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. Good morning. Welcome to our guests. Very nice to have you all here. I don't know if you understand English, but... Sorry, I don't know how to say it in another way, but welcome. One day the world-honored one ascended the seat. Manjushri, the bodhisattva of wisdom, struck the gavel and said, Clearly observe the Dharma of the king of the Dharma. The Dharma of the king of the Dharma is thus. The world-honored one then got down from the seat.

[01:02]

So, I want to welcome all of you home today. Home to this amazement we call our human life. You know, these remarkable bodies, this particular place at this particular time, I have no idea how we do this. Amazing. So what I want to talk about home, about home is the true home, the home that the Buddha found on the morning of his awakening. And to begin with, I want to share a passage from a poem that's being used for this practice period. It's kind of the theme of the practice period. And it was written by our Chinese Zen ancestor, Dongshan Myongje. In Japanese, Tozan Ryokai.

[02:08]

In English, Cave Mountain Good Servant. Tozan is considered the founder of this school of Buddhism of which the San Francisco Zen Center belongs. It's called Soto Zen. Tozan is the... Toa, Soto, Tozan. So Tozan's poem is called The Song of the Jewel Mirror Samadhi. That's the other song we love. The Song of the Jewel Mirror Samadhi. I think these words are all familiar, songs and jewel mirrors. But samadhi might be a new word for some of you. It's a Sanskrit word that comes out of the yogic tradition of ancient India. And it means something like a deep and stable state of concentrated awareness, a quality of mind that's characterized by stillness and by peace.

[03:16]

When we say peace of mind, samadhi. The first part of this word, sam, means to gather or to make whole. It also means the truth. And the second part, the D, of samadhi, means our intellect, our conscious awareness. So in a way, we could say samadhi is conscious awareness reflecting the truth. Another definition that I found, which I appreciate, is... Samadhi is a mind which is very still but not merged with the object of attention and therefore able to observe and gain insight into the changing flow of experience. A mind which is very still but not merged with the object of attention and therefore able to observe

[04:21]

and gain insight into the changing flow of experience, somewhat like a frog sitting on a lily pad. So I want to invite all of you for just a few moments to imagine yourselves in a state of samadhi and to imagine your own mind as a silent and tranquil witness to the ever-changing flow of experience. So, you've heard this many times, but, you know, you can imagine allowing your energy of your body to lift upward toward the ceiling, toward the sky, and whatever lies beyond. You can let your gaze lower to the space in front of you, just a few feet ahead, soft, soft gaze. And then you can take a few deep breaths Generous inhale, generous exhale.

[05:25]

And then when you're ready, settle yourself into what you imagine to be the present moment. I don't know if that's a nice experience for you or not.

[07:04]

But if it were, then you might understand why Tozan begins the song of the jewel mirror samadhi with these words. The teaching of thusness has been intimately communicated by Buddhas and ancestors. Now you have it, so keep it well. The teaching of thusness. of home has been intimately communicated by Buddhas and ancestors. And now you have it. So keep it well. So he starts his poem with the good news. We're already there. We're already home. And what's more, we've never, ever left. How could we? And one reason that the Buddha got down from his seat is that we shouldn't confuse our own awakening with somebody else, somebody over there.

[08:12]

Home is not somewhere else. It's always right where you are, each and every moment. And yet, as the poem goes on to say, a hair's breadth Deviation will fail to accord with a proper attunement. In other words, it doesn't take very much separation for us to feel separated. You know, a whisper, a look, failure to return a call. And suddenly, as distant as heaven from earth, Chozan describes this feeling of separation in this way, outwardly still while inwardly moving like a tethered colt or a trapped rat. And I think we all know that feeling, we've probably had it many times, I certainly have, of not being at home, not being at peace within ourselves.

[09:29]

And at those times, you know, the alienation can extend rather far and wide. It can extend to the entire universe, or it can extend to the moments we spend during the day doing simple chores at the store, in our car, talking with a friend, or even being in our home and not feeling quite right, feeling separated. And it's not only this alienation from our surroundings is difficult, we're also alienated at times from our very own minds and bodies, you know, as though they aren't who we are. There's something else. As we get older, you know, I don't want this space. I don't want these muscles. I don't want to be this mind and body that's making me frightened.

[10:34]

I'm sorry, this is going to be really loud. So even the self, even that self, which we feel alienated from, is also in itself not a very safe space. Not clear boundaries, no clear definition. What am I anyway? So it's hard to feel at home, even in ourself, an idea we have of ourself. So basically, what we've been born into here on planet Earth is a nervous condition. And yet, as we are all doing right now, we try our best to maintain some semblance of dignity. outwardly still while inwardly moving like tethered colts or trapped rats.

[11:43]

You're all doing very well. As am I. So to that point, I was reflecting on occasions when I'm leading ritual, which have become much more and more frequent these days here at Zen Center. And, you know, I'm basically wrapped in layers of cloth, as I am right now. And sometimes I'm carrying a long horsetail whisk. with a cord, so both my hands are occupied. And then I have to come down the stairs and go up to the altar and bow three times. And the other day, as I was coming in, I thought to myself, just don't fall down. Just don't fall down. That would be good. And so far, I've managed not to fall down, but I know it's coming. There's a Zen saying... don't worry too much, the cup is already broken. Years ago, I said to my teacher, you know, it seems as though my life has become like an oversized sea lion trying to balance on a small rubber ball.

[12:54]

And he smiled and nodded in agreement, and then I rolled out the door. So... Because of this discomfort or this disease that we all feel, Tozan goes on to say, the ancient sages pitied them, pitied us, and bestowed upon us the teaching. According to our delusions, they call black as white. When erroneous imagination cease, the acquiescent mind realizes itself. So that's the moment when the sea lion slips back into the water. So that also reminded me of another great Zen poet, master, Leonard Kong, who I'm often fond of quoting. Wish I could sing like him, that aged, gravelly voice.

[13:55]

I mean, today's not too bad, I have a cold. Maybe I could do it. Anyway, there's a song on Old Ideas, this album Old Ideas. It says, going home without my sorrow, going home sometime tomorrow, going home to where it's better than before, going home without my burden, going home behind the curtain, going home without this costume that I wore. So whether we're going home for good or just for a visit or maybe in the last moments of our life, it's good to go home. It's good to be home. It's always good, meaning to be here, truly here where we are. It's the only place that we can never leave or return to again. And that's because home is like a river. An ever-changing flow of experience.

[14:57]

My first Zen teacher, Richard Baker Roshi, used to say, it's a non-repeating universe. A non-repeating universe. Every moment, fresh and new. Like these moments we're having together right now. Never before, never again. Already broken. So if you've ever wondered what Buddhism or what sitting is all about, I think it's all about that. It's about home. About finding your seat right there at the gateway to an awakened life. Now, I don't know if all of you have noticed, but we recently changed the name of our office here at Green Gulch to the Welcome Center. Welcome home. Welcome home. There were other reasons. that we changed the name. Among them is that we have heard over the years that Zen Center is not a very welcoming place. So we thought if we'd change the name, fool everybody.

[16:05]

Welcome. We thought of neon. That might be good. So who knows? Maybe it's the black clothes and the shaved heads and the occasionally unsmiling faces and a whole bunch of people who prefer silence over noise. Zen centers quite naturally attract introverts. We have one or two extroverts and you always know where they are. You can find them in a second. So I think a lot of us were drawn to Zen monastic practice with the idea that we would never have to speak again. But then we trick people. And that's how I ended up sitting up here today. But I was tricked. In fact, the very first lecture I gave, which I remember very well, I was the Eno, Yuki here, and my job was to find speakers for the Wednesday night and Sunday morning talks.

[17:10]

So one Wednesday night I didn't have anybody, so I was calling around, getting a little desperate, and I got a hold of Mel Weitzman and the Berkley Zen Center, who was co-abbot at the time, and I said to him, Mel, could you please come over and give the Wednesday night talk? And he was quiet for a minute. I thought he was checking his calendar. And then he said, you do it. And I said, Mel, I don't give talks. And he said, you do now. So another reason I think that people maybe don't think we're so welcoming is that Zen has a reputation for being somewhat funereal. And there's some truth to that. We do a lot of funerals. It's common for people to come here when they're sad or when there's been a terrible loss. And there's some truth also in that we not only welcome and feed the living, as all of you will be invited to join us for lunch today, but we also welcome and feed the dead.

[18:20]

And, in fact, last week we held our Sejiki ceremony here, which is also used to be called the Hungry Ghost Ceremony, Seigaki, but we found out that was a kind of slang for homeless people, so we don't use that term. I find Seijiki to be a very powerful ritual, maybe the most powerful one that we do here at Zen Center. And during that ceremony, we have a large table set up here with towers of fruit and cakes and flowers, and there are colored banners hanging from the wall. And we offer incense, and we chant very loudly ancient mantras for calling the dead. And we're calling them to come home, to come home to this temple, to this community, and to all of these people who they have loved and who have loved them in return. Come, come be with us now.

[19:24]

Don't be afraid. And then we resolve their karma, also known as their erroneous views, at the very same time as we are resolving our own. All my ancient, twisted karma from beginningless greed, hate, and delusion, born through body, speech, and mind, I now fully avow. I admit it, avow. So at that point in the ceremony, you know, it's somewhat hard to tell whether which is which, alive or dead. Which one are we, you know? the veil between the worlds is rather thin. And what side of the illusion are we on? Which one are we on now? I think it was Rumi who said that there is a dream dreaming us. So once the hungry spirits have arrived, although it's hard to see them, it's not hard at all to feel them.

[20:37]

We feel them in our bodies. And one after another, we read their names aloud. They're our grandmothers and our grandfathers and our parents and our children and our aunts and uncles. They're our friends and our lovers and our teachers. One by one, we hear their names like a drum or a beating heart. Birth and death. Joy and sorrow. Love and loss. Not one. Not two. Not the same. Not different. And every year at that moment when my own parents' names are read, I have no control at all. Just unbidden. There's an explosion of intimacy that runs through my body. Claude Schrader. Gladys Schrader. Alive or dead. Hard to say.

[21:40]

Right then, there's like a singular presence, you know, all-inclusive. More like a dot than a line. At the end of the ceremony, having fed the hungry ghosts and loved them, we send them back from where they came, from where we came, and to where we shall go again. The greatest mystery of them all. the one that surrounds us right now and the one that we are right now. The mystery that I'm calling home, you know, home as all things, where there is no particular time, place, or person that is more sacred than any other. When Bodhidharma, our Indian ancestor who came from the West, famously asked the emperor of China, No, actually, he was asked by the emperor of China, what is the highest meaning of the holy truths?

[22:42]

Bodhidharma replied, vast emptiness, nothing holy. The emperor, perhaps taken aback, then said, who are you facing me? Bodhidharma replied, don't know. Don't know. In another story, Many centuries later, a monk who is in his traveling clothes is asked by his teacher, where are you going? The monk replies, around on pilgrimage. The teacher says, what is the purpose of pilgrimage? The monk responds, I don't know. The teacher then says, not knowing is nearest, nearest to home. So about a week ago, I didn't know what I was going to talk about today. So I did what I have taught myself to do over these many years.

[23:46]

I sat down in front of my computer and waited. And sure enough, what you've been hearing eventually came into and out of my mind. But while I was engaging in that familiar process, I had this curiosity about... my mind. How is this happening? How did I do that? It's kind of amazing that we can talk at all, let alone 13 pages. So I was trying to figure out how that worked. I was kind of introspecting on that. And I had this sudden great memory of a time 45 years ago that I hadn't remembered until then. of sitting on a horse in a corral on the Quarter Circle Five Ranch down near Watsonville. Now, how I got there is a long story that I'm not going to tell you right now, but it has to do with a dude ranch in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and a cowboy named R.D.

[24:56]

Stevens. So anyway, I'd been working on the dude ranch, and the cowboy came to visit, and then after a while, I went with him. and off to this ranch in California. Now, there's a big difference between a dude ranch and a cattle ranch, as some of you may know. But if you are like me, like dudes, then you don't know that. But anyway, I found that out because the horses at the dude ranch, who are gentle and cooperative, are really different than the horses on the cattle ranch. The cattle ranch horses were thoroughbred horses. And they were trained like athletes. And the one that I had the privilege to ride was amazing. He was agile and smart and quick and focused and determined. So this day that I'm remembering, I'm sitting on the horse in the corral where all these cattle have been herded.

[25:58]

And all I had to do was point the horse toward a cow. And he would cut that cow out of the herd, which is not easy to do because cows don't want to be cut out of the herd. They're just like us. They don't like being separated. It's the cause of suffering. And so they cry. That horse didn't care. Just one after the other. It's amazing. All I could do was hang on for dear life. You do not want to fall off a horse in a corral full of cattle. It's a very bad idea. So anyway, I think the reason I remembered this is this is kind of what my mind does. It's like a cutting horse. In this whole almost infinite assembly of thoughts, my mind picks one out. In this case, it picked out the word home. That was the start. That's the first word I typed, home. Then I waited a little longer.

[27:03]

And my mind picked out the word, of all things, Irenic. Anybody know what Irenic means? Really? Somebody. Yeah, who said that? Girl. It means peace. I didn't know. I looked it up in the dictionary. I was reading a rather complicated text by a Buddhist philosopher talking about... different argumentations around different points of the Middle Way teachings and emptiness, and I'm trying to understand what he's talking about. And there's this word, Irenic, jumps out, and I'm like, what is that? I look it up, and it means peace. And that made me so happy. Because I thought what he was saying was basically the point of philosophical discourse for a Buddhist is to bring peace to humankind, not to win the argument. That would just agitate us, trying to win. I mean, it's fun, but it kind of messes up your head trying to win each and every time.

[28:09]

So my first word was home. My second word was peace. And then I had to wait a while more to get another word because two isn't enough. I mean, home is a place and peace is what you find there. But then what, you know? Well, then what was cognitive behavioral therapy. For those of you in the therapeutic profession, you know what that is. And for the rest of you, it's Buddhist practice disguised in a modern frame. I'm not irritated by it, but sometimes I read these things and I'm like, that's just mindfulness or that's meditation. What are you talking about? Anyway, we know it's been appropriated. We don't mind. Buddhism is in the drinking water now. Everybody's present and mindful and so on. But anyway, I did find this lesson. I have become rather...

[29:16]

addicted to ordering the great courses. I don't know if any of you like them, but, I mean, their ads are everywhere. You can buy a class given by a wonderful teacher, professor of anything, and watch it in your living room while you're eating your dinner, which is what I do. And so I've studied evolution. I've studied effective communication. Now I'm studying cognitive behavioral therapy. And... Anyway, so I'm not going to tell you about it because I haven't finished the course yet, but I do know that it has a lot to do with discovering our core beliefs. This is very much the same as what we're trying to accomplish in our Buddhist meditation. It's like, where are you coming from? What is it that you're holding as true? I mean, our primary truth is there's a self. So we hack away at that. But in this CBT, they're looking for something a little less esoteric, like, what do you believe about yourself in English language?

[30:28]

Who do you believe you are? What do you think your place in the world? What's your place in the world? And as a result of those core beliefs, that's how you behave. So as it turns out that Most humans, according to the professor, Professor Satterfield from UC San Francisco, who's teaching the course, most of us humans' core belief is that we're not lovable. And so we behave like that. And we have these strategies to try and become lovable. And one of them is to work really, really hard at whatever we do so that people will admire us. And then maybe we'll be lovable. And another strategy is not to care one way or the other. So I think most of us have discovered that neither of these works all that well. Although the first one, even though you won't be lovable, you might get rich, which is OK, I guess.

[31:32]

I mean, that's kind of the Donald Trump method of a satisfying lifestyle. You know, the real problem is that these core beliefs are not true. They're just not true. They're what the Buddha called erroneous views, or upside-down views. We don't know if we're lovable or not. And we never will. So we might as well act like it. So anyway... It seems to me that this is where modern therapy and ancient wisdom of the Buddha comes together and meets around these practices. The how-to of finding your home and coming to peace. How? Well, you have to study your erroneous views. Recognize them for what they are. Pull away the veil of mistaken beliefs, one by one by one.

[32:37]

There are lots of them. So the other part of the course that I enjoyed was about lecture number five when Dr. Satterfield says, well, a really good thing for you to do, he's talking to his patient, is to learn how to meditate. And then he gives meditation instruction and shows a picture of someone sitting in Zazid. So that made me happy. So, you know, there are so many pathways home, as we all know. And I think all of you are on one, or you wouldn't be here. We're looking. Always looking. My name happens to be Wayseeking. Wayseeking heart. Which way? How do I go? How do I do this? What's the right way? To home. And once you get there, please don't be surprised if there are a number of demons waiting for you.

[33:38]

As... happened for the Buddha when he sat down under the tree. The demons came. And so did the seducers. Because our home is somewhat haunted. Our house, our haunted house. And then you'll begin to see, if you keep looking, that they're just ghosts, you know, that haunt your house. They're old and faded memories of people and times and places long dead, long gone. or maybe never even happened the way that we remember. Much more likely. And yet we're called on as the living to host these guests, you know, to welcome them and to offer them a cup of tea and a cookie. And then to send them away with a warm smile and a polite wave. and particularly to appreciate all that they have given us by exiting our lives.

[34:39]

And then once we're alone, at last, we may discover that there really isn't anyone there at all. Just home. Just an overgrown sea lion taking refuge in the ocean. Thank you very much. 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.

[35:26]

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