I leave the bookstore,
not knowing what
to make of this performance.

Walking toward a bus stop,
I cross a side
lane, where a driver waits to enter
North 45th Street. Thinking he sees me,
I step in front
as he accelerates.
I leap onto his car hood,
screaming. He brakes, and I land
safely on my feet.
He speeds away.

I have just the strength
of the utility pole I lean against,
my breath,
and the cool night
air.

(No. 94 in a series of responses to Han-shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)

As Han-shan puts it, “Only when the mind is free of care/can the light of understanding shine/in every corner.”

(Numeric reference to Han-shan’s poem reflects the order of presentation in Burton Watson’s translation, presented as Cold Mountain, Columbia University Press, 1970.)

Seward, Alaska, 1952

(No. 62 in a series of responses to Han-shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)

Starting afresh in a new location is always a challenge to a kid, maybe especially one with no siblings.  I did this several times as a child–and learned, early on, that there is a place deep inside where we can go to survive.  Here, raw pain can somehow be handled–In My Room, as the Beach Boys once put it.  There may be an entry price; more importantly, it is vital not to get stuck there.  As ever, underlying the psychological impact is the essential experience of sitting alone under a solitary moon, even if lost and confused.  And it is in this sense that, even at such a impressionable time as described in this poem, “everyday is a good day,” as the old teaching story has it.

(Numeric reference to Han-shan’s poem reflects the order of presentation in Burton Watson’s translation, presented as Cold Mountain, Columbia University Press, 1970.)

Eventually,
we blink.

Port Susan Bay, Mouth of the Stillaguamish

(No. 39 in a series of responses to Han-shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)

Occasionally I join some birder friends from work for an early morning outing.  We’re fortunate to live in an area where this is easily done.  On this day we visited land newly managed by the Nature Conservancy at the mouth of the Stillaguamish River–one of many local rivers in what Robert Sund called “Ish River Country”.

Call the encounter with that Great Horned an epiphany, a kensho experience, or another word with which you’re comfortable.  Such moments are gifts, and we are never quite the same afterward.

(Numeric reference to Han-shan’s poem reflects the order of presentation in Burton Watson’s translation, presented as Cold Mountain, Columbia University Press, 1970.)

Olympic Wilderness Coast, 2002

(No. 38 in a series of responses to Han-shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)

As Gary Snyder once observed, “when Han-shan talks about Cold Mountain, he means himself, his home, his state of mind.” Or, as Han-shan himself put it (in Red Pine’s translation of No. 82):

People ask the way to Cold Mountain
but roads don’t reach Cold Mountain
in summer the ice doesn’t melt
and the morning fog is too dense
how did someone like me arrive
our minds are not the same
if they were the same
you would be here

Snyder renders those last two lines as:

If your heart was like mine
You’d get it and be right here.

Right where, did he say?

Numeric reference to Han-shan’s poem reflects the order of presentation in Burton Watson’s translation, presented as Cold Mountain, Columbia University Press, 1970.)

A drip collects
in a plastic tub
placed on a shelf
in my bathroom.
Its source is not rain,
but cold condensation.
I need to fix it.
This wears on me.
To be honest,
containers collect water
in many rooms of my house.
Although it requires
energy to empty them,
many of the leaks
may never be repaired.

(No. 101 in a series of replies to Han-shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)

Or, as Hakui Zenji concludes Song of Zazen,

this very place is the Lotus Land,
this very body, the Buddha.

(Numeric reference to Han-shan’s poem reflects the order of presentation in Burton Watson’s translation, presented as Cold Mountain, Columbia University Press, 1970.)

]]> http://www.dsbones.com/2009/realization-101/feed 0 http://www.dsbones.com/2009/dokusan-56 http://www.dsbones.com/2009/dokusan-56#comments Sun, 25 Jan 2009 20:44:56 +0000 David Stallings http://www.dsbones.com/?p=112 Continue reading →]]> Do one-breath zazen!
my Zen teacher would say
when I complained
I hadn’t  time
to meditate regularly.
He would probably approve
my placement of his new book
on the back of my toilet.
Since my prostate enlarged,
I pee more than I used to, making
for frequent short visits with
my old teacher.

*Dokusan—personal interview with the roshi during formal Zen practice

(No. 56 in a series of responses to Han-shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)

In my experience, Zen practice (and probably most such practices) eventually merges with everyday life.  Just look around.

Many koans clarify this point.  For example, Case 21 of the Mumonkan:

A monk asked Unmon, What is a Buddha?
Unmon said, Dried shitstick.

Answering a similar question, Joshu (Case 37, Mumonkan), replied, The oak tree in the garden.

(Numeric reference to Han-shan’s poem reflects the order of presentation in Burton Watson’s translation, presented as Cold Mountain, Columbia University Press, 1970.)