Hagiopoeia II

Samuel Clemens did not consider himself the author of "boys' books," or even humorous books.  He saw himself, first and foremost, as a newspaper man.  "Most of my life," he once said, "I've been a journalist.  As such, I was licensed to tell lies that would make Satan blush."

Before he became a professional liar, Sam was a riverboat pilot on the Mississippi.  "I had supposed - and hoped - that I was going to follow the river the rest of my days, and die at the wheel when my mission was ended."

Sam wrote a book about his time as a riverboat pilot, and he called it Life on the Mississippi.  It's a fine book, except for the muddy parts and the forced burlesque.  Here's a bit which Sam left out of the final work:

There was one boat I cubbed which had a captain - Captain Stubbleford - who insisted on testing everyone who worked on his boat, from the cabin boy to his first mate.  It was a brief oral examination of two or three or five questions.  Now, Billy loved the river and knew it like a fish.  Sadly, he lacked the intelligence which the Creator had given to that common animal, or even the wisdom of a fence post.  He also had only one good eye.  But he was a good worker, and we knew he'd be good for our crew.  So we told Captain Stubbleford that Billy was dumb, which is to say mute, and he would have to give his test in signs.

Well, the boys and I were prepared for the worst, even with that precaution.  Billy went to the Captain's quarters.  Five minutes passed, then ten.  After fifteen minutes, Billy stormed out of the room and ran off before we could stop him.  Captain Stubbleford came out after him, shaking his head.

"I am truly humbled.  That young man could be a river boat pilot, if only he could speak!  I held up one finger, to indicate there is one mighty river.  He held up two fingers, to indicate there should always be two on deck to face this river.  I held up three fingers to indicate there were three branches of the river at its mouth.  He then shook his fist at me, to indicate that all rivers are one:  the Mississippi is the Mother of all Rivers, the River that IS all rivers."

Shortly after the Captain left, shaking his head in amazement, Billy came by.  We nabbed him quick.  "Lemme go," he said, "Wait til I git mah hands on that cap'n.  He may be a good cap'n 'n' all, but he sure don't have no manners!  He holds up one finger, sayin as how ah jest got one good eye.  So ah holds up two fingers, sayin as how ah's glad he's still got two good eyes.  Then he holds up three fingers, sayin as how we got us three good eyes 'tween us.  Ah tell ya, ah got steamed!  Ah's bout ta reduce his good eyes by one when he wanders off.  Now, lemme at him!"

Soon enough, Billy forgot all about it.  Captain Stubbleford hired him on as a swab.  The crew all held Billy in high esteem, because the Captain told us how wise Billy was beneath his silence.

Adapted from Zen Flesh, Zen Bones by Paul Reps (Doubleday, New York)

idée d’jour

Just ask, just ask! says the dew, and rolls away.
— Issa

The Way of Jazz

The Jazz you can play
isn't the real Jazz.
The Jazz you can sing
isn't the real Jazz.

Horn & Ivory
begin in No-Jazz:
Jazz is the mother
of the American Songbook.

Jazz is empty,
used, but not used up.
Deep, yes ancestral
to the American Songbook.

Horn & Ivory aren't humane.
To them the American Songbook
is a straw dog.

Wise souls aren't humane.
To them Fats & Miles
are straw dogs.

Horn & Ivory
act as a bellows:

Empty yet structured,
they move, inexhaustibly giving.

Horn will last,
Ivroy will endure.
How can they last so long?
They don't exist for themselves
and so can go on and on.

True swing
is like water.
Water's good
for everything.
It goes right
to the low loathsome places
and so finds a way.

Once upon a time
people who knew Jazz
were subtle, spiritual, mysterious, penetrating
unfathomable.

To follow Jazz
is not to need fulfillment.
Unfulfilled, one may live on
needing no renewal.

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Selections from Ursala K. Le Guin's rendering of the Tao, substituting words as follows:
Jazz: Name, Way
Horn: Heaven
Ivory: Earth
American Songbook: 10,000 things
Fats & Miles: the hundred families
Swing: goodness

Guin, Ursula K. Lao Tzu: Tao Te Ching : A Book about the Way and the Power of the Way. United States: Shambhala Publications, Incorporated, 2009. 2-24. Print. 

Idée d’jour

The true miracle is not walking on water or walking in air, but simply walking on this earth.
— Thich Nhat Hanh

Zorba the Buddha

Recently finished reading an interview with Tom Robbins by Mara Altman. She asked him if there was anyone in his life he considered a mentor. "No one living," he said; then, went on:

Oh, maybe Leonard Cohen. Leonard Cohen is my hero. He’s like Zorba the Buddha. Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, the Indian guru ... who later changed his name to Osho, he had this notion of a character called Zorba the Buddha who — we’ll say a man, but it could be a woman too — who was contemplative, led a serene spiritual life, meditated a lot, was a nonviolent, placid person who lived in the spirit but who also knew how to work and make money, knew how to utilize the Internet, knew how much to tip a maître d’ in a Paris nightclub, who was of the world and enjoyed the world and all of its sensual pleasures in terms of food, sex, drink, color, art, but also at the same time was deeply spiritual. And I’ve kind of superimposed that Zorba the Buddha figure onto Leonard Cohen, perhaps unfairly, but he strikes me as someone who is close to that figure. I like the fact that he meditates, that he has spent time alone — a lot of it in anguish in a Buddhist monastery — that he is so adept with language and loves women and wears beautiful Armani suits and will sit and sip wine at a sidewalk café with beautiful girls and yet be able to have this rich inner life, not just creatively but also spiritually.

I remember Dr. Omed once telling me I needed to learn how to be in the world, but not of it. I imagine he meant something like this. Combining, as it were, the exuberance of Kazantzakis' Zorba with the supposed serenity of a Zen master.

Whether Leonard Cohen is that Zen master is another question. He's on the record of saying his interest in Zen was primarily motivated by the teacher, though he's also expressed an admiration for the strict discipline. I imagine he would be amused by Robbins' description, perhaps even flattered. He'd likely find it as amusing as his image as a lady's man.

For myself, it's my hope to live the words I pray. It's a daily struggle to practice the peace I seek. To find the joy in life, even in the darkness. I don't know that I have Zorba's lust for life, or the Zen master's discipline. I'm decidedly no lady's man, nor fashion plate. I'm a middle class guy, with no greater American dream than keeping my head above water while managing my consumer debt. I'm dazzled by things, and tempted by what they promise. I'm easily cut by the side-ways glance, or snide tone. I'm too nervous, too fearful, to wear the world as a loose garment.

Leonard wrote: “I practiced on my sainthood.” I think I know what he meant. My struggle and striving to live with integrity are that practice. It's not sainthood I seek, exactly: it's a spirit that is calm.

I'm no saint. I'm no Zorba. I'm certainly not Zen Master Cohen. I'm only Jac. I might as well begin with a song.

Idée d’jour

Conceive of Nothing While you live And I give you Heaven.
— Jack Kerouac
Happy Birthday, Ti Jean

On Zen

People think of Zen as mystical, inscrutable. Pretty strange. But the basic idea behind Zen is simple: We experience the world through a filter of expectations and preconceptions built up over the course of our lives. As a result, we fail to see the world as it really is. With the help of a program of morality, meditation, and mindfulness, we can overcome this veil of delusion and see through to our own true nature. We can learn to see the world directly and our own place in it.

Simple, isn’t it?
— Brian Haycock, Dharma Road: A Short Cab Ride to Self Discovery

Idée d’jour

Strike the midnight bell at noon.
— Zen Saying

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ISO 200, f3.5 @ 30

Idée d’jour

Where was the sound of Tommy Ramone hitting the first rim shot on Teenage Lobotomy before you heard it?
— Contemporary Koan (from Zen Calendar)

Ideé d’jour

Paths cannot be taught,
they can only be taken.
— Zen Saying

Idée d’jour

Cold you may be
but don't warm yourself by the fire,
Buddha of snow!
— Sokan

Haiku d’jour

The first winter shower.
  My name shall be
   "Traveler."
— Basho

Idée d’jour

Sell your cleverness
and buy bewilderment.
— Rumi

Koan d’jour

Pull a five-story pagoda out of a teapot.

Idée d’jour

You are what you is.
— Frank Zappa, musician (1940-1993)

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My minimal experience of Mr. Zappa's music does not correspond with my preconceptions or understanding of Zen. Yet, here he is, recorded in my Zen Calendar (Workman Press).

Idée d’jour

Sneezing,
 I lost sight
  of the skylark.
— Yayu

Idée d’jour

Zen has been used for healing people's sicknesses, but it has also been used by the samurai for chopping off people's heads!
— Alan Watts

Today's Koan

Does your pain feel pain? Is your fear fearful?

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This koan is adapted from questions asked by Jon Kabat-Zinn in the July 2007 issue of Shambhala Sun. He writes:

Have you ever noticed that your fear is not afraid even when you are terrified? Or that your awareness of depression is not depressed; that your awareness of your bad habits is not a slave to those habits; or perhaps even that your awareness of who you are is not who you think you are?

You can test out any of these propositions for yourself any time you like simply by investigating awareness—by becoming aware of awareness itself. It is easy, but we hardly ever think to do it because awareness, like the present moment itself, is virtually a hidden dimension in our lives, embedded everywhere and therefore not so noticeable anywhere.

Idée d’jour

A monk asked Ummon: "What is it that surpasses the Buddhas, surpasses the patriarchs?"

Ummon replied: "Buns."
— Zen Mondo

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Zen stories can have an element of the absurd that Samuel Beckett or Woody Allen would envy. One question this story raises is whether Ummon is referring to something you eat (like hot cross buns) or to the posterior.

What do you think?

Idée d’jour

It is said that there are seventeen hundred koans. Actually, there are as many koans in life as there are individuals, and each individual's life is nothing but koans.
— Koryu Osaka

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I am reminded of my introduction to Zen. It was through the comedian Shelly Berman. I forget the context, but in the midst of a routine, Mr. Berman mentioned a koan (a sort of unsolvable riddle used in Zen) – one of the best known – "You know the sound of two hands clapping, but what is the sound of one hand clapping?"

From that tease, which I first heard as a pre-teen, I became curious about koans and Zen. So I was receptive when I saw Alan Watts' "Conversation with Myself" on PBS in my early teens. Later, I bought my first Watts' book, Beat Zen, Square Zen, and Zen. Later still, I bought Paul Reps' collection of Zen writings, Zen Flesh, Zen Bones (which included the original source of the "one hand" koan).

Shelly Berman also introduced me to Franz Kafka; one of his records had a routine, "Kafka on the telephone." From this, I collected Kafka stories, and read chunks of his novels.

I guess I was an autodidact from an early age, following my curiosity where-ever it would lead. Still do, thank goodness.