The Zen Master's Dance - 3 - How To Read Dogen (Middle of p. 12 to End of Chapter)

[Jundo]

Dear All,

We will continue with the rest of the chapter now, from "And Thus This Book" to the end. Folks seemed to struggle a bit with the last lesson, but I think this will go smoother.

Please consider our previous lesson to have been like musical or language study, in which we are trying to mimic the solos of a master musician, or the expressions of a native speaker, in order to get an ear and feel for the same.

In this section, however, I remind folks that Dogen's jazz was not merely wild sounds and interesting wordplay. He was working from, and seeking to express, the standard Zen and Mahayana teachings. Thus, it is necessary to have some sense and understanding of what those teachings are, and what they wish us to understand, in order to get what Dogen is trying to express.

One example would be the Hua-yan (Flower Garland) vision of the inter-identity, inter-penetration and inter-manifestation of all phenomena, people, things, times, places and spaces. Soto Zen priest and historian, Taigen Leighton, has an article here for anyone who wishes to probe deeper:

https://www.lionsroar.com/the-phenomenal-universe-of-the-flower-ornament-sutra/

One Hua-yan model is of the Golden Lion. There is a logic to it, but a bit unlike our ordinary daily sense of what is logical (although a physicist friend of mine attempted to explain to me once that there is an amazing similarity to certain holographic models of the universe). In a nutshell, imagine that there is a lion statue made of gold, with many distinct parts such as countless single strands of fur, each claw and eye, the tail, etc. etc.
.

Usually, most "common sense" folks would say that each strand of fur is separate from each other strand, and different from claw, eye and tail. As well, claw is not eye, eye is not tail, tail is not claw. Furthermore, all are just parts of the whole lion, and not the whole thing itself.

However, Hua-yan philosophers had another vision, experienced in Zazen, that goes something like this:

Since each strand of fur is the same gold of the lion, and each claw, eye and tail is the same golden lion, each hair is each/all of the other hairs, and each hair is each/all of the claws, eyes, head to tail, thoroughly, because "golden lion = golden lion." It is something like saying that "Paris" is precisely "New York City" located in France, and that the "Amazon river" is the "planet Mars" flowing in Brazil!



Furthermore, each single hair is and holds within and fully expresses the whole lion. It is something like saying that each tiny hair physically contains the whole lion within it, and every other hair, eye or claw within it individually and as groups, rather than just the lion having the hair on part of its hide, or the lion just being a place where the hair, eye, tail and claw share a common home. The claw, eye and tail, of course, also fully embody all the others, and the whole lion too! It is something like saying that every hair on Stewart's head is Stewart, and Stewart's left big toe is Stewart, so every hair of Stewart is simply the big toe growing on Stewart's head, and each and all thoroughly contain and are all of Stewart. Stewart is not just a fellow with hair and toes. Stewart is nothing more nor less than a single strand of hair on his own head which embodies all of him with nothing remaining, and which also happens to be his big toe!



That is the case even though, from another angle, a claw is obviously not an eye, and the tail is different from a claw. Hair is not toe. All these perspective(s) are true at once.



This realization is a key medicine for our human Dukkha, in which we feel just like a separate self, here today, dead tomorrow, tiny forgotten dust particles in this amazingly vast universe.

In my book, I write this:

[I]n our ordinary experience of life, a mountain is not a cup of tea, and neither a mountain nor a cup of tea are you or me. A is not B, and neither one is C nor D. However, for Mahayana teachers like Dōgen, mountains are mountains and also cups of tea. Tiny teacups hold great mountains within, as well as the whole world and all of time. Mountains quench our thirst, mountains walk and preach the Dharma, and mountains are also other faces of you and me. It is not merely that our ordinary eyes might see a nearby mountain reflected on the liquid inside a cup, or painted on its side, or reflected like a kaleidoscope in each poured drop, but that the mountain and the whole universe is truly poured and held in every drop of tea to be tasted, and is contained in the cup itself. The teacup, though held in our hands, is also huge, boundless, as big as a mountain and the whole universe. The whole universe is just a great vessel which is also the vessel in our hands—a vessel that cradles our hands as we cradle it. (If this is hard to get your mind around, it is fine to approach it in a poetic sense until, on the zazen cushion, one can actually realize such truths.)

When we drink tea, as it enters our mouth and we taste it on our tongue and it merges with our body, we too enter the tea, are tasted by and merge with it. Likewise, in drinking tea we enter the mountains and the whole universe. The tea swallows us as we swallow the tea, and the mountain/universe drinks us as we drink the mountain/universe—all in the simple action of tasting a cup of tea. The tea steeps all time and space as you steep tea; the mountain pours the universe as the universe moves with your hands when pouring a cup. Each drop of tea, each inch of the mountain or atom of the universe glitters as a unique and precious jewel, each unique and whole unto itself, yet each is also the all. That is the kind of world vision that Dōgen is usually expressing.

Your Assignment:

Take two (2) seemingly very unrelated things (or people, times, places) of the universe ... you choose, but the more unrelated the better, e.g. (don't use these examples, please choose your own!) "baseball cap" and "dog" or (even better, because the apparently more unrelated the better) "Taj Mahal ticket booth at 5:16 pm" and "squeaky rolling shopping cart wheel" and ... following the basic content and grammar patterns of my two paragraphs above ... express their intimate identity in the same manner that I do for "cup of tea" and "mountain."

I hope this assignment is your cup of tea, and not too high a mountain.

Good luck!



Gassho, Jundo

STLah

[Houzan]

A bird stand atop a bench, chirping. It hops around, carelessly singing its song. The bench is solid and still. Inviting the bird to rest its weary wings. The bench is the bench. The bird is the bird. This is clear. We can’t use a hammer to fix a bird. And neither will a bench leave its breakfast on top of the bird.

However, at the same time it’s also true that the bird is the bench and the bench the bird. How can this be? As there is no “birdness” in the bird, or “benchness” in the bench, there is no bird beyond the chirping and no bench beyond benching. A bird empty of its “birdness” means full of whatever and whenever! Thus the bird’s stomach is full of the bench and the bench soars high of the sky. The bird is as boundless as the bench, thus the venndiagram becomes simply one circle. But there are not only two circles, there is also you. Thus it’s not that only the bird is the bench and the bench the bird. No, both the bird and the bench is you. So when you sit on the bench, you sit as the bird. This is the bench sitting you. It is the bird flying as you sitting on the bench. At this very moment, the bird, the bench, you, and yes, everything else, is simply the gold cast of reality. All the countless circles are in fact boundless, thus they are all one circle. This is the jazz of Dogen.

Gassho, Hōzan
satlah

[Jundo]

A bird stand atop a bench, chirping. It hops around, carelessly singing its song. The bench is solid and still. Inviting the bird to rest its weary wings. The bench is the bench. The bird is the bird. This is clear. We can’t use a hammer to fix a bird. And neither will a bench leave its breakfast on top of the bird.

However, at the same time it’s also true that the bird is the bench and the bench the bird. How can this be? As there is no “birdness” in the bird, or “benchness” in the bench, there is no bird beyond the chirping and no bench beyond benching. A bird empty of its “birdness” means full of whatever and whenever! Thus the bird’s stomach is full of the bench and the bench soars high of the sky. The bird is as boundless as the bench, thus the venndiagram becomes simply one circle. But there are not only two circles, there is also you. Thus it’s not that only the bird is the bench and the bench the bird. No, both the bird and the bench is you. So when you sit on the bench, you sit as the bird. This is the bench sitting you. It is the bird flying as you sitting on the bench. At this very moment, the bird, the bench, you, and yes, everything else, is simply the gold cast of reality. All the countless circles are in fact boundless, thus they are all one circle. This is the jazz of Dogen.

Gassho, Hōzan
satlah

Beautiful, but like last lesson, I wish you would stay closer to the assignment because this is meant to learn the writing style of Dogen please.

So, again ..

~~~

Your Assignment:

Take two (2) seemingly very unrelated things (or people, times, places) of the universe ... you choose, but the more unrelated the better, e.g. (don't use these examples, please choose your own!) "baseball cap" and "dog" or (even better, because the apparently more unrelated the better) "Taj Mahal ticket booth at 5:16 pm" and "squeaky rolling shopping cart wheel" and ... following the basic content and grammar patterns of my two paragraphs [below] ... express their intimate identity in the same manner that I do for "cup of tea" and "mountain."

[I]n our ordinary experience of life, a mountain is not a cup of tea, and neither a mountain nor a cup of tea are you or me. A is not B, and neither one is C nor D. However, for Mahayana teachers like Dōgen, mountains are mountains and also cups of tea. Tiny teacups hold great mountains within, as well as the whole world and all of time. Mountains quench our thirst, mountains walk and preach the Dharma, and mountains are also other faces of you and me. It is not merely that our ordinary eyes might see a nearby mountain reflected on the liquid inside a cup, or painted on its side, or reflected like a kaleidoscope in each poured drop, but that the mountain and the whole universe is truly poured and held in every drop of tea to be tasted, and is contained in the cup itself. The teacup, though held in our hands, is also huge, boundless, as big as a mountain and the whole universe. The whole universe is just a great vessel which is also the vessel in our hands—a vessel that cradles our hands as we cradle it. (If this is hard to get your mind around, it is fine to approach it in a poetic sense until, on the zazen cushion, one can actually realize such truths.)

When we drink tea, as it enters our mouth and we taste it on our tongue and it merges with our body, we too enter the tea, are tasted by and merge with it. Likewise, in drinking tea we enter the mountains and the whole universe. The tea swallows us as we swallow the tea, and the mountain/universe drinks us as we drink the mountain/universe—all in the simple action of tasting a cup of tea. The tea steeps all time and space as you steep tea; the mountain pours the universe as the universe moves with your hands when pouring a cup. Each drop of tea, each inch of the mountain or atom of the universe glitters as a unique and precious jewel, each unique and whole unto itself, yet each is also the all. That is the kind of world vision that Dōgen is usually expressing.

Gassho, Jundo
stlah

[Hosui]

First attempt...

In my experience of everyday life in this bag of bones, the rarely flowering New Zealand Flax plant scraping against my zendo window outside is separate from the Samantabhadra figure sitting atop their stately elephant ride tucked within my home altar, this side of the glass. Obversely, given their individual particularity, neither is the Samantabhadra figure the New Zealand Flax, nor are either of them me. The particularity of each are separate and differentiated. Obviously, they/we all share in the same universality. The infinite domain (dharmadhatu) in which the reality of the slow blossoming Flax takes place, otherwise known as the universe, is the same domain in which the Samantabhadra figure gathers dust, and in which this rice-pounder sits. However, the particular Flax outside, swaying in the westerlies, becomes and is the universal represented by the dust-crowned Samantabhadra inside. Sam and Flax are not only part of same theatre of reality, they ARE the same since their particularities merge with their universalities. Since suchness unifies all dharmas, or all particulars, they are in fact SamFlax, even if realising this sameness is just a pause on the path. Given the unobstructed interpenetration of all particulars and all universals, all particulars with all particulars, and all universals with all universals, I am FlaxSam. Each wave of the Flax on the window, each correspondingly returned greeting of the dwellers of the not-so-distant Jewelled Flower Grove from across the universe, each dust mote and each passing thought and each atom of glass from across the ten directions and countless kalpas - all are of the same ten SamFlax vows of the bodhisattva Samantabhadra, attendant of the cosmic buddha Vairocana sitting in Todaiji in Nara, Japan. We’re all in your neighbourhood, Jundo - put the kettle on!

Gassho
Hosui
sat/lah today

[Furyu]

It is very dry where I live, and the hills are covered in ponderosa pines, hence my two choices - hand lotion and ponderosa pine forests...

In our ordinary experience of life, tubes of hand lotion are not ponderosa pine forests, and neither a ponderosa pine nor a tube of hand lotion are you or me. A is not B, and neither one is C nor D. However, for Mahayana teachers like Dōgen, a tube of hand lotion is a tube of hand lotion and also a ponderosa pine forest. Small tubes of hand lotion hold great forests of ponderosas within, as well as the whole world and all of time. The beauty of great ponderosa pines awes us, ponderosa pine forests walk and preach the Dharma, and ponderosa pines are also other faces of you and me. It is not merely that our ordinary perception might smell a nearby tree while slathering the hand lotion on our faces, or see a tree painted on the side of the tube when we buy it, or understand that the pine tree is distributed in each drop of lotion as an ingredient, but that the ponderosa forest and the whole universe is truly smeared and absorbed by our skin and contained in every drop of lotion that we use, and is contained in the tube of lotion itself. The tube of hand lotion, though held in our hands, is also huge, boundless, as big as an entire ponderosa pine forest and the whole universe. The whole universe is just a great container which is also the container in our hands—a container that encloses our hands as we enclose it. (If this is hard to get your mind around, it is fine to approach it in a poetic sense until, on the zazen cushion, one can actually realize such truths.)

When we spread hand lotion, it enters our pores and we feel the smoothness of our skin as it merges with our body—we too infiltrate the hand lotion, are absorbed by it, as we merge with it. Likewise, squeezing out the hand lotion, we enter the ponderosa forests and the whole universe. The hand lotion absorbs us as we absorb the hand lotion, and the pine forest/universe absorbs us as we absorb the pine forest/universe—all in the simple action of applying hand lotion. The lotion smooths out all time and space as you squeeze it out; the ponderosa forest smooths out the universe as the universe moves with your hands when applying the lotion. Each drop of lotion, each pine needle in the forest or atom of the universe shines as a unique and precious jewel, each unique and whole unto itself, yet each is also the all. That is the kind of world vision that Dōgen is usually expressing.

Gasshō
Fūryū
sat-lah

[Jundo]

It is very dry where I live, and the hills are covered in ponderosa pines, hence my two choices - hand lotion and ponderosa pine forests...

In our ordinary experience of life, tubes of hand lotion are not ponderosa pine forests, and neither a ponderosa pine nor a tube of hand lotion are you or me. A is not B, and neither one is C nor D. However, for Mahayana teachers like Dōgen, a tube of hand lotion is a tube of hand lotion and also a ponderosa pine forest. Small tubes of hand lotion hold great forests of ponderosas within, as well as the whole world and all of time. The beauty of great ponderosa pines awes us, ponderosa pine forests walk and preach the Dharma, and ponderosa pines are also other faces of you and me. It is not merely that our ordinary perception might smell a nearby tree while slathering the hand lotion on our faces, or see a tree painted on the side of the tube when we buy it, or understand that the pine tree is distributed in each drop of lotion as an ingredient, but that the ponderosa forest and the whole universe is truly smeared and absorbed by our skin and contained in every drop of lotion that we use, and is contained in the tube of lotion itself. The tube of hand lotion, though held in our hands, is also huge, boundless, as big as an entire ponderosa pine forest and the whole universe. The whole universe is just a great container which is also the container in our hands—a container that encloses our hands as we enclose it. (If this is hard to get your mind around, it is fine to approach it in a poetic sense until, on the zazen cushion, one can actually realize such truths.)

When we spread hand lotion, it enters our pores and we feel the smoothness of our skin as it merges with our body—we too infiltrate the hand lotion, are absorbed by it, as we merge with it. Likewise, squeezing out the hand lotion, we enter the ponderosa forests and the whole universe. The hand lotion absorbs us as we absorb the hand lotion, and the pine forest/universe absorbs us as we absorb the pine forest/universe—all in the simple action of applying hand lotion. The lotion smooths out all time and space as you squeeze it out; the ponderosa forest smooths out the universe as the universe moves with your hands when applying the lotion. Each drop of lotion, each pine needle in the forest or atom of the universe shines as a unique and precious jewel, each unique and whole unto itself, yet each is also the all. That is the kind of world vision that Dōgen is usually expressing.

Gasshō
Fūryū
sat-lah

Yeah, yeah. Very fun.

Gassho, Jundo
stlah

[Jundo]

First attempt...

In my experience of everyday life in this bag of bones, the rarely flowering New Zealand Flax plant scraping against my zendo window outside is separate from the Samantabhadra figure sitting atop their stately elephant ride tucked within my home altar, this side of the glass. Obversely, given their individual particularity, neither is the Samantabhadra figure the New Zealand Flax, nor are either of them me. The particularity of each are separate and differentiated. Obviously, they/we all share in the same universality. The infinite domain (dharmadhatu) in which the reality of the slow blossoming Flax takes place, otherwise known as the universe, is the same domain in which the Samantabhadra figure gathers dust, and in which this rice-pounder sits. However, the particular Flax outside, swaying in the westerlies, becomes and is the universal represented by the dust-crowned Samantabhadra inside. Sam and Flax are not only part of same theatre of reality, they ARE the same since their particularities merge with their universalities. Since suchness unifies all dharmas, or all particulars, they are in fact SamFlax, even if realising this sameness is just a pause on the path. Given the unobstructed interpenetration of all particulars and all universals, all particulars with all particulars, and all universals with all universals, I am FlaxSam. Each wave of the Flax on the window, each correspondingly returned greeting of the dwellers of the not-so-distant Jewelled Flower Grove from across the universe, each dust mote and each passing thought and each atom of glass from across the ten directions and countless kalpas - all are of the same ten SamFlax vows of the bodhisattva Samantabhadra, attendant of the cosmic buddha Vairocana sitting in Todaiji in Nara, Japan. We’re all in your neighbourhood, Jundo - put the kettle on!

Gassho
Hosui
sat/lah today

Not bad at all. Maybe you tried to reason out some things (e.g., "Obviously, they/we all share in the same universality" ... "are not only part of same theatre of reality, they ARE the same since their particularities merge with their universalities") rather than go for a more mystical vision. But you got the point, so good.

If you see how Dogen writes, it is not quite so "logical" about it, and more musical and vibrant imagery.

Gassho, Jundo
stlah

[Houzan]

Second attempt:

[I]n our ordinary experience of life, a [bench] is not a [bird], and neither a [bench] nor a [bird] are you or me. A is not B, and neither one is C nor D. However, for Mahayana teachers like Dōgen, [benches] are [benches] and also [birds]. Tiny [colibris] hold [the colossal bench of the pulpit rock] within, as well as the whole world and all of time. [Benches] [take us of our feet], [benches] [fly] and preach the Dharma, and [benches] are also other faces of you and me. It is not merely that our ordinary eyes might see a nearby [bench] [below the resting bird], or [a bird’s feather stuck between its wooden planks], or [the wood reflected in the bird dropping], but that the [bench] and the whole universe is truly [flying] and held in every [flap of its wings], and is contained in the [feathers] [themselves]. The [bird], though [only the size of a fist], is also huge, boundless, as big as a [bench] and the whole universe. The whole universe is just a great vessel which is also the vessel in our [eyes]—a vessel that cradles our [eyes] as we cradle it. (If this is hard to get your mind around, it is fine to approach it in a poetic sense until, on the zazen cushion, one can actually realize such truths.) When [the bird flies, as it soars across the blue sky and spreads its wings] and it merges with our [eyes], we too enter the [bird], are [flown] by and merge with it. Likewise, in [seeing the bird] we enter the [bench] and the whole universe. The [bird flies] us as we [fly] the [bird], and the [bench]/universe [flies] us as we [fly] the [bench]/universe - all in the simple action of [seeing] the [bird]. The [bird] [flies] all time and space as you [fly] [the bird], the [bench] [soars] the universe as the universe moves with your [body] when [sitting down]. Each [feather] of [the bird], each inch of the [bench] or atom of the universe glitters as a unique and precious jewel, each unique and whole unto itself, yet each is also the all. That is the kind of world vision that Dōgen is usually expressing.

Gassho, Hōzan
satlah

[Jundo]

Yes, that is good. The bench flies!

Gassho, J

stlah

[Bob-Midwest]

In an ordinary way of thinking, Trail 9 at the Indiana Dunes State Park is not La Pieta at St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. And neither are you, me or anything other that we can name different than what we are.
R is not Q, and neither are T or V.
But apparently to Dogan and undoubtedly others, dune trails are dune trails, but trails are also sculptures an ocean away.
Trails behold the beautiful carvings of marble, and all else, including you and I, and all of time.
Sculptures are the sandy trail underfoot, all while hiking along, teaching the dharma, reflecting back the surrounding nature, ourselves and the all.
It’s not simply that the shined marble of a sculpture reflects back an image of a sandy trail. It actually is that sandy trail, right there underfoot.
A trail does not simply reflect back a great work of art in its rounded sands, but shimmers right there as the beauty of a sculpted mother gracefully holding her son’s lifeless body.
Heading down that hilly trail, we are the sand underfoot, the glacial dunes hugging the shore of Lake Michigan. The sunbathers along the shoreline are sculptures of marble, the singing birds the precise movement of Michelangelo’s hands, lapping lake water are every song, voice and the slightest stirring since time immortal.
The marble sculpture not only reflects back the viewer’s gaze, but is that viewer and that viewer is all, including the carved trail through an Indiana forest, the deer grazing, refreshing rainfall and all beyond and ever existing.
You, I, all else, unique selves, all the while containing a great whole of everything else.
That is the kind of world vision that Dōgen is usually expressing.

[Jundo]

Yeah, Lake Michigangelo! I think you got a handle on it this time, Bob. Good. Thank you.

Gassho, J
stlah

[Heikyo]

I went with the first two things I saw walking down the street today…

In our ordinary experience of life, a sycamore leaf is not an aeroplane, and neither an aeroplane nor a leaf are you or me. A is not B, and neither one is C nor D. However, aeroplanes are aeroplanes and also sycamore leaves. The leaves hold great aeroplanes within, as well as the whole world and all of time. Aeroplanes fly us to our destinations, they fly through the air and preach the Dharma, and aeroplanes are also other faces of you and me. It is not merely that our ordinary eyes might see a nearby aeroplane reflected on the surface of a leaf as it passes overhead, or reflected like a kaleidoscope in the drops of water on its surface , but that the aeroplane and the whole universe is truly held in every single cell inside that leaf. The leaf, though held up to the sky on the bough of the tree, is also itself huge, boundless, as big as the aeroplane above, and the whole universe. The whole universe is just an enormous leaf which is also the leaf in our hands—a leaf that touches our hands as we touch it.


When we hold the leaf, we feel its roughness and it merges with our body, we too enter the leaf. Likewise, in the aeroplane we enter the not so comfy seat, the sky and the whole universe. The leaf touches us as we touch the leaf, and the aeroplane/universe flies us as the captain flies the aeroplane/universe—all in the simple action of touching a leaf. The leaf touches all time and space as you touch the leaf; the aeroplane flies the universe as the universe flies with you.

Gassho
Heikyo
sat today, lah

[Jundo]

I went with the first two things I saw walking down the street today…

In our ordinary experience of life, a sycamore leaf is not an aeroplane, and neither an aeroplane nor a leaf are you or me. A is not B, and neither one is C nor D. However, aeroplanes are aeroplanes and also sycamore leaves. The leaves hold great aeroplanes within, as well as the whole world and all of time. Aeroplanes fly us to our destinations, they fly through the air and preach the Dharma, and aeroplanes are also other faces of you and me. It is not merely that our ordinary eyes might see a nearby aeroplane reflected on the surface of a leaf as it passes overhead, or reflected like a kaleidoscope in the drops of water on its surface , but that the aeroplane and the whole universe is truly held in every single cell inside that leaf. The leaf, though held up to the sky on the bough of the tree, is also itself huge, boundless, as big as the aeroplane above, and the whole universe. The whole universe is just an enormous leaf which is also the leaf in our hands—a leaf that touches our hands as we touch it.


When we hold the leaf, we feel its roughness and it merges with our body, we too enter the leaf. Likewise, in the aeroplane we enter the not so comfy seat, the sky and the whole universe. The leaf touches us as we touch the leaf, and the aeroplane/universe flies us as the captain flies the aeroplane/universe—all in the simple action of touching a leaf. The leaf touches all time and space as you touch the leaf; the aeroplane flies the universe as the universe flies with you.

Gassho
Heikyo
sat today, lah

Lovely. That flies as light as a leaf!

Gassho, Jundo
stlah

[FNJ]

OH THERES MY SUPERPOWERS! I THOUGHT I'D LOST THEM!!!

A foggy mirror in a motel bathroom, 3:37am. The winking light on a deep-sea submersible drifting blind. On the mirror, condensation beads like pearls on worn glass, and a lone traveler wipes it clean only to find their reflection ghostly, partial, unsure. In the second, the winking beacon pulses in darkness thick as iron, unseen but insistent, an eye blinking to see others, but for the self that must remember it is not lost. Each offers the same dharma: the boundary between clarity and opacity is not fixed. The motel mirror reveals a face only by momentarily erasing itself; the submersible’s light knows the blackness not as enemy but as the field through which it shines.

The world of particulars is not made of hard edges and clashing lines. Instead, each thing, each sound, each impulse, each vaporous sigh, is the other’s ally in becoming. Fog on glass and light in ocean deep are utterly themselves, and utterly each other. What Myoe saw in dreams, and what Dongshan saw in the fifth rank, is exactly this: the mirror and the beacon need not overcome the dark, they only need to come and go, to awaken each other.

Sat LAH
Gassho
Niall

[Jundo]

OH THERES MY SUPERPOWERS! I THOUGHT I'D LOST THEM!!!

A foggy mirror in a motel bathroom, 3:37am. The winking light on a deep-sea submersible drifting blind. On the mirror, condensation beads like pearls on worn glass, and a lone traveler wipes it clean only to find their reflection ghostly, partial, unsure. In the second, the winking beacon pulses in darkness thick as iron, unseen but insistent, an eye blinking to see others, but for the self that must remember it is not lost. Each offers the same dharma: the boundary between clarity and opacity is not fixed. The motel mirror reveals a face only by momentarily erasing itself; the submersible’s light knows the blackness not as enemy but as the field through which it shines.

The world of particulars is not made of hard edges and clashing lines. Instead, each thing, each sound, each impulse, each vaporous sigh, is the other’s ally in becoming. Fog on glass and light in ocean deep are utterly themselves, and utterly each other. What Myoe saw in dreams, and what Dongshan saw in the fifth rank, is exactly this: the mirror and the beacon need not overcome the dark, they only need to come and go, to awaken each other.

Sat LAH
Gassho
Niall

Very nice, but little to do with the lesson.

Please try.

Gassho, J
stlah