The Koan

 The koan arises naturally they say, and this way of looking at life is I think, worthy of some consideration. My koan is certainly tied up with fear. Fear which is closely tied to an appreciation of emptiness. It was by study of Zen Buddhism that I gained some clarity into the spiritual significance of what had previously been only a psychologically informed appreciation of my experience. Buddhism brought a wider philosophical understanding and the prospect of a greater peace than had been hoped possible. And more than this it brought a much greater depth and level of meaning to my life. Zen, by cutting straight to the heart of things with its uncompromising attitude to reality made what had been dimly understood and greatly felt and feared into a purpose. My understanding that things are so transient and vulnerable, clarified by the language of Buddhism as dependent origination, emptiness, made access to non-duality in the everyday a positive prospect. Couching this as the koan if I remember to see it that way, makes everything fuel to the fire of enlightenment. Through meditation both on and off the cushion and trying to keep to the precepts my experience might widen and deepen leading to a more compassionate, enriching life.

 Recently DC was talking about transcendence and perhaps having my koan in mind to some extent, I responded that those with an understanding of the spiritual significance of this are generally reluctant to speak of it for fear of doing harm, and he concurred. Altered states of consciousness, whether through meditation, music, dance, sex, alcohol or other drugs seem to have been a part of human experience for a very long time across many cultures. The harm or good any of this may cause depends upon intention, degree of awareness, precise details of the activity and energy expended. User beware! Let's consider that list a little: meditation, music, dance, sex, alcohol and other drugs. The first four have a history of links with spiritual practice, alcohol is a suppressant which blunts awareness and other than in small quantities to 'take the edge off' and promote a relaxed social mood is off very little benefit and can do a lot of harm. Drugs are numerous and dangerous. Some have a history of links to spiritual practice but generally not that held by established sanghas. Interestingly, there are current medical trials of psychedelics to help with anxiety and depression although they are not available as treatment options at this time. Aldus Huxley wrote of the 'reducing valve of the mind' and whilst I think we need take care with this notion there's something in it. Altered states of consciousness and transcendence have their place and if approached with the intention to surrender the self to the reality of the universe without craving experience can lead one to realise Buddha nature understanding that it's not an individual one but One that is. And then we return to the koan in daily life. Chop wood and carry water. These two aspects of life, form and emptiness, the mundane and the profound might be seen as an axis upon which I sit and struggle with fear, confusion and failing to keep the precepts, enjoy the vibrancy of life and its sensuality, play out past and create further karma... The koan unfolding. Unless any of these musings or the practices to which they refer result in greater compassion and ability to live happily causing minimal harm then they are at best useless but perhaps amusing and at worst harmful. Thankfully, the Buddha's recommendation to follow the 'middle way', steering us to the 'heart mind', does I believe, make the koan as indicated above, everything fuel to the fire of enlightenment. Which, when held by and holding the everyday struggles is an awfully magnificent prospect. The hour by hour experience is far less lofty.

I'm reading The Wild White Goose, the diaries of Roshi Jiyu Kennett during her time in Japan. There's a section in which the koan is discussed. Jiyu comments that people receive their koan at different times. This idea (of their koan) probably needs some 'unpacking' but the diaries don't go there and I don't feel confident to say much more than that the basic idea seems to match my experience. Jiyu goes on to point to the relationship of the size of the koan, the time one's had it and their degree of spiritual development. (The words used here aren't exactly hers, I'm aware that this sentence is fraught with possible confusion and it's difficult to be clear about the nature of temporality.) In this way of looking at things I think I may have received my koan at birth. I was induced, it was a difficult labour and I was cot nursed for the first couple of days. I imagine this was a stressful entry to the world. But who knows? I developed into a sensitive, cautious child. The koan was given further complexities as I developed OCD at about 9 years of age and realised I was gay at about 13 or 14. So, an interesting 'grab bag' of karma which by placing me in some respects outside the 'norm' has I think, given me or forced me to gain insight. These days I'm hard pressed to say where the size of my koan and the level of insight and/or spiritual development (that's not the right word) and the unfolding karma leave me. But such is the nature of koans.

Cutting the cat in one

For much of my life I've occupied the trying to be as right as possible space. And, spiritually it is important to wipe away the dust as much as it is to realise that there's neither dust nor anywhere for it to land. (See the Platform Sutra.) Now I notice that my efforts might be well focused on cutting the cat in one (see Mumonkan Case 14). Now, there's much pointed to I feel in this koan but the aspect which seems to draw my attention is finding unity at all levels in daily life. The precepts guide us in this and I recently came across a note that all the precepts are aspects of one precept - not to kill (the Buddha, the 'truth'). Can I remain present, aware and open to this so as to act in each arising moment in full accordance with this? No! Can and do I try? Fairly much so (I hope).

I started this post some days ago and didn't get into it before other things prompted me to write. Recently I was at Wallington in Northumberland and discovered that the Grade 1 listed walled garden greenhouse is now falling apart and subject to review by 'specialists' to determine what courses of action are open to the National Trust. Much decay and slipped glass is evident.

I found myself considering my thoughts about saving such assets. It's such a lovely place and I've photos from decades past of myself and friends in the greenhouse, the garden and outside the house. Observing the flaking paint it's clear the situation is beyond 'wabi-sabi' (a beauty I can struggle with accepting at the best of times), there's a risk to persons due to falling glass and access has had to be stopped even for staff. There is I think, merit (in the widest sense) in looking after historical things and it's lovely to pour love into them. Where I find myself feeling sceptical is the fuzzy area where a thing is beyond its life and we enter into a kind of fetish, generating an arguably false narrative about a thing. Without getting too bogged down in the details of the way we make our worlds both in the physical sense and in and through our thoughts, there are I think, broader cultural discussions to be had about our relation to the past, present and future. The past isn't (entirely) gone, it continues to unfold in each moment. And in this sense we have a responsibility to the future. Where energy is generated to save and / or create beauty, where there's creativity and love we know it feels right, heartfelt. Is there a space where we cross over into less helpful attachments in how we relate to the past? Can this impinge our ability to pour loving effort into the new? I think so. I think we can abrogate our responsibility to the future or more accurately to the present, by engaging in an excessive preoccupation with extending things beyond their life. A thing should live.

When I started this post I was wrestling with finding a way through an interpersonal conflict (hence 'cut the cat in one'). Forgetting the post and returning, inspired by thoughts of wabi-sabi, a natural life for a thing and appreciation of the space in which things have meaning, I wonder at the koan unfolding in daily life. Unity is present in the separation when I 'get out of my way', I do feel this even though it's not clear. Holding the questions 'In this moment what is being asked of me? What's needed in the next 5 or so minutes?' If I remember to ask and to open to the unity in the separation, the naturally arising answers go a long way to answer the koan without causing undue waves.

I hope a way can be found to keep life in the Wallington greenhouse, not 'pickled in aspic' but as a working, living thing.

My koan arising in the form of interpersonal conflict finds some resolution where I accept the need both to yield and stand firm. I'm disappointed that the koan can still overwhelm me at times in so many ways. Be like willow they say. It doesn't come naturally to me. And there's a time to be more the mountain. 

Some manifestations of the Buddha just shine out bright. Although I know some will call them garish, I love these splashes of bright red colour. There's a place for cool calm sophistication and a place for HELLO, I'm here!

Our Humanity

 I'm sitting trying to work out what this post is about. A number of things seem to have energy for (or be draining energy from) me. I continue to work with the challenges of our house moves, reawakened trauma and the changes and challenges that we all face in these times. I'm reading In Any Given Moment by Ajahn Munindo. I find this very interesting as I reflect upon my own spiritual journey in the light of how he describes his in this book. I'm still digesting that but the salient energy there is that I feel warmth and respect for him and renewed appreciation of the complexity and simplicity of the path. Homage to the triple gem.

The geopolitical situation is alarming. Trump and his tech oligarchs are a serious and dangerous threat to peace and democracy. I'm not convinced sufficient people realise how close right ring populism, fuelled by  the disenfranchised fallout from 40 or 50 years of neoliberalism is taking us down the road to full scale fascism. As a gay man I'm hyper-vigilant to this. I have a sinking feeling; it may already be too late to save any hope of a world where cooperation with each other and the biosphere take precedence over the power of a very few very very rich people (mainly men). Toxic masculinity in the broadest sense is spewing out throughout the world.

 In this body-mind is squared the circle of this life. Trying to work out what this post is about and/or trying to work out what things have energy / drain energy is a manifestation of the koan; the resolution in a balance of trying and allowing tends to escape me. Sometimes the best that can be done is to look after the body and try not to spin the wheels (of the mind) too much.

Driving to work today a Spotify playlist came to Take me to Church by Hozier. It was this track that prompted me to post. There are a number of themes in this song but the basic energy in the music is our humanity.

Maria

Last night DC, a friend and I saw the movie 'Maria' about Maria Callas. I loved it and found it both aurally and visually stunning. Often there were tears streaming down my face. It was also I thought, cleverly constructed cinematographically to portray something of the state of her mental health, her use of medication and the way in which narratives are constructed and revised. Depicting something of the traumas of her younger life and alluding to the ways in which these informed her appreciation of the meaning of the music we are moved by the biography, the music and the energy and humanity of the characters. For me what shone through was an expression of the inevitable heartache at the bottom of human life. In life our hopes, dreams and aspirations seldom come without loss and suffering and however hard we try to control, plan and manage our life there is almost always a different outcome. In Buddhist terms we cling through delusion to things which are empty, they aren't what we ever thought or hoped and so at some point our experience disappoints and may even be so painful as to approach destruction of an integrated personality. The film portrays Maria as having taken refuge in the music. The music articulates suffering and our humanity and it is this which is both moving and beautiful. Through it we feel the nature of our predicament and ascend like the lark of Vaughn Williams above our separation and into a promise of... of we can't quite articulate... and 'it' remains just out of reach but nonetheless we have been suffused by it. But this refuge in music which has provided both articulation and meaning is ultimately taken from her as it is based upon the empty body and its dependence upon so many conditioned forms. Form is emptiness, emptiness is form came to me in various ways as narratives were constructed and revised time and again though the aural and visual fields of the movie. There is a celebration of creativity, work, care, love and affection. Life has value.

Beauty

Yesterday I saw in the news pictures of the inside of the restored cathedral of Notre Dame and they were so beautiful that I could feel tears welling up. I remembered a couple of years ago being in Paris outside the hording around Notre Dame and being similarly moved. For me it is the symbiotic relationship of the beauty of that created, which through our visual sense we perceive and the beauty of our humanity in doing this work which is moving. It has been a couple of weeks in which I have found my own relationship with the construction industry brought into focus. I marvel at the strides the industry has made in terms of tolerance and inclusivity, of the sophistication of the procurement and design practices now common place and the squaring of circles. I despair at the same old problems mostly caused by lack of investment, impossible budgets and timescales. I see myself having grown out of the harsher social environments of the industry as now somewhat of a dinosaur and yet also still fuelled by the same irrepressible determination to be as authentic as possible. I found myself listening to Jimmy Somerville and the energy of overcoming repression shone through the music and I was also moved by this and remembered the struggles. Recent posts here chart and indicate my questioning of the Buddha dharma and circulate about the nature of our being and any kind of liberation from suffering. When I consider the above beauties and struggles, the awareness to be experienced through meditation, through sex, through engaging with work, family and friends, with my partner DC who always has the capacity to illuminate, through music and the works of others I regain a sense of the fragility of our condition as beauty. It is in this field that I remember that there are those who realised Satori and I wonder, what do I wonder? What am I to make of this strange falling through life with its dialectic, its reaching out for boughs to hold, to remember that the sound of a stone striking bamboo or anything for that matter might in the ripe mind trigger the falling away... Does that really matter? That's an awfully big question. The divine isn't anywhere but this very moment in this very place but the depth of this is, to borrow a phrase an 'elusive obvious'.

 

Who is struggling to surrender?

 I really struggle with surrendering to what is. To truly surrender is not to give up or run away or at the other extreme to attempt to control. Both these extremes being the same axis of trying to keep experience as one would like it. Give up and look up a monk I know says, pointing to addressing what needs to be and can be addressed and accepting what comes. Formal meditation improves awareness and the ability to just be with what is without adding. Recent years, being so stressful have seen me let formal sitting slip, although I'm gradually feeling back into the call to sit and also resistance to it. I will be more inclined to sit when I get a better space for this set up at home and not just in a corner of my study. And that's a whole other story- the effort required to get the house more in shape.

In a way, the above paragraph is enough- whatever the nature of reality, everyday life does come back to how we deal both practically and emotionally with what arises. But within that which informs our approach is I think, a belief system and fundamental to that the very nature of reality. A key part of this for me at the moment seems to concern our Buddha nature. The scientific approach recognises that we cannot know the nature of reality except though the apparatus available to us (including our own senses and faculties) and so is not so different to sunyata in Buddhism in many ways. And there is great debate in the scientific and philosophical  communities about the nature of consciousness. Is the unknowable void- the unborn which is the unity of reality from which everything comes- synonymous with consciousness? Are we that which cannot ever be destroyed because it is uncreated and is that which is both the seen and the seeing (there being no separate self doing the seeing)? And thus is it so that after death of the physical body whilst there is no individual self which (as say a soul) passes to some other realm, there is that which in the non-dual realm (of the unborn) both exists and does not exist (depending upon how we attempt to bridge the absolute and the relative in our 'understanding') and is 'continuous' before our birth, during our life and after our death? Plainly the material of our physical body and the cause and effects of many threads making our life have this quality. Life is like grandfather's hammer. But more fundamentally, is consciousness not just an emergent property of complex arrangements of matter- itself an aspect of the unknowable void- I cannot see that any other way- but actually the ground of matter? Does consciousness come out of matter or matter out of consciousness? They're interdependent of course. And so we return to sunyata...

I'd hoped years ago that one day I'd see very deeply our true nature- not just see sunyata cognitively and through my experience of everyday life, not just through the vulnerability and made-ness of everything or even just the pregnant with possibility of each moment but a deep and liberating experience of the unfolding moment. There have been I think, glimpses. But I'm really still very very much an afraid self. A deeper Self if I can use that way of summarising the above ie at the very least a transpersonal self and more deeply Buddha nature (is there a difference?) whilst in the 'mix', is not to the fore; there's not much playful samadhi, there's constriction. And this invites the question- what do I really believe?

Heaven Can Wait

I was looking for something to refresh the type of music I've been listening to via the Spotify A.I. algorithms and ended up listening to Meatloaf, Bat Out of Hell again. This album can impart upon my experience... memories, flavour, feeling, perfume - these words don't quite capture the nature of a charge, not particularly strong but there and of teenage years and time with a friend who introduced me to Meatloaf's music. He was as straight as they come and I'd no erotic feelings towards him. The charge isn't painful or longing and isn't anything more than the imprint of largely ok times but they were times sat in the midst of a lot of complexities. Anyway, what has prompted me to write isn't this charge. It's the track Heaven Can Wait which moved me to write. Jim Steinman's lyrics might be read as say poetry and would be enough cause for reflection but add the music and I'm moved to tears.

Heaven can wait
And a band of angels wrapped up in my heart
Will take me through the lonely night
Through the cold of the day
And I know, I know
Heaven can wait
And all the Gods come down here just to sing for me
And the melody is gonna make me fly
Without pain, without fear
Give me all of your dreams
And let me go alone on your way
Give me all of your prayers to sing
And I'll turn the night into the skylight of day
I've got a taste of paradise
I'm never gonna let it slip away
I got a taste of paradise
That's all I really need to make me stay
Just like a child again
Heaven can wait
And all I got is time until the end of time
Well, I won't look back, I won't look back
Let the altar shine
And I know that I've been released
But I don't know to where
Nobody's gonna tell me now
And I don't really care, no, no, no
I've got a taste of paradise
It's all I really need to make me stay
I got a taste of paradise
If I had it any sooner, you know
You know I never would have run away from my home
Heaven can wait
And all I got is time until the end of time
Well, I won't look back, I won't look back
Let the altar shine
Heaven can wait
Ah, Heaven can wait
Well, I won't look back, I won't look back
Let the altars shine
Let the altars shine

Now, many have commented upon the meaning of these lyrics and writers don't always have a clear meaning but I think what I find moving is as follows. They might depict someone who has had a transformative experience of love. This love could be anywhere on an axis from romantic projection with potent sexual energy through established sexual relationship, an asexual love, an opening in life to purpose and meaning with a sense of belonging and value, the love of being alive, right through to 'religious' / metaphysical experience. Whatever, they've all passed and the transformation remains. Now, even if I consider that Steinman wrote these lyrics for the musical Neverland and put a Peter Pan lens in front of them, I'm still moved. Afterall, J.M. Barrie's Neverland alludes to our deepest desires.

What is moving is that the transformation is to a place of acceptance. The suffering of the past is gone, there's nothing but time until the end of time, the transforming ecstasy has passed and taken with it the suffering. Any pain now can only be pain and not drive suffering. The axis from earthly ecstasy as a glimpse of eternity to the eternal is drawn out for us and the sorrows of the past rendered foundation for peace. The striving and desperation are gone. There's release, it doesn't seem important to where. For now, time remains but it will end. When it ends there will be no loss. No loss of pleasure or suffering.

Our lives are driven by our desires and our desires by our lives. And we all return to the Red Thread koan - the left hand path (of spiritual practice) or the right. There's plenty in the lyrics to point to sex as a vehicle to spiritual experience but they need not be read that way and other vehicles to paradise are clearly there too.

I got a taste of paradise
If I had it any sooner, you know
You know I never would have run away from my home

Home to ourselves as incarnated beings... with all that entails.

Well, I won't look back, I won't look back
Let the altars shine
Let the altars shine

For me these closing lines place a foot both sides of eternity. Each of us finding our own altars as reflections of our true nature.

Lest we get too detached from our earthly musings it's good to remember the humour in the next set of lyrics by Steinman:

On a hot summer night, would you offer your
Throat to the wolf with the red roses?
Yes
I bet you say that to all the boys...