Thanks for accepting my invitation!  You’ve asked me about my meditation practice, so I’m glad you’ve agreed to sit with me this morning and share this time together.  I feel fortunate to have your company.

 

So take a seat—yes, the chair is just fine.  I love to sit on a cushion, since I’ve been doing that for a while.  I’ve created this meditation space in a corner of my office.  On this side of the room is my altar—it’s a lovely one, made in Korea.  The Buddha here was a going-away present from the community I practiced with in San Diego.  Then there’s the plant on the left—I’ve chosen it because this corner doesn’t get much light, and this plant will grow anywhere!  On the right is my candle—the candle holder is red clay and made in Thailand.  Be careful—it does get warm as the candle burns.  There’s also the little water bowl and the incense holder in the center.

 

I’m beginning my meditation time by reciting the Verse of the Kesa as I place the still-folded rakusu on my head:  Vast is the robe of liberation, a formless field of benefaction, I wear the Tathagata’s teaching, saving all sentient beings.  Some people get nervous at that last part, but “saving all sentient beings” is from Zen, saying we commit to relieving the suffering of others; it’s not about evangelizing.  Anyway, now I’m putting on my rakasu, slipping it over my head, and I’m lighting the candle.  I’m setting my computer to www.myzendo.com, where I can pick a meditation period of time.  Once I’m on that site, I light a small stick of incense, offer it at the altar, and click on the website’s timer; the site is set to start my meditation period with three bells, and it will end the period with two—this keeps me from being distracted by watching the clock!

 

So now we sit.  First I chant a sutra in Japanese called the En Mei Jukko Kannon Gyo three times (this chant sends compassion and a wish for long life), and follow it with a dedication to the health and wellbeing of family members and friends who are suffering in one way or another.  Once I finish the chanting, I do a practice called Big Mind which helps me open up to each moment.  I watch the thoughts come and go, find myself tempted into indulging a thought here and there, and come back to the moment.  Eventually I begin to meditate with my koan, delving into the story or the lesson or the discussion of the koan, becoming the koan, allowing myself to experience everything about it.  Your presence provides a gentle source of energy, relationship, and support for my meditation period.

 

The final bells ring, and I stir on my pillow.  I look over at you and smile.  I rock back and forth on my pillow, take a deep breath and my actions come full circle:  I put out the candle, remove and put away my rakusu, fold up my sitting mat, put my sitting cushion on top of it, take a deep breath, and smile at the swaying trees outside my window.

 

We talk a bit about what I’ve done.  There’s no set format or rhythm for arranging meditation time this way.  Over the years, my meditation format has evolved.  At first, I sat on a regular pillow…then bought a sitting mat and cushion and faced the wall…then picked an old table to put in the corner with a candle…then put a photograph of a Buddha in Hawaii on the table (because I was uncomfortable with a statue of the Buddha, even though we don’t “worship” the Buddha in Zen)…and when I moved to Florida, I knew it was time for an altar, the Buddha, the plant, the candle, the water bowl, and the incense holder, a traditional Zen altar.  This arrangement not only helps me create sacred space, but it also honors my Zen communities here and in California, my Roshi, and the ancestors.  I thank them all for being present.

 

Thanks for joining me.