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. I'm going to read a passage from the Genjo Koan by Japanese Zen Master Dogen Zenji. Genzhou Kuan has been translated into English something like actualizing the fundamental point, actualizing the fundamental point, which in turn is a translation of a Chinese legal term, meaning an open and shut case, or caught dead to rights, guilty as charged. So my understanding of why Dogen named this fascicle Genjo Kwan is that this reflects his understanding of the Buddha's primary teaching, which is that basically each and every thing, each and every person, is of the nature of enlightenment.

[01:13]

That's the open and shut case. The verdict is in. So when you listen to this passage, I think it's useful to use that side of your brain that listens to music or looks at art, listens to poetry, rather than trying to understand it logically. It's kind of a soft ears or soft mind. A fish swims in the ocean and no matter how far it swims, there is no end to the water. A bird flies in the sky and no matter how far it flies, there is no end to the air. However, the fish and the bird have never left their elements. When their activity is large, their field is large. When their need is small, their field is small.

[02:15]

Thus, each of them totally covers its full range. and each of them totally experiences its realm. If the bird leaves the air, it will die at once. If the fish leaves the water, it will die at once. Know that water is life and air is life. The bird is life, the fish is life. Life must be the bird, life must be the fish. It is possible to illustrate this with more analogies Practice, enlightenment, and people are all like this. Now, if the bird or the fish tries to reach the end of its element before moving in it, this bird or this fish will not find its way or its place. When you find your place where you are, practice occurs, actualizing the fundamental point.

[03:20]

When you find your way at this moment, practice occurs, actualizing the fundamental point. For the place, the way, is neither large nor small, neither yours nor others. The place, the way, has not carried over from the past, and it is not merely arising now. Accordingly, in the practice enlightenment of the Buddha way, Meeting one thing is mastering it. Doing one practice is practicing completely. So what I really want to talk about today, under the umbrella of this poetic presentation by Master Dogen, is love. In fact, that's pretty much what I want to talk about every day.

[04:24]

But unfortunately, when we use words like love over and over again, they lose their power and their meaning. It's like when you rub a spot on your skin, you know, the first time it feels really good, but after 100 times, not so much. So words are like that as well. We can wear them out. So instead of talking about love as a kind of surrogate, I'm gonna talk about a poem by the French surrealist Jacques Prevert, and it's called To Paint the Portrait of a Bird. This poem was translated into English by another poet and a book publisher that many of you know, I think from, at least by reputation, Laurence Ferlinghetti, who, He's pretty famous in the Bay Area as co-founder of City Lights Bookstore at Columbus and Broadway. Ferlinghetti became widely known nationally following his successful defense of a obscenity trial.

[05:36]

He was arrested for publishing Allen Ginsberg's book, Howl, and other poems. Have any of you not read Howl? You've all read how? Some of you aren't telling the truth. Well, anyway, it's an amazing poem. I think Alan had taken some kind of psychedelic when he wrote it, but anyway. So you may also know that Alan Ginsberg was a lifelong Buddhist practitioner And he was also a leading figure in the Beat Generation, and he loved men. And it was his love of men that he used in his sexual imagery in the poem Howl that led to Ferlinghetti's arrest, because homosexual acts between adults in San Francisco at that time were against the law, as they are still in many parts of the world.

[06:47]

So I found it interesting to read a closing statement by the judge, Clayton Horn, who presided over the trial. The judge said, would there be any freedom of press or speech if one must reduce their vocabulary to vapid, innocuous euphemisms? Clearly something the judge was not inclined to do himself. And I think we can hear in the outcome of this trial echoes of the civil rights movement, the free speech movement, the women's movement, the gay liberation movement, and so on. The right to speak and to be and say who you are, who you love, what you think, and so on. This is 1953, not so long ago. So I think we all know that even though these movements have been going on for many decades now, many of our neighbors still do not have the respect and the protection of law that we really ought to be giving to each other.

[07:57]

And this world has really long been ruled by invisible limitations based in conformity and dominance. So... On we go. So this poem I'm going to read is also about liberation, as was how it was about liberation. Liberation, in this case, that begins at the very basis of our society where ignorance and prejudice are being born. And that is inside each and every one of us, starting when we were young children. which in turn reminded me of the lyrics to a song from South Pacific. I think you may all know. You have to be taught to hate and fear. It's got to be drummed in your dear little ear. Before you were six or seven or eight, you've got to be carefully taught to hate all the people your relatives hate.

[09:03]

You've got to be carefully taught. You know, I know from taking care of some of the little kids that live here at Green Gulch now, one of my neighbors is two and he's learning words like Buddha and thank you and I love you. You know, we teach them. We teach them and they learn. So, I did hear a wonderful story from a friend who said to me that her little brother was walking with his mother in Mill Valley when an African-American, somewhat rare sight in Mill Valley, came walking down the street and the little boy started to cry. He was three. And the mother said, I'm so sorry, you know, he's never seen a person with dark skin. And the man bent down and he said, well, then why don't we make this a nice experience for him?

[10:06]

And he made friends with a little boy. So liberation from the base is what the Buddha had in mind when he recommended that we study ourselves deeply, thoroughly, and honestly from moment to moment. And in studying ourselves, we begin to witness the composite of both innate and learned behaviors that make up who we are right now. behaviors that arise from generations of greed, hate, and delusion passed on from child, from parent to child, and so on. So, although it's not exactly our fault that we are imprisoned inside of entitlements of imaginary and isolated selves, it's not our fault, exactly. But it's our responsibility to become free of them. Many years ago, I was working at Green's Restaurant when it was fairly new.

[11:14]

And we used to have a, well, there's still a tiny little dining room off to the corner when you go in, past the redwood sculptures, for those of you who have been there. It's got one table inside. And I don't know if it's still called the fly bottle, but we called it the fly bottle. And outside the entry to this room was written on the wall a quote by Wittgenstein that said, the purpose of all philosophical discourse is to shoo the fly the way out of the bottle. So while I was waiting tables day after day, I'd walk under this doorway and I'd see that sign and I'd think, I wonder how you do that? How do I find my way out of the glass bottle? Greens has a lot of windows. I even thought one time, I think I'm trapped in a postcard. It's a Golden Gate Bridge, day after day.

[12:17]

So it may be some kind of counterintuitive, but one of the best ways to liberate our imaginary and isolated self is to lure it into a trap, like a bottle or a cage. a trap that's made from our own conscious awareness and that's been designed for habitation by the one in all the world that we most wish to please, what the Sufis call the beloved and what the Buddha called our true self. And in order to find our true self, it may be necessary to take a creative leap backward into what and away from who we think we are. Back into this ever-present and awe-inspiring darkness out of which we all are being created in each and every moment.

[13:27]

So no one told us that spiritual practice was going to be easy In fact, I was waxing on about the Buddha's enlightenment one time and Mel Weitzman said to me, who told you enlightenment was something you were going to like? To paint the portrait of a bird. First paint a cage with an open door and then paint something pretty Something simple, something beautiful, something useful for the bird. Then place the canvas against a tree in a garden, in a wood, in a forest. Hide behind the tree, without speaking, without moving. Sometimes the bird comes quickly, but Chi can just as well spend long years before deciding.

[14:38]

Don't get discouraged. Wait. Wait years if necessary. The swiftness or slowness of the coming of the bird having no rapport with the success of the picture. When the bird comes, if she comes, observe the most profound silence. Wait till the bird enters the cage and when she has entered, gently close the door with a brush. Then, Paint out all the bars one by one, taking care not to touch any of the feathers of the bird. Then paint the portrait of a tree, choosing the most beautiful of its branches for the bird. Paint also the green foliage and the wind's freshness, the dust of the sun, and the noise of insects in the summer heat. and then wait for the bird to decide to sing.

[15:43]

If the bird doesn't sing, it's a bad sign. A sign that the painting is bad. But if he sings, it's a good sign. A sign that you can sign. So then, so gently, you pull out one of the feathers of the bird and you write your name in a corner of the picture. So one of the reasons I thought about this poem, which my teacher, Greg Anderson, has also talked about over the years, was that a friend of mine has told me that recently, well, actually she told me recently that while she was young, living in Japan, she'd had a very moving experience while sitting in meditation at a Zen temple. And then she thought that this was a very serious practice and that it would require the total commitment of her life.

[16:50]

So she left the temple, left the country, and committed herself to a career, a family, and a job. And I don't think this is an uncommon response for those of us who experienced meditation or any other transformative experience when we were young. The person who taught me meditation years ago, a friend in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, had also been practicing in Asia. She'd been in Nepal and had a large experience sitting in a monastery there and an even bigger experience the next day when she was introduced to the Karmapa, who was the head of a large Buddhist order. And she said to me that he was terribly kind And as a result, she too left the monastery in the middle of the night and ran for her life. So I'm really not wanting to criticize my friends for the actions that they took as young women in the face of these two competing and seemingly full-time occupations of their lives.

[18:05]

A kind of career, Living in the world the way most of us have been taught to understand is the right way to go, the right way to live, get a job, start a family. Or this mystery they call monasticism. So what I want to talk about is perhaps another way to view the Buddha's teaching in order to encourage ourselves to see that the requirements of practice are ever present in the life that we live right now, you know, this one, the one you're having right this minute in this room and in every room you're ever in throughout your entire life. You know, here is the way, here the practice unfolds. When the activity is large, the field is large. When the need is small, the field is small. And it can never be otherwise, because although we can imagine the possibility of running away, I think we all know by now that there isn't anywhere to go.

[19:19]

Because wherever we go, there we are. We've all noticed that by now, haven't we? Pack your bags, get in the car, go to the airport, and there you are. So not only that, not only there you are, but there it is right in front of you once again. This enormity that we call reality itself. Not only in front of you, but it's on every side and beneath your feet and over your head. Well, the good news is that if we listen carefully, there is something calling to us from all of those directions. There's a voice and it says, come, come closer, come listen. This is what the Buddha said to the young monks who were coming in toward him out of the forest. Come, come closer, come listen, come monks.

[20:23]

Now it's the call of intimacy. Intimacy with profound truths, with the world, with ourselves and with each other. And yet, as we all know, both sides, the world versus the self or the student versus the teacher or the lover versus the lover, are kind of waiting to see which one will go into the cage first. Waiting silently behind the tree. Seeing if we will dare to risk everything we've got. for true freedom, the true freedom of non-separation. No self and other. No student and teacher. No lover versus lover. So monasteries and meditation halls and robes and bells and all of these things that we put on ourselves when we come in here were created long ago.

[21:33]

They are painted cages crafted by human beings in order to provide us with a place and some clues as to where we might look to free ourselves. The Buddha's insight basically was to free himself from a contrivance that, as a young prince, he himself had believed that he could be free, personally free. He could find freedom for himself. But somehow he knew to hang in there until he realized complete, perfect enlightenment. There is no freedom for ourselves. There's only freedom for all things. Which is what we already are. Freedom to be this. And from that understanding, he gave his lion's roar.

[22:37]

The entire universe in the 10 directions is the true human body. The entire universe in the 10 directions is the true human body calling. Come, come listen, come closer. Be who you are. So the first question I asked myself when I read this poem was just what does the bird represent? And the answer that I thought was this very thing, the true human body. That's the bird. Fully grown, fully mature, and fully aware. Fully engaged in the world, just as it was meant to be from the moment of its birth. When a fish swims like a fish, and a bird flies like a bird, they find their place right where they are, and practice occurs. actualizing the fundamental point, the open and shut case.

[23:42]

And there are no other possibilities. If the bird leaves the air, it will die at once. If the fish leaves the water, it will die at once. Dead to rights. So this is the case that I'm endeavoring to make to you today, that encountering the Buddha's teaching which is really nothing other than encountering ourselves, is anything but an either-or proposition, an all-or-nothing proposition. Anything but that. In fact, it's this fervent belief we have in all-or-nothing propositions that has trapped us in the first place. That's how the fly got in the bottle. Inside or outside, right or wrong, self or others. These are dualistic notions that we all have lived our lives under the spell of there being two things, me and everything else.

[24:51]

Sometimes parents say to their kids, you know, well, is it or isn't it? Did you or didn't you? And kids look at you like you're crazy, you know. It's not like that. Mom? We want to wring it out of them. Tell me. Tell me the truth. And they try, but we can't hear it. It's not like that. It's not that simple. So there isn't any way to think our way out of the fly bottle with this kind of dualistic way of thinking. It's our usual way of thinking. The best way is to be shown the way out by someone who has managed to get out before us, like Shakyamuni Buddha. and who is then kind enough to come back in and see how we're doing. So that's pretty much what I think this poem is all about.

[25:52]

Finding ourselves trapped in our contrivances, our carefully painted cages, and then being shown the way out by the kindness of strangers who just care about us. We don't know why. Unconditional love. And then we're set upon a branch of the most beautiful tree in the forest. And it's then and only then that we ourselves decide whether we're going to sing or not. You know, it takes a lot of courage to paint a portrait of a bird and to wait silently to see if the bird is going to sing. And it's a risk because maybe the painting isn't very good. We have to start over. And we have to wait a long time. And yet, at the same time, I think this poem ends too soon.

[26:53]

I don't think actually we wait long enough. Because what he doesn't mention is the sound of another bird singing to us. listen, come closer. The sound of intimacy, not just with the other birds, but with all the animals in the forest and the trees and the waters and the mountains, all singing to us from the moment we're born. A call and response that come up together. And that in turn reminded me of another funny thing that happens. When I was the mother of a third grader who's now in college, I went with her class to a campground where they had cabins and I was one of the parents sleeping in the cabin with the third graders, third grade boys. And in the middle of the night, when everyone finally had gone to sleep, this one little voice cried out, is anybody awake?

[28:02]

Of course, We were right then, instantly. And the poor little guy had gotten upside down in his sleeping bag and was kind of terrified. I thought he was very polite, given the circumstances. Is anybody awake? Anyway, well, you know, somebody's awake, probably. You know, we're not alone. We've never been alone, really. We are in utter dependence on the entire universe every moment for our existence. We know that. We need the air and the water. We need it to be clean. We need the rain. We need to stop making weapons. All kinds of things we need to do because we don't live alone. We all live together on this amazing planet Earth. So if the bird sings, that means that it's found its purpose in life.

[29:05]

And I would say that purpose is the same for all of us, you know. To be generous and ethical, energetic, patient, kind. And then to pass on whatever awe-inspiring wisdom we've managed to learn to the generation that follows. We don't have a lot of time. We gotta hurry up, you know. The babies are born, they're growing up, they're learning. from us, and then we go away. Our turn's over. Off we go. In other words, it's up to us to become Buddha. To be Buddha. To be awake. Our whole body, our whole mind, devoted to the welfare of the whole world. Just like that. And this is the song I think all of us can sing together. And we don't even need to know the words. Just do it. I'm going to finish with a poem by, I don't know how to pronounce it right, but I'm going to try.

[30:12]

Jalaluddin Muhammad Rumi, 1207 to 1273. The way of love is not a subtle argument. The door there is devastation. Birds make great sky circles of their freedom. How do they learn it? They fall. And falling, they are given wings. 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. For more information, visit sfcc.org and click giving. May we fully enjoy the Dharma.

[31:09]

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