zenjones

I came to realize that most (all?) borders are intellectual constructs, ideas we sign up for to keep events in discrete spaces. But life is always evolving.

Take yesterday morning. As I watched light creep up on the world, I never saw the moment it became day. Even at 7:08, the sun had not risen but it was nearly completely light. Certainly I could have read by that light. So where is the border between night and day?

Yesterday morning I also took Ezra’s suggestion and broke my usual half-hour period on the cushion into two 20-minute periods with 5-minutes of walking meditation in the middle.

One of the mysteries of our group’s practice for me has been kin-hin. It was immensely helpful when I learned that the rhythm of our footsteps is tied to each person’s breath: each step follows each breath. But I’ve noticed that some slow walkers are in constant motion and some take a step—wait—take another step. But maybe I just want to find the borders on it; maybe they aren’t really there, it’s all becoming the next step. Every moment is both leaving the last moment, being this moment, and also becoming the next moment.

I think one of the gaps in my practice is holding onto the idea that things should be black and white, this or that. Yesterday helped me to see that, and to be aware that most of life is in process, is shades of gray.

Today, in honor of our reading this evening in Pema Chödrön’s book The Places That Scare You, I plan on “staying awake as possible to whomever I meet on the street.” I should have a lot of opportunity for this, since I have meetings in San Francisco this morning and in Santa Rosa this afternoon.

PS: In case anyone missed it, Patty Hawes posted a comment from the road under the story “Celebrate non-manifestation of anger day!” Tomorrow she heads into a three-month long silent retreat. Does that silence include an Internet connection? What is the sound of one hand typing?