This podcast is offered by the San Francisco Zen Center on the web at www.sfzc.org. Our public programs are made possible by donations from people like you. Welcome, everyone. Some of you have arrived at the tail end of a two-and-a-half-day sesheen that we've been doing here in this room. I think a little over 40 of us have been sitting together quite quietly. I don't really know how it's been going because we've been quiet. So anyway, I hope it went well for those of you in the Sashin. From Zen Mind Beginner's Mind. When we practice Zazen, our mind is calm and quite simple. But usually our mind is very busy. and complicated, and it's difficult to concentrate on what we're doing.

[01:01]

This is because before we act, we think. And this thinking leaves some trace. In order not to leave any traces, when you do something, you should do it with your whole body and mind. You should be concentrated on what you do. You should do it completely, like a good bonfire. Zen activity is activity which is completely burned out with nothing remaining but ashes. This is the goal of our practice. So once again, I find myself drawn to a study of what we commonly call our energy. In Chinese, qi, as in tai chi. And in Sanskrit, it's jivita. In Spanish, la vida. In Hebrew, wahaim. At the best of times, it's a toast to life, usually done with a glass raised in one hand.

[02:08]

So in this talk that I just read to you that Suzuki Roshi gave to his young American students back in the 1960s, he uses an image of a bonfire for a fully potentized life. A fire in which there is no smoke, just fire, completely combusting all of its fuel, leaving no trace of itself, save for that tiny smudge of carbon at the very, very end. The very same substance from which we all began. In renewing my own study of this life, I've turned my attention to how I use my energy each and every day. including such things as the food that I eat, periods of rest and movement, the time of day, and, of course, those robber barons of our life energy that arise from anger, from greed, and from ignorance. So I haven't gotten all that far in this study as yet, and that's mostly because I forget that I'm doing it.

[03:18]

And I simply go about my day oblivious and unappreciative of the simple and obvious fact that I am alive. And yet what could be more important to any of us than that? This very fact of life. Out here on the edge of a galaxy, a stone mortar has burst into bloom. Perhaps this renewed interest in being alive has a great deal to do with having recently qualified for retirement benefits at the San Francisco Zen Center. The handwriting is not only on the wall. It's on my skin and my hair, my eyes and my ears, and particularly my faulty memory. And what it's saying to me is that you are going to die. I think we all know that, right? Do we? Maybe we don't know that.

[04:22]

Maybe it's the one thing we can't ever know or take for granted, at least not yet, and perhaps not ever. And yet the very thought of death is such cause for alarm. I have seen living beings die. I've killed a number of them myself simply by hoeing in my garden. And people I dearly love have died. with more of them to come. And yet, although I seem to believe it, sort of, and try to avoid it, sort of, I can't really say that I know what it is. I once had a thought that life and death are like two entirely different species that simply can't communicate or mate with one another. When one side is illuminated, the other side is utterly dark. So just where is the referent to this amazing word, death, life's uncharted companion?

[05:23]

It seems to have been hiding from us since we were very small, usually under the bed or in the closet, sometimes both. Although I have come to understand that death is merely a word, a concept, still this concept is pressing in on me, and by doing so, heightening my interest in the art and craft of living. The life force is pushing back. Even Zen Master Dogen himself wrote an homage to life as he grew closer to dying. Fifty-four years lighting up the sky. A quivering leap smashes a billion worlds. Ha! Entire body looks for nothing. Living, I plunge into the yellow river. I'm particularly fond of that last line, living I plunge into the Yellow River. And of course, that's what life does. It bursts in and out of the darkness from the womb of creation herself, from the inconceivability that we call the universe, the mother of us all.

[06:36]

From Case I, the Book of Serenity, the unique breeze of reality, do you see it? Continuously, creation runs her loom and shuttle, weaving the ancient brocade, incorporating the forms of spring. The unique breeze of reality, do you see it? Continuously, creation runs her loom and shuttle, weaving the ancient brocade, incorporating the forms of spring. So while I was thinking recently about how my life is coming to an end, not in the usual kind of scary way, but more in the way one might feel about going to the dentist, an image came into my mind of my life as a large tube of toothpaste, which I had been rolling up quite neatly from the bottom for quite some time. And although here at the top there's a lot of paste still under pressure, it's not going to be long before it's time for a new tube.

[07:41]

So where to begin as one is nearing the end, the end of the tube? One of the things I now know about myself is that whenever I set out to understand something, I find it useful and necessary to have a plan, like a lesson plan. And I also like to have a teacher, a guide, someone who has spent thousands of hours doing homework on that particular subject matter. which is one reason these days I am terribly fond of old people, keeping an eye on how they're doing just up ahead, late 70s, 80s, 90s. And then there was Mrs. Suzuki, Suzuki Roshi's widow, standing ablaze on the pinnacle until the very last day, having been celebrated by all of her loved ones in Japan and here at the Zen Center for her over 100 years of burning up her life. So having a plan and having teachers is the main reason I found Buddhism so compelling in the first place.

[08:51]

We call teachers of Buddhism our ancestors, and many of them we honor by name. Mahapajapati, the Buddhist mother, Ananda, Nagarjuna, Bodhidharma, Dongshan, Dogen, and Suzuki. Each of these names represents a life force that devoted itself to the practice and study of the Buddha way, to the plan. The Buddha, as the first ancestor, laid out a pathway for engaging human life in the study of itself. Among the many lessons he gave over the course of his teaching career, the one that I'm going to talk about today is called The Six Perfections. The six perfections are basic training for those humans that wish to distill from within themselves that basic joy that makes life, as we say, worth living. Those who practice the six perfections are called bodhisattvas, and their work in the world is to offer their services to others pro bono publico, meaning for the good of the people.

[10:02]

And of course, the best thing they have to offer is is the bodhisattva practices themselves. And in that way, it's a perfect Zen circle. The cause of the bodhisattva's joy is the practice of the six perfections. And the result of that joy is a devotion to offering those same practices for the benefit of everyone else. So this practice made me happy, and therefore I would like to offer it to you. There's a little boy, who used to live next door to me here at Green Gulch, whose name is Miro. He now lives outside here in the little house. Miro, who is now quite grown up, used to be very happy to hand me something like a flower or a toy or a rock, and then just as happy when I gave it back to him. It's a pretty natural thing for us humans, especially when we're small, giving and receiving gifts. And that's what the six perfections are really all about, the giving and the receiving of gifts.

[11:07]

So here is my small gift this morning to all of you. These six are listed in a particular order, with each of them serving as a platform in support of the next. So they are, in brief, number one, generosity, Mero giving me his toy. Number two, ethical discipline, Me giving it back to him. Number three, patience. Not expecting anything more from Miro. Number four, energy. Including resting in our beds when we are tired of playing. Number five, concentration. Turning around and making our beds before leaving the room. And number six, wisdom. The sky is blue. A bird flies through. leaving no traces. Wonderful, wonderful. Once again, the six perfections, generosity, ethical discipline, patience, energy, concentration, and wisdom.

[12:14]

That word energy is number four of the six. which is the practice that I began talking about this morning. But in order to get there, to the perfection of energy or enthusiasm, we need to start with generosity, dana paramita, the perfection of giving. Again, from Zen mind, beginner's mind, to give is non-attachment. That is, just not to attach to anything is to give. The perfection of giving, of generosity, dana, paramita, is a type of awareness that knows where gifts come from in the first place, how they are created, how whatever we are, whatever we have, is being given to us from the entire universe. Our life itself is a gift, and practicing generosity is the very beginning of how we show our appreciation. There was this thing that people were doing for a while when there were still toll takers at the Golden Gate Bridge, if you can remember that.

[13:22]

They would pay back for the car behind them. And for no good reason. The simple joy of giving with a coin and a wave and a smile. With the right spirit, the right attitude, everything we do is giving. Your time, your kind attention, your careful driving on the freeway, for which we all say thank you very much. The second perfection, the perfection of ethical conduct, is a little more difficult to summarize in a few sentences. In Sanskrit, the word used for ethical conduct is shila, which means literally cool and peaceful, which is in fact the outcome or result of living an ethical life. We Buddhists have been offered the 16 Bodhisattva precepts under the heading of ethical conduct to help guide us toward a calm and peaceful life. Each precept is about how I, how this person, treats each and every one of you.

[14:31]

I promise not to kill you. I promise not to steal from you, to sexualize you, to lie to you. to intoxicate you, slander you, belittle, or withhold from you, or hate you. That would pretty much cover it as far as an ethical life is concerned, you know, don't you think? The third perfection, the perfection of patience, Kshanti Paramita, is very helpful when we are doing our best to practice ethics, in particular when we perceive a lack of ethics in others. Therefore, this perfection is not merely the control of impatience, but a virtue that appears in the absence of hatred, repugnance, and malice. As with the other paramitas, patience is an attitude that arises from within the heart of the bodhisattva, rather than from some kind of guideline that's imposed on us from outside.

[15:36]

Number four. The perfection of enthusiasm or energy, virya, paramita, is the one that I began with this morning, so I'm not going to say too much more, other than in the Buddhist tradition, the perfection of enthusiasm refers to the effort one makes toward living a spiritual life, a life deeply connected to the welfare of others, all others, as in a single-minded pursuit of the way. And which way? The Buddha way? generosity, ethics, patience, energy, concentration, and wisdom. Number five, the perfection of concentration, jnana-parmita. So we're now moving from the realm of ethics and human relationships into the practices of meditative absorption, in Sanskrit called samadhi or jnana, referring to both the form and the method of zazen. To understand this perfection, think in terms of the energy and enthusiasm of the Buddha sitting under the Bodhi tree, settling his mind in order to realize a path of freedom from suffering for all beings, which to our great and good fortune he did.

[16:57]

Number six, the perfection of wisdom, Prajnaparamita, is both the start and the finish line of Buddhist practice. Prajna calls us to enter into intimacy with ourselves, with each other, and with the world. And prajna, like life itself, never gives up on us. Not ever. Where is it to be found? Well, listen carefully, as carefully as you can. It is always precisely right here. It is always precisely right now. As with all of these practices, they are much easier to say than to do. Our conditioning since childhood, for a great many reasons, leads us to a growing conviction that we are separate individuals. And at some point along the way, those toys become harder to share because they have become mine.

[18:05]

We attach. It's an idea that we have, an idea that's the very opposite of giving. In our particular society, We individuals have gone so far as to endow ourselves, along with our possessions, with certain inalienable rights. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Which on the surface sounds quite Buddhist. Life, jivita, liberty, liberation, and the pursuit of happiness for the benefit of all beings. However, there seems to be a slight problem with this endowment of ours as citizens of the United States of America. And that is that most of these rights are fundamentally protective. They protect individuals and their property against interference by others. As one Supreme Court justice declared, the most important right is the right to be left alone.

[19:07]

My toys, my house, my guns, my country. right or wrong. So as a result, the enforcement of these rights require many of us to either call the police or hire an attorney. After all, my rights and your rights rarely fit all that well together. In Marin County, for example, where many of us live, simple words such as affordable housing or homeless shelter can draw quite a mob of angry citizens. I've even heard people say, if you can't afford to live in Marin, well then move somewhere else. San Francisco is not far behind the entire Bay Area, from what I understand. Unfortunately, there are fewer and fewer places left for people to go. I think maybe Detroit is still up for grabs, and I'm not sure.

[20:09]

And now a few centuries into our life as a nation, we not only have property rights, marriage rights, and the right to religious freedom and the freedom to speak, sort of, we also have gay rights, civil rights, human rights, animal rights, and then, of course, the left and the right, who argue endlessly about what all of this means and about who, if anyone, has the right to any rights at all. So as we all know, we are still in the heat of this battle, and for the most part, with some notable and horrifying exceptions, it's a war of words, of insults, and of my attorney talking to your attorney about honor and about money. I actually considered law school myself at one point after graduating from college because I'm opinionated. I like to argue and I like to win. And I had no problem. taking sides, so why not? The why not was because somehow intensifying my already self-centered approach to life, to liberation, and to the pursuit of happiness was not making me particularly happy.

[21:25]

In fact, quite the opposite. I was uninspired by material wealth, completely bereft of a vocation, of a community, and of a meaningful way to live. Having been a political science major, I began to suspect, as many of us may have, that there might be something terribly wrong with the plan, as it was written by those well-meaning gentlemen back in the 18th century. Well-meaning, perhaps, but clearly not well done. There were simply too many important things about people being left out. For one thing, compassion was optional. and for another, slavery was deliberately ignored. I have always preferred social theories in which the basis for a good society lies in mutual and collective responsibility, beginning with oneself and one's family in an ever-widening circle to include, at least within our hearts, our neighbors, our community, our nation, all nations, and the entire world.

[22:35]

It sounds kind of like religion, doesn't it? Well, it is. And that was the missing piece. I didn't really want to be a lawyer or a politician, both of which are fine. I wanted to be a priest. And I wanted to talk and read and speak about love and devotion, about morality and generosity, about wisdom and faith, and especially about miracles. Miracles like the Big Bang. and evolution and the Higgs boson, oh my God. As a matter of fact, if you are not in awe, you are distracted. So where does one look for religion? What do we listen to and who do we trust? Well, being that you are at a Zen center, what I say next shouldn't come as any great surprise. We trust Buddha, a word which means awake. We trust the Dharma, the teachings of awakening, And we live together in an ever-widening circle with everyone in Sangha.

[23:41]

Which brings me back to the first part of my talk today about the simple and obvious fact of being alive. When the Buddha awakened, he saw that there was something missing from his life, something that he had cherished and protected. And that was himself. Himself is separate from everything else. Within the overwhelming joy that arose from that realization, he saw a bird flying through the sky and tasted the sweetness of the summer wind. And then he knew, he truly knew what life was, L'chaim. He knew what death was, a great sorrow for the living. And he knew what he had been born to do. He had been born to love and to care for all of it. And so he gave himself and what remained of his life for the benefit of living beings. And with that, the first paramita, in a bonfire of giving, brought light into the human world.

[24:46]

And then he taught and he lived by ethical principles and patience, with energy and concentration, out of which came wisdom, the six most natural ways for human beings to celebrate life on this beautiful, beautiful earth. as givers, receivers, and gifts. The sky is blue, a bird flies through. How amazing is that? I'll end this morning with one of my very favorite love poems by Billy Collins called Aimless Love. This morning, as I walked along the lake shore, I fell in love with a wren. And later in the day, with a mouse, the cat had dropped under the dining room table. In the shadows of an autumn evening, I fell for a seamstress still at her machine in the tailor's window, and later for a bowl of broth, steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.

[25:48]

This is the best kind of love, I thought, without recompense, without gifts or unkind words, without suspicion or silence on the telephone. the love of the chestnut, the jazz cap, and one hand on the wheel. No lust, no slam of the door, the love of the miniature orange tree, the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower, the highway that cuts across Florida. No waiting, no huffiness or rancor, just a twinge now and then for the wren who had built her nest on a low branch overhanging the water. and for the dead mouse still dressed in its light brown suit. But my heart is always propped up in a field on its tripod, ready for the next arrow. After I carried the mouse by the tail to a pile of leaves in the woods, I found myself standing at the bathroom sink, gazing down affectionately at the soap.

[26:51]

So patient and soluble, so at home in its pale green soap dish, I could feel myself falling again as I felt its turning in my wet hands and caught the scent of lavender and stone. Thank you so much. Thank you for listening to this podcast offered by the San Francisco Zen Center. Our programs are made possible by the donations we receive. Please help us to continue to realize and actualize the practice of giving by offering your financial support. For more information, visit sfcc.org and click giving. May we fully enjoy the Dharma.

[27:38]

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