There's a little feather in my lap. Does it belong to anyone? As Yunnan was sweeping the ground, his brother monk Dao said, too busy. Yunnan said, you should know there's one who isn't busy. Dao said, well, if so, then there's a second moon. Yunnan held up his broom and said, which moon is this? As Yunnan was sweeping the ground, his brother, monk Dao Wu, said, too busy.

[01:11]

Yunnan said, you should know there's one who isn't busy. And Dao Wu said, well, if so, then there's a second moon. Yunnan held up the broom and said, which moon is this? So as I was preparing to give this talk last week, in other words, in that moment of panic when I wondered what I possibly have to say about anything to anyone, I began to feel a genuine gratitude for this opportunity to reflect on my life and what, if anything, my life has to do with the teaching of the Buddha. Quite honestly, I don't do this kind of reflection all that often.

[02:13]

I wouldn't say never, but pretty much I go through my days kind of bobbling along in the flow of events, sometimes turning left, sometimes turning right, sometimes going straight ahead. And I'm sure that Dawu would say at such a site, too busy. So now that I have taken some time to reflect, I appreciated again what brought me to practice in the first place. And I want to assure you that it was not the early morning hours. or the intensity of Zen meditation, or even the grand and lovely ideas. In fact, what nailed me as a young woman to the Buddhist tradition was a small white vase of wildflowers sitting on a bedside table in a cabin at Tassahara, which I had been sent to clean on my first visit there.

[03:28]

For just a moment, there was a second moon, a slightly different me, with all the time in the world, grateful, loving, sweet, calm, and deeply happy. And then she whispered into my ear, I'm the one who isn't busy. Now, this visitation didn't last all that long, and pretty soon I was back at it, just in time for the crew head to arrive, you know, remaking the beds and dusting, sweeping, and so on. But I didn't forget this moment, and I planted somewhere in my heart, in a secret chamber, you know, a deep wish to return.

[04:37]

to be that one again. And this wish became a quest. I longed to return to a special state, special time, special me. So this old fish had taken the bait at last. So I was imagining that each of you has such a memory yourselves, part of your personal history, in a moment in time when your whole world simply collapsed and then little by little reformed itself into the visible shapes that we all appear to be here today. I know it's true. You do too.

[05:40]

And for some of you, that unraveling has happened more than once. So I want to propose that these moments are what our dear friend, brother David Stendelrass, calls spiritual emergencies. There's a brief lifting of the veil that separates this common everyday world from a vision of a more luminous world, a secret world. a second brighter and nearer moon. And I don't think we always recognize these significant moments when they happen. Only by looking back, by reflecting on the breadcrumbs that have led us through the forest, can we maybe catch a glimpse of one of those beginning moments that led us along this particular episode of our journey. What turned your life?

[06:46]

What brought you here? So I was thinking perhaps it might have been someone you met, or it might have been a kiss, or perhaps time spent up in a tree. Could have been a missing tooth, a collision. Now, for all of our genetic similarities, each of our stories is unique and different. You alone know the feeling of hot or cold on your skin. So in thinking of these eternal moments, I was reminded of a film I saw years ago, And I always forget what the actual name of the film is, but maybe one of you might know. It's a Japanese film, and it's either called Ever After or Everlasting or something like that.

[07:53]

Ring a bell? No? Huh? What is it? Afterlife. Thank you. Afterlife. Does that ring a bell? Afterlife. Thank you. I won't remember that, but anyway. Afterlife. Anyway, from what I read on the back of the box, Afterlife began as a documentary, and the interviewers stopped people on the street and asked them a very simple question. They said to them, if you could choose one memory to have as your eternal moment, what would it be? And then each of these people gave such a sweet and simple answer that the filmmakers were inspired to turn this into a movie. Amazing movie.

[08:54]

So the film begins with these people who have recently died arriving at the gates of heaven, which looks just like the entryway to an old high school. Yeah. Appropriate. And there's a desk and someone filling out paperwork. And first of all, they inform them that they've died. That's the first shock. And then they assign them a caseworker who's going to help them to choose the eternal moment that they want to live forever. So once they've chosen that moment, the caseworker works very diligently to reenact that moment. them so for example one man chooses a moment in a small airplane that he's learning to fly as it enters into pink clouds at sunset so they have this big stage set kind of like the zendo here and they have this little airplane on the stage and lots of pink cotton clouds hanging from wires and they film the film the man went once he satisfied that that's how it was they film it and

[10:09]

And then they show it back to him. And if he smiles, then he vanishes. And we presume off into this eternal memory. Kind of cool. So there's also a woman who remembers a gift of ballerina slippers when she's a child. And there's another boy who remembers this crack in a glass of a trolley that he's riding in, where this autumn breeze hits his face. And the trolley is moving through this bombed-out city. So very simple, very simple. So the final chapter is the young caseworker himself who died on a battlefield far away from his young wife and unborn child. So it turns out that all the caseworkers have similar stories, that they are the tragically demised.

[11:10]

It's kind of an accident that they died, and the timing was not so great. So the caseworkers haven't been able to choose a moment. They're much too enveloped in the sadness of loss. So these are the restless souls. In the final scene, we see him sitting on a bench outside of the school, and he's smiling into the camera. And then you get to see that behind the camera are all the other caseworkers smiling back at him. And so he's made of these friendships that one thing he was longing for, his eternal moment. Very sweet. Very sweet. Afterlife. Is that even close to the movie? Yeah, it was.

[12:13]

Okay, good. It's been a while since I saw it. So I'd be guessing that my eternal moment would be standing there in front of that vase of wildflowers. forget-me-nots, oak grass, and poppies. But then I thought, what about all the other moments that I didn't choose? What have I been doing with my life? Are there two moons? And, you know, which moon is this? What's wrong with this moment we're having right now? We could all think of something.

[13:14]

Not quite right. I'm thirsty, for example. So this is the question I want to talk about today. You know, what about the two moons? The one who's busy, the one who's not busy. And perhaps the third one, the third moon, you know. What moon is this? This story is somewhat famous in Zen literature. It's called Case 21 in the Book of Serenity. Yunnan sweeps the ground. I think one of the first things that Zen students who come here begin to notice is how often, how much time we spend cleaning up around here. After meditation in the morning, we have a service and then everyone goes out into Cloud Hall through those doors and are given an assignment by the guest student manager.

[14:24]

Each person goes off different part of the temple. Some of the more desirable jobs are cleaning the zendo, setting the table for breakfast, or organizing the dishes. And even though it's against our culture to say so, the less desirable jobs are cleaning the toilets, emptying the vacuum cleaner bags, or the compost. So Yunnan has been sent outside to sweep. And he's undoubtedly fresh from his meditation and concentrated on the task. And then along comes this rascal, Dau, and says to him, too busy. It's kind of funny to me that in our modern or postmodern world of rapid communication and driving machines and jet planes, that a silent monk sweeping the ground

[15:30]

would be accused of being too busy. But then, if I look closely at myself in the midst of my activities, it's right there in my own hands, in my feet, in my breath, and in my thoughts, that the quality that we call too busy is taking place. Too busy. Too busy. But as a matter of fact, I really don't know if I'm busy or not. How would I ever know? Unlike my car, there's no gauge for measuring the output of energy and no blinking lights to tell me that I'm running out of gas. At the same time, I do feel the strain on my engine, to continue the car metaphor,

[16:32]

And a very subtle anxiety that drives me through each task in order that I finish it so I can get on to the next one. We even use the term being driven to describe this kind of activity. Being driven. So I feel somewhat driven these days. Not driving. So I would imagine if Master Dawu came up to me during any of my waking hours and bellowed, too busy, I would definitely agree. Too busy. And at the same time, there is always on the periphery of my activities, each and every one, this, I don't know what to call it, quality. It's kind of like an overripe peach.

[17:35]

And it's kind of offering me the possibility of just falling down, of collapsing into a heap, and of laughing heartily at the silliness of it all. You know, like the stoned-out hippie that I used to be. It's just so funny, isn't it? Isn't it all just too funny for words? But, you know, sometimes I think as tempting as that might seem, it's just another kind of busy. You know, avoiding the task, running from responsibility. Let someone else do the dishes. I used to value this T-shirt I had. It said, escape from responsibility. It's a little person running very fast, you know. But running where? It didn't show the destination. It's another shirt.

[18:39]

So the second moon for a serious monk or for a serious human being, and I would say that at the core that means all of us, is silent, cold, and pure. It's the eternal moment. It's the moment in heaven where flowers don't fall and weeds don't spread. And whatever could be wrong with that? Afterlife. So I want to propose that this attraction to heaven is precisely what the Buddha meant when he warned his monks against self-mortification. The killing off. of part of our living body. From the very first paragraph of his very first sermon, he said, Bhikkhus, which means monks, Bhikkhus, there are two extremes that ought not to be cultivated by one who has gone forth into the holy life.

[19:57]

What to? There's devotion to the pursuit of pleasures in sensual desire, which is low, coarse, vulgar, ignoble, painful, and harmful. And there is devotion to self-mortification, which is painful, ignoble, and harmful. The middle way discovered by an awakened one avoids both of these extremes. It gives vision, gives knowledge, and leads to peace, to direct knowledge, to enlightenment, to nirvana. The middle way discovered by an awakened one avoids both of these extremes. So with these few clues in hand, avoiding the extremes of both pleasure and self-mortification and finding the middle way, I would like to return to the question about

[21:05]

what my life at this time has to do with this teaching of the Buddha. Some of you know me more or less well, and some of you may know a little bit about my story of recent days, but I'm imagining many of you don't. My name is Fu. It means wind. And so I want to just say a little bit by way of introduction to myself. I have a family made up of a partner, Dr. Grace Damon, a child, Sabrina Schrader-Damon, two cats, Ben and Macintosh, and my daughter's service dog, Mac. And over a year ago, on May 21st of 2008, Grace, Sabrina, and Mac were in a head-on collision on the Golden Gate Bridge.

[22:15]

So the very moment that I heard about this accident, it was one of those spiritual emergencies, like a car full of clowns unloading at my feet. Terrifying. And on that day, as I held the phone to my ear, you know, every cell of my being was looking for a way out. No, this can't be happening. No, this isn't possible. There has to be a second moon. The wrong number. They're fine. You know, they'll be home any minute. A few bruises. and so on and so on. But that's not what I heard. There actually is only one moon, and it was illuminating the now very familiar landscape of emergency waiting rooms, of a vigilant coma, of a tracheotomy, multiple surgeries, and multiple prayers.

[23:32]

Sabrina and Mac were more or less fine, although Sabrina always reminds me that she had a very fat lip. She said when I came into the emergency room, she had on a terrifying brace on her neck, and they were checking her out, and she did have a big fat lip. And her first words were, can I have some french fries? So I knew she was fine. But Grace is still suffering from her near-death injuries. And, however, over a year later, two weeks ago on Tuesday, I picked her up at the hospital and brought her home. And I think she's even here. Are you here, Grace? Say hello.

[24:34]

Hi. Hi, Grace. Welcome back. Yeah. We're all happy you're here, you know. She's not kidding. They finally said to her, you know, the only thing wrong with you anymore is that you've been in the hospital too long. You've got to get out of here. So our family life has been reassembled. And as I heard Grace say to someone the other day, Humpty Dumpty has been put back together again. And she's growing stronger and more capable every day, moving towards renewed independence and mobility. And yesterday we even took a trip to Mill Valley to have her hair dyed. I'm not supposed to tell you that. But it's a little-known secret.

[25:38]

Our family motto is, looks are everything. So we thought she was long overdue for a little boost to her appearance. And she looks great. It's nice. Not quite as blonde as she wanted, but we'll go back another time. And Sabrina, too, has grown by leaps in this year. She's turned 16. She has performed beautifully in school and at home. And I and Grace are frightfully proud of her. The only thing wrong is that she's learning how to drive. And even the dog, Mac, has got a new license to help. You know, he's not been that useful to Sabrina other than as a buddy and a loving pal. But for Grace, he's really a help. He can pick things up that she drops. He can bark on command.

[26:39]

He can open a door. You know, he looks happy to be serving as he was trained so wonderfully to do. So when I contrast my life today to that moment at Tassajara, standing... in front of the wildflowers, I can see very clearly how deeply I have mistaken the fundamental teachings of the Buddha. What I thought then, and fervently believed for a very long time, as a result of some enchantment, was that Zen practice was an escape, a magical gateway out of here. to a better and more wonderful place. Don't some of you think so? Well, plug your ears.

[27:39]

You know, I imagined a second planet to go with a second moon. Only cleaner, quieter, safer, kinder, warmer, nicer, and utterly free of pain. And all the while, I was overlooking and undervaluing this very earth beneath my feet, in the palms of my hands, and on the tip of my nose. Ordinary life, for me, seemed to be the shortest route through boredom to death. That's what I thought, and that's what I feared. So, in fact, it was during those years at Tassahara that then-abbot Mel Weitzman, who was leading the practice period, offered a special ceremony that we do called show song, in which each person, if you were all involved in this, would come forward and ask me a question loud enough that everyone else could hear. They're usually pretty short, the questions and answers as well.

[28:49]

So I came forward and really convinced of this You know, I was on the right trail. Pretty arrogant, to say the least. And I said to Mel, Abbott, dreams are sweet. I love to sleep. What do you have to offer? Yeah, kind of rude, huh? Oh, well. Sounded Zen to me. And he responded with a stern voice and a big glare in his eye. He said, go wash your face. Who said that was funny? You think that's funny, huh? And I was mortified. Mortified. There's the word again. Self-mortified. But at the same time, I was ashamed. I was also elated because this wonderful teacher who I really respected deeply, I still do,

[29:52]

spoke to me as a kind father might talk to an errant child. It was intimate. It was real. And I felt visible and loved. It was wonderful. And I was embarrassed. I was ashamed. Because I knew he could not yet trust me. I was still enamored with the trance, with the dream of an eternal moment. of escape. And I would be for many years to come. I was not done with my infatuation with the shamanic gifts that I thought had been entrusted to me. Special one. Also from case 21, the doings of childhood seem shameful when you're old. Isn't that the truth? So now that I'm spending my days and nights in service to my family, to the animals and the garden, my friend Grace, my daughter, my community, I can see that my heart is finally opened to the real world and to real people and to real me.

[31:16]

And along with that, there's grown a kind of deep dumb loyalty to the welfare of us all. And busy or not busy, happy or sad, the proof is in the taste of the pudding. And how lucky is that? I love pudding. If she only had a minute, what would she put in it? She wouldn't put, she thinks, she would take. suck it up like a deep lake, bloat indiscriminate on her last instant, feast on everything she had released, dismissed, or pushed away. She would make room and room as though her whole life of resistance had been for this one purpose. So on the last minute of the last day, she would drink and have it.

[32:21]

Ballooning like a gravid salmon for the moon. It's Kay Ryan. Thank you very much.

[32:29]

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