I don't post much these days, but when I have experiences and my heart wants to share then I share. So when I do post it tends to be long winded. With that being said I apologize for running long here.
It has been some hard months for my family. We have experienced the loss of many loved ones due to COVID spreading through the family among other things. And we have now learned that we are now due to lose another family member any day. But lately I have also found beauty and peace behind, within and with the pain, grief and loss.
I discovered Zen when I was a teenager. Roaming around a bookstore looking for some sort of meaning until I stumbled across what they had labeled as the Eastern Philosophy section or something along those lines. These books seemed to speak some sort of truth to me. So I began to try and practice on my own. Trying to learn from these books.
It wasn't until I moved to Wyoming from Florida around 12 years ago that I started taking Zen Buddhism seriously. And once I found Treeleaf 9 years ago my practice deepened day by day, moment by moment. I use to be naïve and believe I had no use for a Sangha. I would just practice on my own. I had always been very skeptical of what I deemed "institutions." I had felt they failed me growing up. The state of my family, my step father executed on death row, my sister still being in prison and childhood traumas seemed to just reinforce these beliefs. But I came to discover without a community I wasn't really practicing Zen Buddhism. It was something else entirely. Something deluded. Not quite on the mark. This troubled loner I identified with just wouldn't do. But I also thought that the great enlightenment was a miracle. A miracle that I must achieve to bring me peace. A miracle like walking on water.
When I was living in Florida it was a time when the economy tanked, and I suddenly found myself without a job, without a place to live and no money. Eventually I was living in a small garage. I tried to maintain some sort of practice but the demons and misery that I identified with so greatly always took hold. Eventually someone I knew in Wyoming said I would have no trouble finding a job there. I figured after having no luck finding a job in Florida after searching for 6 months I had nothing to lose. So I loaded up my little crummy car with whatever belongings I could fit in it, filled up the gas tank and drove the very long drive to Wyoming.
I don't remember much of the drive, but I will never forget when I got to Wyoming. In Florida it is all flat land and hot skies. So when entering Wyoming my eyes were in awe. I had never seen such wide open spaces. I was able to see in what seemed to be endless distances in every direction. Crevasse's and craters of land flowing like a turbulent ocean leading to spontaneous tidal waves of mountains. It was the first time in my life I truly saw space, and not just searching for objects. There was a silence in me that I had never heard. For the first time I was at peace. But not a sort of peace that I was just in a blissful heaven. But a peace with myself. A peace with the emotions I felt and the troubles I had. Now since I was not a serious person in practice and I made no wholehearted effort to maintain practice, a fall of course would happen.
Things didn't happen as quickly as my ego wanted when I got to Wyoming and so I was homeless for a long time. Where I live in Wyoming there is a beautiful mountain. It gets made fun of sometimes for being what some call a small mountain. I always found it to be quite large, but then again I am from Florida where I once visited a large hill with a proud sign proclaiming it as one of the largest hills in Florida. I had no where else to go, so I went to the mountain with a tent, what little supplies I had and lived on the mountain. This mountain became my home. I lived this time in great silence. I got to know the mountain. And in this silence I saw myself. Things boiling to the surface that I did not know how to deal with or what to deal with. This mountain was trying to teach me Zazen in its own way, but I was deaf to it. So I had to fill up this empty space, and fast.
But the beauty and silence of the mountain, the non-judging and lack of self of the mountain, I still carried in my heart throughout the next months of trying to find a job and eventually a small cramped basement apartment in a building literally falling apart. I carried the mountain with me everyday. And it just so happened that once I landed a job it was located in an area with one of the most beautiful views of the mountain that one could see. One day walking into work I said to a coworker, "What a beautiful Mountain!" And he responded, "You get used to it." I couldn't believe this response. He seemed to be blinded. Everyday he saw the same mountain, and he became bored with it. But this mountain had been my home. It cared for me. Nurtured me. And showed me things about myself that I did not know. This mountain was my home. Yes this was the same mountain everyday, but somehow new and different at the same time. I continued to carry the mountain.
Being from Florida I know a thing or two about hurricane force winds, but I never imagined they would find me in Wyoming. With the bitter cold mixed with these strong winds (seriously hurricane force) I had never felt anything like it. It was such a cold wind the bones would ache. With these winds I saw Florida, right here in Wyoming. The same wind, but different wind. Each its own wind, but one and the same. The misery of this cold wind brought the warmth of Florida.
What was all of this? What was this truth that I didn't understand that Wyoming seemed to be trying to whisper in my ear? I looked at my practice and saw that something was not quite right. And so I searched for somewhere I could go with these things. I found that nothing in Wyoming seemed to exist for someone interested in Zen Buddhism. Other religions are much more dominate. So I turned to the internet, where I found Treeleaf. And here I found refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha. The aspect of community in our practice was something I had missed and now embraced. Now with that being said, at the same time of deepening my practice with a sangha there was another aspect of my life taking off. I found love and I married. I had a child. And it turned out I was very good at my job. So I did what any reasonable Western person would do, right? They say the best things in life are free, but you can give them to the birds and bees, I want money!
I had a wife now. I have a autistic child. I had struggled, I had been homeless. I must succeed. I refuse to let them go through what I went through. I must get as much as I can and as fast as I can. So the Wide Open Spaces, Mountains, Strong Winds and Sangha went in my back pocket. I still sat Zazen regularly and still carried the spaces, mountains, winds and sangha in my heart everyday, but I also filled up with other things. I worked my ass off, and the world was at my feet, or so I thought. Eventually I found myself as the boss over 300-400+ employees. Money got to be more every year. Our homes upgraded in quality. All the food and toys we would ever need. The more I got, the more I wanted. From everything and everyone. And the more I wanted and expected from Zen practice. I even used practice to justify the the delusions I fed myself.
Then came the great crash. All these things I used to fill up the empty space. All this I used to hide myself from myself, why did I still feel the same? Of course things fell apart, because everything changes. Love, hate, happiness, saddness...it all changes. Nothing is permanent. But I needed to have the permeance of success in my life. And when that failed, turmoil rushed over me. The divorce came soon afterward and I was once again lost. On the road somewhere in-between with practice. Somewhere back on that road between Florida and Wyoming. A darkness that I allowed to be me and all of me. I wanted to paint everything black. My success had failed me. My marriage had failed me. Practice had failed me...but the funny thing about practice. Once you see it, there is no going back. No matter how hard you try. No matter how big of a go you give it. Truth and practice is always there, in your heart.
And so I reached into my back pocket, and found the wide open spaces, mountains, strong winds and sangha was still there. They never turned their back on me. I turned my back on them. I found my teaching from the mountain. And fell back into a great silence. I simply practice, listened and sat Zazen. I took refuge in Buddha, Dharma and Sangha. I sat with the mountain. I sat as the mountain. I was the mountain. I worked on myself. I no longer sought success in my job. I allowed the job to work me.
Wide open spaces, mountains and strong winds. What I once found illogical, I saw had its own logic. What I once thought was a horrible downward experience I also saw beauty. There is beauty in the breakdown. I had thought enlightenment was a miracle I had to achieve. The miracles are the wide open spaces, mountains and strong winds. Walking on water, that's just small stuff.
Over the course of the following years I just simply practice. I put my heart in the Sangha and I listened. Gradually change took place. I think of the teaching I read or heard of walking through a fog. Eventually you get wet, and its very hard to get dry in a fog. My life became humbled and simple. I remarried and have a beautiful wife and had another beautiful child so now I have two beautiful children. I eventually shocked my employer by stepping down, many levels, back to what some would say a grunt I guess. The need for money became humbled. Living space became humbled. My life became simple. Decisions in my life came from a deep state of practice and intuition instead of delusion. I became a better person. A simple person. I sat Zazen. Nothing more, nothing less.
I am thankful for all the lessons life has given me through tragedy, loss, sadness, darkness. I see now that they were great lessons from great masters. The Zen Masters of wide open spaces, mountains, strong winds, buddha, dharma and sangha.
I am very practical with practice. Very simple. And we now have a community of Zazen sitters growing here slowly in Wyoming, that brings joy to the heart.
I have felt great grief these last months with so much lose of life in my family. But there is a peace there. There is a beauty. And when I feel the wind I feel grandma. When I see the space I see aunt. And when I walk on the mountain I walk with grandpa.
I then let space, mountain and wind go. I let it be. And I see space, mountain and wind.
I hope these words find you well. And when things get hard sit Zazen. When things get easy, sit Zazen. There is simplicity and a humbleness in life that waits to be awakened. Put trust in the Sangha. As Jundo has said, everyday is a good day! And I just want to say thank you to everyone.
Deepest bows.
Gassho
Bobby
SatTodayLAH
It has been some hard months for my family. We have experienced the loss of many loved ones due to COVID spreading through the family among other things. And we have now learned that we are now due to lose another family member any day. But lately I have also found beauty and peace behind, within and with the pain, grief and loss.
I discovered Zen when I was a teenager. Roaming around a bookstore looking for some sort of meaning until I stumbled across what they had labeled as the Eastern Philosophy section or something along those lines. These books seemed to speak some sort of truth to me. So I began to try and practice on my own. Trying to learn from these books.
It wasn't until I moved to Wyoming from Florida around 12 years ago that I started taking Zen Buddhism seriously. And once I found Treeleaf 9 years ago my practice deepened day by day, moment by moment. I use to be naïve and believe I had no use for a Sangha. I would just practice on my own. I had always been very skeptical of what I deemed "institutions." I had felt they failed me growing up. The state of my family, my step father executed on death row, my sister still being in prison and childhood traumas seemed to just reinforce these beliefs. But I came to discover without a community I wasn't really practicing Zen Buddhism. It was something else entirely. Something deluded. Not quite on the mark. This troubled loner I identified with just wouldn't do. But I also thought that the great enlightenment was a miracle. A miracle that I must achieve to bring me peace. A miracle like walking on water.
When I was living in Florida it was a time when the economy tanked, and I suddenly found myself without a job, without a place to live and no money. Eventually I was living in a small garage. I tried to maintain some sort of practice but the demons and misery that I identified with so greatly always took hold. Eventually someone I knew in Wyoming said I would have no trouble finding a job there. I figured after having no luck finding a job in Florida after searching for 6 months I had nothing to lose. So I loaded up my little crummy car with whatever belongings I could fit in it, filled up the gas tank and drove the very long drive to Wyoming.
I don't remember much of the drive, but I will never forget when I got to Wyoming. In Florida it is all flat land and hot skies. So when entering Wyoming my eyes were in awe. I had never seen such wide open spaces. I was able to see in what seemed to be endless distances in every direction. Crevasse's and craters of land flowing like a turbulent ocean leading to spontaneous tidal waves of mountains. It was the first time in my life I truly saw space, and not just searching for objects. There was a silence in me that I had never heard. For the first time I was at peace. But not a sort of peace that I was just in a blissful heaven. But a peace with myself. A peace with the emotions I felt and the troubles I had. Now since I was not a serious person in practice and I made no wholehearted effort to maintain practice, a fall of course would happen.
Things didn't happen as quickly as my ego wanted when I got to Wyoming and so I was homeless for a long time. Where I live in Wyoming there is a beautiful mountain. It gets made fun of sometimes for being what some call a small mountain. I always found it to be quite large, but then again I am from Florida where I once visited a large hill with a proud sign proclaiming it as one of the largest hills in Florida. I had no where else to go, so I went to the mountain with a tent, what little supplies I had and lived on the mountain. This mountain became my home. I lived this time in great silence. I got to know the mountain. And in this silence I saw myself. Things boiling to the surface that I did not know how to deal with or what to deal with. This mountain was trying to teach me Zazen in its own way, but I was deaf to it. So I had to fill up this empty space, and fast.
But the beauty and silence of the mountain, the non-judging and lack of self of the mountain, I still carried in my heart throughout the next months of trying to find a job and eventually a small cramped basement apartment in a building literally falling apart. I carried the mountain with me everyday. And it just so happened that once I landed a job it was located in an area with one of the most beautiful views of the mountain that one could see. One day walking into work I said to a coworker, "What a beautiful Mountain!" And he responded, "You get used to it." I couldn't believe this response. He seemed to be blinded. Everyday he saw the same mountain, and he became bored with it. But this mountain had been my home. It cared for me. Nurtured me. And showed me things about myself that I did not know. This mountain was my home. Yes this was the same mountain everyday, but somehow new and different at the same time. I continued to carry the mountain.
Being from Florida I know a thing or two about hurricane force winds, but I never imagined they would find me in Wyoming. With the bitter cold mixed with these strong winds (seriously hurricane force) I had never felt anything like it. It was such a cold wind the bones would ache. With these winds I saw Florida, right here in Wyoming. The same wind, but different wind. Each its own wind, but one and the same. The misery of this cold wind brought the warmth of Florida.
What was all of this? What was this truth that I didn't understand that Wyoming seemed to be trying to whisper in my ear? I looked at my practice and saw that something was not quite right. And so I searched for somewhere I could go with these things. I found that nothing in Wyoming seemed to exist for someone interested in Zen Buddhism. Other religions are much more dominate. So I turned to the internet, where I found Treeleaf. And here I found refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha. The aspect of community in our practice was something I had missed and now embraced. Now with that being said, at the same time of deepening my practice with a sangha there was another aspect of my life taking off. I found love and I married. I had a child. And it turned out I was very good at my job. So I did what any reasonable Western person would do, right? They say the best things in life are free, but you can give them to the birds and bees, I want money!
I had a wife now. I have a autistic child. I had struggled, I had been homeless. I must succeed. I refuse to let them go through what I went through. I must get as much as I can and as fast as I can. So the Wide Open Spaces, Mountains, Strong Winds and Sangha went in my back pocket. I still sat Zazen regularly and still carried the spaces, mountains, winds and sangha in my heart everyday, but I also filled up with other things. I worked my ass off, and the world was at my feet, or so I thought. Eventually I found myself as the boss over 300-400+ employees. Money got to be more every year. Our homes upgraded in quality. All the food and toys we would ever need. The more I got, the more I wanted. From everything and everyone. And the more I wanted and expected from Zen practice. I even used practice to justify the the delusions I fed myself.
Then came the great crash. All these things I used to fill up the empty space. All this I used to hide myself from myself, why did I still feel the same? Of course things fell apart, because everything changes. Love, hate, happiness, saddness...it all changes. Nothing is permanent. But I needed to have the permeance of success in my life. And when that failed, turmoil rushed over me. The divorce came soon afterward and I was once again lost. On the road somewhere in-between with practice. Somewhere back on that road between Florida and Wyoming. A darkness that I allowed to be me and all of me. I wanted to paint everything black. My success had failed me. My marriage had failed me. Practice had failed me...but the funny thing about practice. Once you see it, there is no going back. No matter how hard you try. No matter how big of a go you give it. Truth and practice is always there, in your heart.
And so I reached into my back pocket, and found the wide open spaces, mountains, strong winds and sangha was still there. They never turned their back on me. I turned my back on them. I found my teaching from the mountain. And fell back into a great silence. I simply practice, listened and sat Zazen. I took refuge in Buddha, Dharma and Sangha. I sat with the mountain. I sat as the mountain. I was the mountain. I worked on myself. I no longer sought success in my job. I allowed the job to work me.
Wide open spaces, mountains and strong winds. What I once found illogical, I saw had its own logic. What I once thought was a horrible downward experience I also saw beauty. There is beauty in the breakdown. I had thought enlightenment was a miracle I had to achieve. The miracles are the wide open spaces, mountains and strong winds. Walking on water, that's just small stuff.
Over the course of the following years I just simply practice. I put my heart in the Sangha and I listened. Gradually change took place. I think of the teaching I read or heard of walking through a fog. Eventually you get wet, and its very hard to get dry in a fog. My life became humbled and simple. I remarried and have a beautiful wife and had another beautiful child so now I have two beautiful children. I eventually shocked my employer by stepping down, many levels, back to what some would say a grunt I guess. The need for money became humbled. Living space became humbled. My life became simple. Decisions in my life came from a deep state of practice and intuition instead of delusion. I became a better person. A simple person. I sat Zazen. Nothing more, nothing less.
I am thankful for all the lessons life has given me through tragedy, loss, sadness, darkness. I see now that they were great lessons from great masters. The Zen Masters of wide open spaces, mountains, strong winds, buddha, dharma and sangha.
I am very practical with practice. Very simple. And we now have a community of Zazen sitters growing here slowly in Wyoming, that brings joy to the heart.
I have felt great grief these last months with so much lose of life in my family. But there is a peace there. There is a beauty. And when I feel the wind I feel grandma. When I see the space I see aunt. And when I walk on the mountain I walk with grandpa.
I then let space, mountain and wind go. I let it be. And I see space, mountain and wind.
I hope these words find you well. And when things get hard sit Zazen. When things get easy, sit Zazen. There is simplicity and a humbleness in life that waits to be awakened. Put trust in the Sangha. As Jundo has said, everyday is a good day! And I just want to say thank you to everyone.
Deepest bows.
Gassho
Bobby
SatTodayLAH
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