Grass Hut - 1 - Things Change

[Meishin]

Thank you Shingen and Danny. I said to my wife: In the total scheme of things, this is nothing. Being a therapist, she said, "Yes but it is your nothing." I will sit with it all in trust that this nothing will be my teacher.

Gassho
Meishin
Sat today.

[Myosha]

nothing will be my teacher.

Gassho
Meishin
Sat today.

Hello,

What else?^^


Gassho
Myosha sat today

[Rich]

I don't always understand change, much less the needs of others. Yet I'll offer to help any way I can. I wonder how shitou got his food, did he have a relationship with the temples and monasteries in the area, did he have lots of students? Or was he a mountain monk living alone.

Sat today

[Theophan]

I can let go of my attachments. But it can be quite difficult depending on what it is that I'm trying to let go of. Zazen does help me to do what I need to do.

Leaving the Orthodox Christian Priesthood was one of the hardest choices I ever made. I felt at the time I was throwing myself off a cliff into a dark, deep fissure. It didn't take too long to realize I didn't lose my identity. I found my true self instead. This was the blessed fruit of zazen. For that I am grateful.

Gassho
Theophan
Sat Today

[KellyRok]

Hello all,

I'm enjoying being back in the book club and sharing with you all.
Jundo, I hope your back feels better. I can relate to your troubles. It is difficult when things like this happen and it is just hard to breathe, and find a comfortable position to just “be.”

In response to the questions:
1. Yes, I do believe it is possible to let go while still holding on a little. Parents do it every day – granted it takes much practice. I'm going to have to practice this so very soon, when my boys graduate, move out and get on with their own lives apart from me.
2. Two years ago, I had a job I enjoyed. I had friends I enjoyed. My kids loved school and we felt like we belonged to a community. Then my husband got promoted and we had to move (not for the first time, mind you) to a different area in that same state (Kentucky). Since moving is not new for us, you’d think we could just roll with it. But I resisted, and I clung to the life I had set up for us. My kids were devastated, they didn’t want to leave all that we had built there and neither did I. Their devastations became mine. I knew our home there was temporary, yet I had immersed myself so much into my job and the people, that the thought of giving it up crushed me. I also knew that with my husband’s new position, it meant that we would/will be forever “transient”. I had a mental breakdown. I had panic and anxiety attacks constantly, I even thought about packing up my kids and leaving my husband. I was physically sick and lost 12 lbs. I had a pure fight or flight reaction…I wanted to find anything so we wouldn’t have to move again…and again. It took some medication, some therapy and continual mind-talk to get me to a place I feel comfortable again.

I wish I could tell you that now, I’m a pro at letting go of things. That saying goodbye to people I’ve met is easy and leaving a home that we’ve built is simple. I wish I could tell you that there is no way I will allow myself to get caught up and crash again, but I can’t! All I can do is practice…practice. Practice being here, right now, in this bigger home that is all of life. I can face my anxieties, one at a time, not fearlessly mind you; but with a sense of courage that it will all be okay when I come out on the other side. I can’t look too far into the future. I don’t know what it holds, or where we will be. But I know that even if I do crash again, all will be okay because I’ve done it before and I’m still here…doing it daily…practicing….still holding on, but trying to let go.

So many wonderful perspectives here, thank you for sharing.
Gassho,
Kelly/Jinmei

sattoday

[Joyo]

Hi Jundo, here's my response to your questions...

1. Yes, it is possible, but not easy. With practicing Zen, you can start to view all of life as impermanent, therefore, all has more meaning in the moment.

2. An example, hmmm, well I have a dear friend that I lived in fear of losing for a long time. Instead of enjoying the moments, I would live in fear of this person dying. A better way of handling it is to accept the impermanence of life, enjoy our time together, knowing that if I lose this person, there will be much pain, but also fond memories that I will always hold in my heart.

Gassho,
Joyo
sat today

p.s.---amazing book, it goes with me almost everywhere I go and I try to read at least a page or two every day.

[Sekishi]

Hi everyone, thank you for taking part and sharing your perspectives on this wonderful book.

1) Yes, I believe it possible to both cherish and hold lightly all the precious forms in our lives.

Last summer at the Virginia retreat, I learned a tiny thing (that I'm sure the Unsui and many of you likely already knew) about how to accept and hold artifacts and other items during ceremonies (passing bowls during oryoki, etc.). The item sits on the hands, protected by the thumbs, but is not grasped. This physical posture is an amazing little teaching -- holding a precious item, yet offering it freely to the world, making no claim to it. I've found myself holding things this way (or at least with this attitude) sometimes since the retreat.

I am also reminded of a teaching by the Thai Forest master Ajahn Chah:

"Do you see this glass?" he asked us. "I love this glass. It holds the water admirably. When the sun shines on it, it reflects the light beautifully. When I tap it, it has a lovely ring. Yet for me, this glass is already broken. When the wind knocks it over or my elbow knocks it off the shelf and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ But when I understand that this glass is already broken, every minute with it is precious.

This sounds so pessimistic, to say the glass is already broken, but to really see it as such: a conditioned form which by definition must "break", "dissolve", change form -- to fully accept that is to free ourselves from grasping at holding onto a particular form, and to accept something for the beautiful and precious instant that it is.

I cannot bottle a sunset, nor take a photo of the smell of a fresh apple pie, and being freed of those duties, I love and enjoy both when I encounter them. Neither can I bottle youth, nor take a photo of what it feels like to have a body free from pain, but those I grasp at, falsely believing (while knowing the belief to be false) that they can be captured and grasped. What suffering is caused by that grasping! But knowing that I can smell a pie without grasping and feeling sad when the smell fades, this plants a kernel of faith that it is possible to face our lives this way. To hold the Rakusu or Kesa as precious, literally the Buddha's robes (not belonging to us, and also "ours" in a boundless way), this is also a peek at what I think Jundo alludes to.


2) I think I am "not so allowing and flowing" nearly every moment of every day, but the grasping is lighter than it used to be.

A few weeks ago, I was sitting in the evening with Dosho, Shingen, Joyo, and some of the regulars in the 11EST group, when I had a sneezing fit. Like 20 sneezes in a few minutes. Each sneeze brought more embarrassment and worry that I was disturbing my friends' practice. I finally turned off the camera until it passed a few minutes later. For a few minutes, I was in a tiny but real hell realm. You cannot push back against a sneeze, you cannot bargain with a sneeze, you can really only open yourself to sneezing!

Anyhow, at some point during all this aversion I realized that every single person sitting has experienced that same: maybe a sneeze, maybe a yawn, maybe a leg that fell asleep. The feelings of embarrassment and worry were not unique. I did not "own" them. By linguistic convention we say "my pain", "my suffering", "my anger", but during that Zazen, I came to see them as not "mine" at all. These feelings are universal, only the details differ. These feelings arise from conditions, and pass away. We can claim no ownership of them!

If I had to go back and do it again (or should I say, next time around when it happens), I am confident that I will see the emotions that arise around sneezing to be "not mine" and the suffering will be less. I still don't know if I'll turn off the camera on the first sneeze, or get up and blow my nose, but at least I do not think I will suffer from worry in the same way, because it was never mine. So I bow to sneezing, a miniature "practice crises", that maybe I can learn from in future crises (minor or not-so).


3) I wanted to say that one passage that really spoke to me from the first chapter this time through is the past paragraph of the chapter(pg 22):

The contents of this hut are nothing of value, which is to say, not valuing things is not of value. Our monk does not claim to have made a place where he has moved beyond valuing things, for then he would have acquired a fantastic treasure, to which he would surely be very attached. He is not claiming or offering any magical teachings or infinite wisdom. He has not invited you into his mountainside home to show you that he has some incredibly special enlightenment. He invites you in and says there’s nothing of value you [sic] here, nothing special.

"not valuing things is not of value". This is such a vivid teaching. It is so easy (for me anyhow) to get attached to not being attached! Related, there is a difference between non-attachment and detachment, and there is a difference between non-attachment, and repressed attachment.

I can imagine that *I* built a grass hut, then put up a tumblr about it, posted artful filtered photos of the grass hut at sunset, and high-key photos of the mountainside obscured by fog. And if you asked, I could say "Man, I am so not attached to this hut, I built it out of grass", but you would know better!

Ok, thats enough. Thank you all. Sorry for the long ramble.

Gassho,
Sekish
#sattoday

[Kyonin]

Hi all,

This first chapter has really stroke home for me, especially the part about how we go about giving value to stuff and then we generate our own attachments. They end up being huge chains to our necks and prevent us from moving or even thinking straight.

In many ways I live pretty much like Master Shitou did. I have nothing, I am nothing and my house is pretty simple.

-1- Do you think it possible to keep and cherish something or someone (a person, a relationship, a thing such as a house), and work to maintain it and preserve it, and feel a bit sad if it is lost ... yet also be totally non-attached, able to roll with the changes and let it go, flowing with the impermanence?

Yes, it is. I do have a family (girlfriend, parents, cats), a home, and a lot of other personal relationships. I cherish them all and I have lost a lot of them too. It hurts every time, but I am fine with that because I realize life is movement and transitory. If you fight against that truth, only suffering will come your way.

-2- Give an example about a time you were not so "allowing and flowing" about a person, relationship or thing in your life, and became a prisoner of your attachment. How would the situation have been better or different [please imagine] if you had handled things like in Question 1 above?

So many things to say! I've had a lot of experiences in life where I wasn't allowing and flowing. And every time I got a ticket for the Suffering Train. It took years and years for me to understand to let go and how to do it. I still do a very poor job at this, of course, but at least I am more open to watch my feelings and thoughts. More often than not I am able to stop attachments before they cause harm.

I will sit with this chapter a couple of days and then I'll get back to read it

Gassho,

Kyonin

[Ugrok]

About question 2 : for me, it's even worse than not letting things flow ! I get upset with myself when i get stuck on stupid stuff and can't help it. Sometimes i've been in situations where i could see myself clinging to "what the situation should be" instead of being with it, and I was so frustrated to not be able to let go... So i guess one thing i learned is also to not be too harsh with oneself about "letting go" or "allowing". For me, nowadays, "allowing" the situation to be what it is means also allowing myself to struggle and fight the situation if i cannot do otherwise. As long as we are conscious of it, of course... Sometimes we see that we were stuck a long time after the situation...

I wonder if Shitou felt no attachment to his grass hut. I'm sure he did but dealt with it as well.

[Jundo]

Last summer at the Virginia retreat, I learned a tiny thing (that I'm sure the Unsui and many of you likely already knew) about how to accept and hold artifacts and other items during ceremonies (passing bowls during oryoki, etc.). The item sits on the hands, protected by the thumbs, but is not grasped. This physical posture is an amazing little teaching -- holding a precious item, yet offering it freely to the world, making no claim to it. I've found myself holding things this way (or at least with this attitude) sometimes since the retreat.

... This sounds so pessimistic, to say the glass is already broken, but to really see it as such: a conditioned form which by definition must "break", "dissolve", change form --

One sees such ways of holding lightly yet securely, reverentially, throughout Zen Ceremony and in Japanese Tea Ceremony too ... such as this way of holding the tea bowl, with balance and appreciation of the moment, secure yet free of grasping.

Some antique and modern Japanese tea bowls, by the way, can be worth a small fortune ... thousands and thousands of dollars ... and are cherished by the tea masters as treasures. I am sure the tea master experiences first hand the light of impermanence when one falls and breaks to pieces.



Gassho, J

SatToday

[Ansan]

I am a lover of animals, especially my own pets. I think most people are like me and are very sad when they die. We all know they die too young and we somehow survive their final days with us. In answer to question #1, yes, I have learned how to cherish a precious pet, take special care of it, feed it, bathe it, take it for walks & rides, clean the poop off their rear ends, trim their fur, and let go when it is time to say goodbye. I learned that by knowing that it is inevitable. This was never a Zen thought; it was always that way for me.

But, just in the past year, I had an occasion to find my way discovering flowing & allowing. We had a delightfully nasty cat that owned the household. He was 19 and showed no signs of ever dying. Some cats don't know how to kick the bucket. In fact, he was so noisy and nasty that sometimes I thought that…no, no, no…I couldn't bring myself to wish for his demise. Most of the time. Until he performed his performances. He yowled at night when I tried to sleep. I was convinced that he missed the litter box, on purpose. He scratched holes in my couch and then, like the Cheshire cat, grinned at his destruction. He would throw-up his furballs and other yuck on my pillow. Normal, old, nasty cat stuff. So many times, I felt guilty about this love/hate relationship when he sat on my lap purring, with an occasional little lick of his little pink tongue and a loving look at me with his one good eye. The time did come, though, when he died.

We cried and buried him deeply next to other pets that died since we moved out here into the desert, where there are no laws about burying your animals…or at least no one who really cares because there is no one around us for miles. Just desert and mountains. We placed large rocks on his grave and said our goodbyes and paid homage to our other long buried furkids. That night, after their usual romp in the desert, our two big dogs returned home. They both smelled a little funny but I couldn't figure out what the familiar aroma was. The next morning on our walk, my husband announced that our cat had been dug up. His bones were partially eaten and there was nothing much else left of him. We had no evidence of who or what did the digging except our memory of that smell. And the dirt on our dogs feet.

Normally, I would have been appalled and weirded out, but in recent years I had seen the movie "Kundin", a loose rendition of the Dali Lama's life, where the dead in Tibet were fed to the vultures. This sight, at first, was very repelling to me but after the culture shock, I realized that it was the most appropriate way to dispose of a dead body, especially in certain climates. With that thought, I could let go, truly let go and was content knowing this was the way it was supposed to be, just as it was.

However, in the last 2 years (in answer to #2), I came to realize I am not so accepting of the inevitable when it comes to my husband. I have been living a kind of lie for years thinking that we were kinda-sorta immortal, knowing that, sure, someday we will die, but felt that we were much too young and healthy. Nothing bad has ever happened to us physically except an occasional broken bone or tooth. We planned on living for at least another 50+ years even though we are both in our 70s. One night, my husband wakened me at 2AM to state he was having a lot of pain in his arms. At the ER, we were told he was having a massive heart attack. He had 3 stents put in and stayed in the hospital for 4 days. During this period, I was a walking shock victim. I functioned well but was in a daze.

When he came home, he looked old to me. I looked in the mirror and, like the Wicked Witch, I saw an old woman.

This event changed both of us, even though we had been changing all along but refused to be aware of that. After a long depression, I decided to make some more changes. Finding Zen and then Tree Leaf was the beginning of learning how to accept. Am I attached to my husband? Yes, of course, but we both sit in Zazen daily and realize that it is THIS moment now. Just as we are. And that is very good. I still worry about him, and sometimes about my dogs & cat, too, who I love dearly, but know and realize that we can only live today or even just in the present which is not permanent as nothing is…even though I am still trying to think of something that is. Nothing. Everything changes. Even nothing. Is that a Mu?

Gassho,
Ansan

SatToday

[Joyo]

Thank you for sharing, Ansan. I was very touched by what you had to say. I am very sorry to hear about your husband and I do hope his health is improving. I am glad you have found zen and Treeleaf to help learn acceptance.

Gassho,
Joyo
sat today

[Mp]

A lovely expression Ansan ... thank you for sharing about love, loss, and acceptance. I wish all the best you and a healthy recovery for your husband.

Gassho
Shingen

SatToday

[Jundo]

[Jinyo]

Thank you for sharing Ansan - my husband is also in his 70's and my health is not good. I feel as we get older the value of living fully in this moment is thrown into sharp relief perhaps with greater clarity. It also becomes a more urgent imperative not to waste precious time - because realistically our time on this earth is running out - though in reality this is always so - we can never be certain that our lives will continue beyond this moment. I do often struggle with this
because there is much in life to 'value' - by value I mean care about.


I feel this is part of the paradox. There is nothing of material value in Shitou's hut yet as we read on we will gather that the hut contains everything of value. It contains the entire world of our loves and hates, our attachments and practice. and desire to live in peace and at peace with the 'weeds'.


I have always loved this poem - if I had to lose everything but was allowed to keep one piece of writing this would be it. The first nine lines of the poem head the beginning of a novel I've just published and I return to the line 'Let go of hundreds of years and relax completely' at the end, so it has been deep
in my thoughts for a number of years.


Looking forward to reading each section of Ben Connelly's book and sharing our responses.


Gassho


Willow


sat today