Encouraging Words
Introduction
I am a senior student studying with my Sensei, Janet Jiryu Abels, a co-resident teacher at Still Mind Zendo, in New York City. Janet is also the guiding teacher of Pittsburgh’s Still Mind Zendo and has designated me as one of two practice leaders of our zen community.
I have been practicing Zen for some 35 years now and my eyes have been opened somewhat in that time. As Sensei says, “practice does not necessarily get easier, but it does get simpler.” She has asked her senior students to prepare and share talks with our community.
To the general public, the term “Zen” has been used so often and for so many commercial purposes, that is has lost its true meaning. For many seekers Zen remains an enigma wrapped in paradox.
On this page, I intend to post some of my talks in the hope that they will convey how Zen is actually practiced in contemporary American Life.
Honeybees
Today I want to talk about a wonderful poem by Antonio Machado. I was deeply touched by this particular stanza:
“Last night as I was sleeping I dreamt – magnificent mistake
I dreamt that honeybees were making
White honey in my heart
Out of all my old failures.”
I’ve learned from past experience to pay close attention to my dreams because they frequently excavate some teaching I need to learn. I am by no means a skilled interpreter of dreams but my teacher’s inquiry in our interviews has been very helpful in guiding me to better understand them.
I came upon this stanza from an article in a zen periodical. There was no mention of the poet’s background or even the name of the poem itself. Yet the words moved me.
Zen Roshi Dai-en Bennage told me years ago, “Zen is not for everyone.” She meant it is not an easy practice and many people drop away from the practice, seared by a deep sense of failure.
When we begin and continue to do zazen (sitting meditation) we inevitably encounter the seemingly endless chatter of our ego mind, with its judgments and discriminations directed toward ourselves and others. If we are able to persevere with our sitting, we experience moments of lucid stillness, where the ego remains quiescent, but never leaves us. It lurks in the recesses of our body-mind, on guard, protecting its turf. Our practice is an ongoing challenge to see through the reactive patterns the ego imposes on us.
How we accomplish this remains a mystery for most of us. Whenever we try to figure things out with our minds, the “answers” elude us. It’s not as if we can get up in the morning, stick our finger in the wall socket and dial in an enlightenment experience that cuts through all doubt.
And yet there are moments when we experience “enlightening” and we feel a definite shift in how we experience ourselves, the world and the beings within it. We can’t explain it but the awareness is there. The body-mind validates the experience. The doorway to such experiences may open as we cultivate “oneness” with our breath. The door may open as we ponder the barrier of a seemingly impenetrable koan.
A key to opening the door is to immerse ourselves in our practice without any expectations. This seems so simple yet proves so difficult. But we continue. We follow Nike’s mantra: “Just do it.” Focusing on “just this” moment by moment, on and off the cushion, brings with it moments of transparency and a letting go of our ideas of success or failure. We know the words “success” and “failure” are each without substance. We are released from the prison of the ego. Our hearts are open to the honeybees.
Zen practice can seem very dry and boring at times. Yet we can renew it by cultivating a deep sense of curiosity. We can become small children set free in a field of wildflowers for the first time. We can question everything but refrain from judging anything. We come to see every “just this” as complete in and of itself. We don’t need to go outside the present moment. We open ourselves up to a great spaciousness where honeybees can nestle in our hearts and brew their nectar.
But whenever we allow the ego mind to reassert its control, we are back in the world of samsara with our greed, hatred and ignorance.
Let’s look at Machado’s words again:
“Last night as I was sleeping I dreamt – magnificent mistake
I dreamt that honeybees were making
White honey in my heart
Out of all my old failures.”
For a while, I was mystified by the words “magnificent mistake.” They seemed at odds in some way, with the wonderful image that followed. After some reflection, I’ve come to the conclusion that the poet was being both playful and ironic here. The dream, of course, is not a mistake at all. It’s a gift from the One Mind that is us, signifying deep healing, a letting go of all discrimination.
Many zen masters have said most of us live our lives in a perpetual dream, but that dream is encrusted with the delusions fabricated by the ego mind. Machado and our diligent zen practice confirm that we can see through delusion and discover the honeybees in our hearts.
May you taste their sweetness in your practice.