Natural Wisdom

There is a time for being ahead,
a time for being behind;

a time for being in motion,
a time for being at rest;

a time for being vigorous,
a time for being exhausted;

a time for being safe,
a time for being in danger.

The Master sees all things as they are,
without trying to control them.

She lets them go their own way,
and resides at the center of the circle.

–Tao te Ching

It is a time of being in motion.
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http://naturalwisdom.blogspot.com/

A Zen story from Narrative Therapy class:

My professor went to an international conference on Narrative Therapy, to present his paper on the postmodern roots of Narrative Therapy. Once arrived, he listened to a keynote given by Michael White, the founder of Narrative Therapy. Michael ascended to the podium and spoke directly, “It’s not about Postmodernism anymore.”
How do you understand that?

_____________________

Already the situation is complete. And yet, I will paint legs on the snake.

Three umpires are talking. One says, “There’s balls and there’s strikes, and I call them the way they are.” Another says, “There’s balls and there’s strikes, and I call ‘em the way I see ‘em.” The third says, “There’s balls and there’s strikes, and they’re nothing until I call ‘em.”

This baseball joke is well known in our Zen world. It expresses something we know in koan practice.
The first statement, is what we traditionally ascribe to “sutra masters”, the mistake of thinking that Buddha nature is a fixed thing which can be known.
The second: Mahayana. Still there is dust to clear.
The third: koan practice. Prajna paramita– the mind with no attachments.
In the moment– older brother calls, younger brother answers, the family shame appears.

This baseball joke also has been adopted as a description of postmodernism. Michael White began Narrative Therapy with postmodern roots. Derrida, Foucault, the kind of reading in which one page is infinite time. In Postmodernism, reality comes into being through relationship. It is expressed in language: “each time we speak, we bring forth a reality.” Like Zen, an emphasis on using live words, and storytelling. No thing to attach to– simply pay attention, stay open and curious. Keep asking questions, “What is that like?’ “When you say this, what do you mean?” “Why?”
Each question, in a way, traces back a client’s relationship to a situation– realising, we are always coming into being through relationship.

If you’re serious about this, ‘not having any essential truth’, it’s necessary to throw away postmodernism. Any statement is like a stake in the ground to which a donkey can be tied for ten thousand years.

The Buddha, having preached the four noble truths, then taught the Heart Sutra, which says, “No.”

“No eyes, no ears, no nose, no tongue, no body, no mind…No suffering, no origination, no stopping, no path, no cognition, also no attainment with nothing to attain,”

Throw it all away. Then what?

In the wintertime, much ice.

New ideas, and hope for the future:

Narrative Therapy: first words, ideas, images–
What matters is that you stay curious, longer than you think you need to. Seeing problems, not as inside people, but in context, as having effects on people’s lives. Asking: what is getting in the way of your living the life you want to.

Narrative therapy broadens awareness from the dominant discourse, as assigned by culture, gender, race, class– to something far more interesting. Narrative therapy brings tools for multicultural awareness, from within the client, through simply asking questions around what matters most to them. “What do you mean by that?” This opens up possibilities for people’s lives and for the world. The hope is there.

If you have come here to help me,
you are wasting our time.

If you have come here because your liberation is bound up with mine,
then let us work together.

–Lilla Watson, Aboriginal activist, Australia

When we ask questions that bring forth people’s passion, that is a way of making meaning. Meaning making is how we make meaning of our life, our existence. It is about our evolution as a species, and seeing there are other possibilities for how to be as a human. It has a collaborative aspect as well as individual: the conversations we share will bring people hundreds of miles away into meaning.

In order to engage in Narrative Therapy, we position ourselves as a learner, with a certain technical skill. We stay open, curious, we don’t worry about figuring it out.

We see clients as also having a knowing, a commitment to something, a passion.

What we bring to the conversation, is not knowing what all the possiiblities are, and a sense that the food is in the field. During the Depression, when the financial system had collapsed, food went rotting in the field because people’s minds were focused on the monetary system. The message: the food’s in the field. Whatever is going on, there are inner resources beyond what we know– a sense of wholeness and possibility.

In the process, it doesn’t matter if you get it right. It morphs and changes and you want to stay open to it.

Out of this, there are sparkling moments, which stand outside of what anyone could expect would come next.

This is Zen– at least in the way which is alive and has meaning for me.
When I am working with our students, when I am within that process, or sitting with myself,
“it doesn’t matter if you get it right. It morphs and changes and you want to stay open to it.”

Without any expectation, without any agenda. Beginner’s mind.

A psychology which resonates with my own felt sense of what it means to be human. I feel like I walked into a gold mine, even though there is just a glint in the dust.

Denise Levertov, writing of Primary Wonder–
what in Zen we may call Great Question
and gratitude, before words.

Simply– 108 bows, then drink hot tea.

Primary Wonder

Days pass when I forget the mystery.
Problems insoluble and problems offering
their own ignored solutions
jostle for my attention, they crowd its antechamber
along with a host of diversions, my courtiers, wearing
their colored clothes; cap and bells.
And then
once more the quiet mystery
is present to me, the throng’s clamor
recedes: the mystery
that there is anything, anything at all,
let alone cosmos, joy, memory, everything,
rather than void: and that, O Lord,
Creator, Hallowed One, You still,
hour by hour sustain it.

~ Denise Levertov ~

(Selected Poems)

Santa Monica

Sun upon water
The brightness of its light
is like a beacon,
catching the eye,
sparkling, glimmering
leading the dance:
twelve miles to the end of Wilshire Boulevard
on a red express bus–
Through neon lit- streets,
Through the shadows of skyscrapers
through Westwood
Crossing at last the 405
to a stand of palm trees:

where the West ends
where the sea begins

The quality of the light
calls to me,
as a seashell held to the ear,
releases the waves:
I must go to the water

Here, at the edge of what is known and
what is forever unknown,
I can live.

The infinite rhythm of waves
Breaking, and endlessly renewed
I burrow into sand like a sea-turtle,
and listen:

Then clamber back into
the fullness of my body
the feet upon sand
and walk:

a profusion of flat stones–
stone skipping
making contact

each skip–
hands speak a prayer
of praise
and exultation
for stones and water

seeing
light tracing its steps
through water
upon sand,
I learn to dance.

all of it, is almost too much
and I sit, again, to listen

and when the word arrives,
it is spoken so softly,
I barely hear:

Llike a ball
tossed upon rapidly flowing water
a balloon floats upon the waves
so lightly
rising up and returning with the sea-foam
and then, freeing itself,
the balloon bounces in the wind
across the sand– towards me:
hands open
in invitation,
in a gesture of teaching

printed on it, the words, “Happy Birthday”

To play,
To love all of this:
to enjoy fully the beauty of duality
and to release the balloon
to the wind

empty-handed I return, singing.

Claire and I, after visiting the Zuni reservation, returned to Sedona by way of Homolovi, the ancestral home of the Hopi tribe.

Picking up shards of pottery at Homolovi–
Hunting among stones
for what is true
for what remains of the Hisat’sinom:

This weaved pattern belonged
to the ancient ones–
Once a cookpot, now lying in wind-whipped
ruins of a pueblo

Holding the clay patterns
just as one thousand years ago a woman held the clay
shaped it into coils,
smoothing the coils with a gourd scraper.
wind blowing deep across the land, blowing the grass–

And all our long journey is simply this: to stand among the rocks,
the raven’s home–
as the wind burns our faces,
may our sincere hearts purify our path:
honoring the kinship within these shards
tortoise shell- brown glaze, kaolin- clay white, fine spirals, or simple black of cookfire
Holding these, I praise the creation,
the women,
the simple act of love for life
they represent
Artistry is, in the Hopi world, an anachronism. These shards are spirit.
When the messenger returns, looking for the Hopi
he will find the shards, follow their trail

one moment, infinite time

and placing them again, in the soil
we continue on.

Claire and I have been engaged in interfaith work together for more than ten years. Claire served as Executive Director of Cooperative Metropolitan Ministries, a group that brings urban and suburban churches together for partnership in projects and dialogue. We’ve served together on the Steering Committee of the Boston Clergy Breakfast– over the breaking of bread, Eugene River’s Ten Point Coalition has been launched, social initiatives for the homeless have reached critical mass, Boston Globe columns have been composed–

We who have together crusaded to raise the level of community awareness in Boston, are realising our own need for renewal, and taking a pilgrimage.

The pilgrimage began in Sedona. We spent one day hiking, and taking in Palatki–
the story of Palatki’s petrogylphs I have told here, Breath/ Earth:
http://naturalwisdom.blogs.friendster.com/my_blog/2006/01/index.html.

In order to see the roasting pit, the energetic core, we returned for a special tour this morning. The petroglyphs range from eleven thousand years old, to one hundred- fifty. Archaic petroglyphs are wavy lines, rakes, spirals. Sinaguan petroglyphs include animals, as well as shaman figures– spirit world crossing people, who brought rain, fertility and healing– and symbols: shields, and the Hopi circle.

We spotted a family of Western bluebirds– and bluebirds’ happiness did move through us, in a spirit of renewed friendship. Chris Morgan joined us. Chris is one of the Dharma brothers of the beautiful, light years of my early Abbot experience, when our work and our play were inseparable, in the pure joy of Dharma.

We were also glad to discover new meanings of petroglyphs– even better, new places to not- know.
In some case, a recent visitor had taken a picture in the cliff grotto, and a ball of light appeared in the digital exposure– a light the park ranger could not ascribe to sunlight, as the day was completely overcast. (That park visitor has a website at: www.circularsite.com) So, she asked, what do you think it is?

With the light, as with most of the petroglyphs, we rest in not-knowing. At the same time, as more information is uncovered about the direct relationship between the placement of archaic petroglyphs, and the seasonal position of the sun’s light– we know not to write anything off. There is more to this than meets the eye.

Given the constraints of this tour, not a moment to sit with the rocks. So, having taken all that in before lunch, I found myself still hungry.

Where to? Claire asked.

Chaco Canyon and Canyon de Chelly are too far off for a day trip. The Zuni Pueblo was just four hours.
We arrived at dusk– and stay at Gallup, New Mexico tonight. After hearing the ancient stories from park rangers, we now hope to see the ancient traditions, where they live.

This week, as I move from stillness back into activity, it is with the rumble of jet engines. Over two days, I will endeavor to do a great deal of work– in preparation for our spring programming. Thursday, with this running start, I take off from Logan Airport for Sedona. How can I live here, and love the Southwest so deeply, my entire body shivers at the thought of red rock– or is that the draft in my room?

It was a great deep tissue retreat: after deep tissue work, one is sore but more vibrantly alive. My teacher, Dae Soen Sa Nim, would say, "When you have a question, go into the mountains, ask the mountains your question." So, I went out, on hikes, connected with the Earth of the great wide Quabbin sutra. Asked my questions. This is what the Earth had to say– or at least a few lines–

Clearing the labyrinth–
in order to see clearly
the labyrinth
that is my life

listening to the patter
of rain–
each drop falling
no place
but here
and now

rhodendron forest:
sinuous wild feminine

Tuesday, there were icicles.

Today, rainwater
trickles through moss:
water earth a few gnats:
mini- spring

sunlight dancing in cranberry bog,
granite sleeping in pine needles
warm fragrant mud–
it is good–
sunlight flooding the cliff
bathes me in golden January light:
and I count myself rich beyond measure.
This is where I have always wanted to be–
wait
in the moment, seeing being/time
not two:
This is what I have always wanted to be–
This is, and
all is illuminated

Alberto Villoldo, in an open letter, describes mindful practices for the New Year:

I would like to invite you to join me around a fire, wherever you happen to be, to pray peace onto the Earth. Invite a few friends to sit with you in prayer. And ask yourself the question, “How should I spend my time here on Earth?”

There is a quote which has always resonated for me, from Frederic Buechner, “Finding the place where your own deep gladness meets the world’s deep hunger. ” This New Year’s a vision of this appeared for me, of how my own life direction aligns with this, and can nourish this world.

The goal which is at the heart of my studies is this: I intend to develop new contemplative curriculums for use in higher education, so that education may include social, emotional and spiritual learning, as well as intellectual development. The opportunity to create experiential curriculums in partnership with faculty, is now open to me at Wellesley. For this reason, I am looking ahead, to the path which will best help me realise the vision of teaching as a full partner to faculty– and also teaching in my own right, intending to get some hands’ on experience developing curriculums with faculty who are well practiced in this art. In Buddhist tradition, our way of speaking this connection is “Om Mani Padme Hum”, may the jewel be within the lotus; may the mind may be within the heart.

To create space in higher education for a connection between the student’s self- reflective awareness and the world around them is, as Kabat- Zinn mentioned in his visionary talk last spring, to create a new Renaissance. At Wellesley College, I work to bring about that Renaissance through Education as Transformation, a movement founded on the principle that education is inherently a spiritual process. Our field of spirituality and education is expanding and developing with such creativity and energy, that the more I deepen my experience and repertoire, the more I may serve as a catalyst, to bring about a more interdependent education, and a more conscious world.

So– may I be an instrument of this awareness, may I help to bring about a more conscious society, may all beings have deep and natural peace.

.: I will be away on retreat at Temenos until January 9th: kwan seum bosal :.

Today, building my dreams.
In the sense of working step by step,
learning a trade,
shaping metal
in the heat of the forge
into a vessel–
Practice as a path
of returning,
with patience:
try mind.

One of my earliest practice questions was on the source of patience. Having patience with others arises from having patience with ourselves. The same patience which brings a pianist, again and again, to the scales. Or an academic, to the practice of research: refining ideas, sculpting words. If nineteen out of twenty pages are dross, there is a direction which emerges, at last, out of the stone.

December twilight
stepping out with the dog
Ahhhh– gifts and letters

At the end of the day, mind tired, the cold air welcomes me back to the body. This body/mind, which is now hungry, seeks nourishment. On the doorsill, a beautiful package rests: a friend has sent dried nori and green tea–she has discerned exactly, my relationship to winter afternoons– and offers this sweet remedy.

Other friends send notes. Pamela, a goddess, sends this poem–
she also, like kwan seum bosal, perceives and responds.

No one ever told us we had to study our lives
make of our lives a study, as if learning natural history
or music, that we should begin
with the simplest exercises first
and slowly go on trying
the hard ones, practicing till strength
and accuracy become one with the daring
to leap into transcendence, take the chance
of breaking down in the wild arpeggio…
–And in fact we can’t live like that: we take on
everything at once even before we’ve even begun
to read or mark time…

Everything else seems beyond us,
we aren’t ready for it, nothing that was said
is true for us, caught naked in the argument,
the counterpoint, trying to sightread
what our fingers can’t keep up with, learn by heart
what we can’t even read. And yet
It is this we were born to. We aren’t virtuosi…
clinging to the timbre, the tones of what we are–
even when all the texts describe it differently.

But there are times
when we have to pull back from the incantations
ryhthms we’ve moved to thoughtlessly
and disenthrall ourselves, bestow
ourselves to silence, or a severer listening, cleansed
of oratory, fomulas, choruses, laments, static
crowding the wires. We cut the wires,
find ourselves in free-fall, as if
our true home were the undimensional
solitudes, the rift
in the Great Nebula….
a whole new poetry beginning here.

–Adrienne Rich, Dream of a Common Language

This week, I refine the words for a new direction, a classroom in which it is possible for what is going on inside the student, to connect with what is going on in the world around her. Tuesday, I will pull back, bestowing myself to Temenos for one week. Staccato, flow, and then the treasure of stillness.