Can you hear me? Can you hear me when I go like this? Can you hear me when I go like that? Okay. This thing is a little funny sometimes. Wow. Look at all of you. I'm surprised. I thought everybody would be back in the Midwest eating turkey leftovers today. Or whatever. So, something that we don't do so much, but we probably should do more, is introduce ourselves, the speaker. My name is Jeffrey Schneider. I'm a priest here, and currently I'm the director of the city center. So that's who I am. And some of you I know, and some of you I don't know. So, it's good to see all of you. Can I just see like a little hand of people who are here maybe for the first time, or haven't been here more than a couple of times? Okay. Good. So there's a lot

[01:08]

of new people. That's great. So, in that case, I think I should offer a little cautionary thing. You know, I don't really know when I lecture who I'm going to be lecturing to. So some of you may have a lot of experience. I know some of you have a lot of experience, and some of you may have no idea of what Buddhism is about, or Zen, or anything like that. So I may be insulting the intelligence and experience of some of you, and completely losing the rest of you. So those of you in the middle will be just fine. And the rest of you can just practice forgiveness and patience. So, let's see. Thank you for the water. In Buddhism, we tend to like to make lists of

[02:17]

things. You know, the five hindrances, and the seven factors of enlightenment, and the eightfold noble path, and twelvefold chain of causal conditioning, and the gazillion marks of the Buddha, and all of that. Well, one of the things that we have a list of is the five fears. And the five fears are fear of death, fear of loss of reputation, fear of loss of livelihood, fear of loss, you know, fear of unusual states of mind, and fear of speaking before the assembly. Now, isn't that interesting that that should be like right up there with fear of loss of, you know, death, fear of death, and going mad, and things like that. Actually, now that I've sat down, I'm feeling very comfortable. But when I was upstairs, I was trying to sit Zazen in one of the rooms upstairs, and I was a little bit nervous, which is probably good. So, about,

[03:20]

oh, several months ago, in the spring, I was visiting our monastery, Tassajara. Tassajara is out in the mountains, outside of Monterey, and it's in a very deep and narrow canyon with a little stream running through it. Sometimes, it's a big stream in the winter. And I was there in the spring, and it was very, very beautiful. You know, everything was blooming and blossoming, and I was, pardon me, I was lying on the grass under a plum tree. Those of you who know Tassajara will know the plum tree I'm talking about. It's right in front of the office. And the grass was, you know, blooming, and the sun was shining, and the plum tree had lost its flowers, but there were these beautiful purple leaves, you know. And it was a perfect day in many ways. It was not too warm, not too cold. I was relaxed. I was among people that I knew and liked. And I was lying there under the plum tree before a work meeting in the afternoon, looking up at the sky, which was,

[04:23]

you know, a perfect Tassajara blue. And as I lay there with a gentle wind wafting over me, I thought to myself, I wish I were dead. I really did. And that thought or that feeling came to me quite unbidden, you know. I wasn't like, you know, making a catalog of the disasters of my life or anything like that. It just sort of happened. And so this was very interesting. I talked about this. I've talked about it to, you know, some of the people I see for spiritual instruction or guidance or who are just kind enough to put up with me. And my primary teacher, Norman Fisher, who is, you know, until recently the abbot of Zen Center, we were talking about this. And he said, oh, well, that makes perfect sense. At a perfect moment, such as you've described, it is, you know, it's not all uncommon to desire to merge with the absolute. And I thought, oh, well, that sounds very nice. But, you know, that's not what was going on. So respectfully,

[05:30]

you know, I declined that interpretation of what was happening. I don't know why you're laughing. This is about suffering. It is. So we're going to talk a lot about suffering. But anyhow, you know, as I thought of it and as I sort of examined the experience a little bit more closely in retrospect, I realized that what I was experiencing at that moment, regardless of the pleasantness of my surroundings, was the experience of that suffering which is entailed in the unremitting nature of experience. Okay. You got that? The unremitting nature of experience. You know, it doesn't stop. It just keeps going on. You know, so what we're talking about is the nature of consciousness. Okay. And consciousness in itself as suffering, you know. And there are times in our lives when consciousness itself becomes intolerable. And most of the time, for most of us, you know,

[06:37]

there's this underlying pain, suffering, that goes with consciousness. Now, the Buddha knew about this a lot. Because, you know, the point of, the Buddha's point of debarkation, I guess that's the word I want, was about suffering. You know, he didn't get up one day, and it was a beautiful day and everything was grand, and decided to, you know, cut off his hair, you know, wear rags and go into the forest and sit under trees. You know, it was like his need to leave home and apply himself to the truth of our lives was brought about by a deep understanding and personal experience of suffering. So, you know, after a while, after doing his various practices, and after, you know, attaining what we call enlightenment, whatever that might be, you know, he decided to try and share what he had learned or experienced with other people. And in order to make it easier for people to understand, he was a little schematic, you know, it's the Indian mind that likes to make

[07:41]

lists. So he talked about the four noble truths, okay? And the first noble truth is actually the one that I'm sort of interested in starting with today. And I'll read you a quote from the scripture, where the Buddhist first sermon, I believe, where he talked about that. The first noble truth is that of suffering, and I quote, what is the noble truth of suffering? Birth is suffering, aging is suffering, sickness is suffering, death is suffering, sorrow and lamentation, pain and grief and despair are suffering, association with the loathed is suffering, dissociation from the loved is suffering, not to get what one wants is suffering. In short, the five aggregates affected by clinging are suffering. Parenthetically, what he didn't put in there is to get what one wants is also suffering. In short, the five aggregates affected by clinging are suffering. So let's look at the five aggregates.

[08:43]

Some of you will know and some of you will not know what these are. The five aggregates, okay. So the Buddha said that existence, as we know it, has basically three marks. It is impermanent. I mean, that's pretty obvious, right? Just look around you. It is involved with suffering. We'll go back to that in a little bit more closely. And it is without self. So what we think of as the self, as Buddhism explains it, is actually sort of a, we call it the aggregates, the skandhas, the form, feeling, impulse, perception and consciousness. I don't get them in the right way, in the right order. But let me read you again. The Buddha says, what are the five aggregates affected by clinging? They are the form aggregate, you know, body and all of that, affected by clinging. The feeling

[09:44]

aggregate, affected by clinging. The perception aggregate, affected by clinging. The formations aggregate, affected by clinging. And the consciousness aggregate, affected by clinging. Okay, so here we go. Consciousness. So what I was experiencing under the plum tree was the consciousness aggregate affected by clinging, okay? So consciousness in itself as suffering, when it is associated with clinging. And I don't know about you, but to some extent all of my life and all of my thought and all of my being is affected by clinging, which is where suffering comes from. So the word that we translate usually as suffering in the first noble truth is actually dukkha, okay? That's a Sanskrit word. And it means suffering, but it also means dis-ease, un-discomfort, unsatisfactoriness, you know, that sort of thing. And all of our experience affected

[10:49]

by clinging is involved with suffering of that sort. And the word that the Buddha used to talk about clinging was actually very graphic. The word is tanha in Sanskrit, which means thirst. So imagine, if you've ever been really, really thirsty, maybe you've been working outside on a hot day or something, and you know, and you haven't had a drink for a long time, and you're really hot, and you know how every cell in your body is screaming out for water, for replenishment. Well, that's the kind of thirst that is at the basis of all of our suffering, whether we're aware of it or not. And speaking of which, pardon me. So consciousness affected by clinging equals suffering. And that was my experience, you know, under the plum tree. And there was nothing wrong with the plum tree, or the day, or the breeze, or the grass, or beautiful Tassajara,

[11:51]

or the lovely people there, or even with me, except this clinging to experience which causes suffering. And you know, it was so subtle that it took me to be completely relaxed to notice that suffering. So without this clinging, without this thirst, with letting go, everything is without difficulty. You know, maybe we've experienced that very occasionally in our lives for a moment or two. You know, we let go, and you know, each thing manifests itself, you know, as the bright emptiness of Buddha nature. But holding on, you know, we get to experience the opposite. There's a story that I heard once, and I'm not sure if it's true or not, but it's a nice story anyway, that when Indian Buddhist monks first came to China to preach the Dharma, the Dharma, for those of you who may not know, is just another word for teaching. They didn't speak the language. They didn't speak Chinese. And so the way that they taught was to hold up the clenched fist, you know, the clenched

[12:53]

fist of suffering, and just let go. This was their teaching, you know. But our experience, or at least my experience, is more often that the clenched fist, you know, is full of ground glass, and I'm not willing to let go no matter how much it hurts. You know, a friend of mine says, I never let go of anything that didn't have claw marks on it, you know. Or you know, it's kind of like, you know, the other thing that occurred to me, it's a little bit like, you know, the story of the old lady who swallowed the fly. You know, I knew an old lady who swallowed a fly. I don't know why she swallowed a fly. Perhaps she'll die. I knew an old lady who swallowed a spider that wiggled and giggled and tickled inside her. She swallowed the spider to catch the fly, but I don't know why she swallowed the fly. Perhaps she'll die. And then she goes on to swallow a mouse to catch the spider, you know, and a cat to catch the mouse, and a dog to, etc. And finally, I knew an old lady who swallowed a horse. She's dead, of course. But that's an old one from the kids. But you know, that's what we

[13:58]

try to do, right? You know, something's wrong, and we, you know, we got a little fly inside us, so we swallow the spider. You know, anything we can think of to fix the unfixable self, we keep adding more and more and more, and we keep tangling the tangle more untanglably. You know, the knot, we just add more knots. So, you know, how do we release from this clinging, which is in itself suffering, and how is, you know, this suffering generated? You know, some of our is built into the nature of things. You know, as I just read, old age, sickness, and death are three of the biggies. And we're all going to experience them, at least death, you know. Some of you younger people may get run over by a truck as you leave here, and you'll, you know, you won't have old age and sickness. But, you know, there will be death. You know, so one way or the other, we're in for it, right? You know, but some of our suffering is not inevitable. Some of our

[15:04]

suffering is inherited. You know, some of our suffering is generational karma, you know, as a way to think of it. You know, in our families, for example, we inherit the burden of the stories of our parents and of our grandparents and of their parents back to whomever, you know, Mother Eve. And, you know, and the patterns of behavior and the patterns of thought and the patterns of feeling and communication are inherited, you know, are learned. You know, sometimes, you know, these are okay. Sometimes they're mildly difficult, you know, and sometimes, most horribly, there are patterns of abuse, violence, alcoholism, poverty, irresponsibility, and all of those, all of those things that we know too much about. You know, we also inherit the accumulated karma, the accumulated stories and consequences of our cultures, you know. Consider the long sorrow and

[16:06]

the many crimes that have passed between the people of the Middle East, Asia, Northern Ireland, Africa. You know, consider the effects of racism in this country. Consider the effects of how Native people have been treated here in this country and the world over. You know, so we inherit all of this. We inherit the fear. We inherit the suspicion. We inherit the stories. We inherit all of these things. You know, this is a lot of, this is a lot of baggage, you know, and the inheritance of these stories and the accumulated actions and the accumulated consequence of these actions, you know, it's like a mighty current against which we are trying to swim upstream when we try to liberate ourselves from this, you know, and in our own lives, you know. The habits of our own heart, you know, we're still caught by the flow of our own stories, you know. The story

[17:06]

of how we describe ourselves to ourselves. The story of how we understand other people. The story of how we describe the world to ourselves. There's a very old scripture, Buddhist scripture, goes very far back, and it's called the Dhammapada, the way of, the way of the Dharma. And the first line of that is, all that we are is the result of what we have thought. You know, all that we are is the result of the stories, of the language, of the things that we've been telling ourselves, of the stories we've inherited. Every, all of our learned behaviors, you know. You know, this is, this is what we are. So in a sense, you know, spiritual practice of any sort is the discipline of changing habits of thought, changing habits of behaviors, and in a way, it's like learning a new language. You know, spiritual practice is basically about deconstructing the self, deconstructing the stories,

[18:07]

deconstructing the patterns, deconstructing the language that we use to describe ourselves, other people, and the worlds to ourselves. So, and our karma, but you know, by the way, I've been using karma in the sort of popular sense. What karma really means, literally, is volitional action, volitional activity. This sort of popular sense of karma is actually, you know, when we say, oh, that's my karma. Actually, what we're talking about are the effects of karma, and I believe the word for that is actually vipaka. Is that right? Does anybody, is that right? Anybody know? Vipaka? Okay. Well, if nobody knows, I can get away with it. Okay. But you know, this, this karma, this volitional activity, you know, creates the environment of our lives. Okay? You know, cause and effect, it's about cause and effect, but it's not like one-on-one, you know? It's not like, you know, you drop the apple and it splatters, or you drop the glass and it breaks. It creates, you know, our karma of thought, our karma of behavior, our karma of description creates the environment of

[19:15]

our lives. Okay? So we can choose, oh, and part of karma that's very, very important, you know, with all of this stuff that we inherit, we also inherit choice. Okay? So within the mix of everything else, there's a choice about this moment and the next moment. And each of those choices will, of course, have consequences, good or bad, pleasant or unpleasant, liberating or more binding. Okay? So, so we can choose little by little to cultivate this atmosphere, this environment of either fear or faith, either generosity or greediness, you know, all of those things. Each moment, each moment we have that choice to create that. And, you know, I have this quotation here, it says, happiness is not fortuitous, but the result of virtue. And unfortunately, I forgot to write down who said it, so apologies to whoever he or she was, but happiness is not fortuitous,

[20:17]

but the result of virtue. And another quote that I have written down that I heard long ago from, in this room actually, from our erstwhile abbot Richard Baker, he said, it is by observing the virtue of others that our own virtue grows. So taken together, those are very interesting, you know, happiness is not fortuitous, but the result of virtue, and it is by observing the virtue of others that our own virtue grows. And what he means, I believe, by that, or what I mean by that at any rate, is that in order to observe virtue in others, you know, it is our virtue which is observing the virtue of others. And so part of it is learning. We learn to become virtuous by seeing our teachers and our friends behave virtuously, our parents, our mentors, whomever. But it is our innate virtue that is able to see that virtue. So that's pretty cool. So I've touched

[21:18]

on the two components of spiritual practice a little bit, each cultivation and release, our surrender. So I'd like to return to release for a few moments more. Letting go, release, letting go of the crushed glass in our hands, letting go of the clinging to the aggregate of consciousness and all of the other aggregates. This is the mysterious part. So how do we do it? So you see, even in surrender, there's a little bit of cultivation. How do we not do it? You know, what are we letting go of? And letting go is, I believe, for most of us, for me certainly, absolutely terrifying. It's like death. And it is a sort of death, because letting go, the things that we most need to let go of are the ideas of who we are and how we are in the world. And this is death. This is death of the person we thought we were, on whom we've banked all of our plans,

[22:21]

our hopes, our plots, on whom we've depended for happiness, which, of course, is just around the corner once we can control the situation and get everything just the way we want it, right? You know, shortly before I was ordained as a priest, I was talking to my teacher about the ordination. And we were talking, and he said, you look so sad. And I said, I'm mourning. He said, who are you mourning, or what are you mourning? I said, I'm mourning the person who I was who's going to die. And that was not a person I particularly wanted to hang on to either. But we mourn who we were, because it's who we are as we become someone else, because that's the only person we knew, right? So anyhow, about this clinging, this grasping and stuff. So imagine

[23:23]

the thing that you most want in the world and do not have, whatever that is, a person, a job, a situation, that great car, returning to some place where we were happy and think we'll be happy again. Any of those things, what you most want and don't have. And then, you know, when you thought about that for a moment, what would it be like to give up this thing in your heart? Not to just give it up, but to give up the wanting of it without bitterness or longing. To give up in our hearts without bitterness or longing what we most want. I find that absolutely terrifying. But you know, when we don't do this, or when we can't do this, it's like living in the time between the medical test and the diagnosis of a fatal disease. If you can imagine what that's

[24:26]

like, some of you may know. And mostly we live that way all the time, to a greater or lesser degree. And you know, one disease that I think that we all suffer from, okay, one disease that I suffer from, and I think that maybe some of you will be able to understand, is a sort of spiritual agoraphobia. You know, the fear of the vast spaces where we have no definite path or signpost or guide and no safe boundary. And you know, the boundaries that we have that we cling to so tenaciously that we create for ourselves, you know, the most durable one is our sense of self. And of course that is the boundary that is responsible for the greatest part of our suffering. And oddly enough, we seem to fear the absence of pain, and we seem to fear and have a terror of not wanting. So you know,

[25:26]

letting go of this suffering requires a great deal of faith. So that when we climb to the top of a hundred foot pole and keep going, you know, it'll be okay. We have to have that kind of faith. You know, it's kind of like Avalokiteshvara or Wile E. Coyote. Remember Wile E. Coyote in the Roadrunner? You know, finding out that they could sort of like dance in midair, you know. As long as Wile E. Coyote didn't notice that he was, you know, overlooking the chasm, he was fine, you know. And as long as Avalokiteshvara, Bodhisattva, when practicing deeply the wisdom beyond wisdom, sees that all five skandhas are empty, she's fine too. That relieves all suffering. So this is the kind of faith that we need. And I'd like to tell you a couple stories about faith. One is a story about St. Francis of

[26:30]

Assisi, the patron saint of our city. And I don't remember where I heard this story, and I have no idea whether it's supposed to be a true story or a fictional one, but it serves my purposes. So the story is this. St. Francis, as you may know, was like the Buddha really, a wandering mendicant for much of his time. And so the story goes that he and one of his companions were walking along, you know, the road, and they'd been walking all day. And they were very hungry, and they were very tired. And, you know, it was getting on towards night. And, you know, let's say it was cold and getting to rain too, you know, just to up the ante here. And, you know, they saw a monastery, a building up the road a bit. And St. Francis said to his companion, brother, shall I show you what is perfect happiness? And his brother said, sure, you know, wouldn't you? Sounds good to me. So they walked up to the monastery door, and they banged on the door, they knocked on the door. And, you

[27:34]

know, the old monk who was the gatekeeper, you know, sort of opened the door and said, what do you want? You know, and said, excuse me, brother, but we're cold, and we're tired, and we're, you know, we're two of your brothers in Christ begging here, and could you put us up? Go away, slams the door. So they're walking down the road, and Francis turns to his companion and says, brother, that was perfect happiness. So let me read you another story. So this story is a Zen story. This story is about the great master Matsu. Matsu was one of the big names, right, in the golden age of Chinese Zen. Matsu was residing in the monastery of Denpo-en, where he sat constantly in meditation. The master, aware that he was a vessel of Dharma, went to him and said, virtuous one, for

[28:36]

what purpose are you sitting in meditation? Matsu answered, I wish to become a Buddha. Thereupon, the master picked up a tile and started rubbing it on a stone in front of the hermitage. Matsu asked, what is the master doing? The master replied, I am polishing this tile to make it a mirror. How can you make a mirror by polishing a tile, exclaimed Matsu, and how can you make a Buddha by practicing Zazen, countered the master. So these are two different stories about faith. St. Francis, you know, his idea of his experience, okay, of perfect happiness was faith, because at the moment when the door was slammed and he was hungry and cold and tired and foot sore, he depended upon nothing but his God. He completely abandoned himself to the absolute in complete and utter faith.

[29:40]

This was his idea of perfect happiness, to depend upon nothing but that power which completely enfolded him, the God of his understanding. Matsu, later on down the road, came to realize the same kind of faith, although I'm sure he would have described it in a different language, abandoning himself to what we sometimes call emptiness, what we sometimes call Buddha nature, what we sometimes call the innate perfection of each thing. But it was the same kind of faith, actually. The faith to let go, the faith to, you know, sometimes operationally I like to think that what I try to do is to abandon myself to the bodhisattva vow to save all beings. You know, that's another way of thinking of what we abandon ourself to. So, you know, Matsu did that and

[30:42]

became a great master, and I don't think that he stopped sitting Zazen, by the way. I think he probably continued, although perhaps somewhat differently. Oh, you know, just for those of you who are new, and I don't know if they told you this, you know, Zen, the word Zen, it just means meditation. It's a Chinese, no, it's a Japanese transliteration of a Chinese transliteration of a Sanskrit word, and it just means meditation. So there's the mystery cleared up. Zazen is, just means sitting meditation. Za, sitting, like Zafu, that's the thing I'm sitting on. So anyhow, I think Matsu probably continued to sit Zazen. Okay, so where are we? Oh, yeah. So this faith, you know, one of the things that we talk about, that Dogen Zenji, who was the 13th century founder of this particular school, this stream of Zen practice in Japan, talks about practice enlightenment. Okay, and so what he means by that is, and this is pertinent to the Matsu story, is that we are not practicing Zazen or anything else to become enlightened. We are

[31:45]

practicing out of our own enlightenment. Okay, we are practicing as an expression of that original unbreakable, always present enlightenment, Buddha nature, what have you. So each person in this room today, if it's your first time here, if you never come back, you're here whether you know it or not because you've had a glimpse of your own enlightenment. And once we've had that glimpse, if we're lucky enough, we can pursue ways of pursuing it. Okay, but each one of us has had that glimpse. And for some of you, this may be the way that you will choose to pursue it for a greater or a lesser time. For some of you, this is not the way. But please be assured that what you need, you have. Okay, so I've been speaking of the two poles of practice,

[32:47]

you know, cultivation and surrender. And there is a tension here, and I'm not going to try to resolve it either for you or for myself, because it continues to be a question deep in my own practice. But the question for me then, or the question that I would just like to explore in the few minutes that remain, I'm not going to go on forever, I promise, is what can we do, if anything, to encourage us to let go, to prepare the ground, to prepare the karmic environment and atmosphere for that? Or another way of putting it perhaps more positively is, what do we do that encourages faith? Okay. Well, one of the things that I think we do is we are faithful. We become men and women who are faithful. We show up. One of the many titles of the Buddha is Tathagata, and that means, sometimes it's translated as the thus-come or the thus-gone one. I like to think of it as the guy

[33:48]

who shows up, okay? The Tathagata is he or she who shows up in the world, honestly and on time. Okay, maybe not on time, that's a personal thing with me. But, you know, we also cultivate faith with devotional practices, bowing, chanting, the way we work together, practicing generosity and gratitude. And, you know, gratitude is not, by the way, just an emotion, okay? Gratitude is not just something that comes on us like a summer rain. Gratitude is also a practice. And the way we practice gratitude, or one of the ways we can practice gratitude, is by being grateful. Walk down the street, and as I walk down the street, I am grateful for my legs. As I see this flower, I am grateful for the person who planted it, and I am grateful for my eyes. You know, as I take a breath, I am grateful for the air, and I am grateful for my lungs. As I turn on the spigots,

[34:50]

I am grateful for clean water that comes to me by turning them on. You know, this is the practice of developing gratitude. You know, if we have an emotion associated with it, that's fine, but we can actually practice gratitude and generosity as practices. This is the cultivation side, okay? And another way of developing faith, or allowing faith to be developed, is by experimenting. Okay? So, you know, when we do zazen, sitting meditation, right? Basically, what we're doing is treating our body and our mind as a great experiment. So, we can ask ourselves in any situation, what would it be like if just this once, I behaved as though things were okay? What would it be like if I behaved as though you were Buddha, and I was Buddha, and there was no problem? You know, what would it be like if just this once, I behaved as though I were a man or a woman of faith, a man or woman of no rank? You know, you can try this out, and if it doesn't

[35:56]

work, you can get your money back at the door, you know, in all of the pain and problems that are associated with it. You know, in one of the chants that we do here, we say, there's the line, if you want to achieve thusness, practice thusness without delay. Well, the thusness we're talking about is the same root word as Tathagata, but if we want to practice faith, if we want to achieve faith, practice faith without delay, okay? A couple of other things that we do to encourage the development of faith are study. You know, we study the teaching, particularly for those of us who have busy little minds that need something to do, you know, to study the scriptures, to study the commentaries, to take classes, to learn. And as we learn more about the teaching, our confidence in it develops, so that when, you know, some teacher tells us it is okay, you know, we may

[36:58]

be more prepared to believe that. And of course, the other thing we do to develop faith is zazen. You know, this practice of sitting meditation allows us to experience the truth of our teaching in our own bodies and minds. So, faith, surrender, enlightenment, you know, these are gifts, okay? We can't make them come. We can prepare the ground, we can prepare the environment, we can nourish the atmosphere, and we can hold ourselves in readiness. So, the other day I was thinking about this talk, and it reminded me of a poem that I'd read a long time ago. And so, I knew that I'd written it down someplace, so I looked through my journals, and I found it in my journal. It's a poem by Allen Ginsberg, and it's a poem that I read first at Tassajara, when I was living there in the monastery. And this venerable old notebook is dated Tassajara 1980. I was a very precocious child.

[38:09]

So, the poem by Allen Ginsberg, it's called Shakyamuni Coming Out from the Mountain. Shakyamuni is another name for the historical Buddha. Shakya was his clan name, and Muni is something like sage, so it's like the wise guy of the Shakya clan, something like that. Okay, Shakyamuni Coming Out from the Mountain. He drags his bare feet out of a cave under a tree. Eyebrows grown long with weeping and hook-nosed woe. In ragged soft robes wearing a fine beard, unhappy hands clasped to his naked breast. Humility is beatness. Humility is beatness. Faltering into the bushes by a stream, all things inanimate but his intelligence. Stands upright there though trembling. Arhat, who sought heaven under a mountain of stone. Sad thinking till he realized the land of blessedness

[39:16]

exists in the imagination. The flash come, the empty mirror. How painful to be born again, wearing a fine beard. Re-entering the world, a bitter wreck of a sage. Earth before him, his only path. We can see his soul. He knows nothing like a god. Shaken meek wretch. Humility is beatness before the absolute world. Thank you. May our intention

[39:53]

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