Since there?s a lull:

[candid]

Ok, break out the soydogs and gather around the fire. Its story time.

I once went to a Christian men's retreat up at Lake Tahoe. I was so excited and fired up! I just knew I was going to have a life-changing revelation and communion with God. I don't recall sleeping at all that night and slid out of the bunk while still pitch dark outside, and went to meet my maker down at the cold, clear glacier waterfront; heart beating with anticipation against my chest. I breathed the clean air deep into my lungs and watched for his appearing. *Nothing* I walked along the white sand eyeing the lake, as though he would appear walking over its surface. *Nothing* I sat on a driftwood log, scanning for the sign of his coming among the smooth boulders, jutting above the glass lake. *Nothing* "He isn't here,? I softly advised myself. ?Perhaps he's in the chapel. Yes!" I climbed the sandy hill to the top and quick-stepped into the little cathedral and made my way to the alter where I knelt expectantly, my lips whispering a hymn. I waited. *Nothing* I shed a few quiet tears of disappointment, and slowly made my way outside into the still dark morning. Watching my feet walk one foot in front of the other, I followed them down to the lakefront and sat forlorn, and with a deep sigh, resigned, and contemplated the meaning of his untimely abandonment. "After all," I reasoned, "I'm the only one here that is even awake! Does this devotion mean nothing to him?" Then with a daring tone of inner sarcasm, muttered, "he's probably too busy preparing his sermon." I mourned my loss; standing, and trodded along the wet sand. I glanced up the hill to see if anyone else among the tribe was yet awake. "No. Its just me out here in the middle of the night looking for only God knows what! Damn it." I was ready to sleep now, but morning?s first glow was already reflecting off the clear but somber lake. I began the slow walk back to the cabin; empty. The smooth boulder rising out of the sand like an elephant?s back lay still before my feet; and falling to my knees, more from exhaustion than reverence, I fell over it like a blanket. *nothing?. Still ? nothing* There? I could just, be. ?Be time. Be time with my Lord,? I mused silently. I don?t know how long I stayed there like that, awakening again to the sounds of men warmly greeting one another up the hill. My face felt like Moses as he went to meet his people. It was no coincidence that my Lord?s sermon in the men?s gathering-hall later that day was called: ?Being with God.?

~Candid

 

[alisa]

Did you know. . .

They have been experimenting in England. There is a special lab where they have been experimenting with plants and they have come to discover a very mysterious phenomenon. If a seed is thrown in the soil, and the mother from where the seed has been taken is near, it sprouts sooner. If the mother is not near, it takes a longer time. If the mother has been destroyed, cut, then it takes a very long time for the seed to sprout. The presence of the mother, even for a seed, is helpful.

 

[alisa]

It didn't occur to me until now that some of you might not know what my point was for posting the above trivia.

My point: The invisible forces of love.

Plant love, that is.

 

[hilary]

Yes, I got the point

Candid's, too.

Thank you both for breaking the lull with these wonderful stories.

*smiling*

 

[candid]

The invisible forces of love. Pretty well sums it up, doesn't it... Alisa, you have a lovely and simple way of stating the profound.

 

[alisa]

You are too kind, Candid.

Thank you.

I sort of learned how to do that from a Writing Well tape (not that I can) by William Zinsser. Simplicity is his mantra.

Here's one tip from the tape: He recommends that all writers of nonfiction read their work aloud (don't commit something to paper that you wouldn't actually say) and write under the assumption that "the reader knows nothing" (not to be confused with assuming the reader's an idiot).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I usually have to sift through lots of stuff to (finally) get-to, the simple and profound. I guess I got lucky this morning. No sifting or waiting.

 

[dharma]

A little Zen addition for the lull..

------------
Cliffhanger
------------

"One day while walking through the wilderness a man stumbled upon a vicious tiger. He ran but soon came to the edge of a high cliff. Desperate to save himself, he climbed down a vine and dangled over the fatal precipice. As he hung there, two mice appeared from a hole in the cliff and began gnawing on the vine. Suddenly, he noticed on the vine a plump wild strawberry. He plucked it and popped it in his mouth. It was incredibly delicious!"

.....

The tiger is the fear, stress and lack of focus in our lives that interferes with our desire to achieve peace. The vine is everyday reality that our fears have us grasping at. The mice are our constant gnawing thoughts that affect our grip on reality. And the strawberry is the wonder of life, often overlooked, because our focus is the tiger and our fear of letting go.

or,

The tiger is the past. The two mice are day and time which slowly kill us. The cliff is the future. And the strawberry is the present.

Forget the past --it's over,
Don't worry about the future --nothing's certain,
Concentrate on the present --it's delicious!

Dharma

 

[candid]

I love it! Who cares about tigers, cliffs and mice when there's fresh wild strawberries to enjoy? *chuckles* I'm wondering, do tigers and mice eat strawberries too? hmmm

Here's a short letter:

Dear niece,

Once when I was a really little kid, I wanted a bow and arrow. I mean, I really wanted one! I pestered your Grandpa every day for weeks, and I was beginning to get angry because he'd always say, no! They're too dangerous. "Well," I protested, "all my friends have got one. Some have two! "...and I gave him that brown-eyed look that sometimes worked like a charm. But he was firm. ?No,? was all he said.

I was upset now and determined to get that bow and arrow, even if I had to make one myself. I went out to the wooded lot across from our house and cut down the springiest branch I could find. I didn't bother cutting off the smaller branches or the leaves; deciding rather to drag the whole caboodle down the stairs and into the kitchen, where the family was seated and ready to eat dinner. Now, my dad didn't like us kids being late for dinner, and you should have seen his face when he saw my tree! "Get that thing outa here!" he hollered, as I knew he would. (I thought I'd get his attention *smirk*) I spun around and dragged the timber back up the stairs; mumbling and grumbling the whole way. I was sore! I threw the would-be-bow onto the driveway and made my way back, stomping begrudgingly down the stairs, now covered in fresh green leaves and reddish-brown sticks.

Everyone at the table was unusually quiet as they watched me stomp toward the back room to hang up my coat, when I saw it! "Oh no," I thought to myself. There, on its own stand, a brightly colored target looked back at me. It was one of those big ones made of hay with six arrows stuck into the 10 ring. I turned toward the bench to see if the rest of the outfit was there. A green fiberglass recurve bow; state of the art for its time, leaned against the bench, awaiting my eager hands. But, it was time to eat and my face flushed beat-red! I was embarrassed beyond belief at the fuss I had made. Of course the whole family looked at me with great curiosity as I strode back out. I actually tried to pretend I hadn?t noticed, at first. That was even more embarrassing, for they knew I couldn?t possibly have missed it. I hugged your Grandpa and was extremely happy in his arms.

Sometimes, we think we know what we want and can be pretty bratty when we don?t get it. All the while, our father has something even better planned for us.

Love,
Uncle

PS: A week later I accidentally shot an arrow through the school?s gymnasium window. No one got hurt but it cost me eight weeks of allowance to pay for it.

 

[Frankelmick]

Dharma and everyone,

Thanks for the story.

Do you know this one? (I'll use the same starting point if you don't mind).

One day while walking through the wilderness a man stumbled upon a vicious tiger. He ran but soon came to the edge of a high cliff. Desperate to save himself, he climbed down a vine and dangled over the fatal precipice. As he hung there, he shouted out, "Help help! Is there anybody there?"

Out of nowhere a voice replied, "I'm God. Just let go and I'll make sure that you land safely."

The man thought for a minute and then shouted, "Is there anybody else there?"

 

[candid]

Too funny! Really makes me think though. Would I let go? Would you?

 

[dharma]

Very fitting Mick!

Candid, I know that you are no dummy...so I wonder... you must be asking this question tongue in cheek

You are aware [yes] that stories of this nature are condensed symbolism meant to trigger understanding of when and of how we cling unhealthily to the outer trappings of our existence rather than the strength that emanates from within us?

Yes, I thought you did..

This mere story, not much, in and of itself, illustrates precisely what we do everytime we trust in, and rely on, material things and other people to help us figure out our personal issues and concerns rather than the Creative-Life-Force that delivered us into the world in the first place --that Universal-Entity that knows us better than we know ourselves... whose greater overview can lead us to our respective destinations with ease.

We just need to let go and let God..

Dharma

 

[candid]

Dharma,

Actually, I was quite serious regarding my question; even to myself. If I heard the voice of God telling me to let go and fall to my death, relying only on a voice to tell me that I would not die, I'd rather fight for my life than believe *that* voice. Inner truth and common sense wins out over faith in inner voices; even if the voice appears to come from without.

I think that's something of an anecdote in itself.

But thanks for the compliment, I think.

~Candid

 

[dharma]

Clearly you are in a LITERAL mood, Candid.

We all know (or should know by now) that a body dropping from a high place, coupled with the effects of the planet's gravity, means "The End" for you muchacho (life as you know it, anyway).

I mean...duh...to literally BE in such a situation and to EVEN consider letting go is just plain ridiculous! Any voice that could suggest such a thing is NOT benevolent and certainly doesn't have your best interests at heart.

Why would you even consider this little tale to be anything BUT a metaphorical message about our approach to life?

 

[candid]

Dharma,

If you wish to go to the mat with me (again), I?ll take you there. I suggest you choose IM or email though, and spare the forum your hostility.

candid_tao Yahoo
You already know my email address.

 

[hilary]

Um, Mick, I like the story very much. (I posted it somewhere around here once, I think.) Interesting to look around for the various bushes I'm probably hanging onto.

For the rest, oh dear.

Private email sounds like a good idea - hope you'll be back soon to tell us that the wires are uncrossed again...

 

[willow]

Candid: Actually, I was quite serious regarding my question; even to myself. If I heard the voice of God telling me to let go and fall to my death, relying only on a voice to tell me that I would not die, I'd rather fight for my life than believe *that* voice. Inner truth and common sense wins out over faith in inner voices; even if the voice appears to come from without.

Dharma: We all know (or should know by now) that a body dropping from a high place, coupled with the effects of the planet's gravity, means "The End" for you muchacho (life as you know it, anyway).

Unknown: Trust in God and keep your powder dry.

Unknown II: Trust in Allah, but tie up your camel.

Conundrum of the day for me: When is a black cat just a black cat, and when is it an omen?

Another Zen story: A nun living in samuri times, and know for her ferocity, died by building a pyre at a famous gate and setting herself afire. As she sat calmly in the flames, her brother appeared in the crowd, and called out, "Sister, is it hot?" This presented a clear dilemma, since if she said, "Yes!" she would show she was still attached to the world, but if she said "No!" she would show she was in denial, and if she did not answer at all, she would show that she was not present to reality, shielding herself in oblivion. "I am a wayfarer, I cannot tell if it is cold or hot," she said, and died.

Willow as Willow: I know that letting go story from the book "The Art of Passingover" by Fran Dorff. He does use it mostly metaphorically (after a while he comes back to the story, and adds a part where the guy dangling on the twig sees famous ancestors dangling on other twigs around him...and letting go). But I have to say, in my years of reading that book I always do come back to the real, the visceral, and I think that is what keeps me paying attention to the metaphorical. I hate rollercoasters, but every few years someone will convince me to go on one. All I have to do is trust and "let go" of the twig, I tell myself, and off I go. I come back white-knuckled, queasy, in one piece, having hated every second of the experience, and someone asks the equivalent of "Is it hot?" ie, "That wasn't that bad, was it?" Well, the answer is, it was absolutely AWFUL, but on the other hand, the fear I had used to justify avoiding it was indeed unfounded. I can't tell if it was bad or not. The only thing about me that seems to change/improve each time this happens is my sense of comfort with the choice I made. When someone tries to get me onto the rollercoaster, I can now say something like, "That would not be appropriate for me at this time," and leave it at that, without having to further justify. And when I do decide to go on (for love of a 6-year old, or some other reason) I don't beat myself up afterwards with the I-should-have-known-betters. Maybe what is going on when I say I'm more comfortable with myself each time is that, the more respect I have for the part of god within me, the easier it is for me to identify/converse with the part of god outside of me. Hmmm...

I do think that we encounter most lessons in both forms - literal physical, and metaphorical. Hmmmm... But when is that cat just a cat, and when is it an omen? Just thoughts.

 

[candid]

?A one-eyed man can indeed see, but not enough for clear vision.? 10 line 3

Language itself is a metaphor; sounds to create images used for the sole purpose of communicating thoughts. If we are to communicate freely, we will be best served to remain open to each perspective, free of prejudice and single-sightedness.

 

[alisa]

"I am a wayfarer, I cannot tell if it is cold or hot," she said, and died.

Is she saying that because she really doesn't know hot or cold, or, is she saying it because__________(fill in the blank)

 

[hilary]

Thank you Alisa, I didn't understand it either

Why wouldn't she just answer truthfully according to how she felt? (Hot, for instance?)

Then again, if this is a Zen anecdote, I suppose we must be looking for answers in entirely the wrong way? Willow, help!

 

[candid]

Sometimes, when we're hanging on that vine, we can still enjoy the moment. It may just provide the strength and encouragement to stay in the fight for our own lives. Its worth fighting for.

 

[candid]

Hi Alisa,

Is she saying that because she really doesn't know hot or cold, or, is she saying it because: her last words would demonstrate her life?s work; her highest ideal and aspiration?

 

[willow]

Well, I was relating it to my experience with rollercoasters where, truthfully, I feel both "hot" and "cold," and neither one alone would be the truth.

Hot - I really am terrified, beyond terrified, and get no enjoyment out of the ride. I easily get carsick, so part of it is just physical discomfort with motion - I get dizzy, queasy, and (since once my glasses flew off), I do it half blind. And then there is the plain old holy terror, that in no way transforms into "thrill" for me. Sorry, it doesn't.

Cold - and yet I am also serene, and not in a detached sort of way. There is also a physical "still point" within that I experience. If someone offered me a ripe juicy strawberry mid-ride...no wait, let's go back to my 6-year-old companion on one ride (who would not have been able to go if not for me agreeing to accompany) -- squealing with delight beside me as my stomach churns, my eyes roll, and I hold on for dear life: that delight got through to me, and I could share it.

If you've seen the movie Titanic, where the main character young lovers connect in a series of unassailable moments while moving through progressively more awful circumstances, that's the feeling I mean - that's the ripe strawberry of the rollercoaster.

Anyway, so both are true, and in a way, yes, it does demonstrate highest ideal and aspiration, but also it represents something wonderfully lowly and mundane and physical and only "high" because it is complicated.

(Thanks all, for the chance to write this out - I'm learning a lot myself here!)

As far as the story of the nun is concerned, the authors of the book I found it in wondered themselves if it was a real or embellished story. They related being swayed to the side that it was possibly real after viewing footage of a monk who set himself afire during the Vietnam War. As he sat there, his flaming body began to tip over, and he reached out an arm and successfully righted himself before expiring. Their point in recounting this was that the intent of Zen is not some sort of escape through otherworldly mind control, but a very practical intent to live "in the world and yet not of it." And the key to success in that is being able to contain both sides of a contradiction within oneself.

The implications of whether the story was real or made up later are interesting, because if it was real, the "teaching" came from the woman who died (in collaboration with her brother), and it therefore came from a lifetime of real human achievement. If it was made up later, well, it just comes from a philosophy, and who knows what actual human achievements it is really relevant to.

 

[alisa]

her last words would demonstrate her life?s work; her highest ideal and aspiration?

That doesn't sound zen to me. Zen cares not about your highest ideal, aspiration or work. It cares not about what you did, or who you are, or who you think you are.

So what if she is a wayfarer? Does that mean all wayfarers are immune from hot or cold?

 

[dharma]

Hi Alisa,

I think that her reply meant that she was both here and there, yet neither here nor there. She was hot AND cold, yet neither hot nor cold --completely and utterly Present and Aware.

If she had said, "yes, it is hot" she would have shown she was still attached to the world and had therefore not succeeded in detaching herself.

If she had said "no, it is not hot" she would have been revealing that she was in fact in denial because as the body-form, she most definitely was feeling it.

However, she could not *NOT* respond. She *had* to answer in some way to indicate that she was *indeed* present to the reality of her experience and for the experience to be validated as successful and accomplished.

Just my take on it --not the gospel truth.

Dharma

 

[dharma]

Sorry, forgot the most important part of the story.

As a wayfarer then, she is fully aware of her surroundings and the environment, however just like a perfect traveller, she is aware that this is not her home --that her whole experience is temporary and transient.

Having gone through it and being able to describe it thusly, proved that she succeeded in rising above it all.

Whether this is based on actual events or not is irrelevant for this is a common metaphorical human life struggle.

 

[candid]

Alisa- One of the central points of Zen is intuitive understanding. As a result, words and sentences have no fixed meaning, and logic is often irrelevant. Words have meaning only in relation to who is using them, who they are talking to, and what situation they are used in. In the case of the nun, her dieing words were significant enough to speak. To her brother, he sat down to eat dinner.

 

[willow]

I like this campfire! Pass me another soydog.

Wondering what Yi would have to say about this, I look at #56, The Wanderer (Wayfarer), which, interestingly enough has the image Fire on the Mountain.

LiSe says: In every country, even far away from home, one finds the same universal rules. Human rules can differ fundamentally, but the voice of the gods is everywhere the same. Who hears these voices can speak all languages on earth, he will find safety and a home wherever he is. God and Allah and Manitou and Buddha all come from the same source, only the names are different. So speak and behave from out this source, and accept the human rules as being part of this particular landscape. Adapt to them with extra care, to make up for being unfamiliar with them. In every unknown and new situation, behave like being in a strange country.

I particularly note there, "Adapt to them with extra care, to make up for being unfamiliar with them," and take that to resonate with Dharma's admonishment to remember that if you fall off a real cliff you really will die.

Wilhelm says: When grass on a mountain takes fire, there's bright light. However, the fire doesn't linger in one place, but travels on to new fuel. It's a phenomenon of short duration. This is what penalties and lawsuits should be like. They should be a quickly passing matter, and must not be dragged out indefinitely. Prisons ought to be places where people are lodged only temporarily, as guests are. They must not become dwelling places.

That resonates with Candid's surmise that after the sister moves on, the brother sits down to dinner.

When I looked at the lines for #56 (yes, I do have too much time on my hands, for once, today!), I noticed the 6th line, which is the one you would change to see what Wayfarer evolves into when you've got to the point of overemphasizing it:

Nine at the top means:
The bird's nest burns up.
The wanderer laughs at first,
Then must needs lament and weep.
Through carelessness he loses his cow.
Misfortune.

Lise: In new circumstances - new people, new place, new experience - one should be extra careful. One does not know what might happen, so be prepared for everything. Expect the unlikely and weapon yourself against it.

In other words, "Trust Allah, and tie up your camel"?

And #56 changing at 6th = #62 Preponderance of the Small, which includes the idea of a bird soaring, yet knowing it's home is on earth, not in the sun.

LiSe: The flying bird leaves behind its sound: it is not fit above, it is fit below
Greatly auspicious

LiSe: The things you do are usually irreversible. So be careful. Especially in small matters, because in big things one is more aware of the risks. Death is definitive, and also all the feelings involved, so give extra attention to the things that happen, and the feelings of everyone. The same with spending money, so be thrifty and careful. The impression one makes on others is also irreversible, so pay attention to behavior and aura.

Hmmm... I don't know if that exactly sheds light on anything, but it sure is interesting how when you go into Yi at the point where the concept of Wayfarer appears, the "map" so matches the territory we're exploring...

 

[alisa]

Words have meaning only in relation to who is using them, who they are talking to, and what situation they are used in.

I guess that's why I never cared much for Zen stories. They're all hearsay!

 

[heylise]

I love this campfire. Feels like a warm night, with a full moon and waves sounding on and on. And plenty of red wine.
Not fit for thinking - great for Zen stories. They are not supposed to make sense, but to open your mind.
My favorite is
"Nothing evil, nothing good,
Find your original face
Now"
It is a koan, but as far as I know all Zen stories are koans, only sometimes a bit longer.
This one is more or less the essence of all stories or koans: stop choosing and deciding, just be. I think that was also the answer of the nun. She was on the narrow line between life and death, nowhere else, not knowing about either this or that.
LiSe

 

[alisa]

They are not supposed to make sense, but to open your mind.

Oh, I have no problem opening my mind to see what is there, to find the deeper meaning. The problem I have is the story means something different for everyone. As Candid said, "Words have meaning only in relation to who is using them, who they are talking to, and what situation they are used in."

And, it's not fair to ask someone who was not present or Witness to the actual event what they think the essence of story is. If the essence of Zen is to "be here now", then don't bother me with koans, as they will only take me out of the present moment.

You can keep them to yourself!