Farm, Observing The World, Zen, -  Feb 25, 2022

Even In War

About two days ago, a shooting war began between Russia and Ukraine. Everyone knows who is right and wrong, except me. People have sent essays and speeches, and I can add a few bits of information or links. Here is just one source of many: a talk by Vladimir Pozner. There are some common themes in these alternative voices: that Western powers promised that NATO wouldn’t expand eastward, and then it did; that Putin once wanted to join NATO and was turned down. I do not support Putin or the invasion, but the media has gotten into that cheerleading mode that I cannot join.

War is never good. Claims of innocence are always suspect, though innocence does exist in the world. What to do? Praying for peace is always a good thing; meditating for justice is also safe. That’s all I’m going to say. You’re invited to add a comment with your favorite information source.

Meanwhile, life goes on here, far from the war. It’s a little disconcerting, being aware that all our lives are in the balance and not quite sure what to do. But really, not so different from dealing with global warming, or violent racism, or most things: what can we do?  Joanna Macy describes three kinds of action: holding actions, building the new future, and spiritual work. I’m mostly involved in the latter two, living in a present and working for a future spiritually based and connected with all of life.

It would be great if people who are doing things add a link or a short comment – especially about these very immediate events including the Ukraine-Russia conflict.

 

News at Home:

A local reporter came to do a story, and did this beautiful and wise description of what we’re doing here:

Local group uses Buddhist practices to to seek understanding

There seems to be a paywall. They told me people could generally access the article once or twice before the paywall came up, but some people are having difficulty. I am trying to arrange access.

In response to this welcome, I will offer some introductory afternoons later this year, summer or fall.

Spring 2022 Events:

• This spring, we have a 5-day sesshin March 18-22: silent sitting and walking meditation, shared meals, very simple. (Register soon please)
• On March 26, a Saturday morning, I’m giving a dharma talk “Together With All Beings: Understanding the Self” online at Heartland Zen.
• April 10, a Sunday morning, I give a talk online at Hokyoji Zen Monastery, no title yet.
• May 5-9 I will be attending the Genzo-e (teaching retreat) at Sanshin Zen Community, with my teacher Shohaku Okumura, available online.
• June 5, a Sunday morning, I give a talk online and in person at Clouds in Water Zen Community, no title.
• June 17-21 is the summer 5-day sesshin.
• Online groups continue, and are coordinated by email, newcomers welcome:
  • The Gift of Fearlessness, Sundays 4:30-6 pm Central Time, weeks 1, 2, 4, and 5
  • Zen study group, Wednesdays 6:30-8 pm Central Time
  • Monday morning zazen – sitting meditation, Monday mornings 5:55-7 Central Time

We expect to have construction in April, dates unknown, and there will be a chance for volunteers to help – especially with moving furniture, possibly with painting and other work.

Poem

Last, I want to leave you with this poem by Wendell Berry. It’s from 1977; I can’t say it’s still true 45 years later. I still offer it.

A Vision

If we will have the wisdom to survive,
to stand like slow-growing trees
on a ruined place, renewing, enriching it,
if we will make our seasons welcome here,
asking not too much of earth or heaven,
then a long time after we are dead
the lives our lives prepare will live
here, their houses strongly placed
upon the valley sides, fields and gardens
rich in the windows. The river will run
clear, as we will never know it,
and over it, birdsong like a canopy.
On the levels of the hills will be
green meadows, stock bells in noon shade.
On the steeps where greed and ignorance cut down
the old forest, an old forest will stand,
its rich leaf-fall drifting on its roots.
The veins of forgotten springs will have opened.
Families will be singing in the fields.
In their voices they will hear a music
risen out of the ground. They will take
nothing from the ground they will not return,
whatever the grief at parting. Memory,
native to this valley, will spread over it
like a grove, and memory will grow
into legend, legend into song, song
into sacrament. The abundance of this place,
the songs of its people and its birds,
will be health and wisdom and indwelling
light. This is no paradisal dream.
Its hardship is its possibility.

Wendell Berry

Sending blessings to you. Inviting you to pray for peace, love, and joy, for justice and freedom. Inviting you to stop by the nearest old tree, or meadow, or creek, to greet them warmly, bring an offering of any kind (a song? A cookie?) and speak to them the same prayers, share with them, consider them as friends and allies.

Love,

Shodo