Tag Archives: Upaya ZC

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knife! door.

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Working in the kitchen at Upaya can be a tight dance between the food prep table and the wash up sink.  Cutting, chopping, slicing involves the use of a variety of sharp and often large knives which also have to be cleaned as we finish with one type of food and begin work with another.  So when taking the knife from cutting table to sink and back again, it is common to hear the more seasoned workers call out, “Knife!”  It’s a warning to everyone that a sharp object with potential for harm is in transition near them.

It seemed to me that can also be a great practice when transitioning from one emotional state to another.  “Knife!” I can cry out when I’m trying to get from anger to passion, greed to generosity, confusion to understanding.

Of course, I don’t want to just stop the conditioning that leads to suffering.  It helps to cultivate and embody the passion, generosity and understanding.  I’m reminded of what we would do when entering or leaving parts of the horse barn.  To alert the horse and rider to the opening of doors between stable and arena, we would call out, “Door!”  Another great invitation to bring the mind to attention and to keep the habitual aspects of personality from bolting.

Evan Thompson writes in Mind in Life:

According to bundle theory, there is no single and permanent self that persists through time; the self is rather a bundle of constantly changing and psychologically continuous experiences or mental episodes.

Sometimes it is “Knife!”

Sometimes it is “Door!”

Thank you for practicing,

Genju

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echoes of selves past

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Reflecting on some stuff that bubbled around during Zen Brain retreat.  Being in the presence of four very skillful teachers was powerful enough but to experience their interactions with each other was deeply moving.  Each teacher was animated clearly enjoyed sharing every nuance of his understanding of the dharma.  At the end of each talk, there would be this burst of joyful congratulations from the other speakers.  I suppose it shouldn’t come as a surprise that a group of contemplatives would embody such open-heartedness.  I mentioned to Roshi that they seemed more like a group of kids on a ball field rejoicing when one of them hit a home run than competent academics.  In fact, that was one of the questions put to Richie Davidson towards the end of the retreat: how does being a Buddhist practitioner affect his ability to work in the highly competitive environment of academia?  Davidson admitted that the practice of taking joy in the accomplishments of colleagues’ successes was a rare thing but one he hoped was cultivating, at the very least, in his own research group.

Sitting here, I see and feel the sunshine pouring into my office and watching the huge flakes of snow swirl across the view of the street below.  I’m remembering the teachers who sat with me through really difficult times in my education and the ones who still sit with me when I need their support and love.  Perhaps it’s a signal of my practice budding that I can relish the joy of the Zen Brainiacs and let it guide me to remember the support I too have received.

Yet, in that moment at the retreat, there was also sorrow that arose from grasping and rejection.  “What support didn’t happen for me?” While admiring their closeness and unstinting support of each other, I also felt a deep sorrow for my own experiences in highly competitive environments.  I don’t play that competitive or preferential game well, if at all.  Who knows how it has kept things from happening in my career.

These echoes linger in my mind and seep sometimes into my heart.  It’s what Davidson calls “affective stickiness” – interpreting something as negative  and becoming identified “with” it.  The delusion of self-identification leads me to see it as “this is my loss” rather than “this is a loss.”  And it prevents me from orienting to the next perception, next feeling that arises.

Roshi’s response to my observation was that their sympathetic joy bubbles up from a ground of love they have for each other.  I can see that.  Now all I have to do is get some cognitive Crazy Glue that reinforces the positive version of affective stickiness.

Thank you for practicing,

Genju