This podcast is offered by San Francisco's Zen Center on the web at sfcc.org. Our public programs are made possible by donations from people like you. Good evening. Can you all hear me? Good. Please let me know if my voice drops. It sometimes does. So my name is Hakusho Aslan. And I am the Tanto, head of practice, at Tassahara Zen Mountain Center, which is a monastery of San Francisco Zen Center located in Tana Wilderness, for those of you who don't know it. And we just, six days ago, we finished the 103rd practice period down there. a 90-day period of intense formal Zen practice, many hours spent in meditation, in silence, in study, in ceremonial space, and with very limited personal time.

[01:11]

And now we've just started work period, which is our transitional period, where we're changing Tazahara from practice period season and going into guest season, to hosting guests and retreats and new students arriving, some of them brand new to Zen practice. So for those of us who are continuing residents, this is a shift from stillness to activity. From three months or six months, really, of not encountering anyone other than the 60 or so people in the practice period to the gates of the monastery swinging open and guests and old friends and new friends all coming in. It's a little overwhelming more for some than for others and I think it's an essential reality check in our practice.

[02:20]

Where are we at? Are we able to move our off of the cushion and into the world. And so it's really this opportunity to turn our practice outward without throwing away any sort of composure or settledness that we might have cultivated and developed over the winter. I remember the first time I went through this transition gearing up and getting busy with a number of projects as the garden and grounds manager. And I was on my way one day up the, those of you know Tassahara, the narrow stairway between the lower and the upper shack, moving with some purpose and intention, and there was somebody in front of me walking in a leisurely pace much slower, and I could see this frustration that,

[03:23]

at being stopped in my tracks arising and sort of forced to adjust to somebody else's speed or lack thereof. And I think coming out of months of silence and studying of the self was crucial because this annoyance became apparent to me. And I could see all at once that the impulse to blame this person in front of me for being in my way was neither helping me get to where I wanted to any faster. It wasn't, even though there was a sense of righteousness, it wasn't actually feeling good or making me feel any better. And it was actually a behavior that was not in line with how I really wanted to live my life. I can also see how I've been in this situation many times before, actually, without being fully conscious of it.

[04:34]

This is a habit pattern, kind of a knee-jerk response. Perhaps the most crucial observation, though, was that I could see that I actually had a choice in this moment of how to orient my own mind could stay annoyed with the person in front of me throughout the seconds that it would take to go up the stairs. It's just a few steps. It's like four or five of them, by the way. It wasn't enough at that time. So anyway, I could choose to stay annoyed. And if I had, reflecting on it afterwards, probably the next time I'd encounter them, I would have gotten a little easily, you know, there'd still be something remaining there Unlike when you're moving around in a city traffic and there's a car in front of you, you're probably not going to see that one ever again.

[05:37]

But when you're living in a narrow mountain valley, you meet the same people on the path over and over and over again. And if we let our minds get frustrated and annoyed with them once, we're more prone to having that experience come up around the same person again. Anyway, I could see that I had this choice to either stay annoyed with them or to regulate my speed, just to slow down slightly. And what I found was that when I, which is what I did, that actually my annoyance went away. It was sort of interesting to... just be slowing down a little, just noticing I didn't have to be moving as fast as I did. So even after they veered off into the upper shack and I continued to the stone office, I kept walking a little more slowly for at least the rest of my way to the stone office.

[06:49]

So what I want to bring up... tonight is this kind of alchemic monastic practice of finding freedom within limitations. Within being with the less than ideal or what appears to be less than ideal. A common definition of freedom, I looked it up, is the power or right to act, speak or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint. I'd say the ability to get away from what we don't like and to get to where and what we do like. And as a contrast, Zen monastic practice is often one metaphor that's often used is that of fitting a snake through a bamboo tube. Kind of like my experience in the narrow staircase, the constrictive elements around us is what helps us to bump up against our karmic conditioning.

[07:54]

And if we can stand this encounter, really be observant and watch it, we may discover a sense of freedom which we didn't know that we had. Come to see choices that we're not previously aware of. And so to practice at a place like Tassahara or City Center is to voluntarily, although perhaps reluctantly, give up certain freedoms of choice, to give up several possibilities of separating ourselves from particular experiences we deem as unpleasant. And also simultaneously finding that possibilities are limited for upping the frequency of other experiences, those that we consider pleasant. And it's helpful, but maybe not essential, if we can have some faith that this can actually help us find a deeper kind of freedom of choice.

[09:04]

That of not being so blindly pulled about by our likes and dislikes. To not have our preferences actually dictate our lives. To be aware of our karmic condition and its acting upon a particular situation. and not allowing it to decide the outcome. I'm talking about this as monastic practice because our Soda Zen tradition has come up largely through monasteries. That's how it's been transmitted to us. And these are training temples that are designed to limit the amount to which we can align our lives with our preferences. Even if you're not living in a monastic training temple, if you're practicing at the San Francisco Zen Center, this is still an aspect of practice.

[10:08]

Just think about the way in which we enter into the Zendo or the Buddha Hall and take our seats. If you were to try... maybe skipping in or something like this, have a self-expression there. Probably the eno would come up and let you know and say something along the likes of our form for entering the sendo is blah blah blah blah blah. And so this word our is indicating that it isn't quite up to us what we do and how we express ourselves. Former Zen Center Abbot Sokhetu Norman Fisher who led the practice period now at Tassahara in his very last talk as it's so tempting to just get intoxicated with the sense of freedom that's on the other side of the valley and start salivating over the meals we're going to eat and all of this he stated that actually the whole world is a monastery

[11:17]

In ordinary life, you preserve the illusion of freedom and autonomy. It looks like you could fill your life with only the things that you love, only the things you want. You can create the illusion that you are in control of your life, that you can be happy this way. This illusion is totally destroyed in the monastery. There is no escape from time, being, from the schedule, or other people. And what are we going to do with this predicament? And so... Case 43 of the Blue Cliff Record I think speaks to this case of Dongshan's cold and heat.

[12:27]

A monk asked Dongshan, when cold and heat come, how should one avoid them? Dongshan said, why not go to a place where there is neither cold nor heat? The monk said, what kind of place is it where there is neither cold nor heat? And Donshan said, when it's cold, the cold kills you. When it's hot, the heat kills you. So this is a popular Tassahara koan. Anyone who spent any time there knows that winters are very cold and summers are very hot. And while our summer guests can limit their exposure to summer heat, enjoy the cool retreat hall and dining room and enjoy the creek. at their convenience. Working students, for us, the capacity to insulate against either the heat of the summer or the cold of the winter is a little more limited, just like it was during Dongchang's time in China.

[13:31]

So this limitation of the capacity to avoid what we don't want also applies to Zen monastic living in general. Our days are heavily scheduled. We eat the food that is served, though we don't get to choose it. And we live, work, and practice in close proximity to other people, which we don't get to choose either. And some we will at some point find challenging to get along with. And I want to add that... And my experience of food is mostly absolutely delicious. The work of caring for the temple together with other people is mostly deeply satisfying for me. And I found extraordinary friendships develop and flourish in this kind of setting. But I don't want to talk about these moments of everyday magic right now because it's not emphasizing the point.

[14:37]

I want to make this talk, so I'm going to put them aside. And Tazahara also offers the additional limitation, which is almost unique these days, I think, of no Wi-Fi. So, which means that when an unpleasant feeling arises, and... A common way these days of dealing with it is getting on one's phone and social media or internet, whatever, to sort of distract one from the unpleasantness one is experiencing. We don't have that possibility. Instead, we need to tend to what is. This is becoming almost a luxury... these days. I think it's being called a technological fast. So back to this example of hot and cold.

[15:47]

A few years ago, Zen Center sent me on a scholarship to the Ancient Dragon Zen Gate in Chicago. And branching stream sangha there to assist them and learn how a smaller non-residential sangha is operating. And I came from having lived the last several years at Green Gold Farm, which is never too hot and rarely too cold. And so coming to Chicago, which is much more extreme weather fluctuations, is a different kind of talk about the weather and way of relating to the weather, which is interesting. So I met somebody who told me that her partner had set up her phone so their home could detect when she was on her way and turn on the AC or the heat in the winter. And so by the time she was getting home, the apartment was already a little more bearable to be in.

[16:57]

I think this kind of solution to a sweltering hot apartment is a little bit like what Dongshan was dangling in front of the monk with his response of, why not go to a place where there's neither cold nor heat? And in his time, his sort of technological escape options were quite limited. And I think today we have sort of, there's got to be an app that can fix that. It's a pretty common response to challenge that arise for us as human beings. But either one, whether in his time or now, it seems that to try to separate from the unpleasant was a deep-lying go-to response in the face of aversion back then, and it still is today. And this includes often how we approach spiritual or religious practice as well.

[18:08]

Are we trying to get to heaven or nirvana? Is our practice a way to try to escape or transcend the here and now that we find hard to bear? Okay. So as the quote from Norman indicates, whether we're living in a monastery or not, our practice is not so different. Buddhist freedom is not about having the power to separate from the unwanted. It's rather to be found in the capacity of resilience to stay with what's happening. Because as long as we're being swayed by what we like and what we dislike. As long as we are crowding our minds and hearts with shallow desires, we're not leaving space for our deepest, most inmost requests in life to rise to the surface.

[19:14]

And through sitting quietly in meditation, we get the chance to see how much of our life gets dictated by our preferences and our apparent need to have them met. how we're falling into equating happiness with the satisfaction of desires. When we set up our lives to have a maximum level of choice, choice, as you call it, paradoxically, we also set it up so that our karma can run free and unhindered, dragging us around in the process. We actually need some obstructions. some places in our lives that require us to bring forth some discipline with which to meet challenges. And so when we place our body in a still upright position, like we did in meditation, and make an effort to remain like this for a set period of time, we also commit to not acting on our preferences, whether through body, speech, or mind.

[20:25]

just being with whatever is arising. And so I just wanted to contemplate for a couple of minutes why not always getting what we want may be a good thing. Because I think if we can't appreciate this, if we're trying to live our life constantly, fulfilling our desires, of course, the moment when we're not getting what we want, we'll be unhappy and we'll suffer. And that's how we're living our life. And even when we are getting what we want, kind of just end up raising our expectations of the universe that is going to continue to align with our preferences.

[21:36]

And this is a tenuous expectation. And even within the relief or apparent pleasure of having our preferences met, there'll be an underlying anxiety because we know this is actually not sustainable. we can't count on things that turn out just the way we want them to. And if we, on the other hand, can appreciate that not always getting what one wants is a good thing, if we can have the composure with this, then we won't be so swayed when things don't work out, as we're having a realistic expectation to begin with. And also in the times when we actually are having our preferences met, if that's not our expectation, not needing it to be that certain way in order to be happy, necessarily, when we're not taking anything for granted and we can generally appreciate having our desires met in a relaxed and spacious way without this underlying anxiety.

[22:55]

to go back to the koan. So Dongshan seemed to be offering a place where there is neither hot nor cold. And the monk asks, what kind of place is it where there is neither hot nor cold? And Dongshan said, when it's cold, the cold kills you, and when it's hot, the heat kills you. So part of Buddhist monastic practice includes the cultivation of the capacity to stay with what is happening. But if this was all of it, then Buddhism would not be so much more than another coping mechanism. The other part of finding Buddhist freedom lies in discovering that what is happening is not the same as what we think is happening. This is because when we orient our lives around our preferences, we get stuck in a limited view of ourself.

[24:16]

So much of what I consider me has to do with I'm a person who likes this, I'm a person who doesn't like that. And when I go on arranging my life in accordance with these preferences, I strengthen the sense of me. There's the thing or the object, whether it's the heat or the cold, the person walking slowly in front of me, whatever it is that's bothering us. And then there's this person, me, the subject that gets established in relation to the other and who has strong feelings about the object of consciousness. And also he thinks that they are in control of what they can take in and what they can push away. So if we believe that we're fundamentally separate from the world around us, then to distance ourselves further from anything we don't want seems possible and makes sense.

[25:23]

That would be our go-to response for anything unpleasant. But if the Buddha's teachings are actually true, actually a good description of reality and we're not truly separate from anything, then all these attempts are in vain and they'll only ensnare us further. And so when we sit in meditation, that is a way of acting in accordance with our non-separateness, acting in faith that we're interrelated with to each and everything that we encounter. And if we're not following, or by not following the urge to push away, we instead get to explore the experience that we're having. We're no longer trying to put a wedge in between the I and the not I experience,

[26:35]

sense of self. Instead, we're trying to get intimate with whatever's going on. And so intimate that there's no longer breathing and an eye that experiences breathing. There's not aching of a body part and an eye that's experiencing this. There isn't heat or cold out there. And an eye that's subject to extreme temperatures. isn't the sound of birdsong, temple bells, traffic, and an eye that's hearing these sounds. Instead, there's simply breathing, aching, thinking, hearing, seeing, smelling, tasting, feeling. So this is how I hear, when it is cold, the cold kills you, and when it is hot, the heat kills you.

[27:36]

Or as Suzuki Roshi put it, when it's hot, be hot Buddha. And when it's cold, be cold Buddha. So if we can enter fully into the full experience of heat and cold, aversion, fear, stress, annoyance, whatever it is, without constantly having our mind yell bad, bad, bad, or good, good, good, we might actually find that this situation that we're in is actually quite okay. It's not what we first thought it was. And maybe there's some freedom right in there. I thought that rather than using the metaphor of the A snake in the bamboo tube, a different metaphor that could be used is that of a dance, where we're asked to conform to a certain rhythm, a set of movements, and there's a certain amount of yielding that's being required of us.

[28:56]

We need to let the movements of our body and our mind sync to both music and other people around us. And if we're fighting this, we suffer. If we're trying to move at our own pace, in our own way, it's out of sync with others. It's probably not a pleasant experience. But if we can really go along and give ourselves to it, there might just be a pleasant feeling of self-surrender, of losing oneself, just letting go of something fresh, a different sense of self, perhaps. So I want just to close with another few lines from Norman from the same talk at the end of the practice period. He said, to have preferences, to really enjoy them, is best when you have the capacity to simply enjoy whatever comes from you.

[30:07]

even if it's not what you prefer. When you can enjoy whatever comes, then you can really enjoy your preference without the anxiety and graviness that is at the basis of our preferences. And this is a wonderful blessing and a great way to live our life. So, I think we have a few minutes for questions. Five minutes, yeah. Are there any questions? Raymond? Talk to you. So I'm wondering when there is a place you can imagine that is neither hot nor cold, is it wise to go there, right? Or is that, so what came up for me sort of as a joke at first was like, oh, well, you could go to San Diego, right? it over in my mind and I was like well is there like if we have the knowledge access to information all of these things to be able to go to where it's neither hot nor cold is that wisdom or is it a distraction or yeah I'm just wondering if you could speak to that my sense is

[31:40]

right now, maybe wisdom is knowing that even if you were to move to San Diego, that would, you know, not be the end of your problems or, you know, you'd probably still find ways to complain about, you know, the weather or whatever it is. As I was reflecting on life at Tazahara, you know, Zen practice, residential, it's like, if my mind wants to complain about the food, or about other people, or whatever it is. It isn't actually about the food. It's about not having control. So I don't know, I think similarly. Wisdom is not knowing that even if we're moving to a place because we like the weather, the climate, then truly we can't control and we shouldn't expect our needs, our preferences to be met. I was just thinking in relation to that, somebody wanted to know how to find the hypotenuse of the right triangle.

[32:58]

To find what? Oh, yeah. that need to know really about? It seems wholesome, right? And why is it compulsive? And I think part of it is being really present to whatever is going on and not like an example with the cold and the heat.

[35:06]

If we're thinking that the cold is out there, then I'm going to try to want to protect myself in here. But actually the cold is my experience. It's right here. can enter into that experience there's less of an eye in opposition to the thing out there and it's a more relaxing place to be okay last question pardon oh I haven't been to one for a while How's your mind when you go to a shoe store? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I'll explore that next time. Thank you. Thank you for listening to this podcast offered by the San Francisco Zen Center.

[36:12]

Our Dharma Talks are offered free of charge and this is made possible by the donations we receive. Your financial support helps us to continue to offer the Dharma. For more information, please visit sfcc.org and click Giving. May we all fully enjoy the Dharma.

[36:31]

@Transcribed_UNK
@Text_v005
@Score_93.95