Heart-Warming

Is it the bowl that rolls around the pearl,
Or is it the pearl that rolls around the bowl?
Is it the weather that is cold,
Or is it the person that is cold?
Think neither cold nor heat.
At that moment,
Where is the self to be found?

~Capping verse from Dharma Discourse by John Daido Loori, Roshi

Our downtown Sangha --The Heart of Wisdom Zen Temple -- practices at the Portland Dharma Center.
This space is owned by our sister Sangha, Dharma Rain. Most of them are now up at Great Vow Zen Monastery for Rohatsu Sesshin. Including the Dharma Rain teachers and their Shusso, who are the only ones who have Transmission of How to Restart the Furnace.

The furnace is a wonky old thing; an old boiler and radiator system that clanks and rattles when it's getting going. It makes sitting with sound a lively experience, although my imagination tends to drift towards visions of seven dwarves with their shovels and pick-axes hammering and tapping away somewhere underground.

We've had a cold spell here in Portland (which means it's been below freezing for a few days in a row causing Portlanders to wring their hands and wonder if they are being punished for something), and on a bright and crisp Bodhi Day morning, the heater at the Dharma Center went off again.

The optimistic folks who were at our Tuesday morning service told me it was 56 degrees in the Zendo, and figured the furnace would kick on at some point in the day. By the time I got there Tuesday night, it was 40 degrees in the Zendo. It was only slightly warmer downstairs, as the Zendo has large drafty windows and a very high ceiling. Ordinarily, when this happens, the Heart of Wisdom Shusso is authorized to tinker with the thermostat a little, then failing that, go across the street and get Dharma Rain's Teacher or Shusso. But nobody was home there. They were all in the middle of Sesshin an hour and a half away.

What to do? I called the monastery and left a message for the Dharma Rain teacher, figuring he'd get the message in the morning, and let me know what he wanted me to do. Despite my mind's continual returning to problem-solving, that was, in fact, all that could be done there.

As people arrived for Tuesday night's sitting, I warned them of the situation, letting them know they might not want to remove so much outdoor wear just yet. We moved zabutons downstairs, and suspended the no hats rule. People wore their hats, and their scarves, socks, gloves and coats! To see a wagessa slipped on over a ski jacket -- well it was just the picture of dedication! There were a few blankets that got distributed and wrapped around people as well.

The bell rang, and the meditation period began.

Nobody left, there was no fidgeting, no complaining (at least not audibly). Just sitting. Just being with the situation as it was.

We ended the meditation period, and proceeded with the Tuesday night program, which includes some reading on a Dharma-related topic, then discussion. People got up to stretch, acquired some cups of tea (primarily as hand-warmers), and we read about the Buddha's enlightenment -- a particularly storybookish version. We took turns reading paragraphs, and for me, it was just like hearing it for the first time.

Our discussion centered around the archetypal Hero's Journey, and how aspects of this infuse our own lives, our own practice. What have our spiritual searches entailed? How have we tried the strategies of decadence and asceticism in our attempts to avoid suffering? What is the Middle Way in our lives? What temptations and distractions do we face? How do we transmute what feels like negativity coming at us into something more skillful? What does the golden bowl floating upstream mean? How do we call upon the Earth as our own witness? Is enlightenment really possible?

We ended the evening with our chanting service -- the new service position holders focusing deeply in their new roles -- and that was that.

I am left just struck by the willingness I observed. This willingness to feel our lives, this willingness to participate in something that didn't match an idea of what was supposed to happen. This willingness to hold the space for each other to just sit, in any circumstances, and look into the truth of this life.