And in it to see and listen to, to remember and accept, I vow to taste the truth of the Buddha's words. Good morning. When I was trying to figure out what to put my notes into this morning, I noticed this beautiful brocade bag, which was a present from some years ago

[01:05]

upon the occasion of Numan Yamata Roshi's being installed as the abbot of a big Rinzai training complex in Kyoto. And I thought, how strange to have this perfectly beautiful piece of brocade. And what I'd really like to do is to go in my work clothes for lecture. But it seemed like exactly what it is I want to talk about this morning. So I picked it up and put my notes in it. First, let me wish you all a happy Mother's Day. For those of us who are mothers, and for all of us who have a mother, and for all of us who also have that capacity for what we usually think of as mothering within us, I hope we can acknowledge and greet that energy and capacity

[02:09]

that does indeed dwell in each of us. If I don't speak loud enough, will you stick your hand up so I can project a little bit more? Okay. I have for some time been asking myself a series of questions. And maybe you will understand what I'm talking about a little bit more if I am fairly biographical about what it is I want to talk about. Specifically, this latest version of the questions that I'm asking myself arise out of some interest and effort on my part to explore some capacity or develop some capacity for equanimity in all situations,

[03:13]

or as many as I can manage. And of course, what I immediately have been noticing is the absence of equanimity in some situations more than others. And as I have been exploring those situations in which I seem to, as we would say, lose it, these questions arise. What does it mean to change? How do we change? How do we change some habitual behavior, thoughts, activities of all sorts? And what are we changing toward? For myself, in this particular instance, I'm talking about my effort or intention to cultivate equanimity.

[04:14]

But as I keep asking myself these questions that cluster around the nature of change and how I can change some old, deeply set habits that I have, what it brings me to is some question about what is my intention. My old friend Harry Roberts used to say, What do you want? What does it cost? And are you willing to pay the price? Another way, perhaps, of talking about intention. Through this questioning, recently, what has emerged for me is some sense that what this is about has to do with integrity. That is, the condition of being integrated, of being whole or healthy.

[05:21]

That condition of being sound and whole in one's life and being. To integrate is to make whole. And after thinking about that notion, what I realized was that this interest that I have in changing myself in some way has to do with, perhaps, making myself whole. Being with people who share that intention. And that, in fact, that is something we can do in our own lives, each of us. And that we can help each other in being whole or wholesome or healthy. But I think it takes some continual effort and attention

[06:25]

to the very particular detail of each day and, in fact, each moment. For the last couple of months, I've had a very tenacious virus and so have been significantly more quiet than is sometimes true for me. And perhaps that's why I've spent such large amounts of time asking myself about this business. Wanting to be whole in the sense of wanting to be healthy and struggling against the facts versus how I wanted to be. So I would get up in the morning and say, All right, today I'm well. I would proceed to act in the way that I wanted to act, not listening to the tightness in my chest or the pressure in my sinuses or whatever.

[07:32]

And, of course, falling flat on my face since my body seems to be extremely wise in these matters. But, of course, this exploration goes into all of the details of daily life. Not just physical health, but the health of emotion, of psyche, of spirit, and of breath. Knowing that I was going to be here in this spot this morning, I have been thinking in particular over the past week about this business of integrity. So when our good friend Gordon Sherman died on Friday night, I thought, if ever there is anyone who is an example of a person who has lived a life of integrity,

[08:34]

it is Gordon. And I would like to take a few minutes this morning to say a few words about him as an example of someone who was able to live his life with some of the characteristics that I want to bring up. Gordon Sherman, for those of you who did not have the pleasure of knowing him, was a rather remarkable person. He was, in many ways, a contemporary version of a Renaissance man. He was a very effective businessman. He was the head of Midas Mufflers for 19 years. He was involved in the early activities which led to Businessmen for Social Responsibility. An early supporter of Ralph Nader had a very keen sense of social responsibility, which he enacted intensely.

[09:44]

He was not only a good friend to many people, but to many institutions that were involved in what Gordon recognized as good work. He raised Orkins. After he stopped being the head of Midas Mufflers and moved from Chicago to California, went to Dominican and got a Master's in Music in Oboe and English Horn, in particular. He was a fly fisherman and, of course, tied his own flies and made his own reeds for his instruments. Taught music at the School of Music, the conservatory in San Francisco. At some point, fairly recently, began to notice the world of birds and threw himself into what is usually referred to as becoming a bird watcher

[10:52]

in a way that I have never seen before and may never see again. He became an extraordinarily good photographer out of his keen interest in birds. Devised remarkable and amusing floats which allowed him to be out in the middle of the watery places where the birds could be found at dawn. Dressed in all kinds of imaginative garb, waiting carefully in the middle of his yellow float mechanism with his camera ready for that moment when the bird he was after would arise from a good night's sleep. And in the last couple of years, Gordy has in fact given slideshows here in Marin County showing some of what he saw in that world of birds and early morning and evening light

[11:55]

and the beauty of the world in the way that was quintessentially Gordy's special window. He also had a remarkable sense of humor. He was one of the financial advisors for Zen Center and I remember some years ago after a financial advisory board meeting, the person who was at the time our treasurer turned to Gordon having never met him before that morning's meeting and said, Gee Gordy, I never met anybody before who talked Shakespeare. Gordy had a very flourishing way of speaking but always with some sense of humor and a deep sense of observing things as they are. But also with a kind of gentleness that allowed him to say something that might be very difficult

[12:59]

but in a way that you might be able to hear. A person of great integrity, willing to speak out about the things that he saw happening that concerned him or were important to him. Willing to throw his energy into helping whatever he thought of or recognized as a good cause. Willing to be helpful in many, many ways. A remarkable person whom I think we will all miss. His energy, his humor, his inventiveness and his true joy in living in the world. I asked my husband to look up the etymology of integrity and as is often true with these conversations we have about language,

[14:02]

one thing led to another. And he looked up the 22nd Ode in Book 1 by Horace. Horace talks about integer vitae, that is the undiminished life. I think that this is the perfect description for the life that Gordon Sherman lived for these years that he was among us. As some of you know we are going to have a shakuhachi concert, Japanese bamboo flute concert of Zen music this afternoon. And because music was a great love in Gordon's life, I hope that we can dedicate this music to his spirit in passing. And think of him and be delighted with his life in this way.

[15:06]

So what is this whole life, this life of integrity? The 8th century meditator and philosopher, poet, genius Shantideva who wrote a wonderful text which you have heard about from several of us in these lectures called The Guide to the Bodhisattva's Way of Life. In that text he talks about certain qualities or characteristics which I think are a kind of list of what a life of integrity is about. These qualities of having an awake mind, of conscientiousness, of alertness, of cultivated patience, of enthusiasm,

[16:22]

of meditation which cultivates one's ability to be concentrated, cultivates equanimity and mindfulness, all of which leads to the cultivation of wisdom. And the great philosopher and Zen master Dogen in the 13th century wrote in a chapter which we studied earlier this winter, this list of how to become a Buddha. Don't do any evil, have no attachment to birth or death, sympathize deeply with all beings, respecting those above and sympathizing with those below, not feeling aversion or longing for anything, and not thinking or worrying.

[17:38]

And of course the thing that's lovely about this description of how to be a Buddha is that he says, it's easy. And then we have the contemporary teacher Yogi Berra who says, I can't concentrate when I'm thinking. The nub of it, of course, is how to do it. In Zen practice we talk about Zazen, this practice of sitting down, sitting still, bringing our attention, our awareness to breath and allowing ourselves to settle in this way. Recently when the Zen teacher Thich Nhat Hanh was here, he spent the days that he was here during a retreat encouraging us to settle ourselves with breathing and smiling.

[18:58]

A practice which is on the surface of it rather simple, sounds simple to do, and in some way perhaps it is. It is, I think, a very subtle and penetrating practice. And if we stay with breath and smiling, we may be surprised at what we can uncover. I think the best way I can suggest this is to tell you a little bit of my own experience recently. In fact, during the retreat with Thich Nhat Hanh, I had a rather painful but illuminating experience of the landscape that could become revealed to me in myself if I stayed settled with breath and smiling.

[20:07]

There was in the retreat someone that I had not met, but that I had heard about from a number of people. And when I saw this person the first day of the retreat, I thought, if there's anyone I can imagine I would not want to have here, it is this person. And I then spent a little more than a day, a day and a half or so, with a periodic arising of these thoughts of aversion. I don't like this person, I wish this person wasn't here, memories of many things people have told me about this person. In the midst of all of that, a friend of mine and I had a conversation in which my friend said about the person that I was having these rather uncharitable thoughts about,

[21:18]

I think the two of you might be friends, you might like each other. And I proceeded to say, I doubt it. And afterwards I felt quite terrible. So I spent the next day or so just allowing myself to feel all of those feelings that were underneath the I doubt it. And what I began to realize was that everything I knew about this person was second or third or fifth hand information. Had to do with remembering the past. And a kind of association with past memories that were painful. But her association with these events in my life were only by association and not in any way direct.

[22:26]

And I began to see something about my own capacity for judgment and aversion and negative thoughts about another person, which left me feeling quite terrible. And I could see a kind of edge where I easily could distract myself from being in touch with whatever was arising. But if I kept my attention with my breath and smiling, various insights would slowly begin to arise. Particularly when I was willing to not have any aversion with respect to my aversion. To the degree that I was willing to be patient with myself and to accept my capacity to think about or feel about another person in this way.

[23:33]

To have a kind of friendliness in the sense of sympathy. And to simply allow all that stuff to arise, but also to allow it to fall away in the way the breath arises and falls away. I spent a rather uncomfortable day and a half with myself. Interestingly, the evening of the second day of the retreat, this very person came up to me with a very warm-hearted expression on her face. Greeted me quite warmly and reminded me that we had met some years ago. And asked if I could help arrange a visit for her with a mutual friend. And in that moment, the person who was in front of me had absolutely nothing to do with the person that I had held in my mind for those previous day and a half or two days.

[24:48]

And I felt my heart open in a way I would not have imagined. And in fact, at that moment and in the days afterwards, I found my ability to relate to this person in the moment had arisen. And all of the sticky, clinging thoughts that had to do with second, third, fifth hand information had literally melted away. I have a deep devotion for this practice of not participating in third party information. And it is a practice that I've in fact asked friends and colleagues to join me in practicing.

[25:52]

So, this was a rather painful experience in noticing my own continuing ability to practice that which I understand intellectually is not conducive to wholeness or healthiness. But in being present with myself as I actually was in those days, I also could find once again some direct experience of how to allow a certain habitual way of thinking. That arises perhaps as much as anything out of some fear or bad habits. Bad in the sense of not being conducive to wholesomeness to fade a little bit more.

[26:56]

That fading, I think, does not occur if I turn my back on these instances of habitual thought or activity. But rather has to do with my willingness to be awake in the presence of my own capacity, even when I'm not so comfortable with what I see. Another example which I think is appropriate to share with you, given that it is Mother's Day, has to do with something that happened for me recently with respect to my own mother. As some of you may know, Thich Nhat Hanh has written a little booklet. I think it's called A Rose for You.

[27:59]

I read it quickly and then had an occasion to give it to someone. When I wanted to refresh my memory about his story a few days ago, I realized I didn't have it anymore. Basically, in this little booklet, he's talking about the practice of telling my mother that I love her and that I am grateful to her for her kindness in my life. So I thought, well, I trust Thich Nhat Hanh and I trust his encouragements, so I'll try it. As you may guess, I have a rather difficult relationship with my mother.

[29:04]

We have had a difficult life together. And for a significant part of my life, I was quite focused on all the things that went wrong and not very focused on all the things that went well or wholesomely. And much to my amazement, what I discovered when I actually sat down and imagined my mother in my mind's eye and spoke to her and told her that I love her and that I am grateful to her for her kindness and care of me, which I am truly convinced has been her best effort to be a mother in her difficult life. What began to emerge, in fact, was some sense of all of those elements in my life growing up with my family that were conducive to wholesomeness.

[30:21]

And when some difficult memory would begin to emerge, would begin to arise as I was doing this visualization and speaking to my mother, I would let my attention settle with my breath and with a smile, allowing whatever would arise to arise. This is, in my experience, a way to allow the unimaginable to become imaginable and, in fact, to become possible. And if we allow ourselves to live our lives in this way, in each moment, this is the basis, in my experience, for our changing ourselves in whatever way moves us towards more wholesome, more integrated,

[31:40]

ways of being. And we can practice doing this. We can set aside a few moments or minutes each day to allow ourselves to be quiet, to let our attention settle on our breath, but with alertness, with awakeness, with some willingness to be present with whatever arises. It sounds quite simple and I think is, in fact, a very radical practice to do. We have so many ideas about how things are, and those ideas keep us from noticing what is actually in front of us.

[32:47]

We have so much attention for the past and for the future, and it takes us away from this moment. What I'm suggesting is a kind of listening which allows us to be present with the truth of things as they are, in ourselves and in the world around us. I have to laugh because I've been thinking about these things that I've been speaking of for the past week or ten days. And a couple of days ago I was in the office of an attorney who is working with me on a non-profit corporation that is in the process of going through an IRS audit.

[34:02]

Not the most delightful activity, but definitely a practice in things as they are. And as I left the office, he slipped me this clip from some newspaper, and I would like to close by reading it to you. This is a quotation from Catherine Mansfield's journal, which is recently published under the title of The Critical Writings of Catherine Mansfield. I wonder why it should be so difficult to be humble. I do not think I'm a good writer. I realize my faults better than anyone else could realize them. I know exactly where I fail. And yet when I have finished a story and before I have begun another, I catch myself preening my feathers. It is disheartening.

[35:13]

There seems to be some bad old pride in my heart, a root of it that puts out a thick shoot on the slightest provocation. This interferes very much with work. One can't be calm, clear, good as one must be while it goes on. I look at the mountains, I try to pray, and I think of something clever. It's a kind of excitement within one which shouldn't be there. Calm yourself. Clear yourself. And anything that I write in this mood will be no good. It will be full of sediment. If I were well, I would go all by myself somewhere and sit under a tree. One must learn. One must practice to forget oneself.

[36:17]

Thank you very much. © transcript Emily Beynon

[36:51]

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