The River # 5...
There is a small tree that was uprooted by the rain infused river days ago. A young tree from the riverbank somewhere upstream from my view on the bench. It lies on top of the big boulder no longer being fed by the earth or nourished by the waters of the river. Its life force ebbing with roots exposed to the dry cold air. It is not alone today in it's ending.
Our world has once again been uprooted and tossed in the harsh waters of the flow of life. Death and destruction are the conversation of the day. Everyone wants to alter the river of their world and save all the trees on the riverbanks.
The river flows on oblivious to the dying young tree because that is what rivers do. Other trees continue to thrive on the banks of the river, nourished by the flow of the water busy in their growth and unable to assist the young tree because trees have voices but not arms.
I listen to the trees and the waters and even though we don't have a language with an alphabet we share a life force.
I am reminded of my bigger world here and all the peoples of the world where we might not share a language but we share the force of life. We too sit by our riverbanks with the flow of life going by us, sometimes harsh, sometimes peaceful. We can't alter the flow so all we do is watch and wonder.
I sit here often enough to know that the river will again flow peacefully and I am far enough away to survive the harshness of it's natural rhythms.
Today I appreciate it all. The river, the sounds of the wind, water and the trees and I know that it will all go on after me, throughout time. The water will rise once again and take the young tree further down the river and all the other trees will continue to grow with life.
Living and dying is like that because that's the way it is...

I am content…
I am content with the fullness of my life.
 I have five wonderful children and six sweet grand children who are my legacy in this world. 
I have a teacher who gives me the gift of his presence and knowledge.
I have a practice that inspires and guides my path.
I seem to have it all.
Like the river I sit by every day, the flow of my life goes on to a place where it will find it’s finish in the vast ocean of fulfillment.
But yet the waters, my life, are beyond my view toward that spaciousness. I construct the path of the river to the ocean as if I knew the direction it takes and I know that is mind, not true.
I have a longing now for only the second time in this life. I want to change the direction of the river to my own course. I want to take the suffering of one other and make it mine. To assume the suffering and give away my contentment. If only it was that easy.
At the start of my 70th year I want to trade places with one half my time and let him go on and sit by his river without the burden of his suffering as I have more history than future.
If only it was that easy and possible.
I know it isn’t.
First Nation people have pain eaters who can take the pain of another and make it theirs.
That is my hope but not my reality.
Each of us is in the river on our own course and we find our way as best we can. The strength of our faith, our practice, is our tiller as we negotiate the rapids, boulders and obstructions that come in our lifestream. In the flow we carry the weight of the frailty of our humanness and destined by our suffering.
If I could change places and assume the other’s suffering I would do so gladly with humility and grace.
But I can’t.
So I guess I’m not content…

Challenges…

No one ever said life would be easy. There are always bumps in the road. 
For some they are dips and little bumps but for others they are the hole in the road in the dark night of life that can knock you off your path and cause you to swerve, correct and wonder how bad the damage might be.
How we correct is the determination to get back on the path, in the right direction and continue the journey.
Some people are afraid of the road and don’t want to go on. Some are confident that they are in the right vehicle and know how to stay the course.
We have a choice. We can be afraid to go forward or we can be brave and go on.
Your choice is determined by your faith in your ability to handle any bump and the hope that your destination makes the trip worthwhile…

The River is my Teacher

Sitting by the river in my favorite looking space I see how the rain infused river changed the subtle flow of before.The water still flows and the big rocks are unmoved by the turbulence but the smaller rocks and the banks now have a different face.
the flow of our life can be tranquil or turbulent as well and if we are like the smaller rocks we will roll with it and find that when the waters recede and life is in its flow again, although the  banks may not look the same the flow is still going on and us with it.
I understand that turbulence will happen in my life and even with its roar and power I can stay buoyant, not resist and wind up where it takes me. I will be some place else, different banks but in the same river life.
Everything changes and nothing is permanent but the flow of life will always be there, with and without me.
Today I understand this more and realize the river stands a better chance than I do and is a good teacher...

FLOW
the flow of the water is endless
the rivers and oceans supreme
the earth is altered
and as rocks become sand
the flow of water goes on.
like fish at spawn
we go against the stream of mind
swimming against the flow
that is constant
until mastering the current
with the buoyancy of practice
we float in emptiness…

Awake and Aware…

Sitting on the bench by the river I watched the furry wild bees, we called them bumblebees, working the final flowers of the season and I wondered. Were they going about the inherent chores of the gathering of pollen for the benefit of the community of the hive or were they doing their task with the urgency of the impending change in the season and for many their final work?
I thought about my life, our lives, if we were passing these days with regularity or aware that time is of the essence? I was reminded of the saying at the zen center carved in wood above the wood knocker announcing our time to come and meditate in the morning:

““Life and death are of supreme importance.  Time swiftly passes by and opportunity is lost.  Each of us should strive to awaken. Awaken.  Take heed, do not squander your life.”
Do we go about our day as if there will always be another or do we take on the day with meaning and approach all our work with the same sense of urgency as these furry wild bees? Are we as the Buddha said when asked by Ananda,
 "Are you the messiah?"
"No", answered Buddha.
"Then are you a healer?"
"No", Buddha replied.
"Then are you a teacher?" the student persisted.
"No, I am not a teacher."
"Then what are you?" asked the student, exasperated.
"I am awake", Buddha replied.
 Are we as he was, awake and are we aware of the importance of each moment in each day? Are we too busy living to live fully? I can only answer these questions with my own life as reference but watching the bees it gives me pause. 
I remember the teacher who admonished that human beings are the only specie that does not live life directly. We have opinions, concepts and beliefs that color our living, that cover the direct experience of our life. 
I take this as an opportunity to spend this time, now, to be awake and to devote attention to the moments in my day and fully occupy the space in which I stand, living fully in the moments of my day.
You?

Reflection

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”
Søren Kierkegaard…

Fall brings a period of refection in my life. I have missed that time in the five years living nine degrees above the equator when the seasons
 are measured in wet and not so wet and high and low.
Back in the world of falling leaves and falling temperatures it is a time of passing. This is the time of year that I am most moved by the passing of life and the beauty that is inherent in all things. in fifteen days I am mindful of the passing of life as it is the time of the second anniversary of the death of my granddaughter and another year without my best friend. Not a time of sadness alone but sadness tempered with the celebration of life. Quiet reflection on the reality that everything changes and nothing is permanent. Life renews in spring and passes through fall into the quiet of winter when everything is the simple hue of purity and the silence that comes with its cover reminds me of the stillness of my practice.
The fall season graces us with a show of brilliant color here in New England as everything dies there is the final brush stroke of brilliant red and orange filling the trees of the wood and draping the river with a garland of beauty. The setting sun casts it’s diamond luster on this vision of promise that it will be back in the new growth of spring and renewal.
I sit quietly everyday by the river and listen to the passing water that has and always will be there with and without me.
In this time of reflection I look around me and within me seeing both fullness and emptiness and comforted by both.
The days are not alone as the starry sky of night is unblemished by the pollution of light here in the country and in a few days the night will give me both a super moon and the quiet eclipse that for a few hours will let me watch it go from the illuminated landscape to the still orange into darkness only to return.
It is a thoughtful time, filled with memories and understanding. In the river I can almost hear the voices of the two who meant so much to me and were both a wonderful presence in my life. One who was always there since childhood and one who never went beyond her childhood. It’s too easy to feel that neither completed the passage of life and both went into the quiet of their winter to be reborn somewhere in spring.
My practice informs me that life is cyclical and like the seasons comes and goes, so I don’t get stuck in sadness but reflect on the meaning of change and how my life is no different than the seasons and Iwill also pass from the fall of life through winter and into spring.
As life passes in moments. days, months and years we should never be too busy with living to not take the opportunity to sit by a river, an ocean or in the wood and see the beauty of life around us and be filled with the joy of being alive and present.
Reflection is the chance to know how much there is for us in our lives and to again promise to be present and appreciate this life and all those who bring their voices into our experience…

I sit on the bench by the river every afternoon as the sun casts a mirror of light on the water. It is my dorje of diamond edge, cutting the moments as I sit. The river is my ocean here the ever flowing water unfettered by tides or vessels. It is my place of quiet reflection. The only motion the flow, the breeze and my fingers on the beads of my mala.
I find solace in the movement of the water and the brilliance of the late day sun.
I am blessed and present in this place. 
In this world of stillness, practice and service I find refuge and understanding in the five elements.
The webs of the daily toil of spiders not yet catching the dew of the impending night. Everything changes and nothing is permanent except the flow of the waters of the river as nothing stops its progress. The flow of the river is the flow of life. Here is the constant of creation, of the essence
of life.
The realization that my life is but an instant in the march of time as I am a passing measured in the eons of the path of the river. How can I be anything more than the present in the history of the flow of the waters? I am humbled and awake to the moment. This is the moment I share. It is nothing more and I  grateful.
The sun warms my face and the flow of the water comforts my soul.
The diamond edge cutting through the distractions of the living of the day.
The coolness on my back as the tired sun takes its journey to find new energy in another place...

“Burning Man will change your life...You just do not know how yet. 

Everything you take to Burning Man including yourself will never be the same’' 

Anon and universal…

It was a bucket list item and on the 4th of February I had an epissany, which is the thought that comes to a 70 year old man when he gets up to take that early morning bathroom visit. The epissany that morning was to celebrate my 70th year celebration on the playa at Burning Man.

I was one of 40K people that lost the ticket lottery but I gave it another shot with a low income ticket application which was approved and suddenly a ticket and a long list of how to make my virgin burn happen.

My Bocas del Toro, Panama amigo, Larry Michael Robertson said the playa provides and he approached his colleagues of the Pinhole Project Collaborative to see if they would welcome a Buddhist monk, who devoted his life to service and wanted to celebrate his 70th on the playa, to their camp. The response was the start of the playa love they showered me with through the journey. These 25+ Pinhole people became my desert family and provided the gear of my survival on the player. I bought a dust proof {there is no such thing on the playa} and made my way to Reno, Nevada on the 25th of August to go to the staging site in Truckee California.

We made our way to Black Rock on the 27th and the start of the magic began by getting through the gate and the ten miles to the camp site in less than 2 1/2 hours.

Hustling to establish our site by midnight we tried to prepare for the weather of high winds and dust storm that was forecasted. I spent the next two days in the winds and dust whiteouts that became the windiest, dustiest, coldest nights in the last ten years of BM. Sunday I surrendered to the dust and for the next seven days was the dusty monk of Black Rock City.

Burning Man was everything I had heard, read and viewed on You Tube times 10+ a visual, audio extravagant experience. The ten thousand illuminated bikes, the art cars from glorified golf carts to roaming playa mega vessels, the endless installations and fire. Fire everywhere gave birth to my gashead self and the smell of propane and heat of flames fanned the fires in my soul. El Pulpo Mechanica, fire farting art cars and my favorite favorite Lucy’s Satan’s Calliope! Blame The Illumination Village if you catch me sniffing the tanks outside your doublewide now. Burning Man provided the visual paradise for this deaf dusty monk.

There is no need for money on the playa (unless you had to have mocha coffee at Center Camp to wash the dust and increase the heartbeat) as BM is the world of gifting. My gift to BRC were moments of meditative tranquillity with one on one meditation, early sunrise walking meditation to the Temple of Promise, short Dharma dribble talks on the back stage and protection threads for everyone that wanted or needed one. The playa one on one was limited by the dust winds and I was nearly run over by two phantom bicycles during one whiteout. The favorite moment of the Dharma dribble was when two twenty something topless girls sat in the front row and smiled at me during the talk. I mentioned that we take 227 vows and in the first three days in BRC I saw 145 ways of violating those vows!

The morning mindfulness based walking meditations to the Temple of Promise became the daily practice for me and I was happy to be in Sangha with those who joined this hour long meditation on life, impermanence and touching the earth. The Pinhole family joined me on this contemplative walk everyday and the Temple was a beautiful destination. I also had the opportunity to sit with random burners who after a few days understood that I was a monk and not just an old guy with an interesting costume. Next year I will bring an appropriate tutu to wear on Tuesday. 

I was not the only monk on the playa as a Vietnamese monk blessed and performed a fire consecration ceremony at my favorite Temple of Mazu dedicated to the Vietnamese goddess of those who do not return from the sea. There was also a Zen Buddhist monk standing alms rounds in front of the Temple of Promise one day and it surely must have seemed visually interesting to see both of us in robes in front of the Temple. On Saturday at Red Lightening there was a talk on Buddhism by the great David Kittay who carried the load in the absence of no show Robert Thurman. He was wonderful and  I enjoyed the visit after his talk as his first teacher was Chogyäm Trungpa Rinpoche in whose lineage I teach.

The Temple of Promise was my respite in the dust and I spent time there everyday feeling the love, grief and celebration of life and death as burners brought the remembrances of those who came in spirit. I brought along my grand daughter Havana Eve O’Flaherty, my brother Dr. Paul Anthony Vernaglia Jr., Bill Koch, Mike Jones, Mike Brant, and three of the best four legged friends a guy could have Bonehead, Maddie and Mariah. I watched the burn of the Temple with tears mixing with the dust, freedom in my heart, respect and the hope that there was peace for all who brought their love to the Temple. I even got to be interviewed for a documentary on healthy ways to grieve around the world. Pretty cool until the film dude said the audio was great but the video didn’t record. Did a retake but never as good as the initial talk from the heart. I said I would just move my lips and they could dub the audio but realized it would look like one of those kung fu movies with English dubbing.

I was physically challenged by an environment that they warn you can die in but I survived with determination and the watchful eyes of my Pinhole Project family and my great friend Otis Kunz who came to the playa to enjoy the burn with me. I survived not only the conditions but the great fall on Wednesday. While walking in Center Camp with Otis and grabbing a lemonade {too late for mocha} I tripped over a small step to the back stage that someone had moved out and that was the same color as the playa. I went down like a bag of stones and Otis said he had never seen anyone drop that quick. I did a massive face plant and had blood from both inside and outside my nose all over my face and lemonade/dust all over me. I’m grateful that I had Otis there to witness the “it wasn’t my fault” fall and to get me to EMS where he was volunteering to attend to my injuries and help me clean up as it was not a pretty sight. No, I do not have to wear a Fall Risk bracelet when on the playa as I never fell off my bike the whole week.

My heartfelt gratitude to the Pinhole Project family for being the portal to the joy of my first burn. You’re a family of amazing, diverse, talented, passionate, strong willed and creative artists who gild the word collaboration. To be able to observe the group dynamic for 17 days was a lesson in the essence of community.

That you welcomed this old monk into your midst, challenged, nurtured, taught and showered him with your playa love was an experience of life time. I am forever grateful for your presence in my life on the playa and going forward. Bless you all and we will burn again together in 357 days if life is good to us.

Yes, I will go back because the dust gets in your blood, the music in your ears, the experiences in your heart and like so many other burners to try and see way more than I did this year {and Sam Baron I promise to dance the night away with you next year.}

“I began to believe the fairy tales: You know, how we're all out there looking for our magical missing half.”

Michael Bergin

Alone…

Solitude is the profoundest fact of the human condition. Man is the only being who knows he is alone.”
Octavio Paz…

We are all so much together, but we are all dying of loneliness.”
Albert Schweitzer…

     
“We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone.”
 Orson Welles…
 
It is the season I know that highlights the being alone in my life. Christmas brings the loneliness from family with my children and grandchildren on my mind and the memories of Christmas past with stockings on the mantel, a big tree in the front room overlooking the fields and the valley. Santa impersonation for years with footprints on the hearth, sleigh bells around the farm, letter to the children from Santa and the excitement of Christmas morning. All that is years ago and far away but the lonely feeling at Christmas is to be expected and is understood.
New Years Eve is a time of much excitement and fireworks which fills up the night until the magic hour of midnight when everyone greets another year with great hopes, expectations and promises. Perfunctory kisses according to tradition and then everyone is walking hand in hand or hooking up also with great hopes, expectations and promises that most likely only last the rest of the night and not the rest of the year.
It is a couples time and the many memories of NYE past are fun filled times with much celebration as a pair or as a pair for the rest of the night. The rains came back this NYE after midnight so I went home with my umbrella and great hopes, few expectations and no promises.
This life now is a commitment. A commitment that takes discipline especially in this world of transient relationships, tropical paradise and the lifestyle that goes with both. The expectation is that you are above the human emotions, the feeling of being alone. It is as if monks are without human emotions and feelings like anger, sadness, intimacy, humor, longing. The image of the typical monk is Buddha like, devoid of all that worldly care. As if we didn’t laugh, cry, shout or even shit. We are capable of all and like the Buddha, we have to shit. Humanness is a requirement for wearing the robes as far as I know but we are to restrain ourselves, hold ourselves in check, repress those urges and emotions. If you spend your entire life as a monastic and are trained in restraint since childhood you have a better grip on it as you have no personal experience with a “regular life”. You are a witness to it but not a participant.
Almost all monks have the buffer, the protection of a sangha, the community of monks. You are one of many. You dress alike, study, eat, sleep, pray, work, experience the life together. If you start to falter there are many who will encourage you, strengthen your resolve, discipline you and smooth your life in the monastic tradition. As Thich Nhat Hanh has said;
“A real sangha always carries within itself the energy of love, the energy of brotherhood and sisterhood, hope and compassion. Our sangha is our home. Our sangha is our hope.”
-TNH, December 24, 2010
As an Enji (western monk) you come to the tradition later in life, full of the personal experience of secular living and full of memories of all that goes with it. All Buddhist monastic orders will make sure that you are prepared and committed to this life. That you don’t come to it to escape or runaway from your life out here to the insularity of the monastic sangha protected in the monastery. Enjis are more than capable of living the life we do. They can assimilate well into monastic living if they have the commitment and can surrender to the devotion to a guru or teacher and follow the teachings.
Being an Enji and a wandering monk has great risks they will tell you. Some of the life long older monks call us “White Crows” because the feeling is that an Enji can be a good monk when you find a white crow. Being alone without the protection and inspiration of the sangha is risky because it becomes easy to lose your way in the world of desires, hopes and expectations. In fact many of those western monks ordained do in fact disrobe figuratively and literally. It’s difficult to make your way in the world without financial support and a community that supports the sangha with alms support. It is difficult to live in this western world with it’s pace and promise and keep the commitment you have made especially with the people you meet. It seems that many of the Enjis who disrobe fall in love and that kindles those feelings of intimacy and longing for the warm companionship of another person that some define love by.
I love intimacy as much as anyone but view it differently now than before. I think we can define intimacy in a broader way and I spread my intimacy across many so that I can give and share myself with as many people as possible. Sure there is no sharing of some of the basic components that we understand to describe intimacy but the feeling of connectedness, human warmth and relationship can still happen. It is just not centered on one person.
The vows we take were established 2500 years ago in the teaching on The Fruits of the Homeless Life where the Buddha, it is said, gave the rules and obligations of being a monk and living in sangha. They were vows that were consistent with the era and geographic culture of the original monks who followed the Blessed One and lived according to his teaching. Being celibate, abstaining from intoxicants, right speech and all the other examples in The Eightfold Path had important meaning for an exemplary life. There were also many prohibitions like avoiding music, not wearing robes made on certain looms and avoiding high beds to sleep on. Well there are so many of the vows that would make living a wandering life in a secular world impossible that I have chosen the more important ones and not necessarily the easiest, convenient ones for this world I live in. It is the commitment I have made for the rest of this life and I honor it with respect and love of this life.
It’s just that sometimes you look around and remember what life was before, the warm touch, the sense of being loved in that way and the company of someone that you want to be with and share with.
And of the Christmas’s and New years in the past…