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 morning. Hello, everybody. My name is Jordan, Jordan Thorne. And I make that point today especially to say that I'm not Norman Fisher. And some of you... might know that up until like Thursday evening, Norman was going to give this talk. So I'm sort of stepping in, for which I'm very... I'm happy to do so. And I'm also disappointed because I was looking forward to hearing Norman talk. And also it's a lot easier to listen to Norman than it is to give this talk. But here I am. Norman is amongst various... praiseworthy things maybe one that's not so praiseworthy but he's my teacher and I've known him for decades and it's kind of I want to just say even though this isn't really what my talk is about but thinking about how I was so happy actually to help Norman by offering the talk in his stead I also wanted to just acknowledge that this teacher-student thing is such an important part of Zen practice and it means different things of course to everybody on

[01:30]

When I first started to practice at the Zen Center, which was in the 70s, Norman and I were peers. He came around the same time I did. And we were about the same age. And then in the early 80s, I left and moved to Berkeley and kind of stepped aside from the practice trajectory. And when I came back 10 years later, approximately, Norman had actually, I don't know, this strange process, but Norman had become a teacher. And I want to acknowledge that when I returned to Zen Center, it was kind of a thing that I had to work with a little bit myself because I still thought of him as a peer. I thought of him as somebody who was kind of like at my place. And yet I came back and he was a teacher. He had a brown robe and he had students. And I think that... there was something there that was valuable for me to realize that actually, yes, I knew Norman when we were both at Tassahara and both knew practice students there, but time had passed and Norman had ripened in some ways that seemed significant and I could see and feel.

[02:52]

When I first came back to practice, I studied with Reb Anderson and But I lived together at Gringold with Norman, where he was the tanto. And it just seemed to kind of happen naturally that I started to see him and study with him and talk with him. And then at some point I realized, I think we both realized, that the teacher-student relationship had been established. And for all of you who come here... Of course, the word teacher can be kind of glorious and maybe even complicated, so don't worry too much about that word at first. But it is important to find someone you can talk to, someone you can share your practice with, someone who you trust and respect, and who knows you. This process of being known by someone is a kind of process of intimacy, and that's a fundamental aspect of what is in practice, the intimacy that we have between ourselves and other person.

[03:56]

And it's actually modeled, I believe, in the intimacy that we discover in the zendo, with ourself, by sitting with ourself and being and noticing what happens when we sit and noticing how, well, how our mind is. So Norman is, amongst other things, he's a poet. And in some ways, reflecting that part of his practice, I want to use a poem today in my talk. And it's a poem also that reflects my relationship and connection to Paul Haller because I first heard this poem by Naomi Shihab Nye some years ago, a number of years ago, in a Dharma talk that Paul Haller gave. It impressed me a lot.

[04:57]

enough that I kind of looked it up and read it and thought about it. The river is famous to the fish. The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds watching him from the birdhouse. the tear is famous briefly to the cheek. The tear is famous briefly to the cheek. You know, that famous intimate connection the tear has to our cheek is intimacy with the moment and it's

[05:58]

something that when we sit still, when we breathe, when we sit still a little bit longer in the moment of today, in the moment of our life, we discover, I think we can discover how those things that are close to our mind and to our heart and that seems so important to us are passing. This moment, the thoughts we have, if we're trying to be attentive to ourself, for instance, in a meditation posture, it can sometimes be a steady connected stream of but also it not uncommonly becomes a succession of intentions.

[07:05]

The river is famous to the fish. The loud voice is famous to silence. who knew it would inherit the earth before anybody said so. The boot is famous to the earth, more famous than the dress shoe, which is famous only to floors. The boot is famous to the earth. The boot... stands on the earth, it touches it, it's completely supported by the earth. And this is... We often don't think this is enough. I must confess, I sometimes myself, I think that's not enough.

[08:14]

But that is an enormous thing, to recognize how the boot is famous to the earth. There was... I read... in a book by Philip Moffat about the Four Noble Truths. I read about a conference that had happened at Spirit Rock. I think the way these things happen, you know, the book was published a while ago and probably at that point this conference was years before that. But it was a conference at Spirit Rock that the Dalai Lama had attended. And it had teachers from various traditions gathered there together and of course such a conference is supported by many volunteers many people who kind of pitch in to help out and what Philip Moffat said in talking about this conference is that on the day that the Dalai Lama visited when he was in the period of time that was intended to be a kind of ask a question you know please ask a question he said to the audience that he wanted to

[09:24]

have just the volunteers ask a question. Because he wanted to express his appreciation for them. And so he opened the floor. And at that point, one of the volunteers raised a hand to ask a question. Not a famous Dharma teacher, just somebody who had the good fortune to help support this event. And this person said, I've been practicing for many years. I go to retreats, I have a home practice, and I keep the ethical precepts. At first, I felt all sorts of changes were going on in my life, but not for a long time now. These days, it seems like I'm not getting anywhere in my practice. What do I do? And upon hearing this question, I read that the Dalai Lama was quiet for some long time. And then he replied, He said, I know just what you mean.

[10:28]

Sometimes I feel the same way, like my own practice is not progressing. And then he continued, he said, what I do though, what I do reflect is upon the 15, 20, 25 years of my practice and then from that perspective I can see that some movement has occurred. This is an example of the patience and faith that it takes not to expect kind of results today, but also not to lose heart and to actually look back. And even though it's really one of the trickiest things is for us to say this about ourselves, it's really helpful when we have, for instance, as I said in the beginning, a teacher or a Dharma friend who can mirror us and give us some support for this idea that time is passing. And yes, course things are changing, how could they otherwise, but that we're, dare I say it, growing.

[11:34]

Tricky thing, but growing. The river is famous to the fish. The idea you carry is The idea you carry close to your bosom is famous to your bosom. The loud voice is famous to silence. The Spirit Rock student said, I've been practicing for years and years and I don't feel like anything's happening. I go to retreats, keep the precepts, and these days it doesn't seem like much is going on. This is something I think we know about. Matter of fact, in my experience, my observation, a practice that just seems to go from victory to victory is not really true.

[12:36]

I sometimes meet people who are the folks that I connect with and relate to and feel simpatico with are the folks that actually acknowledge that sometimes they have a hard time. Sometimes they have to take stock. It's like we're not intended to be like a pot of water that's always turned on to a boil. The water evaporates. Sometimes you have to turn the water down a little bit, turn the heat down a little bit, take stock, maybe add some more water to your pot. There are many Dharma gates. There's something we're going to chant at the end of this talk called the Bodhisattva vow and it says Dharma gates are boundless.

[13:36]

We vow to enter them. And Zazen is just that. Zazen, the practice of meditation for a Zen student is a Dharma gate. It's a place we throw ourselves into with some enthusiasm. The river is famous to the fish. The tear is famous briefly to the cheek. The boot is famous to the earth, more famous than dress shoes, which is famous only to floors. One thing that happens in Zen practice and Zazen practice is that our breath becomes famous to our mind. We see how our breath and our mind mutually develop, reflect, mirror each other.

[14:46]

And also our daydreams become famous to our heart. What's the difference in a period of Zazen between being present and being absent? Well, not much. It's a narrow little thing. And even in our absence, of course, there were nothing but present there. But still, we can be absent. You know, there's a practice poem by Dogen Zenji. And he says in it, if you're confused, mountains and rivers block your way, if you're confused. Now, confusion is not just kind of like, you know, so befuddled that you don't know north from south. Confusion is something more modest, I think. It's the slightest, as he says, if the slightest discrepancy arises, the way is as distant.

[15:58]

from heaven and earth. If the least like or dislike arises, the mind is lost in confusion. Now, that's a meditation instruction. You know, when we're walking across the street, I don't think it's the wrong thing to have a like or dislike. The sunny side of the street, or it's raining out and we better put our umbrella... You know, we make decisions all the time. But when we practice the intimacy of our breath and zazen, That's the place where likes and dislikes are what I said a moment ago was something akin to confusion. want to say again, perhaps, that this sense of being aware of our confusion, or being aware of the fact that likes and dislikes arise in our mind, that they intrude on our meditation, and they intrude on our relationships with other people.

[17:23]

This is, in fact, actually the kind of compost of practice. This is what we need. This is the real compost that our life can work with. And recognizing this is something that I think is part of growing up, part of kind of becoming an adult. And sometimes we can be an adult and not see it. There's a famous poem by Dante, The Divine Comedy, And in it, the very beginning, the very first lines of this, he says, what does he say? He says, in the middle of the road of my life, I woke in a dark wood where the true way was wholly lost. So, in the middle of the road of my life, I woke in a dark wood where the true way was wholly lost. A little bit like Dogen saying,

[18:29]

If you're confused, mountains and rivers block your way. I don't know about Dante so much. As a matter of fact, I don't know about Dante much at all. But when I read In the Middle of the Road of My Life, I thought, yeah, that's what happens. At some point, we get old enough to realize that, yeah, we are lost a little bit. We need some help. I felt that way sometimes when I was a teenager, and I felt that some way when I was in my 20s, and sometimes I felt that way last week. It's not something that we get over necessarily, at least in my life it doesn't seem like so. But it's not, you know, when I reflect over 10, 20, 25 years, what it looks and feels like has changed. You know, the mountains and rivers block the way and woke in the dark wood.

[19:34]

You know, this is all true. But also another truth is that the way is basically perfect and all-pervading. And we've got to keep that in our hearts as well. Otherwise, we're just going to be on one side of kind of like problematic duality. The way is basically perfect and all-pervading. And that's not a conditional perfection. That's not a kind of like if we work on ourselves and understand it. That's just a statement of fact, I believe. I believe. This fact is a kind of a gift of practice. It's not a gift necessarily of Buddhism. I think it's a gift of life. Something named in this particular poem, the way is basically perfect and all-pervading. So, anyway, the cat sleeping on the fence. Where's the cat? The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds watching him from the birdhouse.

[20:34]

I want to be famous to shuffling men who smile while crossing streets. Sticky children in grocery lines, famous as the one who smiled back. Siding zazen is an intimate act, an intimate commitment we make with ourselves. And intimacy is actually another way to talk about love. Zazen is a way we can respect ourselves, start to learn to love ourselves. And in Zazen, you know, in the classic thing of love, sometimes there's a betrothed. What's the word betrothed? There's our engagement, our fiancé. And in Zazen, our fiancé is our breath.

[21:45]

That's the person we are engaged with, engaged to. And if we don't lose faith, if we don't get discouraged by those things that are discouraging, I want to say to you all that you will actually realize the center of your breath. You will find that spot. And the aspect of the center, when you find the center of your breath, you'll realize that... It's no specific spot. It's just where you are. When you find the center of your breath, it's most likely not immediately apparent that you reach that spot. Because it's where we already are.

[22:48]

It's where we were before we started to look for it. And this is this very moment. There is a great Chinese Zen teacher who said, this very mind is Buddha. This very mind is Buddha. He also, one of the reasons he was really great was he also said, no mind, no Buddha. And neither mind. nor Buddha. And I'm sure he said lots of other things. Today is today, right? It's not yesterday. It's not tomorrow.

[23:49]

Tomorrow comes from today. Yesterday is part of what makes today But right now, today is today. And this is becoming almost like in a way of when you're foolishly in love, you just give yourself wholly to it. Giving yourselves in the meditation, in Zazen, in Zen practice, to the fact that today is today, that this moment is right now, the moment that you're alive, is a part of our practice. It's a step. I want to be famous to shuffling men who smile while crossing streets. Sticky children in grocery lines famous as the one who smiled back. I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous or a buttonhole.

[24:51]

Not because it did anything spectacularly but because it never forgot what it should do. So I'm trying to talk about zazen. And I'm trying to talk about how zazen is a great adventure. Actually, it's kind of like, you know, when a woman who is a teacher in the Northwest was talking about, a Japanese Zen teacher had spoken to her about when you sit zazen fully, when you sit chikan taza, if you really do it, if you're really doing it, your body will be drenched with sweat. And

[25:54]

I don't know. We have to take a shower after our body. Everything in proper proportion. But nonetheless, this is a practice that will accept as much as we can give to it. And we'll feel it in our heart. We'll feel it in our body. We'll feel it, actually, in the way we stand up and walk around. this type of things. Do we change? Are we changed? Well, yeah. But what changed? It's not like we get something that we didn't have already.

[26:55]

It's not like when, for instance, when Shakyamuni Buddha was sitting under the boat tree and he was so frustrated he was having it, he was kind of besieged by demons, which means confusion, by doubts. He didn't have to get up and go someplace else and get some more information. He stayed where he was, sitting there under the bow tree, and realized that what he had in that moment was complete. Anyway, I don't really know what Buddha realized, because I wasn't there. But that's my idea. You know, to some extent, and I don't want to make this too bad, but to some extent we're kind of stuck with who we are. It's just that who we are isn't who we might think we are. The good news is we're stuck with who we are. Never an end to that person, never an end to that heart that can overflow the river.

[28:06]

is famous to the fish. The loud voice is famous to silence, which knew it would inherit the earth before anybody said so. The cat, sleeping on the fence, is famous to the birds, watching him from the birdhouse. The tear is famous briefly to the cheek. The idea you carry close to your bosom is famous to your bosom, the boot, famous to the earth, more famous than the dress shoe, which is famous only to floors. The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it and not at all famous to the one who's pictured. I want to be famous to shuffling men who smile while crossing streets. famous to sticky children in grocery lines, famous as the one who smiled back.

[29:12]

I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous, or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular, but because it never forgot what it could do. Please, all of you, continue, and don't forget what you can do. For more information, please visit sfcc.org and click giving. May we all fully enjoy the Dharma.

[30:00]

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