Cheers

“The land knows you, even when you are lost.”
― Robin Wall Kimmerer

This has been an odd fall and even odder December when it comes to apples.

There is snow on the hills to the east of Stony Run, yet all the early fall varieties have hung on and hung on (as opposed to just the Granny Smiths*), and I find myself repeatedly wandering out to gather and press -- well, the "press" has been put away, but Daughter has gifted me her old juicer, and it's powerful enough to do interesting things.

No idea what the climate is up to, but we're not likely to pass up a silver lining around here. If there's a lesson in all this Solstice largesse, I hope I'm listening, but while doing so I'll also harvest.

“To garden, you have to be extremely aware of your surroundings, of where you sit and walk and the specific tastes and flavor of the land. You need to understand where the stream runs and how the trees bloom, to take the pulse of your garden, and train your powers of observation. A garden is not natural. It is all artifice. We make it, respecting the rules of nature and the ecosystem.” -- Wendy Johnson of Green Gulch Farm in Garden Design

I dunno, I think whatever exists is "natural," but "respecting the rules" is something I do get: giving up greed, anger and delusion so as to be able to pay attention -- makes sense, don'tcha think? So I've learned to mulch, compost, chop-and-drop and intercrop, but I do still feel rather ignorant of what's going on out there.

There are plenty of vegetables and herbs around this winter. The kale is happy:

but it often is at this time. Notably, so is the lettuce.

Plenty of parsley.

I have gathered the medlars. Not being into making jelly, and having no better idea what to do with them, I put them through the juicer --

-- and chased them with a carrot, a beet, some kale, and a basket of apples.

This resulted in a refreshing drink one might call "Holiday Red," to be quaffed with some Bach harpsichord works. Cheers.

No more moon

For this online Rohatsu I found myself, most of the time, sitting with twenty or so other people (sample here), so that the hermitage became a virtual monastery.

Between sits we walked kinhin, a form of walking meditation that gets the blood flowing and gives relief from sitting zazen -- useful when there are twenty-two sits in two days. In daylight, while purportedly focused inward, I found much going on outside my window. As it was stark reality, it seemed all right to have a look. Horses pawed at washed-out grass. A flicker hammered on the wall right in front of me. Starlings murmurated.

From time to time I would stop and visit the images above the altar. At top, here (obscured by the reflection from outside), we have Monju with his sword of wisdom; at right, Niaoge sitting in the crook of a pine tree, with a magpie; at bottom, Prajnaparamita; at left, Mugai Nyodai's official portrait sculpture.

These are my current personal collection of superhero posters. Monju is said to have said: “Not abiding in appearances is abiding in prajñā-pāramitā.” Niaoge is said to have said: "If you are searching for Ch'an [Zen], I also have a little here." And blew a feather toward his leave-taking disciple. Prajnaparamita personified reminds me of the wisdom of emptiness (no abiding essence through time). And then there is Mugai:

One of Bukko’s students was the first Japanese woman to receive a certificate of inka. Her Buddhist name was Mugai Nyodai, but she is remembered by her personal name, Chiyono. She was a member of the Hojo family by marriage and a well-educated woman who long had an interest in the Dharma. After her husband died and her family responsibilities had been fulfilled, she went to study with the Chinese master. After completing her studies with Bukko, she became the founding abbess of the most important Zen temple for women in Kyoto, Keiaiji.

A teaching story with no apparent basis in fact suggests that before coming to study with Bukko, Chiyono had been a servant at a small temple where three nuns practiced Buddhism and hosted evening meditation sessions for the laity. According to this story, Chiyono observed the people practicing zazen and tried to imitate their sitting in her quarters, but without any formal instruction all she acquired for her efforts were sore knees. Finally she approached the youngest of the nuns and asked how to do zazen. The nun replied that her duty was to carry out her responsibilities to the best of her abilities. “That,” she said, “is your zazen.”

Chiyono felt she was being told not to concern herself with things that were beyond her station. She continued to fulfill her daily tasks, which largely consisted of fetching firewood and hauling buckets of water. She noticed, however, that people of all classes joined the nuns during the meditation sessions; therefore, there was no reason why she, too, could not practice. This time she questioned the oldest of the nuns. This woman provided Chiyono with basic instruction, explained how to sit, place her hands, fix her eyes, and regulate her breathing.

“Then, drop body and mind,” she told Chiyono. “Looking from within, inquire ‘Where is mind?’ Observing from without, ask ‘Where is mind to be found?’ Only this. As other thoughts arise, let them pass without following them and return to searching for mind.”

Chiyono thanked the nun for her assistance, then lamented that her responsibilities were such that she had little time for formal meditation.
“All you do can be your zazen,” the nun said, echoing what the younger nun had said earlier. “In whatever activity you find yourself, continue to inquire, ‘What is mind? Where do thoughts come from?’ When you hear someone speak, don’t focus on the words but ask, instead, ‘Who is hearing?’ When you see something, don’t focus on it, but ask yourself, ‘What is that sees?’”

Chiyono committed herself to this practice day after day. Then, one evening, she was fetching water in an old pail. The bucket, held together with bamboo which had weakened over time, split as she was carrying it and the water spilled out. At that moment, Chiyono became aware.

Although the story about her time as a servant is certainly apocryphal, the part about the broken pail precipitating her enlightenment seems to be based on her actual experience. She commemorated the event with these lines:

    In this way and that I tried to save the old pail
    Since the bamboo strip was weakening and about to break
    Until at last the bottom fell out. 
    No more water in the pail! No more moon in the water!    

(Story by Richard McDaniel, per Terebess. Poem by Reps and Senzaki, tr.)

Ready as I'm gonna get

I'm preparing for my first online-based Rohatsu. This one is two days of zazen, kinhin, samu, and oryoki with twenty-two sits. I don't know if I can do that many sits, but it has been mentioned that we can get up and do kinhin, or lie down if necessary, as needed.

I've repaired Gogo-an's Mountain Gate. It's ... more like an idea than a gate, but that's the idea. The "benevolent kings" on either side of the gate are a couple of stones, for example.

I've given most of the vegetables in the two beds to the chickens, as the bugs never went to sleep this fall, laid eggs everywhere and made lace of all the kale leaves. For samu, at least one of the times, I plan to cover the beds with leaves and grass clippings (yes, fresh grass clippings in December).

Jizo is in constant shade this time of year and bits of him are flaking off when there is frost. He doesn't seem to mind, which may be a lesson for me. I'll offer him some leaves during Rohatsu -- no flowers available around here just now. His cloak could use renewing -- if I find something appropriate, I could stitch it up for additional samu.

I've got some other stitching lined up -- but not on the kesa. It's all done as of a few days ago, and I'm waiting for my next assignment -- perhaps the zagu.

Inside, I've added a small table -- it's a bench from our picnic table, actually -- to put in front of the computer for oryoki, the ritual meal. It's parked in front of the altar here to keep it out of the way until needed. The altar looks a bit dowdy right now, but I'll leave it like that until a samu session, and clean it up during that time.

Because of my execrable hearing, I've brought an alarm clock out of storage and plugged it in. I cannot always hear the bells and clappers that announce the next activity, and get left behind, so this is insurance, so to speak.

I'm testing the ten year old laptop for the Zoom connection -- seems pretty stable.

When I'm sitting alone with Zoom I sometimes stare right into the camera. This is called Mirror Zen and was practiced by nuns in Kamakura back in the day. They would meditate in front of the mirror and then write poems. It can be a little unnerving.

There's a lot of sun today. During the Rohatsu it's supposed to rain. I brought in some heavy curtains, though, to help regulate the light during sits and keep out some of the cold at night.

Yes, I use an office chair for sits. I have a blown back and blown knee, both of which are legacies from tree planting days. So it goes.

I've brought in flip phone, food, tea bags, change of clothes, toothbrush and sleeping bag, and turned on the water hose. Ready as I'm gonna get.

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The mirror poem of abbess Shido:

If the mind does not rest on anything, there is no clouding,
And talk of polishing is but a fancy.