I hope I developed over time. Changed, grew, expanded without being invasive. Changed my focus in life. Changed my tune. I would not for the life of me, like to be who I was some ten years ago. For me change has to do with un-learning. A lot of what I learned as a child, as a youngster, as a young adult, seems to be unneeded, unnecessary, redundant. Harmful even. Sometimes.
Category Archives: letting go
So, I got sick last night. Or rather early in the morning. Sick to such a degree that I woke up in a filthy bed.
I got up, cleaned myself, got all the bed linen into the washing machine, put fresh sheets and covers on the bed, pulled the dog close to me, and went back to sleep.
Three hours later the washing machine woke me up. It was a bright day already, so I got up. Pounding headache and all.
So, my zen teacher turns out never to have had any sort of transmission at all. He was not ordained either. He stayed a couple of months in a Japanese Monastery (depending on the source this has been 3 months -says the Monastery- or 4 months to 6 months -says the teacher-). He went back to Japan several times, but according to his Monastery, yes, attended sesshins but never finished a sesshin. He usually left after two days.
My zen teacher claimed to have had some special sort of informal transmission. From this came part of his authority to teach. At first he called himself teacher. Then zen master. A couple of years ago he switched to Dai Osho, which I thought rather strange as that title generally is reserved for dead teachers. And sometimes he used or let people use the title roshi, which he was not. Of that I was certain. Continue reading
Recently my Zen practice was a bit rusty. I have not been sitting all that much lately. Not talking days or even weeks. For maybe three or four months now I have been meditating at very irregular intervals, skipping days, sometimes weeks even. Until yesterday I realised I have not been sitting at all for at least three weeks now.
While walking through the meadows of the wide and old landscape that surrounds the small town I live in, my eye gets drawn to the lonely trees scattered about. They are there. Standing tall. Or bending down a bit. Crowning high in to the sky. Or split in two by lightning years ago, yet surviving ever since. A bunch of heron’s nests make dark blobs amongst the barren branches of the withered oak. And noisy finches fetter about in lower branches of a beech that blushes into a pale green at the beginning of spring. A frail birch pretends not to be there at all and moves with the winds as if unattached to anything, just came in with the light rain just now.
Today’s light was of such a brilliance it captured my whole being:
Fooling myself. I’m fooling myself if I keep saying that I’m not angry, not disappointed, that I don’t feel grief, don’t feel sadness, not feel deeply hurt and am in a lot of pain and lost a lot of my self confidence.
Fooling myself. I’m fooling myself if I don’t acknowledge the feeling of being misled, abused, maltreated.
There is only one thing I want in life for myself at this moment: a thorough Zen training in a Zen Monastery. I want to be an
I gave up all I had. A house, a job, a pension plan, three cats I madly loved, most of my stuff, a way of living. All my safety and security for the moment and the future. All gone.
And I left home and I set myself up in a new and strange environment to start my training.
I left home.
And since then I’m lost. I find myself in a world that doesn’t work for me anymore and I don’t know how to fit in. Never got to be an 雲水. Didn’t even come close. There is no flowing, no drifting. Just being lost. I don’t know where my feet are supposed to carry me anymore.
I’d rather have blisters.