Unknown's avatar

missing the boat

I’m a derelict today so please enjoy this awesome poem we heard read last night by Sensei Beate Stolte in her talk from Upaya: Fundamental Point of Zen:

Missing the Boat

It is not so much that the boat passed
and you failed to notice it.
It is more like the boat stopping
directly outside your bedroom window,
the captain blowing the signal-horn,
the band playing a rousing march.

The boat shouted, waving bright flags,
its silver hull blinding in the sunlight.

But you had this idea you were going by train.

You kept checking the time-table,
digging for tracks.

And the boat got tired of you,
so tired it pulled up the anchor
and raised the ramp.

The boat bobbed into the distance,
shrinking like a toy–
at which point you probably realized
you had always loved the sea.

Naomi Shihab Nye Different Ways to Pray– Breitenbush Publications, 1980


Thank you for practicing,

Genju

Unknown's avatar

stone unicorn

This is a cat only a mother could love… and her “mother” is half a world away.  But I have to admit, even I was charmed by the little poser sitting on my dining table cuddling with the stone unicorn.  All sweet and adorable until she needs to wreak havoc on the other unsuspecting felines in the house.

This raises the question for me about competency.  I had a rather intense discussion with someone recently about the issue around work-related competencies and people-competencies.  We really weren’t getting anywhere because in his view, being competent with people was irrelevant to being competent at what you do for a living.  I am assured in his total wrong-headedness simply by virtue of the fact we were two over-educated head-docs having an argument with him being accusatory and me being smug as only an ego-inflated meditator could be.  Quod erat demonstratum.

Take the cat (please).  Very competent at being a cat as evidenced by her ability to pounce, scratch, use the litter box, and hunt insects (mice scare her).  However, she’s lousy at being a communal cat able to deal with the stressors of living well with others, as evidenced by throwing up when upset, beating up on the bigger cats, and in all other ways demonstrating poor emotional intelligence and the judgement of an inebriated mouse.

So now, I’m wondering: what is that edge between being good at what I do and being good at who I am?

What are the skillful means of the stone unicorn?

Thank you for practicing,

Genju