, Zen Center Sangha. I'm going to change my view so that I'm not looking directly at myself. I can see you. Thank you for inviting me, Nancy, and thank you for the introduction, Kodo. If you haven't done so, maybe before we begin, just take a moment to scan through the screens and the equivalent of looking around if we were in a room together. So he was here and those of you who are... who have your video off, maybe pop it on for a moment so we can see you.

[01:06]

So I'd like to talk this morning about I have a little dog who you can maybe see over my shoulder who has been a wonderful excuse for me to spend a lot of time walking in Golden Gate Park and spending a lot of time watching, listening, and being with the natural world. Today I want to speak a bit about trees as inspiration. Really looking at trees as an example, really a stunning example of how we as humans might live together in a world that is so rife with

[02:32]

discord and divisiveness and difficulty. Please offer us an example of how to be sangha, how to come together in the spirit of mutual support and a kind of radical inclusivity. I want to start with a personal story that comes from almost 20 years ago, I believe, in the time that I was living at Tassajara, Zen Center's mountain monastery. For those of you who haven't been there, Tassajara is like a little hamlet. I read The Hobbit as a child. Actually, my father read the Tolkien trilogy to my sister and I when we were little girls.

[03:37]

And for me, it has that kind of feel and spirit to it, almost like traveling down this 17-mile road into a different world. And one of the things that for me was most vivid about my time at Takahara was this opportunity to be very close to to the natural world. Because Tassajara is far away from the city lights, and it's off the grid, and is kind of remote, there was, for me, this way in which the sights and sounds, in particular, became very vivid. And I have such a visceral memory of sitting in the meditation hall and hearing the Blue Jays, hearing the sound of people walking across the courtyard below the crunch of the stones, and, of course, the sounds of the drum, the bells, the hawn, some of the similar sounds that you may hear.

[04:56]

as you spend time in the context of Zen temples and Zen practice. One of the things about Tathahara is that there are several creeks that run one along the side of the meditation hall and one kind of through or along the side of the town, the main drag, as it were. And the main pathway through Tathahara is lined with these beautiful old... sycamore trees. And the creeks that feed those trees, the sound of the creeks change with the season. So in the fullness of the winter, there's a roar of sound. And in the middle of the summer, the hot, dry summer, the creeks, the sound of the creek becomes just a trickle. And all these years later, for me, after living there, I still have this very vivid memory of sitting in the hall one morning and noticing that something was different.

[06:11]

And it took me a while to figure out what it was. And I realized that overnight, this sound of the creek had changed. It had gone from shh to shh. I hope you can hear that. You get the idea. It had gone from quite robust to much, much softer overnight. And I was kind of baffled. Oh, I said it backwards. Actually, it had gone from quiet overnight to much louder. That's the way it was. And There hadn't been any rain, and I didn't understand, like, why did that happen? And I asked one of the people, one of the old monks who'd been there a long time. I was still relatively new. And what happened to the creek?

[07:19]

Why did the creek rise so quickly overnight and the sound change as a result? And he said, oh, that's the sycamores. And I was completely baffled. I didn't know what he meant. And I said, the sycamores? And he said, yeah, they dropped their water. What? And he explained, the sycamores hold water in their roots. And when it comes time for them to drop their leaves, the water from the roots releases into the water table and causes the And he said, you watch. In the next few days, the leaves on the trees will begin to yellow and orange and brown and fall. I'm not sure I believed him when he said it, but in fact, that's exactly what happened.

[08:20]

And over the next few days, the leaves of the trees began to fall and blanketed the ground. How did they do that? I was confused and maybe more importantly, just filled with this sense of wonderment. Like, how did they know all the trees to do that together all at once? And later on, I did a bunch of research to find out what it is that causes the trees to be able to coordinate in this way. And there are a bunch of theories about osmosis and capillary action and changes in temperature and the change in the slant of light that may signal the trees to do this in a coordinated way.

[09:27]

But none of the answers were... so useful in a way. And what I felt, what I knew as a result of this amazing thing that had happened was that there was more going on than I could see. That there was what I knew in the teachings of the truth of our interconnectedness was actually a living phenomena. It was being expressed in the world around me and is expressed in the world around us. And over the past number of years, there's been ongoing research and study about forests and trees and how it is that trees communicate.

[10:30]

And it turns out that the trees are wiser even than we may have thought. That, in fact, this massive network of web of roots that is underground, out of sight, is a whole system of coordination, communication, cooperation, In a simple way, we might say that this tells us, shows us that the trees in the world are live. They are, like us, sentient. They're wise. And they talk. They talk to each other. And I recently finished a wonderful book called Finding the Mother Tree by a woman named...

[11:34]

Suzanne Simard, who is a Canadian, she started as a forester and then did decades of research about how it is that trees communicate. And she found out that it's quite a bit more complex than we thought. They, trees share resources. They share water and nitrogen and carbon, and they don't do it in a functory way. they're sensitive, that sometimes in her research, the birch trees give carbon to the firs, and sometimes the fir trees give carbon to the birch. It's a reciprocal relationship. And this was really important to her because she, as a forester, originally was tasked with replanting areas in Canada that had been clear-cut. The loggers had wanted to log fur or wood that we use for building.

[12:44]

And when they replanted, they had a theory that birch and fir trees compete for sunlight. And so they said, let's not replant the birch. We'll just replant the firs. And sure enough, the trees didn't thrive. They died. And to me, this is quite a wonderful metaphor of how sometimes we can be oriented to looking up. They were focused on the sun and the sky and the sunshine, and they forgot to look down. They forgot to look at the earth, the dirt, at the lowly little mushrooms, which turn out to have an enormously important impact. on the whole dynamic system of the forest. She discovered that trees not only communicate resources, but they also send out dangerous signals to each other.

[13:51]

And that they care for, they send nutrients to trees that are struggling or dying. It's... a beautiful example, a metaphor for how to live together. So the punchline of her research is that while the theory was that trees compete, then in fact it's not true that trees cooperate. This is a lesson we might learn from. And that that spirit of cooperation and the absolutely essential dimension of diversity, of complexity, that the idea of monoculture, of folding to one thing, in this case one kind of tree being better than another, was a disaster. And that in fact the diversity of trees, of people, points of view,

[14:58]

the acknowledgement that multiple perspectives are absolutely needed for the whole system, the whole forest. There's a precursor to all of this scientific research from Dogen Zenji. who's the founder of this school then, in a beautiful teaching called the Bendoa, The Wholehearted Way. And he says it not in scientific language, but in his beautiful poetic language. This is a quote from the Bendoa. He says, because earth, grass, trees, walls, tiles, and pebbles, all engage in Buddha activity.

[16:02]

Those who receive the wind and water benefits caused by them are inconceivably helped by the Buddha's guidance, wondrous and incomprehensible, and awaken immediately to themselves. Earth, grass, trees, walls, tiles, and pebbles are all part of a living, vibrant community. We know this. It's at the heart of the teaching that everything is alive and everything is connected. That we are part of a vibrant, intelligent, living web of being. And this connection, the truth of this connectedness is not something that we have to do.

[17:06]

It's something that's ours to discover. Because it is how it is. We don't have to make it happen. It's already here. And yet, I'm sure for many of you, as is often true for me, I don't feel... I don't feel myself as part of this living web. I feel separate. I feel apart from or alone or left out or as if there's a way in which I don't belong. Belonging is our birthright and yet we spend so much time and so much heartache fitting in this felt sense of separation. And of course, it gets worse. It's not just a personal ache, that separateness.

[18:10]

It's also the seed of the violence, the racism, the harm between people, between countries, between humans and the planet. all of that results from this fundamental misunderstanding. We see it every day in the news. We may see it every day in our own hearts, in our own families, in our own relationships. And when we are sitting in the ache of that felt sense of separation, We miss the beauty. We miss the sense of wonder toward the world. So there's another author, writer I would introduce you to.

[19:11]

Some of you may know her, Robin Wall Kimmerer, who wrote a beautiful book called Braiding Sweetgrass. And she's really interesting because she blends two traditions. She's both... She grew up in a Native American community, but she is a holder of deep indigenous wisdom, and she's also a trained botanist and professor. She describes that when she applied to go to school in botany, that when she wrote her essay about why she wanted to to go to school and learn, that her reason was probably different than most people's. That for her, the question that she wanted to answer was, why is the world so beautiful? She hadn't lost her sense of connection, of belonging, of wonder.

[20:17]

And she talks about how from the As a scientist, she learned to see and to name. So she learned how to list and name different plants. She said, I could see them and I could name them, but I didn't learn how to hear their songs. And I think it's a beautiful description of very much what we are up to in our practice. less about seeing and naming, and more about this learning to listen deeply, to hear our songs. And when we sit, we could understand that what we're doing is a practice of this wide, deep,

[21:23]

Spacious. Listening. With this attitude of a kind of radical inclusivity. No part left out. That every part is welcome. That every part is. Deserves our equal care and attention. In some ways I feel like in the. Convert Buddhist. in the West that we have done quite a wonderful job of introducing this beautiful practice of teaching us through Zahven, through meditative practice, to listen, to hear our own songs in this way. And that the difficulty in our world, the difficulty between people, the lack of radical inclusivity, the destruction of the natural world, that all of that is asking us to extend our practice so that our deep listening is not only internal, but also between us as people and between us and people.

[22:51]

what we think of as other, you know, the things of the world. What would it be like to do less seeing and naming and more listening with this sense of wonderment? Robin Wall Kimmerer talks about the need for different language. new language in order for this to happen. And she says traditionally we talk about me and it, and that the natural world, in her case, she's talking primarily about trees, but also about mosses and grasses and so on, that all of that becomes an it and other. And she proposes that instead we begin to hold all of ourselves like a forest, So what would it be like if we were engaging with ourselves, all the parts of ourselves, our thoughts, our feelings, our sensations, but also with each other and the world as family, as sangha?

[24:10]

It seems to me that when we When we know, not cognitively know, but when we know deep in our bones the truth of this kinship, of this connectedness, then kindness and caring are the natural response. Like trees with each other, we care for one another. We share resources. We don't leave hearts out. We're not exclusive in our engagement. This is a wonderful Zen phrase that I've been turning for the past couple of weeks. And I looked it up. I couldn't find the source of it. Maybe one of you know. It's that I read it as just a Soto Zen phrase that in all the world, there's no place to spit. Like that.

[25:18]

that when we understand the truth of this deep inship, then there's no place to spit. There's no place that's not worth our full-time care and attention. So I hope that all of what I've said so far is inspiring, and I want to offer you a little bit of a suggestion for or guidance or pointing toward, like, how do we do this? How do we discover and untangle this felt sense of separation that we may feel? How do we untangle the divides that show up in our lives, in our communities, in our world? It is for me for the last many years since I left practice inside the temple, living inside of Zen Center, which was such a profoundly important part of my life that really in many ways I feel that it really saved me.

[26:41]

And in the time since I've left, I've been turning this question, how... How do we practice off the cushion in the world? How do we understand the whole tableau, if you will, of our life as our practice? And I don't think we know how to do this yet. I think we are, we, me, being, again, sort of convert Buddhist communities in the West, we're still learning. We are still trying to figure it out, which maybe feels discouraging, but it's also pretty exciting that there's more to discover, more to learn. This has really been at the heart of my own kind of question, koan practice. What would it look like? What would it mean? What needed for us to wake up right in the heart of the world?

[27:46]

So I don't have an answer, but I want to offer two short ways to think about this. And then we'll have some time for your comments and questions. So the first piece that I want to offer is it's a favorite sutta that I've used and worked with extensively over many years, both worked with myself and worked with lots of other people. And the sutta is called Advice to Rahula, in a polycanon. And it's a beautiful teaching in which the Buddha is giving advice to his son, Rahula. Many of you may know that when the Buddha went out on his spiritual quest, he left. He abandoned his young son. And later in his life, Rahula, the son, comes back and joins the sangha, becomes a monk and joins the community.

[28:53]

And in this sutta, we have sort of an intimate peek into both Buddha and father giving advice to his son, who is also a monk. And it's a beautiful teaching. So it opens, the Buddha says, Rahula, what is a mirror for? And Rahula says, it's for reflection. And then the Buddha goes on and gives kind of an elaborate teaching about how to practice. And one of the things I love about the teaching is that, in a way, he never tells Rahula what to do. He doesn't say, do this and don't do that. He says, here's how to pay attention. And here's how to pay attention all the time. which is, I believe, our task as practitioners. How do we stay awake? How do we use all of the circumstances of our life as our practice?

[29:58]

So I'll give you the abbreviated version of the teaching, which is that the Buddha says, before, during, and after, you engage in any activity, activity as in practice, Karma, karma of body, speech, or mind. Before you do something, say something, think something, pause and consider. Will this cause harm? Will this cause harm to myself or to others? And if it will, if you're in reflection, you realize this is going to be harmful, then don't do it. It's very clear. Don't do it. But do the reflection. And if in your own reflection you recognize that what this act of karma, of speaking or acting or engaging, will bring benefit, then do it. And he describes how we should be doing this all the time before we say something, in the middle of saying something, which of course is the hardest, right?

[31:08]

Catch it right in the middle. And after we say something. That throughout our day, throughout our activity, we should be engaging in this process of paying attention, reflecting, considering, so that we put ourselves in an ongoing kind of feedback loop. And there's a really important final paragraph in the sutta, which I will read to you, in which he describes what to do if you mess up. and what to do if you don't. He says, if on reflection... Oh, wrong place. He says, if on reflection you see that something you said or did caused harm, then, he says, you should speak about it, reveal it, share it with someone you know and trust, and avoid doing it again in the future.

[32:08]

This is... This is the punchline of how do we wake up in the world? We wake up together. How do we cultivate our practice? How do we ensure that this arc of karma, of intention, action, and impact can become an ongoing loop of information? inspiration and growth for us. We can't know all by ourselves. We have to engage. We have to get feedback. We have to find out together with each other. And the final line of the sutta, he says, if on reflection you find that what you've done is not but is of benefit, then you should rejoice and be happy and you should continue reflecting so you will continue to learn and grow.

[33:22]

This is so important, I think, because the danger, of course, of taking up practice of this kind of ongoing reflection for most of us is that we don't just reflect and notice, right? Especially when we mess things up. We don't go, oh, I didn't do that very well. We say, oh, bad. It becomes, you know, a slugfest or whatever you want to call it, our inner critic, our judging mind just has at us. And then who wants to practice anymore? But that's what's happening. Like, why would you want to keep paying attention if all you're doing is beating yourself up? But that's not the advice to Rahula. The advice is, if you're having trouble, then look to someone. Engage. Use your community. I was thinking a lot of the beauty of the full moon ceremony that's done at Zen Center on the full moon.

[34:31]

And the origins of that ceremony were actually in the early communities that on the... darkest night of the month, which is the new moon, and the brightest night of the month, the full moon, there would be a gathering of the community in which there would be a retaking of vows, but also this process of reflection and consideration and engagement in which you could share with your fellow practitioners. Here's where I messed up. Here's where I'm confused. Here's where, like that. And there could be feedback back and forth. This is the soil for a vital community. If you want to have healthy trees, if you want to have healthy Zen students, if you want to have healthy humans, then we need to be in a place

[35:33]

ongoing process of reflection, of feedback, of community. So you might consider for yourself how you might adapt this practice in your own life, what it would look like to pause and reflect before, during, after. Or you could just pick one and start. And to pause before you ask and ask, reflect for yourself, will this be a benefit or will it cause harm to myself or another? And of course, when we do this, what we find out pretty quickly is a lot of I don't know. We're doing the best we can. The idea in this practice isn't so much to kind of dot all your I's and cross all your T's and get it right. The idea is to be in a process of reflection, ongoing, of getting feedback from others.

[36:40]

There's a famous line from the Buddha who said, if you try to understand karma, you will go crazy. And the reason that it's described that way, I think, is because karma is not a kind of linear A plus B equals C event. It is in our understanding of the tangled roots of the forest or of the teaching of dependent core rising. It's more like it's this web of dynamic interplay that is bringing us every moment. So we're not going to be able to draw a straight line through that, nor would we want to. And yet it's so useful from the place of not doing harm and to engage in this kind of practice. And from the place of being able to celebrate when things go well, we forget about that piece of it sometimes, or we can.

[37:48]

And all of this sort of caution about... not imagining that we can figure it out, not imagining that our practice or our behavior is a kind of linear event, points us back to the second part that I want to say as a reminder, that this kind of practice, like the one that I'm offering, of being engaged in an ongoing process of reflection, I was getting a little feedback there. That we need to hold that kind of practice in the context of remembering the mystery.

[38:54]

Remembering what was, for me, remembering that sense of awe and astonishment and wonder. when I first learned about the trees talking, that we never want to have our practice become overly practical and practical to imagine that we can get there or figure it out. I've wanted to figure it out many, many, many times. But what I've learned over the years is that the willingness to do my best and to continuously open to all of what I can't know, what I can't understand, that that, like Robin Wall Kimmerer's question, is an invitation to looking at the world through the eyes of beauty, of wonder.

[40:04]

So I'm going to close with some of the closing words from Dovian, again, from the Bendoa. And really to invite you as I read these words to disengage as best you can the mind that wants to try to understand or figure it out. And instead to try on this deep, listening, this deep receptivity. And in a way, just to allow the words and the images to wash through you, to see what, if anything, touches you or resonates in you as I read his words. He says, grass, trees, and lands together are

[41:07]

radiate a great light and endlessly expound the inconceivable, profound dharma. Grass, trees, and walls bring forth the teaching for all beings, ordinary people as well as sages, and they in turn extend this dharma for the sake of grass, trees, and wood. This is a gorgeous description of aliveness, of the interdependent-ness of everything. And he goes on. This is not only practice while sitting. This is not only practice while sitting. It is like a hammer striking emptiness.

[42:10]

I have to read that again. This is not only practice while sitting. It is like a hammer striking emptiness. Before and after, its exquisite peel permeates everywhere. How can it be limited to this moment? Hundreds of things manifest, original practice from the original face. It is impossible to measure. Know that even if all the Buddhas of the Ten Directions, as innumerable as the sands of the Ganges, exert their strength, and with the Buddha's wisdom, try to measure the merit of one person's zazen, they will not be able to fully Comprehend it. So we do our part. We do our best to.

[43:16]

Stay open. Receptive. Pay attention. Reflect and consider. To get feedback. But we never want to forget. That. Like the trees, we are part of this vast, wild, wide web of mystery. And if we can, in our practice, balance these parts of our sincere, ongoing effort to wake up with the humility and kind of childlike awe of remembering, while limited any of our individual views may be, so that we're invited into an ongoing state of wonderment, of mystery, of like opening the door to invite us in to this innate sense of

[44:35]

connection and belonging. So we can be more like the trees. Thank you very much for your kind attention. Thank you for listening to this podcast offered by the San Francisco Zen Center. Our Dharma talks are offered at no cost and this is made possible by the donations we receive. Your financial support helps us to continue to offer the Dharma. For more information, visit sfcc.org and click giving. May we fully enjoy the Dharma.

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