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