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 by people like you. Buenos dias. Good morning. It seems that one of the most challenging things about giving a Dharma talk, in my experience, is figure out how to climb on this platform and sit down without falling on my face. And it felt like with the robes and arranging the robes and the folds, it felt like getting undressed and dressed in front of a large group of people. Eyes watching. Just before we came downstairs, I was putting angel kesa and chanted the rogue chant that we do every morning after zazen.

[01:15]

And an anecdote that I wanted to talk about in today's lecture came up, which I read that in the early days, Suzuki Roshi, the chant was only chanted in Japanese. And one day a student went to him and said, what does it mean in this chant we do every day after zazen? And he said, I don't know. And then Katagiri Roshi, who was in an assistant role to Suzuki Roshi, started looking through some drawers for translation and Suzuki Roshi stopped him and turned to the student and pointed to his heart and said, it's love. So that's what I'm intending to talk about today is love.

[02:16]

So for how many of you is this your first time here at City Center? Great. Well, welcome. Welcome to Beginner's Mind Temple and please enjoy yourselves. We're also sitting in a building, in a room that's in a building that is considered one of Julia Morgan's jewels, you know, the architect. And I don't know if it's still there, but yesterday there was this wonderful book right on the ledge of the window. It's a new book on Julia Morgan. And this building is photographed and it's featured there. The former life of this building was the Emmanuel Sisterhood residence. It was a residential community for young working class Jewish women. I don't know if it's karmic, but the last time I gave a talk in the Buddha Hall, there had been, the week before, a very big march towards supporting the end of the war in Iraq.

[03:39]

And I say it's karmic because as much as I attempt to try to get away from politics, there seems to, it's always close, you know, politics or social activism. And then just as we are sitting here and we're beginning to engage, there's a gathering happening at Civic Center. And there's a rally will take place starting at 11 with a march to Dolores Park in the Mission District. So are we having teas and cookies today? Yes. So after you partake of teas and cookies, you might want to bring forth your dharma for peace. This march is called Let Your Voices Be Heard. It's called Make Your Voices Heard. In the family and culture that I grew up, my grandmother always had a saying of, you know, to bestow honor on those who deserve or who are worthy of honor.

[05:13]

And before I get into the body of the talk, I want to share appreciation for several people without whom I wouldn't be here. The first being my Zen teacher, Zenke Roshi, whose unfailing support and confidence in my practice paved the way for me to be sitting on the seat. And I'd like to also thank the head of practice at City Center, Shokan Jordan Thorne, whose enthusiastic and kind invitation May this happen. I'd like to acknowledge the abbots of San Francisco Sense Center, Rue Shane Paul Haller and Milgen Steve Stuckey, for their spiritual caretaking of this institution. I also want to acknowledge the Venerable Pema Chodron, also a teacher, whose Dharma nugget that I heard this summer was that the point of practice is to relax.

[06:23]

And I thought, oh, she doesn't know a Cuban well. I'm finding out that to actually practice that teaching takes a profound commitment to discipline. And then I want to thank Sheri Moraga. who's an essayist and a poet and a playwright. Cherie and I met over 20 years ago, and just in the last year, the causes and conditions of our lives have brought us back together, and we're sharing the Dharma path. And about 25 years ago, she published a book, which has been reissued, called Loving in the War Years. Lo que nunca pasó por mis labios. Loving in the War Years, What Never Crossed My Lips. And it was looking at her book again recently that began inspiration for this talk.

[07:35]

Not too long ago, I just want to make sure I have a clock here. Not too long ago, I caught myself moving into a mental state that was quickly leading into a place of numbness and a little bit of despondency. I was contemplating the state of the world. Something that I'm finding more and more it's important to do very intimately. So in the midst of catching this mental state that was arising, what clue me in was that something was happening. was that I wanted to leave my apartment and rush to Blockbuster and rent numerous films.

[08:54]

So I began to think of the state of the world. What does that mean? What would be some examples of that? And what came to mind was This is how it came forth, right? The state of the world, you know, from the Saffron Revolution in Burma to the racial upheavals in Gina, Louisiana. From the escalating death in Iraq to the ongoing devastation of the Earth's precious resources. From the plight in Danfor to the cultural and spiritual repression in Tibet. From the present-day anguish of bears and whales and seals and other non-two-legged beings that are being threatened due to changes infused by global warming. To the mother with young children who extends her hand toward me at a stoplight as they huddle under a freeway overpass.

[10:12]

From the disappearing of an entire generation of young women due to the spread of AIDS across the African continent, to the increasing losses of our basic human rights right in the bosom of this country. So that was what arose as I was contemplating out my window whether to go to Blockbuster and rent the latest Meryl Streep movie. quickly as that thought arose, another thought arose which was only love can save this planet. Quite presumptuous of that thought that the planet needs to be saved. Nonetheless, I hung on to that thought because it was sort of preventing me from getting in my car.

[11:18]

getting those movies. And immediately a companion thought to only love can save this planet was we must learn to love in these times of war. We must learn to love in these times of war. You know it occurred to me that that to truly To truly embody loving might be considered a revolutionary act in these days. These days when there are discussions of putting more of this country's resources into building a missile shield in Europe than to place resources toward the health care of children. So then the next thought was, for me, the most curious of them all, which was, what instigated these thoughts of love at the very moment of moving into a place of despondency and sadness and grief?

[12:44]

And the only thing I was able to ascertain was that as I I just live up the street and when I look out my window I have a view of City Hall. I don't think that's what inspired the Thoughts of Love, but there's the City Hall and in the distance you see the Bay Bridge and a little bit and on a clear day you can see Mount Diablo. It faces Lily Alley and the only thing I could ascertain was that as I was standing at the window looking out in this, caught in these thoughts of pondering that looking back was this beautiful cloudless blue sky. That's what I was looking at as all this was arising. It was just, there was not a cloud in the sky. You would never know that, you know, by looking outside today.

[13:50]

This deep blue And the light toward the end of the late afternoon was just majestic as it could be in an autumn in San Francisco. And then I heard some birds singing. And it occurred to me that in that moment of almost despondency, a reminder of spaciousness and of beauty, I have given birth to these thoughts about love. the beginning and then reminded by chanting the rope chant that I came into this talk with thoughts of love and thoughts of beauty and thoughts of poetry.

[15:02]

Perhaps as an antidote for times where we can so easily be pulled into despair, into hopelessness and powerlessness and confusion. So I've also been thinking of, in addition to that, I've been thinking about rituals and celebrations. Because it seems that something happens when we come together with others in ritual and in celebration. Perhaps that something is the opening, the opening of our hearts. the dropping of some of our conditioned habits of being, that something happens in ritual. And I'm seeing, walking just a little while ago into the lobby, I'm seeing that we're preparing, right, for one of the rituals that is coming up on Wednesday.

[16:11]

Tzajiki. And somehow it seems autumn has a lot of... celebrations and observances. It's almost like for me, I love the equinoxes. I know solstices are important. I love the equinoxes. So not only do we have that autumn equinox that lets us know that somehow not too far from them that we would have like this amazing harvest moon that happens. And I'm not sure if that's the one that was happening yesterday, was the harvest moon. And the moon was just in all her glory. So yesterday morning here, we did the bodhisattva full moon ceremony, where we chant repentance and we pay homage.

[17:18]

and we renew our bodhisattva vows and take refuge and recommit to the precepts. All witnessed by the beautiful harvest moon. And last night at dusk, I got very excited and I asked my housemate, I want to go to a walk in the park because we knew the moon was coming. And finally caught it at the corner of Fillmore, maybe, and Oak. There was a hill. Beauty stops us in our tracks and we just reflect. Ah, you know. But often we forget that that beauty that we are awing about is not external to us, but it's right here.

[18:24]

And that's why we can recognize it. So the seasonal autumn also began with Rosh Hashanah and with Ramadan, which began the same evening this year, and Yom Kippur. the highest holy day of the year in the Jewish tradition. And then next week, following Halloween, which is San Francisco, San Francisco Holy Day. I don't know how high it is this year, but it's definitely a celebration. You know, we have Dia de los Muertos, right? Day of the Dead and the Old Saints Day in the Catholic calendar, right? Those time of the year where the veil is thinnest between the two worlds. And in Sajiki, we invite the hungry ghosts to come and we nurture and appease and quench their thirst, you know, of their...

[19:41]

Restless existence. And then there's that toward the end of the month, you know, controversial day of service and ritual that for some is Thanksgiving and for many is a day of grieving. And then there's the ultimate Zen ritual, which is baseball. And the World Series, which is happening now. Anyone here from the Red Sox Nation? I wasn't, but I've become a converted one. I grew up in a Yankee home. So lots happening, right? What's happening if we were to say, let's contemplate the state of the world, you know?

[20:42]

What does that mean? When the pantomime master Marcel Marceau died on the 23rd of September, which happened to have been the autumn equinox, a byline said, about Marcel, he brought poetry to silence. He brought poetry to silence. And it was about, I'm using the word byline, but it was actually a journalist who was giving this report and this came out of her mouth, right? And I thought, well, that was very rich. Phrase. Poetry to silence. Perhaps that is Zen practitioners.

[21:44]

That's what we're doing all the time when we sit zazen. We didn't even realize it and we're all poets. Well, some a little bit more skilled than others. Speaking for this cell right here. And last week, I think it was last week or maybe... His Holiness the Dalai Lama received the Congressional Medal of Honor. And a pen pal. I have someone that I've been writing letters, you know, ink to pen. Remember those days? For quite a long time, about five years. We've never met. I think we've spoken once on the phone. She lives outside of D.C. So she sent me all the clippings that were in the Washington Post and they arrived yesterday. And there's the 14th Dalai Lama in his saffron and gold Buddha robe with his arm through President Bush's arm.

[22:51]

And Nancy Pelosi on the other side. And I thought, there's hope. And if you've seen pictures of Ben and his holiness presence, there's this manifestation. He's said to be the incarnation or the embodiment of Avalokiteshvara, the Bodhisattva of Compassion. And the way he was looking at Bush, President Bush. That image is in itself, it's a teaching. a teaching. I didn't know this was happening in D.C. and I received a call from my father who lives in Miami. I guess the morning that all these events were happening and then there was a big thing that happened on the Capitol steps and he leaves this call and he says, I'm calling because I just watched the president

[24:00]

and the Dalai Lama, and I know you move in the circle, so I'm concerned about you. I had no clue what he was talking about. I was deeply moved. I had no clue what he was talking about. I was deeply moved that he would envision me in those circles. That's the cultural connection that he's made. about my practice and the Buddhist world. And coming from Miami, Florida, the capital of Cuba, the second Cuba. There's the Havana of Cuba and there's Miami of Cuba. That was quite warming. Last week there was an essay of His Holiness that was published in the Washington Post. And in it he says, in my travels, I always consider my foremost mission to be the promotion of basic human qualities of goodness.

[25:09]

The need for an appreciation of the value of love, a natural capacity for compassion, and the need for genuine fellow feeling. No matter how new the face or how different the dress and behavior are, There's no significant division between us and other people. And in the heat of Sashin, when we sit our Zen intensives, over the years being in that space with Zenkei Roshi, she often, in encouragement, Her voice comes through the silence of the zendo and asks, is your heart open? And then here there's Suzuki Roshi saying that the rogue chant is love.

[26:12]

So this harvest moon reminded me of a poem that I came across by Dogen Zenji, Zen Master Dogen, the founder of the Soto School, in which actually the source that I have says that this poem is inscribed in a self-portrait of Dogen Zenji, and it's a self-portrait of him watching the harvest moon. And this was written in the year 1249. The mountain filled with leafless trees, crisp and clear in this autumn night. The full moon floating gently above the cluster of roofs. Having nothing to depend on and not clinging to any place.

[27:30]

Free like steam rising from a full bowl of rice. Effortless as a fish swimming and splashing back and forth. Like lifting clouds and flowing water. effortless as a fish swimming and splashing back and forth. I'll read it again. The mountain filled with leafless trees, crisp and clear in this autumn night. The full moon floating gently above the cluster of roofs, having nothing to depend on and not clinging to any place. Free like steam rising from a full bowl of rice. Effortless as a fish swimming and splashing back and forth.

[28:36]

Like lifting clouds and flowing water. So when we are faced with the vicissitudes of this world and in our life, How do we respond from not clinging to any place? How do we commit without having nothing to depend on? How do we confront what we fear or that which we want to turn away from? How do we do that free like steam rising from a full bowl of rice? do we risk opening our hearts to the suffering all around us? So yes, there is suffering all around us, and yet simultaneously there's immense beauty all around us.

[29:43]

And one of my favorite stories about the Buddha, the Buddha Shakyamuni, is It's a koan that's in the Mumonkan, the gateless gate. I think it's koan number six. And I'm not going to, I'm not implying that I'm going to comment on that koan at all. But it's just the story, right? And some of you are familiar with the story. But I'm bringing forth a story because it's helped me in the pondering of these questions. So this is a version of the story that I found, which I had not seen before. So at the end of his life, the Buddha took his disciples to a quiet pond for instruction. As they had done so many times before, the Buddha's followers sat in a small circle around him and waited for the teaching. But this time, the Buddha had no words.

[30:50]

He reached into the muck and pulled up a lotus flower. and he held it silently before them, its roots dripping mud and water. The disciples were greatly confused. Buddha quietly displayed the lotus to each of them. In turn, the disciples did their best to expound upon the meaning of the flower, what it symbolized, how it fit into the body of Buddha's teaching. When at last the Buddha came to his follower and disciple, Mahakasyapa, the disciple suddenly understood. He smiled and began to laugh. Buddha handed the lotus to Mahakasyapa and began to speak. What can be said, I have said to you, smiled the Buddha. And what cannot be said, I have given to Mahakasyapa. Mahakasyapa became Buddha's successor from that day forward.

[31:55]

Remembering the story, which is also called the Buddha Twirls the Flower or the Flower Sermon. I was brought back that on the 7th of January of this year, I was at the bedside of my aunt, Tia Lola, who was in critical condition. And we had been told that she would not make it through that night. She did and went on. to live for another month. But it was, I was sitting, this was Beth Israel Hospital in Manhattan, and I was in a little chair. Her bed was in a, this is a critical cardiac intensive unit. And I had a window. So I only saw this poster side view of outside, down on the park, outside of Beth Israel. And sat up all night. And in retrospect, I felt like I, through Lola, I was able to do Sashim, you know, all night long.

[33:17]

Because the days came, we were up, and the next night, you know, stood up there, nodded a few times. Normal, you know, like in the Zendo. And so the sun come up, so the sun go down. And in the midst of sitting there on January 7th, because I wrote it on the journal, I don't know if I placed the time, No, I just said 7th January 207, Beth Israel CCU, low-lying critical condition. So I had my journal next to me all the time. And the only thing that arose was the phrase, Zen began with a smile. So that image that our practice began with a smile. Brings a lot of joy. Brings a lot of joy. And as the Buddha held that lotus flower, which I love the way this version goes, he pulled from the muck.

[34:25]

Technical Buddhist term, muck. He pulled from the muck, dripping mud and water. Mahakashi Appa smiled. So he embodied what Jungman says, the appropriate response. And there was this meeting, this meeting called referred to as One Mind, which gave birth to Zen. So when I think of a smile, And that there were these two human beings sharing a smile, heart to heart. In the poetry of silence, something beautiful transpired.

[35:32]

So one would assume that a smile is a precursor to an open heart. I don't know about you, but I have a hard time smiling when my heart is closed. Very difficult. Physiologically, I don't know if it's possible. So a smile is a precursor to an open heart, and an open heart is the feel from where love can spring forth. So I invite you to consider that responding to the state of the world or the suffering of the world are difficult. conditions in our lives, or to the worker who grates on our nerves, or to our beloved who just can't seem to get it right and do it the way that I tell him to do it, or to our family for whom we've been going to therapy for 10 years hoping that they will change. In any of those circumstances, I invite you to consider that responding

[36:40]

from any other place than love and beauty and spaciousness and an open heart only adds to the suffering. So how do we tap into the love and the beauty and the spaciousness and the open heart? It's great to have all these words, but then what? In my experience, just as how the heart breaks in the face of sorrow, the heart also opens in the face of beauty. So we know that that happens. So we can trust in that. That it's in us to move in the world open-hearted. So the lotus flower... pulled from the muck with roots dripping with water and mud.

[37:45]

I don't know about you, but that sounds like a good description of most of my days. You know, imagine that each event in your life that arises, it's a flower that's been held to you. That each encounter in our life moment to moment is a flower. And every moment of our life is a flower held up to us. Endless flowers arising of many colors, many textures, many shapes, many origins, many thorns, many as evanescent as a dandelion when we blow on it. Yet more often than not, each of those flowers are dripping with mud, and water when they're being held toward us, when we're holding our own experience. So in the impulse to turn away, can we meet each flower that reaches out to us moment to moment with a silent smile?

[38:55]

Can we do that? Not just the flowers that come to us from the outside, the flowers that are arising within our own experience. So I think that to do that, to attempt to embody human's teaching of an appropriate response, we have to commit to seeing our own true nature. What's already been told to us by the ancients, that we are Buddha nature, that we are already that beauty, we're already that space, we're already that love. And more and more I'm convinced that one thing we humans pursue avidly until the end of our lives is this notion of love, of being loved, of knowing that we've been loved.

[40:03]

And it makes sense that we would manifest, that we would feel that because we are manifestations of that. If you can imagine all of us sitting in this room, somebody along the way cared for us, nurtured us, was kind to us, did something because we haven't died yet. We're still here. So someone, someone along the way, you know, watched over us. our parents, grandparents, their ancestors, this happened back from beginningless time, and it will continue to happen through endless times because we will be the ancestors of those to come after us. So I propose that to embody this response of opening ourselves to receiving the flowers that come, whether they're in full bloom or completely withered, whether from outside or from inside, that we must cultivate this love first and foremost right here in this being, in this person.

[41:14]

And we must learn to love this very being passionately. For that honors the Buddha nature that we've been told it's already here. And so often we reserve this notion of love to romantic love. or to a beloved. We often feel that that love is only reserved for that sphere of life. And I'm inviting you to consider that we must fall in love with ourselves in the big definition of that notion. Not selfishness, not self-absorption, not thinking we're greater than others, but in that smile, in that heart-to-heart connection of Mahakashiapa and Buddha. Because I cannot but think that there was deep love between Buddha and Mahakashiapa for that transmission to have taken place.

[42:25]

So we must fully embrace ourselves, and in this embracing, we drop the painful duality of seeing ourselves separate from the rest of the world. And certainly when that happens, love would flourish in that landscape. So Zen teacher Sherry Huber said, love as much as you can from where you are with what you've got. That's the best you can ever do. It does no good to search frantically for peace, to seek anxiously after love, joy or freedom. If you want joy, be joyful. If you want peace, be peaceful. And I'll add, if you want love, then be love. So I'll end the talk by sharing with you a poem by Pablo Neruda, which perhaps

[43:30]

It's a poem that would not be heard in a Dharma talk. It's an excerpt from one of the Hundred Sonnets of Love by Pablo Neruda. And this summer I had the honor and privilege of marrying two friends, Marisa and Glenn, and Marisa's friend read this excerpt at their wedding. And as I said, we often reserve particular kinds of love to certain relationships. And when I read this poem, I realized, ah, if I could ever feel this way about this being, I might have lived a good life. So it's in that spirit that I offer you Pablo Neruda's excerpt from 100 Love Sonnet. also be retitled a love poem to this self.

[44:40]

And I offer that as instructions to remind us of our true essence, of our innermost beauty, of our profound aspiration. Three qualities that must be cultivated if we are going to break down the barriers that keep us from living from the heart. And only through this practice of living from the heart are we able to embody the compassion and wisdom and love needed to begin to heal the tear of the world, to practice the kumalom. So here's Neruda. I do not love you as if you were salt rose or topaz or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved in secret between the shadow and the soul.

[45:46]

I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers. Thanks to your love, a certain solid fragrance risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you without knowing how or when or from where. I love you straightforwardly without complexities or pride. So I love you because I know no other way than this, where I does not exist, not you. So close that your hand on my chest is my hand. so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. Thank you very 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.

[46:55]

For more information, visit sfcc.org and click Giving. May we fully enjoy the Dharma.

[47:03]

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