This podcast is offered by the San Francisco Zen Center on the web at www.sfcc.org. Our public programs are made possible by donations from people like you. Good evening. As I get older, the question is always whether I can see my notes. So, when I first began practicing when I was 23 years old, Zen Center was a real refuge for me. I came here expecting that it would be a refuge And it was. That means I didn't have to be good.

[01:04]

I didn't have to perform and succeed and be good at things. I came here straight from college, and the college that I went to was pretty intellectually demanding. It was, you know, hit the books and study, study, which actually I really loved. I sort of reveled in that. The Honorable Chico, do you think you'd get me a little water? Oh, there it is. Oh, thank you. Thanks. So the intellectual study part of it kind of fit me. I fit right in. But there were also many classes that were in seminar format, small seminars. and you were expected to contribute your opinions and your thoughts to the discussion, and this part was not easy for me.

[02:08]

I always had difficulty speaking in a group, and I felt more and more as the college years went by that I was a failure, that I was failing, and that there was something really wrong with me, that I wasn't measuring up, and that I had to do something to fix myself. had to figure out how to fix myself. And I had read Alan Watts when I was a freshman, and he talked about the spontaneity of Zen. And I thought, that's what I need. I need to be spontaneous, not inhibited. Spontaneous. So, you know, I would try to talk to myself, talk myself into a different state of mind, and, of course, that didn't work. It didn't do much. My senior year, another student who had been to Tassajara that summer, I think it was the summer of 1968, came back to college and he showed me how to sit.

[03:14]

There was a little group of us and he gave us 10 minutes of zazen instruction and then we sat for 10 minutes. And I immediately knew that this was it, that this was really important. actually most important. We sat 10 minutes and it was like my world shifted. I knew that there was a refuge. A refuge where usual notions of trying didn't apply, of being good or bad didn't apply, and ideas of succeeding and failing didn't apply. This was a a tremendous relief. A while ago I read these words from Henry David Thoreau where he said, he wrote, how lucky I was to have been born in exactly the right place and in the nick of time too.

[04:17]

And that's how I felt, you know. When I first read about Zen, there was no way to actually practice it. But just a few years later, there was just in the nick of time So I came to Zen Center and it was a refuge to be here. I felt like I didn't have to perform. I could let go of trying to perform or succeed. I felt I could just let myself be as I was, which I felt was pretty messed up. But for the time being, it was okay. There were lots of things wrong with me, I thought, and there were a lot of demons that I was struggling with. And on one level, I thought that over time, zazen would fix this all. And I think all of us come to practice with this hope.

[05:19]

And you could say that this is goal-oriented practice, but at the same time, it's not goal-oriented practice. We think maybe it's impure practice. Actually, it's pure practice. Suzuki Roshi said something like, Right in the middle of your impure practice, you find your pure practice. So impure practice brings into existence pure practice, allows it to come into being. So they're the same thing. So Zen Center is a refuge, and we should feel safe enough in the container of Zen center and in the container of practice that we can let go of trying to perform and of trying to be good. There was a person I used to know at Tassajara. It was his first practice period.

[06:23]

He was a Tangaryo student. And in his regular life, he was an engineer or something. And you could tell from the way he talked that there was tremendous pressure on him from his family his culture and upbringing, to perform really well, to perform perfectly, to not make mistakes. And he was a fine person, but I felt like I had rarely seen anyone so concerned about not making a mistake as he was. He was really anxious about doing things perfectly. And during the practice period, these cracks started to appear. in his control. He started making mistakes. Lots of mistakes. And a part of him, you know, it was clear that part of him needed to make mistakes, needed to let go. And you could see some struggle in him. And this process that was happening to him was a good thing.

[07:26]

He stayed only one practice period, unfortunately, because he could have used more failure. You know, his practice was actually trying to loosen him up. It was trying to bring him into balance, more of a balance. But at that time anyway, I don't think he felt like he could let go. So our practice should be a refuge, and it is a place of refuge for us. And the institution where we practice should be a place of refuge. where you don't have to perform, you only have to commit. You have to commit to the practice thoroughly. To some extent, Zen Center has to be like a business in order to take care of the institution and keep it going for the benefit of the many beings. But we have to be careful to keep a balance, that people don't feel like they have to perform to be here, rather than commit.

[08:31]

Commit to practice. We have to always be careful that this is a place of refuge, where intention and commitment are the primary importance. And commitment is very much the same as vow. And what we call vow is determination. It's this inner determination to respond to that request that comes from inside us that we do this practice. And we don't even necessarily know how to express this vow, this inner determination in words. But it underlies everything. It's like the straight, undeading railroad track our life moves on. Suzuki Roshi talks about how the Bhattva's way is like a thousand mile long railroad track. It's always there, underlies everything.

[09:33]

So this undeviating determination, our sincerity, this commitment, this is like, I call it the underground railroad. And we don't necessarily talk to other people about it, and we actually don't even talk to ourselves about it so much. But it's there, below words, undeviating. I will do it. I can't exactly even say what it is, but I will do it. I will live a life of integrity, of straightforwardness. I'll concentrate, I'll just concentrate my mind and body on it, on this. And this vow to practice is more fundamental than any particular institution we practice with. This determination

[10:34]

is more fundamental than any particular institution we practice with. We are practicing a course with others and with a particular Zen institution and within that institution with particular forms. But all of that is just kind of the surface decoration or the vehicle for expressing our own underground railroad, our own inner determination. to simplify our life and focus our life and observe our life and clarify our life for the benefit of the many beings, including ourselves. So this vow and determination underlies everything and it just goes on. But certain environments allow us to express this vow and realize it more than others. So we set up and Zen centers and monasteries and schedules and forms.

[11:39]

We always practice with other people and within a context of a particular lineage, a particular tradition, and we practice within a particular form. We commit to a particular form. And the forms we follow are not arbitrary, they're not superfluous. There's always this tendency for forms to sort of accrete over time, accumulate and sort of stiffen over time. So it's good always to be looking at forms with an eye to what is fundamental and what is helpful. The first reaction to most form, you know, ritual and ceremony and the schedule itself is usually some kind of resistance. But as we practice, this resistance turns into appreciation and even into love. love of the form. Still, even if we appreciate it and we love it, you know, the form is tentative.

[12:46]

Always we look at it. Always we're ready to reassess it. And also our own practice frees us within the form. The form itself frees us from form. It frees us because after a while we stop thinking about whether we like it or not. You know, it helps us get beyond preferences. And it frees us because we come to love it. So we're free within the form. You know, you first come to Zen Center and the form seems weird. And then you get used to it. You first go to Tassajara and the extent of the form seems excessive. And then as the weeks go by, you forget about your resistance and you do it without thinking. You just do it. Or you sit sesshin, and in the beginning, maybe you notice how people walk kin-hin, you know, they're not spacing themselves out evenly, or the servers are making mistakes, or the chanting isn't good.

[13:52]

But by the end of sesshin, this critical mind has disappeared. It's evaporated. And in its place is gratitude and emptiness. Gratitude... and emptiness, the characteristics of no mind. You just do the form because you do it. And as you practice, your whole life becomes like this. You just do it because you do it. Because we're alive and existence is requesting it of us and we appreciate this life and we love this life. Even with the various demons and difficulties. They're the ornaments of this life, as Dogen Zenji says, the ornaments of the path of awakening. So practice changes or widens our minds so we don't have so much judging and evaluating. We just do the practice, we do the forms.

[15:00]

And at the same time, practice changes or widens our minds so that we realize that nothing is so concrete. Things are tentative. We take it all more lightly. Things are actually emptier. So I came to Zen Center and it was a refuge. And of course, all my demons continued to raise their heads and they continue to do so. Ideas about what I should be doing or how I should be. But as I've practiced through the years, my relationship to these so-called demons has changed. As you practice, your relationship to your demons changes. You yourself change, although again, as Dogen Zenji says, you may not notice it is so. It happens of its own accord through months and years of sincere practice.

[16:04]

Our practice itself helps us forget to notice how we're doing. We forget to track how we're doing. It becomes kind of actually irrelevant to track how we're doing. And we stop caring so much about getting better. Self-improvement? That's kind of a joke, right? Self-improvement? You've got to be kidding. What's that? You just forget about it. So in the years I was here at Zen Center, the institution threw a lot of changes. Some were very extreme. You know, we bought Page Street, we acquired Green Gulch. We opened a bunch of businesses. Some continued, most of them didn't. Suzuki Roshi died, Richard Baker became the abbot, and he greatly expanded Zen Center, and it greatly shrank when he left. And Katagiri Roshi was the abbot. Reb was the abbot, Mel was the abbot.

[17:07]

We instituted the three abbot system. And then I left well over 20 years ago, and I came back, and there are more changes. But the practice here has never been in doubt. It's always been central, and it hasn't changed, because the form ensures that it doesn't change. We get up in the morning, and we go into the Zendo and sit, and then we do service. and we cook our meals, and we eat together. And we go to our jobs, we work, and we do sashims. And then after a while, usually, we leave. A lifetime of practice does not usually mean a lifetime of residence. For some, yes, but for most, no. But practice continues. We continue our practice in many different situations. So practice on the cushion is really vital, but how we put it off the cushion is even more important.

[18:13]

Each mode of practice on the cushion and off the cushion is essential to the other. And an intense period of practice, or several intense periods, can be deeply significant. for the rest of our life. It makes a difference for the rest of our life. But the rest of our life, how we live the rest of our life, is really the field of our ongoing practice. The psychic processes that occur over a lifetime of practice are transformative, whether we know they are or not. And more importantly, they bring about a deep being in accord with things. with what you feel in your heart, in your heart of hearts that you should be doing. That is, you know, to make an effort on your life. This is what existence is requesting that you do.

[19:17]

Make an effort on your life with the understanding that everything you do is practice and to pay attention to your life with the understanding that everything you do is practice. to sit, to enter again and again the refuge and the release of Shikantaza again and again. So slowly, steadily, surely, imperceptibly, we resume our true nature, our being imperceptibly in accord with all things. In a Dharma Hall discourse, Dogen said, Causes are complete and the results are fulfilled through time. Opening flowers will unfailingly bear the genuine fruit. Green leaves meeting autumn immediately turn red. So life and death.

[20:22]

Our life and our death are all just gyōji, ongoing, continuous practice. Ongoing, continuously meeting what comes. With no beginning and no end. Each moment is practice. Each moment is inquiry. How do I practice in this situation? Just to make that inquiry, that in itself is practice. How do I take the best care of people and the best care of things? How do I pay attention? How do I practice integrity and straightforwardness? And how do I practice honesty with myself? All this inquiry, this is practice, the essential activity of practice. And we practice through times when we like it and through times when we don't. We practice when our mind is clear or our mind is confused. Day after day and week after week and year after year.

[21:25]

we find again and again our true refuge. No matter what is going on, it's all right. This practice develops in us an equanimity about coming and going, an equanimity about life and death. Dogen, again in a Dharma Hall discourse, says, the years and months of life are uncertain. When we look back at the 10,000 things, there is nothing to gain or lose. Who does not express the ornaments of the path of awakening? Everything is maha prajnaparamita. Everything is the great perfection of wisdom. So this is our refuge. No matter what is going on, it's all right. Our own life, you know, just as it is now, just as it was, just as it always has been, is like this string of ornaments on the path of awakening.

[22:28]

So this is how practice takes care of us. This is how Buddha takes care of us. So today is Earth Day, and... It was suggested I might say a few words about Earth Day. So I have a few and a story, a story to read. For a practitioner of the Buddha's Way, of course, every day is Earth Day. This practice makes vividly real to us you know, our intimate interconnection with everything, with others. And it uncovers our innate gratitude for other beings and our love of this earth, our gratitude for and love of this earth.

[23:36]

We're all intimately part of this one being. And so we naturally want to respond to And for each of us, that's different. How we respond is different. So I've been talking about refuge. And refuge is not the same as hiding or avoiding. Maybe sometimes we do need to hide for a while, you know. But refuge is like shelter. It's shelter. And everyone needs a shelter. And from the shelter, you gain strength. to do what you can, you know, to take best care of things. You gain strength, you gain wisdom, you gain equanimity, or whatever it is you need to take care of yourself, of others, and also, of course, you know, this earth.

[24:40]

The story I want to read is by Mick Soppel. He's the baker. I'm sure most of you know him, but some maybe don't. He's the baker at Green Gulch, and he's been practicing for many years at Zen Center. And he wrote this story. It's called A Walk Through Woods. I don't know when he wrote it. It was published at some time in the past in some Zen Center publication, and I clipped it out. So I'll read it to you. A Walk Through Muir Woods by Mick Sopko. It's a metaphor, too. The earth has always been a favorite of the gods. Swirling blue with green and white, catching the light, it's like a smoky jewel, beckoning and vulnerable. The gods would use it for target practice. Some threw their lightning bolts and hailstones and whatnot. Many strung their bows with mighty arrows and let them fly through the vast Olympian space.

[25:46]

Those arrows that landed were the very first trees. They were what we now call redwoods. They were several miles long and feathered with billions of tiny fans. They were carved with deep corky grooves for additional stability in flight, and when they struck the earth, they quivered for millennia, trembling and chattering with a vibration powerful enough to shake themselves apart. Little 200-foot stumps were all that remained. and what with the foggy places and the trembling, they wound up sprouting and multiplying and creeping around the different countries, calling themselves different names as they learned the languages. They continued to be as straight as arrows as they regenerated and always pointing, pointing to the heavens from which their ancestors were launched. Nowadays, you can lean back your head in their groves and look to where they're pointing, or better, look to how they're pointing, so straight, so clean, so free from ambiguity.

[26:51]

Gravity, overcoming it, has nothing to do with it. It's simply an unalloyed intention, an untrammeled respect, and a boundless and unimaginable desire that has no illusion of being satisfied, that sends them up like rockets. It's all right to walk in their midst in the chilly morning with a group of friends ringing a little bell. You'll see that in their enthusiasm some of the trees have lost their moorings and lie crumpled on the hillside folded into the bumps and hollows of the ferny ground. Some have been charred by the fires of their own determination, though they'll still provide shelter for wanderers. They cast large, damp shadows, allow the salmon to play in their pools, allow the birds to sing in their branches, allow a little sun to shine through. They like to be admired and hugged, but make no mistake, they perform for no audience and are not examples of anything.

[27:55]

They're just reaching for heaven, their original home, every second of every day, since the ancient time of the Mighty Ones. So look how, you know, like practice, look at how. Look at how we're pointing. So straight, so clean, so free from ambiguity. Gravity, overcoming it, has nothing to do with it. Suffering, overcoming it, has nothing to do with it. It's simply an unalloyed intention. an untrammeled respect and a boundless and unimaginable desire that has no illusion of being satisfied. Some have been barred by the fires of their own determination, although they'll still provide shelter for wanderers. We like to be admired and hugged, but make no mistake, we perform for no audience and are not examples of anything.

[29:02]

We're just reaching for heaven, our original home, every second of every day. few minutes if anybody has some question or comment or you'd like to bring up. What was one of the big challenges for you when you left residential practice? Well, there was a practical challenge of having to go back to school and figure out how to earn a living.

[30:07]

And there was the emotional challenge of missing Zen Center. And I solved the second one by figuring I never left. In my mind, I kind of never left in the sense of ongoing practice. And I think, well, I'm going to... go on retreat in the outside world for a while, do my work, do my jobs. But it really was helpful to see everything as practice, intimately practice. And come back here from time to time for that dipping into more intense. But there were real practical challenges. But again, seeing it as part of an unknown path, I didn't know what my path was, but it was my path. It was my unknown path. So I was just going to do it, you know, see what happened.

[31:11]

You said that we can't practice alone. I would take issue with that myself. If I said it, no, I don't think you have to practice. We never practice alone. We're never practicing alone. We're always in a context with other people, you know. It doesn't mean one can't practice on one's own. But we're always, no matter where we are, what we're doing, we're in a context. And that context includes our relationships with other people, institutions and so on. We're embedded in the context of other people. Even the most hermit hermit is actually pretty embedded. Does gravity really have nothing to do with it?

[32:37]

You have to have gravity to grow straight. You know, without gravity, the tree wouldn't know how to go straight. So yeah, gravity has something to do with it. But overcoming gravity doesn't have anything to do with it. Can we overcome gravity? Can we? What does awareness full of friendliness mean? Awareness full of friendliness? Yeah. That's a wonderful statement. Awareness full of friendliness. I don't know if you need to say any more than that.

[33:41]

Do you have a question about it? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, you could say awareness full of compassion. you know, care for the other person, but friendliness is even, is very friendly, you know. Yeah, you're out there in the work, and you're working, and you're practicing awareness, and you're doing it with friendliness. You're friendly to yourself, friendly to the people you're with. When you forget to practice awareness, you're still friendly with yourself. Yeah. That friendly awareness, yeah. It's kind of warm. warm and soft, kind of softer, more open. Not like I have to practice awareness all the time. More like just I'll practice this friendly awareness.

[34:44]

Mellow. You have to be a little mellow. Thank you for listening to this podcast offered by the San Francisco Zen Center. Our Dharma talks are offered at no cost and this is made possible by the donations we receive. Your financial support helps us to continue to offer the Dharma. For more information, visit sfcc.org and click giving. May we fully enjoy the Dharma.

[35:17]

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