#inplace — Public Fediverse posts

#InPlace

#InPlace 61

Last day in this hut, she takes in

sun, shadow, familiar walls;

collected things seem to her

reluctant as she to leave


The farm has passed beyond her strength and will, and she turns toward town.


Though we do not preach the doctrine,
Unasked the flowers bloom in spring;
They fall and scatter,
They turn to dust.

--Ikkyu, tr. R. H. Blyth

#InPlace 61

Last day in this hut, she takes in

sun, shadow, familiar walls;

collected things seem to her

reluctant as she to leave


The farm has passed beyond her strength and will, and she turns toward town.


Though we do not preach the doctrine,
Unasked the flowers bloom in spring;
They fall and scatter,
They turn to dust.

--Ikkyu, tr. R. H. Blyth

#InPlace 60

Set up screen and altar, face the sangha,

Bow and bow again, repeating words,

Shaving (being shaved),

Becoming (being remade)


It's April 2020, the pandemic is in full swing, and this traditionally in-person-only transition from private to public nun-hood takes place by remote means. Some forty people attend. shonin's spouse handles the handing over of razor, robes and bowls.


If you have a rule, go by the rule; if you have no rule, go by the example.
-- comment on verse appended to 85th case of the Blue Cliff Record, tr. Cleary

#InPlace 60

Set up screen and altar, face the sangha,

Bow and bow again, repeating words,

Shaving (being shaved),

Becoming (being remade)


It's April 2020, the pandemic is in full swing, and this traditionally in-person-only transition from private to public nun-hood takes place by remote means. Some forty people attend. shonin's spouse handles the handing over of razor, robes and bowls.


If you have a rule, go by the rule; if you have no rule, go by the example.
-- comment on verse appended to 85th case of the Blue Cliff Record, tr. Cleary

#InPlace 59

A plague strikes; she moves to the hut

for ten days. Wheezing Heart Sutra

is hard, so just think the words

and pretend it is not thinking


In the first week of March, 2020, the farm's gate is closed on advice of the government. It turns out she has already inhaled something. Things seem a little crazy in the hospitals out there, so she elects to sit it out alone, visiting the family through the laptop's video camera. She treks to the hut with baskets of food and sets up cough-keeping. Not sufficiently aware of her precarity to be frightened, she lives slowly, cooks small meals, drinks homely teas, wonders how the little dog is doing.


Without hindrance, the mind has no fear.
--Heart Sutra

#InPlace 59

A plague strikes; she moves to the hut

for ten days. Wheezing Heart Sutra

is hard, so just think the words

and pretend it is not thinking


In the first week of March, 2020, the farm's gate is closed on advice of the government. It turns out she has already inhaled something. Things seem a little crazy in the hospitals out there, so she elects to sit it out alone, visiting the family through the laptop's video camera. She treks to the hut with baskets of food and sets up cough-keeping. Not sufficiently aware of her precarity to be frightened, she lives slowly, cooks small meals, drinks homely teas, wonders how the little dog is doing.


Without hindrance, the mind has no fear.
--Heart Sutra

#InPlace 58

Second Rohatsu in the hut, she feels

cycles of living/not living,

fallen leaves and fallen foxes

fallen snowflakes, falling rain


Sesshin, kinhin, walking meditation, twenty people shuffling gently on the laptop screen behind her; she picks up her cup in passing and pauses to count starlings. When did they begin to stay all winter?


The cries of crickets are already scarce and far between.
The trees and grass have lost their proud summer colors.
The long night often requires a new filling of my censer.
Chill on my skin forces upon me a pile of thick garments.
Let us use our diligence while we may, my gentle friends,
Time flies like an arrow and lingers not a moment for us.

--Ryokan, tr. Nobuyuki Yuasa, Zen Poems of Ryokan, 75

#InPlace 58

Second Rohatsu in the hut, she feels

cycles of living/not living,

fallen leaves and fallen foxes

fallen snowflakes, falling rain


Sesshin, kinhin, walking meditation, twenty people shuffling gently on the laptop screen behind her; she picks up her cup in passing and pauses to count starlings. When did they begin to stay all winter?


The cries of crickets are already scarce and far between.
The trees and grass have lost their proud summer colors.
The long night often requires a new filling of my censer.
Chill on my skin forces upon me a pile of thick garments.
Let us use our diligence while we may, my gentle friends,
Time flies like an arrow and lingers not a moment for us.

--Ryokan, tr. Nobuyuki Yuasa, Zen Poems of Ryokan, 75

#InPlace 57

She chases light with her cot and desk

in winter, looking south,

in summer, looking north.

in the morning, sun. At night, stars


With the large windows, which she had retrieved from a salvage pile, she finds company in sunbeams, songbirds, even a passing fox. At night, lying on her cot, she discovers the Milky Way entangled in bare twigs and branches. What is there to discuss about koans that is not like arguing over the color of the sky?


Out of the way, I don’t seek the carriages of the eminent.
At dawn pear-blossom rain splashes my secluded window,
At dusk I borrow fragments of stars to mend broken tiles.
-- Wang Duanshu (1621–ca. 1680), tr. Zong-Qi Cai

#InPlace 57

She chases light with her cot and desk

in winter, looking south,

in summer, looking north.

in the morning, sun. At night, stars


With the large windows, which she had retrieved from a salvage pile, she finds company in sunbeams, songbirds, even a passing fox. At night, lying on her cot, she discovers the Milky Way entangled in bare twigs and branches. What is there to discuss about koans that is not like arguing over the color of the sky?


Out of the way, I don’t seek the carriages of the eminent.
At dawn pear-blossom rain splashes my secluded window,
At dusk I borrow fragments of stars to mend broken tiles.
-- Wang Duanshu (1621–ca. 1680), tr. Zong-Qi Cai

#InPlace 56

Bright windows prove helpful

old eyes look for needle's next

plunge. Where will it come out?

Every time, it seems to surprise


Her teacher tells her she is a nun. She begins sewing a black robe. It's too hot for that, so she pokes a hole in the wall, to run a fan. For a break, she sits in the shade of the cottonwoods, sipping switchel. Quail run across her legs, one by one.


Let go of emptiness and come back to the brambly forest.
Riding backward on the ox, drunken and singing;
Who could dislike the misty rain
pattering on your bamboo raincoat and hat?
In empty space you cannot stick a needle.

-- attr. Dongshan Liangje, The Five Ranks tr. Leighton in
Cultivating the Empty Field, 77

#InPlace 56

Bright windows prove helpful

old eyes look for needle's next

plunge. Where will it come out?

Every time, it seems to surprise


Her teacher tells her she is a nun. She begins sewing a black robe. It's too hot for that, so she pokes a hole in the wall, to run a fan. For a break, she sits in the shade of the cottonwoods, sipping switchel. Quail run across her legs, one by one.


Let go of emptiness and come back to the brambly forest.
Riding backward on the ox, drunken and singing;
Who could dislike the misty rain
pattering on your bamboo raincoat and hat?
In empty space you cannot stick a needle.

-- attr. Dongshan Liangje, The Five Ranks tr. Leighton in
Cultivating the Empty Field, 77

#InPlace 55

The old woman adopts

technology in the hermitary

and prepares to sit zazen

with people from everywhere


This image is from 2019, with no pandemic in sight. She discovers an online sangha and becomes involved, supplementing her local participation and broadening her considerably limited experience.


Each moment of zazen is equally wholeness of practice, equally wholeness of realization for this and for that. This is not only practised while sitting, it is like a hammer striking emptiness; before and after, its ringing pervades everywhere. How can it be limited to a place?

-- Dogen, Bendowa tr. Hoshin and Dainen

#InPlace 55

The old woman adopts

technology in the hermitary

and prepares to sit zazen

with people from everywhere


This image is from 2019, with no pandemic in sight. She discovers an online sangha and becomes involved, supplementing her local participation and broadening her considerably limited experience.


Each moment of zazen is equally wholeness of practice, equally wholeness of realization for this and for that. This is not only practised while sitting, it is like a hammer striking emptiness; before and after, its ringing pervades everywhere. How can it be limited to a place?

-- Dogen, Bendowa tr. Hoshin and Dainen

#InPlace 54

After snow, deluge.

The hut travels a bit

toward the creek, expounding

the first noble truth


Awakening to find trees and fences down, the old woman instinctively checks her pulse, as if to discover how many beats remain. When we are told we are one with the universe, we nod in agreement, but also tend to grab something and hold on.


Of all the waters in the world
The Ocean is greatest.
All the rivers pour into it
Day and night;
It is never filled.

--Chuang-Tzu, tr. Thomas Merton

#InPlace 54

After snow, deluge.

The hut travels a bit

toward the creek, expounding

the first noble truth


Awakening to find trees and fences down, the old woman instinctively checks her pulse, as if to discover how many beats remain. When we are told we are one with the universe, we nod in agreement, but also tend to grab something and hold on.


Of all the waters in the world
The Ocean is greatest.
All the rivers pour into it
Day and night;
It is never filled.

--Chuang-Tzu, tr. Thomas Merton

#InPlace 53

Tramping through unexpected drifts

she finds the hut even more silent

trees fold into themselves

road noises vanish, birds hunker down


Delighting in the quietude, though she finds even the interior of the hut bright enough to make her squint. The old woman makes tea and gazes in wonder at the distant hills. "It's like New Hampshire," she thinks, never having been to New Hampshire. The distant hills remain themselves.


When Layman P'ang took leave of Yao Shan, Shan ordered ten Ch'an travellers to escort him to the gate. The Layman pointed to the snow in the air and said, "Good snowflakes­; they don't fall in any other place." -- Blue Cliff Record, tr. Thomas Cleary and J. C. Cleary

#InPlace 53

Tramping through unexpected drifts

she finds the hut even more silent

trees fold into themselves

road noises vanish, birds hunker down


Delighting in the quietude, though she finds even the interior of the hut bright enough to make her squint. The old woman makes tea and gazes in wonder at the distant hills. "It's like New Hampshire," she thinks, never having been to New Hampshire. The distant hills remain themselves.


When Layman P'ang took leave of Yao Shan, Shan ordered ten Ch'an travellers to escort him to the gate. The Layman pointed to the snow in the air and said, "Good snowflakes­; they don't fall in any other place." -- Blue Cliff Record, tr. Thomas Cleary and J. C. Cleary

#InPlace 52

Han Shan was not young

his ability to scale slick cliffs

in rainy winter stuns her; what

does falling down on her pasture path mean


She sits by her space heater in the hut reading of Han Shan's adventures in a thin robe high in the mountains year round and shivers at the thought. Just getting back to the house after an evening's introspection will be enough adventure for her old bones. Is there anything left in her flashlight's batteries, she wonders. The bridge! That rushing high water! Thus the exurbs become wilderness.


Down to the stream to watch the jade flow
or back to the cliff to sit on a boulder
my mind like a cloud remains unattached
what do I need in the faraway world

--Cold Mountain (Han Shan) tr. Red Pine

#InPlace 52

Han Shan was not young

his ability to scale slick cliffs

in rainy winter stuns her; what

does falling down on her pasture path mean


She sits by her space heater in the hut reading of Han Shan's adventures in a thin robe high in the mountains year round and shivers at the thought. Just getting back to the house after an evening's introspection will be enough adventure for her old bones. Is there anything left in her flashlight's batteries, she wonders. The bridge! That rushing high water! Thus the exurbs become wilderness.


Down to the stream to watch the jade flow
or back to the cliff to sit on a boulder
my mind like a cloud remains unattached
what do I need in the faraway world

--Cold Mountain (Han Shan) tr. Red Pine

#InPlace 51

Home-dyed blue muslin and cranberry thread

stubby fingers advance a millimeter

something something Shakyamuni

eyes cloud over, hands shake


Promising, with thin fabric, to make promises to herself, she takes up the unaccustomed needle. Sew a straight line to represent walking a straight path.


Though there is no space even for needle to enter,
Yet it controls all the mountain peaks around.
It is not unusual for a tiny particle to contain the whole world.
Mt Sumeru enters into a mustard seed and becomes one with it.
-- Songs of Preceptor Naong (1320–1376) tr. Whitfield and Park

#InPlace 51

Home-dyed blue muslin and cranberry thread

stubby fingers advance a millimeter

something something Shakyamuni

eyes cloud over, hands shake


Promising, with thin fabric, to make promises to herself, she takes up the unaccustomed needle. Sew a straight line to represent walking a straight path.


Though there is no space even for needle to enter,
Yet it controls all the mountain peaks around.
It is not unusual for a tiny particle to contain the whole world.
Mt Sumeru enters into a mustard seed and becomes one with it.
-- Songs of Preceptor Naong (1320–1376) tr. Whitfield and Park

#InPlace 50

Quietly hazel roots explore duff

twitching past rotting cottonwood

to sip snowmelt rushing past.

old brain trustingly mimics hazel


With the little dog, she investigates the nearby river. Water flows over stones, never the same water twice, but also never the same stones twice. A hazel tree attends hazel-ness. An osprey hammers the water surface and carries away surprised protein.


Fish and dragons live in the water without being aware
And they move around with the currents and the waves.
Since from the beginning they never left it, they neither gain nor lose,
If there were no delusions, then whence might enlightenment come?

-- Collected Poems of Muuija (1178–1234) tr. Whitfield and Park

#InPlace 50

Quietly hazel roots explore duff

twitching past rotting cottonwood

to sip snowmelt rushing past.

old brain trustingly mimics hazel


With the little dog, she investigates the nearby river. Water flows over stones, never the same water twice, but also never the same stones twice. A hazel tree attends hazel-ness. An osprey hammers the water surface and carries away surprised protein.


Fish and dragons live in the water without being aware
And they move around with the currents and the waves.
Since from the beginning they never left it, they neither gain nor lose,
If there were no delusions, then whence might enlightenment come?

-- Collected Poems of Muuija (1178–1234) tr. Whitfield and Park

#InPlace 49

Once a month long drive

to zazenkai, otherwise

every day no other sound

than wind, or rain, or creek


The old woman's sangha meets monthly (2013-2020) at a rural home an hour's drive from her farm, to spend the day in group practice. She's torn between her habitual hut routine and the notion that Buddhism requires company -- what even are precepts for in the middle of nowhere, alone? But every beloved poem by Han Shan, or Stonehouse, or Ryokan convinces her she's doing real work. As does the rain, as does the moon behind clouds.


Movement isn’t right and stillness is wrong
and the realm of no-thought is confusion
instead the Patriarch didn’t have no-mind in mind
any thought at all means trouble
a hut facing south isn’t so cold
chrysanthemums along a fence perfume the dusk
as soon as drifting clouds start to linger
the wind blows them past the vines

-- Stonehouse (Shiwu) tr. Red Pine

#InPlace 49

Once a month long drive

to zazenkai, otherwise

every day no other sound

than wind, or rain, or creek


The old woman's sangha meets monthly (2013-2020) at a rural home an hour's drive from her farm, to spend the day in group practice. She's torn between her habitual hut routine and the notion that Buddhism requires company -- what even are precepts for in the middle of nowhere, alone? But every beloved poem by Han Shan, or Stonehouse, or Ryokan convinces her she's doing real work. As does the rain, as does the moon behind clouds.


Movement isn’t right and stillness is wrong
and the realm of no-thought is confusion
instead the Patriarch didn’t have no-mind in mind
any thought at all means trouble
a hut facing south isn’t so cold
chrysanthemums along a fence perfume the dusk
as soon as drifting clouds start to linger
the wind blows them past the vines

-- Stonehouse (Shiwu) tr. Red Pine

#InPlace 48

Mornings roll past, putting shadows

in motion. Darkness caresses each

object; each object caresses light.

Old woman's eyes adjust


One of her children, long grown, has left behind a celebratory birth quilt; she spreads it as an altar cloth. In a shallow raku dish she places maple seeds. Moving them from one dish to another, she offers them as "incense;" a mouse accepts the offering. Shadows of ash and cottonwood chase one another as yet another day, amazingly, for no reason she can discern, brightens.


Absolute truth is emptiness of all dharmas,
Hence there is no reason to be obsessed with things.

-- Collected Sayings of Preceptor Baegun (1299–1375) tr. Whitfield and Park

#InPlace 48

Mornings roll past, putting shadows

in motion. Darkness caresses each

object; each object caresses light.

Old woman's eyes adjust


One of her children, long grown, has left behind a celebratory birth quilt; she spreads it as an altar cloth. In a shallow raku dish she places maple seeds. Moving them from one dish to another, she offers them as "incense;" a mouse accepts the offering. Shadows of ash and cottonwood chase one another as yet another day, amazingly, for no reason she can discern, brightens.


Absolute truth is emptiness of all dharmas,
Hence there is no reason to be obsessed with things.

-- Collected Sayings of Preceptor Baegun (1299–1375) tr. Whitfield and Park

#InPlace 47

In late summer this work began;

in another summer she brings pears

and apples to sit and pare

while watching sun go down


It could be objected that the old woman having a retirement income is hypocritical in presenting the half-hermit life as if it were a thing. Her response is that she's suspended by her obligations between the way of a householder and the way of a hermit. Yet there can be value in reflection wherever one is.

[In the first version of this series, this was the closing verse. But in the most current blog version, there are a few more entries.]


Do not look back on the past, nor anticipate the future, but take whatever is brought forth by the present and endeavor to dispose of it as best you can.
—Hung Ying Ming, Discourses on Vegetable Roots (tr. Isobe)

#InPlace 47

In late summer this work began;

in another summer she brings pears

and apples to sit and pare

while watching sun go down


It could be objected that the old woman having a retirement income is hypocritical in presenting the half-hermit life as if it were a thing. Her response is that she's suspended by her obligations between the way of a householder and the way of a hermit. Yet there can be value in reflection wherever one is.

[In the first version of this series, this was the closing verse. But in the most current blog version, there are a few more entries.]


Do not look back on the past, nor anticipate the future, but take whatever is brought forth by the present and endeavor to dispose of it as best you can.
—Hung Ying Ming, Discourses on Vegetable Roots (tr. Isobe)

#InPlace 46

In spring, dandelion and nettle tea,

in summer, mint and blackberry tea,

in fall, chicory and mulberry tea,

in winter, fir and dried vegetable leaf tea


She sees that with the cultivation of a little knowledge, one understands the earth is inclined toward generosity. She reciprocates by treading lightly -- has gardened without chemicals for fifty years, and, to the extent possible for her, used hand tools. She knows she has not been as faithful to these principles as she could have, and that this has not dented the world's problems, but when she goes from garden to zazen, seldom feels that nagging sense of something left unaddressed. It is in the present moment, and only there, that there can be this simplicity.


Sacred refers to that which helps take us (not only human beings) out of our little selves into the whole mountains-and-rivers mandala universe.
--Gary Snyder, The Practice of the Wild 94

#InPlace 46

In spring, dandelion and nettle tea,

in summer, mint and blackberry tea,

in fall, chicory and mulberry tea,

in winter, fir and dried vegetable leaf tea


She sees that with the cultivation of a little knowledge, one understands the earth is inclined toward generosity. She reciprocates by treading lightly -- has gardened without chemicals for fifty years, and, to the extent possible for her, used hand tools. She knows she has not been as faithful to these principles as she could have, and that this has not dented the world's problems, but when she goes from garden to zazen, seldom feels that nagging sense of something left unaddressed. It is in the present moment, and only there, that there can be this simplicity.


Sacred refers to that which helps take us (not only human beings) out of our little selves into the whole mountains-and-rivers mandala universe.
--Gary Snyder, The Practice of the Wild 94

#InPlace 45

Food and drink, free for the labor,

are the proper business

of humans; she strives to make

gratitude her main possession


She grows more vegetables than she needs and puts herself in a position to give some away, thus paying her debt of gratitude.


The Buddhist path itself is understood as something that brings gratitude and joy.
-- Paula Arai, Women Living Zen 151

#InPlace 45

Food and drink, free for the labor,

are the proper business

of humans; she strives to make

gratitude her main possession


She grows more vegetables than she needs and puts herself in a position to give some away, thus paying her debt of gratitude.


The Buddhist path itself is understood as something that brings gratitude and joy.
-- Paula Arai, Women Living Zen 151

#InPlace 44

Plant vegetables; this provides

exercise and sharpens observation

as well as making food and tea

available to you and others


We cultivate ourselves indoors and we cultivate ourselves outdoors, hoe in hand.

A couple of beds inside the fence, of kale, chard and potatoes mostly, keep the old woman busy in her tiny kitchen. As she waters the garden, small birds dart through the spray to catch a drop.


We empty our minds in the hall for creating buddhas, where some naturally open their flower of awakening in this monastic garden in the hills.
-- Hongzhi, quoted by Dogen in Eihei Koroku, 250 (tr. Leighton and Okamura)

#InPlace 44

Plant vegetables; this provides

exercise and sharpens observation

as well as making food and tea

available to you and others


We cultivate ourselves indoors and we cultivate ourselves outdoors, hoe in hand.

A couple of beds inside the fence, of kale, chard and potatoes mostly, keep the old woman busy in her tiny kitchen. As she waters the garden, small birds dart through the spray to catch a drop.


We empty our minds in the hall for creating buddhas, where some naturally open their flower of awakening in this monastic garden in the hills.
-- Hongzhi, quoted by Dogen in Eihei Koroku, 250 (tr. Leighton and Okamura)

#InPlace 43

Inspired by her stairs,

the old woman undertakes

to clear more stream bed;

instant rock garden


Between the stones she has tucked comfrey, mint, and mosses. In drought, she waters the stones, hopefully keeping this “garden” alive till winter.


Plans and events seldom agree
Who can step back doesn't worry
We blossom and fade like flowers
We gather and part like clouds
—Shiwu (Stonehouse, tr. Red Pine)

#InPlace 43

Inspired by her stairs,

the old woman undertakes

to clear more stream bed;

instant rock garden


Between the stones she has tucked comfrey, mint, and mosses. In drought, she waters the stones, hopefully keeping this “garden” alive till winter.


Plans and events seldom agree
Who can step back doesn't worry
We blossom and fade like flowers
We gather and part like clouds
—Shiwu (Stonehouse, tr. Red Pine)

#InPlace 42

In summer she, grunting, hauls

large stones from dry wash

up to hut to make steps

for those who keep to a path


She had no idea she could move anything so heavy. Samu (work meditation) with appropriate sweat.


Back by the stone bridge, mind returns.
Where now the things that troubled me?
— Han Shan (tr. Red Pine)

#InPlace 42

In summer she, grunting, hauls

large stones from dry wash

up to hut to make steps

for those who keep to a path


She had no idea she could move anything so heavy. Samu (work meditation) with appropriate sweat.


Back by the stone bridge, mind returns.
Where now the things that troubled me?
— Han Shan (tr. Red Pine)

#InPlace 41

Year round, here, she can make

yard tea; always something green:

fir needles, blackberry leaves, nettles --

easier in high summer


Hiding from the westering sun, she hangs shades from the eaves.


Yunyan was boiling some tea.
Daowu asked who he was making it for.
Yunyan answered, "nobody special."

-- Soto Zen Ancestors in China, Mitchell, 72.

#InPlace 41

Year round, here, she can make

yard tea; always something green:

fir needles, blackberry leaves, nettles --

easier in high summer


Hiding from the westering sun, she hangs shades from the eaves.


Yunyan was boiling some tea.
Daowu asked who he was making it for.
Yunyan answered, "nobody special."

-- Soto Zen Ancestors in China, Mitchell, 72.

#InPlace 40

Horses and bison tread

past her south window at dawn;

she pulls back the east shade.

how many days without sun?


The few mornings the old woman has awakened at the hut instead of the farmhouse have been notable for a certain quiet sublimity, especially in winter, with the small creek roaring nearby. One could say that in the exurbs one can experience something of what Chinese hermits go to remote mountains for, but then, one should be able to practice anywhere without making distinctions, yes?


By blue waters, in green hills are places to stroll quietly; near valleys, under trees are places for clearing the mind. Beholding impermanence, do not ignore it, for it encourages the mind to search the Way.
-- Keizan, "Instructions on How to Do Pure Meditation" (tr. Nearman)

#InPlace 40

Horses and bison tread

past her south window at dawn;

she pulls back the east shade.

how many days without sun?


The few mornings the old woman has awakened at the hut instead of the farmhouse have been notable for a certain quiet sublimity, especially in winter, with the small creek roaring nearby. One could say that in the exurbs one can experience something of what Chinese hermits go to remote mountains for, but then, one should be able to practice anywhere without making distinctions, yes?


By blue waters, in green hills are places to stroll quietly; near valleys, under trees are places for clearing the mind. Beholding impermanence, do not ignore it, for it encourages the mind to search the Way.
-- Keizan, "Instructions on How to Do Pure Meditation" (tr. Nearman)

#InPlace 39

She has worn a path

deep enough to feel her way

with feet on glassed grasses:

ice on gate awakens her


In frost, the path is reliable, but in rain, its heavy clay slickens. She carries small flat stones, and when her foot slides, she drops one in that spot and tamps it in with her heel: slowly a cobblestone way is established.

All night, a gentle rain fills the darkness outside
My long years of hard travel are over at last
-- Ryokan in Great Fool: Zen Master Ryōkan: Poems, Letters, and Other Writings 140 (Abé and Haskell, tr.)

#InPlace 39

She has worn a path

deep enough to feel her way

with feet on glassed grasses:

ice on gate awakens her


In frost, the path is reliable, but in rain, its heavy clay slickens. She carries small flat stones, and when her foot slides, she drops one in that spot and tamps it in with her heel: slowly a cobblestone way is established.

All night, a gentle rain fills the darkness outside
My long years of hard travel are over at last
-- Ryokan in Great Fool: Zen Master Ryōkan: Poems, Letters, and Other Writings 140 (Abé and Haskell, tr.)

#InPlace 38

She stays some nights by

lamplight studying or in

bed watching cold moon

stray among still branches


The solitude of the hut's location is brought to her full attention when she realizes how long the walk-in would be in darkness and rainy or icy conditions. "Should I get up and check my flashlight batteries again?" she wonders, pulling the blanket up to her chin.


I don't let white clouds leave the valley lightly
I escort the moon as far as my closed gate
--Han-shan Te-ch'ing in The Clouds Should Know Me By Now 120 (tr. Red Pine)

#InPlace 38

She stays some nights by

lamplight studying or in

bed watching cold moon

stray among still branches


The solitude of the hut's location is brought to her full attention when she realizes how long the walk-in would be in darkness and rainy or icy conditions. "Should I get up and check my flashlight batteries again?" she wonders, pulling the blanket up to her chin.


I don't let white clouds leave the valley lightly
I escort the moon as far as my closed gate
--Han-shan Te-ch'ing in The Clouds Should Know Me By Now 120 (tr. Red Pine)

#InPlace 37

Bison have moved south

across the snow to accept

farmers' delivered hay;

no geese fly, no starlings chat


The hut’s large windows permit close observation of the life cycles of one’s plant and animal neighbors. One comes to realize there is no separation.


If we think, “I am here and the mountain is over there,” that is a dualistic way of observing things.
--Shunryu Suzuki, Branching Streams Flow in the Darkness 28.

#InPlace 37

Bison have moved south

across the snow to accept

farmers' delivered hay;

no geese fly, no starlings chat


The hut’s large windows permit close observation of the life cycles of one’s plant and animal neighbors. One comes to realize there is no separation.


If we think, “I am here and the mountain is over there,” that is a dualistic way of observing things.
--Shunryu Suzuki, Branching Streams Flow in the Darkness 28.

#InPlace 36

Atop her desk, "one who listens

to the cries of the world" rests

in emptiness, yet serves to salve

inner and outer wounds


A friend donated a statuette of Avalokiteshvara, or Guanyin (Jp. Kannon), the bodhisattva who “hears the cries of the world.” It’s evidently a mass market porcelain copy of a great (2m height) wooden Song Dynasty Guanyin currently on display in the National Museum of China, Beijing. The pose is Royal Ease, and Guanyin appears to be teaching while holding a lotus-flower wish-fulfillment jewel. (Guanyin is missing a few fingers. I take this to mean that sacrifice is a matter of course when dispensing unreserved compassion.) Above the statuette on the wall there is a framed copy of the Heart Sutra; to the left there is a framed enso or empty circle from one of the series of the “Ten Ox-Herding Pictures (Ox and Ox-Herd Both Gone Out of Sight)." To the right is a framed photograph of the memorial statue of Mugai Nyodai (1223-1298), first abbess in Japanese Zen, who is said to have *burned her face with a hot iron* in order to be accepted to live and study among male monks.


With nothing to attain, a bodhisattva relies on prajnaparamita 🔔 , and thus the mind is without hindrance. Without hindrance, there is no fear.
-- Avalokiteshvara in the Heart Sutra.

#InPlace 36

Atop her desk, "one who listens

to the cries of the world" rests

in emptiness, yet serves to salve

inner and outer wounds


A friend donated a statuette of Avalokiteshvara, or Guanyin (Jp. Kannon), the bodhisattva who “hears the cries of the world.” It’s evidently a mass market porcelain copy of a great (2m height) wooden Song Dynasty Guanyin currently on display in the National Museum of China, Beijing. The pose is Royal Ease, and Guanyin appears to be teaching while holding a lotus-flower wish-fulfillment jewel. (Guanyin is missing a few fingers. I take this to mean that sacrifice is a matter of course when dispensing unreserved compassion.) Above the statuette on the wall there is a framed copy of the Heart Sutra; to the left there is a framed enso or empty circle from one of the series of the “Ten Ox-Herding Pictures (Ox and Ox-Herd Both Gone Out of Sight)." To the right is a framed photograph of the memorial statue of Mugai Nyodai (1223-1298), first abbess in Japanese Zen, who is said to have *burned her face with a hot iron* in order to be accepted to live and study among male monks.


With nothing to attain, a bodhisattva relies on prajnaparamita 🔔 , and thus the mind is without hindrance. Without hindrance, there is no fear.
-- Avalokiteshvara in the Heart Sutra.

#InPlace 35

Sun slants across the room

differently each day; sometimes her

young friend (who points to the earth) shines

but sometimes darkness holds him


Sun strikes the young man on the altar mostly in winter. At the height of summer he reposes in shade. There is no hindrance; light and its absence require each other to make one universe.


In darkest night it is perfectly clear; in the light of dawn it is hidden.
It is a standard for all things; its use removes all suffering.
Although it is not constructed, it is not beyond words.
Like facing a precious mirror; form and reflection behold each other.

-- Dongshan, "Song of the Precious Mirror Samadhi" in Taishō shinshū daizōkyō (1924-33) reprinted in Hongzhi, Cultivating the Empty Field, 2000, tr. Leighton and Yi Wu

#InPlace 35

Sun slants across the room

differently each day; sometimes her

young friend (who points to the earth) shines

but sometimes darkness holds him


Sun strikes the young man on the altar mostly in winter. At the height of summer he reposes in shade. There is no hindrance; light and its absence require each other to make one universe.


In darkest night it is perfectly clear; in the light of dawn it is hidden.
It is a standard for all things; its use removes all suffering.
Although it is not constructed, it is not beyond words.
Like facing a precious mirror; form and reflection behold each other.

-- Dongshan, "Song of the Precious Mirror Samadhi" in Taishō shinshū daizōkyō (1924-33) reprinted in Hongzhi, Cultivating the Empty Field, 2000, tr. Leighton and Yi Wu

#InPlace 34

The waterfall that runs in Autumn

runs, fills hut with white noise;

to air dark corners, old woman

slides a window open -- bang!


The waterfall’s music begins usually in late October or early November and in late May or early June it stops; though in 1993 it ran all year.


So many years spent idly contemplating
The immense white layer on the mountains;
This winter, all of a sudden,
I see it for the first time as a snow-mountain.

-- Dogen (tr. Stephen Heine)

#InPlace 34

The waterfall that runs in Autumn

runs, fills hut with white noise;

to air dark corners, old woman

slides a window open -- bang!


The waterfall’s music begins usually in late October or early November and in late May or early June it stops; though in 1993 it ran all year.


So many years spent idly contemplating
The immense white layer on the mountains;
This winter, all of a sudden,
I see it for the first time as a snow-mountain.

-- Dogen (tr. Stephen Heine)

#InPlace 33

Snow seals heat within;

she steams white rice,

tea and veg to have with

scenes of falling white


The snow helps dampen road noise from nearby civilization. She sits, then gets up to muck about. Before long, thoughts creep in that leave her feeling defeated. "If in sitting one finds no distinctions, where do all these distinctions come from to crowd in as soon as I rise to pour tea?"


Snow besieges my plank door I crowd the stove at night
although this form exists it seems as if it doesn't
I have no idea where the months have gone
every time I turn around another year on earth is over

-- Han-Shan Te-Ching (tr. Red Pine)

#InPlace 33

Snow seals heat within;

she steams white rice,

tea and veg to have with

scenes of falling white


The snow helps dampen road noise from nearby civilization. She sits, then gets up to muck about. Before long, thoughts creep in that leave her feeling defeated. "If in sitting one finds no distinctions, where do all these distinctions come from to crowd in as soon as I rise to pour tea?"


Snow besieges my plank door I crowd the stove at night
although this form exists it seems as if it doesn't
I have no idea where the months have gone
every time I turn around another year on earth is over

-- Han-Shan Te-Ching (tr. Red Pine)

#InPlace 32

In a snow year, break trail

to brew tea and read,

or make nine bows as incense

drifts toward drafty walls


A hat, gloves and coat make a fine robe for morning service.


One who is drinking water knows well enough if it is cold or warm.
-- Huang Po (after Blofeld, tr.)