In This Room

I had coffee with a friend today.  He and I met perhaps a year ago now at the Gay Buddhist Sangha at the Hartford Street Zen Center in the Castro. Me in search of the present moment, and he, on a search of his own.  We have developed a friendship over time.  I welcome his good heart and his honesty in my life.  We proceeded on to the Zen Center after coffee and a conversation.

This month the theme of the talks has been Buddhist koans.  One definition of a koan is: “a koan consists of a story, dialogue, question, or statement, the meaning of which cannot be understood by rational thinking but may be accessible through intuition and enlightenment.”

“Therefore, although there may be "traditional answers" (kenjo 見処 or kenge 見解) to many kōans, these are only preserved as exemplary answers given in the past by various masters during their own training. In practice, any answer could be correct, provided that it conveys proof of personal realization.”

I belive this could also be an interpretation of what is meant by faith.  Something that is known to us only in that place of our most intimate connection to ourselves that began a few hundred millions years old when matter collapsed and massive numbers of stars began to form. For me, this is not a place where questions are answered, but a place where the answers remain open ended while I conduct the search for my own holy connections.  Buddhism has proven to be a strong pathway in my search for that place of faith.  And a place of rest in the midst of the demanding voices in my head that often shout and roar and then again sometimes surreptitiously whispers in my ear that personal deadlines must be met; that I have miles to go before I sleep.

Today, the teacher said to us, “what’s in the room is what we have.”  I love this; the complexity and simplicity of it.  At one time my mind would have scurried right to, “but that means you have to leave the past behind; that you have to wipe it out, get rid of it, toss it aside in order to be here, now.  It woud have meant, forget about planning a future.  I would have been angered by such a concept.  Leave this precious life I have lived up to now in the dust!  Harrumph.  But today, in this room, I am in love with the dharma teacher’s words.  “What’s in this room, is what we have.”  In this room with me is a person who has a 66 year old history with herself.  It’s all here right now.  Nothing left behind.  The future still out there right in front of me.  It’s all here right where I am.  Right here in this room, the koan of my own life.

Much love to you and may we all keep the faith.

xo

Suki