This podcast is offered by San Francisco Zen Center on the web at sfcc.org. Our public programs are made possible by donations from people like you. It's lovely to see new faces. It's lovely to see familiar faces. And I appreciate those folks who have joined online whose faces I cannot see. Let's take a moment to settle together in this space. I know you've been sitting for a minute or two. However, please, I invite you into this space. I'd like to thank Christina, practice period leader, for the invitation to speak, and for Tim, the tanto, for supporting me to do so.

[01:20]

And I'd like to also thank my present, current situation, my body, my partner, my practice, all these things I bring with me today. And it feels lovely and appropriate to acknowledge those things given the topic of the practice period. So as I understand it, this practice period at City Centre is an opportunity to tune into one's body. Probably our most precious of gifts. And Christina has offered practices to support that tuning in. And I thought I would see, do an experiment to see if this offering today is in that same vein.

[02:34]

Several weeks ago, I was listening to some music. And one of the components of the music was the reading of a poem. And it's a poem by Mark Strand. It was a piece of that poem. And it really caught me. It was like... And I didn't really understand what was going on. Poetry usually doesn't capture me. However, this... these few lines from this particular poem, they got into me quickly. So I did what we all do now these days, and I Googled those lines. And Google did not fail me. So the poem is by a poet named Mark Strand. And today I'm going to read it to you probably a few times.

[03:41]

to see how it lands for you. So I'm going to read it this first time. The poem is entitled, Bury Your Face in Your Hands. Because we have crossed the river and the wind offers only a numb uncoiling of cold and we have meekly adapted the no longer expecting more than we have been given, nor wondering how it happened that we came to this place. We don't mind that nothing turned out as we thought it might. There is no way to clear the haze in which we live, no way to know that we have undergone another day. The silent snow of thought melts before it has a chance to stick.

[04:48]

Where we are is anyone's guess. The gates to nowhere multiply. And the present is so far away, so deeply far away. you don't even know who I am because I didn't introduce myself. So my name is Mary. I have been associated with Zen Center for what feels like a luxurious amount of time. I was at Tosahara in the summer of 2000 and have been associated in one way or another since then.

[05:53]

I think Tassajara has a way of doing that to people. Currently I work as an employee for San Francisco Zen Center and my main focus is at Enzo Village, which is a senior community in Healdsburg, And I am fascinated by the project of working with people as they age, as they live in community. So it's an interesting project. So back to the poem. For the second reading, I'd like you to actually... Change your posture. I'd like you to put your face, to bury your face in your hands.

[06:59]

I'd like you to crumple, not have good Zen posture. Feel the words, not as a stiff recipient, but as someone who is lost. I know this could be tricky for some of you, but give it a go. Bury your face in your hands. Because we have crossed the river, And the wind offers only a numb uncoiling of cold. And we have meekly adapted, no longer expecting more than we have been given.

[08:04]

Nor wondering how it happened that we came to this place. We don't mind that nothing as we thought it might. There is no way to clear the haze in which we live. No way to know that we have undergone another day. The silent snow of thought melts before it has a chance to stick. Where we are is anyone's guess. The gates to nowhere multiply, and the present is so far away, so deeply far away. Would anybody like to share if that changed your feeling around this poem?

[09:34]

Thank you for your bravery. Hi, I'm Laurie Sheher. I felt surrendered and actually comforted the second time. even though the present is so far, far away, and there's so many gates that go to nowhere, I had surrendered. Like, putting my body in that position, I just surrendered and let it just be what it was, and I felt a little comforted by it. Thank you very much. Is there anyone at the Another brave soul. Good morning. Thank you. I felt that it was easier at first to absorb the words emotionally when I had my hands over my eyes and that I was in kind of a more...

[10:41]

less alert, upright stance than where we usually sit for Dharma talks. So when you first said it, it was much easier for me to be alert and pay attention. But then after you started reading after a bit, because of the place that I was in, I started to fall asleep. And I felt physically it was harder to stay alert, but that emotionally it was easier to absorb the words. Thank you. Please. Somebody at the back. I'm noticing a theme between what I've heard in my experience. When I buried my face in my hands, I immediately felt more comfortable. I found it very, and when you notice some may not find it easy, I was like, I find it really easy and I'm also a person that poetry often doesn't grab me and I wasn't actually even able to listen to the hear take in the words the first time you read it and I was completely able to take in the words and felt resonance and comfort and I was touched the second time hearing the poem thank you

[12:08]

The first time I heard it, it was separate from me. The second time with my head in my hands, I felt it very personally. And I wasn't happy about that. It felt like this was a place that I did not want to be. But maybe I was. Or certainly I was. Thank you. Keep going or? Is there anyone else? Yes, please. Thank you. I felt first drawn to a mental model when we heard it the first time.

[13:22]

And the second time I felt it was courageous to allow the place of not knowing and not being in the present. And I was grateful to not be in my room or myself hearing the poem, but to be with a group of people who were also courageously acknowledging that place that we all can be And so I felt held in community. Thank you. Unless someone else has an interest in sharing, we'll move. So for me, when I listened to this poem and read it through, I started to get quite angry because it does describe this place of despair, hopelessness, giving up, resigning.

[14:43]

kind of lost in the first noble truth, lost in suffering, dukkha. And part of my feeling, that sharp feeling, was that the practice, my practice, allows me to penetrate the feelings that arise from this poetry for me. This description for me is a person who feels completely resigned, comfortable even, as was described by one person, in this place of not understanding, of no curiosity, or little curiosity, defeated curiosity.

[16:01]

So there's these, for me, the The overlay of this poetry speaks to practice. It was almost like I read it, I heard the pieces of it, and then I read this poem in its entirety. And for me, it took me into the possibility of practice. Instead of the settling with resignation. The feeling of defeated. It kind of marshaled a call to impermanence, a call to understanding that in every moment we can actually be here rather than far away. For me, this poem was remarkable in that this was something that I felt in my body before I actually started exploring the poem more.

[17:23]

I had a felt sense of what the poet was doing and where I think he was trying to lead us. And I, as a result of this practice, I didn't want to go to that place. I had the ability to understand, or I feel like I had the ability to understand what he's articulating, and then be able or willing to point myself in another direction. I'd like to read it to you again and this time I'd like you to have a different posture which is one of curiosity one of intention one of connecting with your body however that feels for you

[18:39]

And of course, it's a little hard because we're all in this Buddha hall jammed together. So the way that you would do this at home is you would dance while listening to this. That's more difficult to duplicate in this setting. However, it's a posture, I think, of clarity. Bury your face in your hands. Because we have crossed the river and the wind offers only a numb uncoiling of cold. And we have meekly adapted.

[19:42]

No longer expecting more than we have been given. Nor wondering how it happened that we came to this place. We don't mind that nothing turned out as we thought it might. There is no way to clear the haze in which we live. No way to know that we have undergone another day. The silent snow of thought melts before it has a chance to stick. Where we are is anyone's guess. the gates to nowhere multiply, and the present is so far away, so deeply far away. Does anyone want to comment on their experience

[21:00]

through that third reading? Griffin, this time I felt the wonder of the possibility of the unknown. Thank you. This time it felt like an experience of what dementia might be like. Michael. So the first time I didn't hear how the adaptation happened. The second time I heard it as weakly adapting and then

[22:05]

The third time I heard meekly, like still wanting to and with caution was, and then a whole bunch of other things like really kind of hit that third time too with the curiosity with my practice. And so, yeah, thank you. making Eno work. I like to work. The third time I was more aware of the room before it was more internal and I was feeling a sense of a combination of resistance and resilience which kind of

[23:07]

toward the end was feeling this kind of like tingling in my spine. Thank you. I may be part of the minority or the exception that felt pretty much the same in all three. Yeah, and I guess for me, I'd just share quickly, The whole lines sort of remind me of the small verse from Lao Tzu, which I don't have memorized, but it's something like, the whole world seems busy, and I'm like an idiot, or like a cloud that's roaming around. But the only place in the poem, perhaps the last line, where sort of the dissonance happens is, the present seems far away. It sort of seems like a koan because I have no, what is called, intuitive sense of what that is.

[24:12]

But if I was to make a guess, maybe the boat is coming from a place of thoughts and expectations, memories, condition, and the reality is having a sort of a face-to-face with that. I don't know. Thank you. Somebody, please. I'm brought back to the river. The river is a sort of threshold. I think it's one part of the journey to leave what's behind you on the river. It's another part to cross it. And sometimes I think when we're pushed past thresholds, we might not be ready for what's ahead of us. And we might be forced beyond our control. And it's one thing to let go of what's behind you, to accept that it's gone, but it's a whole other thing to embrace what's ahead.

[25:16]

And so I think there's an acceptance, a resignation, yes, in the unknown. But, you know, the story's not done yet. Thank you. The thing I appreciate, one of the many things I appreciate about this poem is that this situation that he's describing happens to us all. We do get numb. We do shut down. We do feel comfort in kind of the hazy, or we can feel comfortable in the hazy... resignation. And then the opposite of that is there can be this feeling of, okay, so enough of that, enough of sitting in front of the TV, eating Doritos, watching the Super Bowl, listening to Bad Bunny.

[26:28]

What's next, you know? What can I do that's next? What is important? How do I avoid the seduction of the numbness? Is it possible? So there's this description of two kind of extreme realities in this poem, or a description of a reality and then a possible movement towards... something, an alternative, that's more alive, that brings you into the moment rather than taking you out of the moment, that brings you into your body rather than taking you to a place where you don't even notice that you have this lovely body. So the...

[27:31]

The invitation, there was a teacher once that said something like, be careful, because if you start sitting once, you will never be able to turn your back on that. And what I think that means is that getting a glimpse of reality is potent. And we can never really turn our back on it and feel completely settled around the fact that we've turned our back on it. And I think the language of this poem, although I have no idea if Mark Strand was a Buddhist, I don't know. And he has since, he is deceased. The language for me is very clearly a looking, exploring invitation to one's life.

[28:42]

Being really interested. And that it is indeed effort. That it doesn't come without cost. That crossing the river is an act and we don't actually know if in crossing the River we're ready for the thing that we've moved into and moved away from. I particularly liked the line, the gates to nowhere multiply. And I think of a lecture, Christina, you gave years ago where you were talking about enough. Because I think generally in our culture, we don't... We're not rewarded for having enough.

[29:48]

We're rewarded for having more. So this line... For me, it opens up this idea that I have this image anyway, which I don't want to offend anybody. However, scrolling on one's phone, there are lots of gates in that. Sensory gates, possible entry points. There's unlimited... It is unlimited gates. And the idea that those unlimited gates lead to nowhere is something that each of us has to think about, maybe. Is that true? So this speaks a little bit to, are we distracting ourselves by the multitude of gates that are possible in our lives now?

[30:52]

And then the very last The present is so far away. So it describes this alienation from the present moment. That the we in this poem has nothing that is bringing them into their body, into this moment, into what's happening now. And what a wonderful thing when you have the tools to actually look into this present moment. Understand how you feel. Understand how your response is. Understand the moment. And what a gift that is. So as I continued to think about this poem, it was actually for me a call to practice.

[32:11]

How can I be curious? How can I be open? How can I be persistent? And can I allow for change? Instead of getting kind of locked in. It is a invitation maybe not directly maybe it kind of sneaks up and I think that's for me one of the powers of practice is that it is an invitation to practice life is an invitation to practice

[33:28]

It's an invitation to look at things in different ways, to question our responses, our reactions, our feelings, our thoughts. And for me, this poem gave me access to that. I'm gonna read it one more time. Bury your face in your hands. Because we have crossed the river and the wind offers only a numb uncoiling of cold and we have meekly adapted no longer expecting more than we have been given, nor wondering how it happened that we came to this place.

[34:43]

We don't mind that nothing turned out as we thought it might. There is no way to clear the haze in which we live. No way to know that we have undergone another day. The silent snow of thought melts before it has a chance to stick. Where we are is anyone's guess. The gates to nowhere multiply. And the present is so far away. so deeply far away. Thank you for listening to this podcast offered by the San Francisco Zen Center. Our Dharma talks are offered free of charge, and this is made possible by the donations we receive.

[35:50]

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.

[36:03]

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