It's been about two and a half years since I had a personal landmark realization. I wrote about it at the time, but I don't think I made much of it because despite being a landmark personal realization, it also didn't seem to be a very big deal. Part of it was OK'ing for myself to just maintain my lazy status quo; no dramatics. Key ideas were about the conveyor belt of routine getting me from day to day, accepting that alcoholism was not going to kill me and cutting back as a result (somewhat), and "looming" as a requirement for getting on with my life and/or death.

Looking back, it indeed was a landmark realization that has conditioned the way I've been living my life and applying my Vajrayana-inspired practice, and it has been personally certifiable as transformative. There were struggles, successes, failures – all internal space, mind you. Swamped in karmic negativity, there was a lot of qualified positive that came out of it. 

Two and a half years that went by just like *that*; not unlike how many of the years prior in the past decade also went by just like *that*, basically biding my time, wasting my life by normative measures of the value of our lives. I don't regret any of it, mind you, as I'm not the regretting kind and I don't give a rat's ass about other people's standards. 

I'm quite happy not to be involved or entangled in anything, and I'm grateful beyond words that I haven't taken the path of relationships or, god forbid, marriage and family. My life has become just about keeping things simple, not getting involved, and just dealing with my own issues. My view of the way so many people live their lives is that they thrive on mess and complication and wouldn't know what to do without it to the point it's not only normal, but almost desirable because the mess and complication is so integrated to the pursuits of their desire. And then they still have to deal with their own issues amidst that tumult! Braver souls than I, indeed, but it's just my projection and most likely doesn't describe how they view their lives. Fine :p

My well-being and health aren't really considerations, they shouldn't be considerations when dying and/or suicide is the goal, although I've still found myself caught up in trying not to feel awful physically and avoiding discomfort. That's an attachment I haven't let go of. Dedicated seekers on the path have. On the other hand, feeling awful and physical discomfort is inevitable as a human being and I have employed Vajrayana-inspired practices when they occur. 

Instead of feeling miserable and accepting the feeling as miserable as fact and suffering as a result, investigating the sensation and the judgment involved in its "miserableness", its miserable nature. There's the sensation. I want to call it miserable. Do I really need to suffer because of it? Expanding Vajrayana-inspired mental "Buddha-fields" to understand this is all practice and my mental attitude is a reflection of how well I'm understanding "the result" aspect of practice. If I'm suffering and feeling I'm suffering and define it as suffering, then the result is that I'm suffering. If I experience physical misery but establish the result is that this is a natural condition of being human and how I live my life and treat my body, then a higher level of acceptance is possible and it's not so much an affliction to suffer but an understanding of the natural course of things. 

The mental stuff I've found is easier (who said that? did I just say that?). And I attribute this to years and years of sitting meditation and mindfulness practice. I don't think it's something you can just tell yourself "it's all mental" and write it off. But that might be what it looks like in describing it. Feelings of sadness, melancholy, depression, even waves of them. I get them in their gripping reality, they come up and mindfulness practice looks at them and goes, "what the hell you doing here?". 

I attribute much of this, perhaps, to insight into teachings on the enlightened nature of all things; the enlightened nature of mind, both the subjective perceiving/processing mind and the objective mind projected in what is perceived by our senses. It's taught over and over again in all schools of Buddhism that our nature is inherently enlightened to the point that it's intellectually meaningless (like many things zen), and requires a non-intellectual realization to push through its meaning (including/especially in zen). And once you do, a lot of the mental stuff doesn't make any sense treating it as what it seems like. 

We treat sadness, melancholy and depression as negative things that are undesirable, but that doesn't square with insight into the enlightened nature of reality and all things. To square it requires realizing those undesirable things are still a part of enlightened nature. It's the result-orientation of Mahamudra practice (as opposed to path-orientation of other approaches like zen, none of which are right or wrong; different tools for different people). Sadness, melancholy and depression are all enlightened expression when you don't attach to those concepts being what they seem to be. 

Great! Fine! Faboo! What about "looming"? I don't know. I don't know if I'm facing a reckoning in 2020 or if nothing's going to change despite the perpetual feeling that something has to. I've recently been taking to heart the saying "If you're going through tough times, keep going". Keep going and you will get through it. Just keep going. But then what awaits having gotten through it? The saying assumes an end of the tough times. For me, "getting through it" means being able to end all of this. And it's not end of tough times because of ending it all, it's a positive ending it all because of understanding and fulfillment.

I may be facing a financial reckoning, or looming, with just a few months into summer left of finances if I don't do anything. I got sick of those monetary injections into my bank account. I was begrudgingly willing as long as there were no problems, but the last attempted injection didn't go through, and I'm so sick of it that I'm unwilling to investigate why. If that didn't go through, there's no reason to believe any other will, so just stop. They were humiliating in themselves, but looking into why it didn't go through becomes desperation and defines desire to live. This is a terrible, horrible, insensitive analogy, but it's like I have cancer of the life and those monetary injections were the chemo keeping me alive. But I've gotten to the point I'm unwilling to go through it anymore. If the chemo isn't working, why keep going through with it? It's a terrible analogy, but it's my mindset.

I think I'll also attribute to mindfulness practice that this looming isn't sending me into a mental tailspin as it did before. May the Buddha-fields, the mandalas, be evermore encompassing.

MONDAY, APRIL 27, 11:33 p.m. - Crunch time in the page design room at the China Post. Pages 1 and 2 and 15 and 16 are the last we work on with a midnight deadline we push, but rarely make. By 11:33, the pages in between would already have been sent to press. Anna in the foreground is super-sweet and speaks fair English and is an expert page designer. The guy standing in the back is a veteran no-nonsense local news writer and is overseeing work on the local pages (15 & 16). He's actually taking some slack off my job because his work will make sure the page comes to me in pretty good shape. Much appreciated. My copy editing station is on the other side of the window where we still use DOS computers!

I'm not sure what's different now. Several weeks back at work, and I think I can manage these 2-days-at-a-time, 4-day work weeks.

We still need to hire someone else, though. This job is partly an acquired skill, but some people never quite get it. Last year we had someone who defended misspelling "surprize" in a headline by saying it was the British spelling.

Currently, we have an intern as a reserve, and I've expressed that I don't think he's competent for the job and should only be called in for emergencies. Not careful enough, not fast enough, not detail-oriented enough.

The paper, The China Post, is changing with the new boss, and I'm feeling it's appropriate to demand more professionalism at the copy desk, and letting go people who aren't quite getting it – for me, people who I'm repeatedly cleaning up after, or who I can't rely on to catch any of my mistakes.

It really helps that the new boss speaks English, unlike my old boss, who could only read journalistic English and wasn't conversational (he could patch together a sentence or two for me, and with me patching a sentence or two of Chinese for him, we got along just fine).

It's a big difference, actually. I've also noticed a lot of new faces around the local news desk who apparently speak fluent English; something I attribute to the new boss.

The old hands are still there, and their English is competent, but not fluent, and sometimes we have to get them to do an interpretive dance to figure out their meaning, and then we have to re-write to make an article make sense.

Their saving grace, though, is that they are very intelligent and know how to write news. And I'm joking about the interpretive dance, usually when I bring up a question about something that didn't make sense, out of all the articles they've worked on, they know exactly which one I'm talking about, and can usually clarify it without even looking at what they wrote, i.e., what confused me.

And now that I think of it, the vast majority of the people pulling news from the foreign newswires now are also excellent in English. Only among the layout designers do we have a range of English skills from functionally non-existent (but sweet) to very good to functionally fluent.

When I started working there, none of the designers could be said to speak English. They studied compulsory English in school and paid enough attention to be familiar enough with the alphabet to do the layout design job, but they were a pain for us to work with.

Actually, my respect for my old boss has seriously plunged. He was touted for his dedication, but his management left much to be desired.

So I'm not sure what's different now. If the conditions were the same as they were last year, I wouldn't go back. My lifestyle, one with no active positive element in it, could not maintain those conditions.

Active positive elements means either a social network, or an activity that generates meaningful positive returns. Cycling is fun, but not meaningful. The band sucked ass. My social network consists of people who always say let's do something, but then nothing ever happens.

But the decreased days help. The possible lifestyle-supporting paycheck helps (I'll know for sure next month). Quitting the band helps. The new sitting helps. I think the new sitting really helps. It may have slipped in as the key factor for recent content.

It's making a big difference finally being able to grapple with the wandering thoughts and knowing the difference between a distracted mind and one that's at a still point. I probably had still points before, but that's all they were – a point before the swirl of thoughts swept my mind off again.

Now I'm finding how "big" that still point can be. It's a teeny step, but a big teeny step, and I do take it out into daily life with me. It feels new, but it's no doubt standing on the shoulders of my efforts to date, and it helps clearing out negative thoughts and negative responses.

It is about "being in the moment", which means being focusedly aware of oneself and one's surrounding, without discursive thought(s) running through one's mind. It's funny because "being in the moment" is one of the first things a novice hears in introductions to Zen. But what I was saying, "hey, yeah, right!" to 20 years ago is completely different from what it is now. Or it may be the same, just on a different cultivated level.

Now, at that still point, that "being in the moment", reality is vivid and clear. And this is just a dip in the water. I'm at a point where if I were traveling from New York to Taipei on foot for the past 20 years, I just reached the Pacific Ocean.

TUESDAY, APRIL 21, 2:43 p.m. - Home altar.

Kaohsiung, Taiwan

Semester over, did a one-day retreat on Saturday, emailed my aunt that I was thinking of going to Kaohsiung on Sunday or Monday, got a reply from her telling me to come down on Sunday as soon as possible, because my cousin who's living in China was coming in that day with his Chinese girlfriend/potential wife.

Apparently, this was a big deal.

My uncle's apartment was crammed full of relatives craning and rubbernecking to meet and ogle the possible new addition to the family, although they will remain distant as I'm pretty sure my cousin is pretty settled on staying in China. Listening to him talk about China, it sounds like he was a mainlander for many lifetimes. It's deep within his habituated self and identity, fervent even.

Did you ever have a disagreement with someone and their stance is basically, "You know, if you would just see things from my point of view and ignore your own, you would understand."? That's what it's like talking to him about China.

I come from an international human rights background, and my criticisms are primarily against the government, but he keeps pushing for me to come to China and see what it's really like, thinking it will change my opinion.

But I have nothing against the Chinese people, and whatever I experience first-hand is not going to change my opinion about the human rights violations by the government. It's not going to make me realize that the Dalai Lama is, in fact, a separatist terrorist seeking to overthrow the government, and that the guy Yahoo! recently got thrown in jail deserved it.

And it's not going to make me start using Yahoo! again. Google isn't beyond reproach as I recall they were kow-towing and bending over backwards to censor Google usage for the Chinese people, but morally, Yahoo! are pygmies.

In his urgings to come to China, he said, "Just come and see what it's like, and don't talk to anyone about human rights or anyone involved in human rights." See? He's Chinese! In Taiwanese politics, people are divided between the blue and green camps. I'm green. My uncle's blue (for some bizarre reason not even my mother can figure out). My cousin's . . . red.

Regardless of this, he and I go way back, and our usual fruitless debates don't taint our relationship any or cause any hard feelings between us.

And I also found out that I'm past conscription age, so I just have to do a few things with my passport and I'm as good as sworn in as a citizen without having to do time in the military. I can stay here as long as I want, I don't need a work visa to work, and I don't need to be enrolled in school to stay here. I can take a leave of absence after the next term to do whatever. Basically it feels like my options have become much more wide open. What that means practically, if it's going to change anything about what I'm doing or how I feel, I have no idea. It might not even be true.

The one-day retreat was really a good experience. I hadn't done one in almost three years, and a whole day of sitting and other types of meditation was very grounding, taking me back to my Zen roots, my first spiritual language.

I've been meeting up with a woman in this meditation group for the past couple weeks for language and dharma exchange. There's no, like, chemistry between us to speak of, but in terms of practice, we're pretty par and speak very similar languages. We know what each other means, and that's pretty rare for me. Usually people don't get my meaning or I feel they're not listening to me, don't understand me, or they bore me.

Finally, I'm in Kaohsiung now and I'm feeling quite comfortable here. I feel like I've escaped from Taipei. My experience in Taipei is starting to rot. I'm very tempted to move here after this next semester. The key thing that might keep me in Taipei is if I get that drumming gig. Running through all my doubts about accepting it if offered, I realize I really shouldn't let that opportunity slip by.

The realization about what Zen does in relation to other teachings I've come across has to do with the Zen idea of "no mind". That's a poor translation and is the source of the misinterpretation that Zen seeks nihilation, emptying the mind so that there is nothing there. In that way, having an "empty mind" is not the goal, neither is achieving a state of "no mind".

The conception of the "empty mind" that results from that poor terminology of "empty mind" is impossible. There is no such thing as an empty mind. Even during sitting, we are aware of our bodies and our surroundings. These things are fact, these things are in our minds just by our beings, so just by our existence, our minds cannot be "empty".

Furthermore, by being alive, it is impossible for thoughts not to arise in our minds. That's the brain's functioning, to give rise to cognitive thought. Again, "empty mind" is not possible.

The better term for the idea is "non-clinging mind" (Teflon mind?), and that is what Zen practice trains. Thoughts arise, but we don't cling to them, we let them go.

But that's not the end of the practice. That is the practice for something else. Practicing non-clinging in our minds and thoughts is training to not cling to desires, to attachments, or to aversions. Even not cling to our lives as if they were something permanent and could be held onto by will.

Maybe I ate a particularly delicious apple fritter. Then during sitting, the memory of the apple fritter arises and I think about it. I remember how delicious it was and how satisfied I felt while eating it. Maybe I'll look forward in anticipation to the next apple fritter I eat. Or worst case scenario, I break sitting to seek the apple fritter . . .

OK, I'm back. Man, that was good fritter.

Anyway, the rise of the memory of the apple fritter could not have been prevented. It happened, it went into our memory as a strong pleasurable feeling, it would inevitably arise again. That it happens during sitting gives us the opportunity for it to arise and let it go, not cling to it. That's practice, training.

It's not that we don't enjoy the apple fritter when we eat it, but when the clinging thoughts and desire arise later, we train ourselves to not suffer from them by letting them go, using some symbolic or metaphorical visualization, such as putting the leaf back into the stream and letting it flow away.

It all seems so obvious and sophomoric when I write it out. I just enjoyed the returning to Zen and realizing that things from other schools fit in very well. For the purpose of the other philosophies, Zen is a viable tool. Maybe not for everyone, but it's a legitimate, viable tool.

WordsCharactersReading time

trying to unmuck. going into incoherent mode.

Whent to DDM's international practice session yesterday. for the first time since April. it was good because there were only three of us aside from the monk leading. prolly a good thing i missed last week when they said 10 people showed up. too many for my tastes. Will probably go again next week. no prognosis on after that. trying to open my heart but people tend to make me shut it down. you have that affect on me.

Zen is still a good tool. After wandering away from zen for a while and finding other teachings, going back to it I find it is doing what I learned in other teachings also. What I don't like is dogma such as saying zen is the most direct way. everyone says that. even the Dali Llama says that about Tibetan Buddhism. I think they're all right, I just think it's useless making such pronouncements. and not.

Even my Thai classmate. He lent me a book that I'm finding to be really good. It's of the Theravadan tradition – Thai, forest tradition, conservatively sticking to direct teachings sourced to the Buddha. It purports to get to the heart of the teachings and practice, it's all we need to know, the most basic and pure teaching. I think it's right. or not. either way I just don't care about such characterizations. just makes me think you're trying to convince me of something, yo'm sayin' homeslice?

All these people who think they know what they're talking about.

Or. no. All these people talking like they think they know me.

no.

All these people talking, and me thinking they think they know what they're talking about me.

bastards. no one knows what they're talking about.

actually, at the DDM session, I brought up my recent thoughts about service, and the monk didn't respond or say anything like he knew exactly what I was talking about and knew what to say. I appreciated that.

I read Shunryu Suzuki's Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind every once in a while. Every time I read it, it feels like I've never read it before; that I'm reading a completely different book.

I think that's the nature of reading Dharma Talks by accomplished teachers and practitioners. It's different from reading people's blog entries, purportedly expounding on the dharma. Those are mostly ego driven; that they've got something and they need to share it. Good intentioned. Past entries of my own included.

Suzuki's text is so sublime and multi-faceted that every time I read it, I get something new out of it. What I get out of it might move my practice forward a little and allows me to get a little more out of it the next time I read it.

It's brilliant, it's all there. But in my practice, I'm still piecing it together.

Yesterday I went to the Saturday international group practice session at Dharma Drum Mountain Monastery practice center in Xin Beitou. It's a 3-hour session of sitting, light exercise, walking, and discussion.

I stopped going in March or April when I started feeling my language studies were too hard to fit in the time to go. I'm hoping with my switch to non-intensive classes, I'll have the time to go.

When I first got there yesterday, I didn't want to go. Part of me wanted to bag it and head home. I was going just for the sake of going. There has been nothing resonant about this practice group – the people or the practice – I was going just because it's the only practice group I know of.

And there was nothing resonant about it yesterday, either. It was just familiar since I'd been there before and knew the routine. The coordinator (non-monastic) of the international group is a spaz, but he's good practice for me to not be annoyed. I need a lot of practice in that. I wish he'd shut up when other people are talking. Oops.

Afterwards, though, I felt that glow of feeling peaceful and relaxed, and recognized that it had done some good. As I walked down the hill, there was even a break in the clouds, and for a moment I saw the sun for the first time, literally, since Kaohsiung. That was almost two weeks ago. Taipei weather sucks monkey balls dry.

I think I will continue to try going to the Saturday sessions, even though my home solo practice has been more influenced by Tibetan stuff. Zen is still comfortable, and at the heart of the teachings, there really is no difference. I still think practitioners of either school who look down on the other school are not doing themselves any favors.

June 10, 5:52 p.m. - MRT tracks

You have no idea how close I came to declaring my intent to become a monastic aspirant. If not in so many words to the community, I was close to presenting them my full feeling from the heart that I was going to become an aspirant, not might become an aspirant, but that I was sure about it and that it was imminent.

It didn't happen. The opportunity never manifested. Almost, but no. And then the whole edifice of my being here collapsed, and now I'm picking through the rubble to see if it's just a feeling that will pass, or if the collapse is substantive. And if the collapse is substantive, does Plan A go back into effect?

The practice here might be way too advanced for me. The ideal here is to maintain mindfulness at all times. Unlike any other Zen monastery, sitting is not central to ground the practice here, and reliably happens only once a day, first thing in the morning. Evening sessions are only scheduled when a brother raises a fuss about it, and there are no periods of intensive, extensive sitting.

Furthermore, an environment conducive to mindfulness is not required or promoted. That means the monastics here are so advanced in their practice of mindfulness that they can maintain it without even a mindful environment. When mindfulness is maintained within the individual, the environment is inconsequential.

For me, that leads me to ask what the hell is the point of the monastic environment? And that's where it differs between them and me.

For them, the monastic environment exists for the community, both monastic and lay. Just this morning, one of the Dharma Teachers giving this morning's Dharma talk was talking about how people from all different backgrounds come here on Sundays to practice. He said that he hoped people didn't think of this place as a Zen Buddhist monastery, but just a place in the mountains to gather and support each other.

Touché.

We are all each others' jock straps and bras.

For me, monasticism means renunciation. A contemplative life. I don't mean asceticism. The philosophy behind this school is "engaged" Buddhism, which means we remain aware of and involved in social issues in the world and that we maintain significant interaction with the lay community. But the way it is implemented at this monastery feels to me to be just "social".

Even if the practice here is pretty laid-back and isn't into artifice like hierarchy, I think a certain solemnity should be presented on public days and when lots of guests come up. An air of contemplation and reflection should be maintained and a certain amount of discipline should be expected in regard to lay practitioners' children. They shouldn't be allowed to roam free treating the place like a playground.

Mindfulness. We use that term roughly equivalent to the Christian "holy". Our being mindful, I think, is close to their being holy – to have in mind acting under God's will and God's presence. We just don't have the external deity to worship, so it's internal. Awareness, contemplation, presence.

When lots of people come up here, I find it a struggle to maintain mindfulness. I struggle with frustration and disillusionment. I don't feel a part of the community, I don't feel supported. I don't feel like I'm at a monastery, and if I'm not at a monastery, I'd rather be somewhere else. Like . . . a monastery.

I don't know what this means for my future. This could just be a passing feeling, a learning experience that I will adjust to. If I don't join this community, I don't expect to go looking for another. If I don't join here, it's another shot at Plan A, and if I fail at Plan A as miserably as I did in June, then I don't know what. Crawl back to San Francisco and do . . . Plan C?

Deer Park Monastery, Escondido, CA

I'm pretty comfortable that I might be "monk material", but that's not important. I'm not heading towards ordination as a goal, I don't care whether I'm considered an aspirant or not. My view of my path is still the same, it just might lead to being ordained as a monk. Or it can end up being very wet.

Or it might just lead down the mountain road one day for the last time. Maybe I'd find my way back to San Francisco, Inc. Crash at friends' apartments, plumb my connections to see if I could land another job as a paralegal.

If not, anything really, any modest job would do. I would look for cheap housing. Just a room in a shared situation would be fine. Live simply, modestly, humbly. Close to a practice center so I can get to morning sitting easily enough, Lower Haight, the Castro, or the Republic of Berkeley. I would lead a semi-disciplined, reclusive lifestyle; perhaps a secular monasticism of sorts.

For starters, I wouldn't have much, just basic necessities like I had at the monastery. I'd live close to the ground in my modest living space, have basic clothes, toiletries, sleeping bag. I'd keep my hair buzzed short, failed monastic. I'd have to learn how to cook, simple vegetables, although I wouldn't consider myself vegetarian. It might look lonely, but I'd be happy. I'd be free (psst, so why don't you do it?).

The feel of my life might be something like Episode 19 of the anime, RahXephon, when Ayato leaves Tokyo Jupiter with Hiroko and they try to run away from all the confusion and insanity. They just live life simply compared to what they've found reality to be, living out of a hotel room, Ayato gets a job, and all they have is each other until the situation catches up and comes crashing down on them. It's a beautiful, melancholy episode, narrated from the point of view of Hiroko's diary.

With a job and settling in somewhere, I wouldn't be quite so ascetic, but I would buy only what I needed with a few well-defined luxuries. No rampant accumulation of stuff. I'd allow my computer, worthy DVDs, CDs, and books, but only if reading in book stores and borrowing from the library just don't cut it. One of my bikes for getting around, but no more "cycling". Probably one acoustic guitar.

I would avoid seeking out any social scene. Time spent with other people would be well-defined, but I wouldn't be anti-social. I wouldn't necessarily avoid friendships or relationships, but as the past six years have shown, my outward demeanor isn't one that has people dying to get to know me, and I wouldn't try being more socially attractive. Any social situation where I couldn't maintain mindfulness would be out.

A diary-narrated life. A dream. A fantasy. John Lennon might say it'll be just like starting over, but Modest Mouse says starting over ain't what life's about. Besides, here at the monastery is my diary-narrated life.

I don't like the term "meditation" used in reference to sitting. Zen "sitting" might be a term of art. I wonder if it's a specific thing to the Zen school that can be considered meditation, but not solely identifiable as meditation. Maybe in Tibetan Buddhism, meditation is something more specific, so the term may be appropriate.

And as I've said before, I think of Zen as only a tool for Buddhism; Zen does not equal Buddhism. Zen is learning how to hammer a nail straight into a piece of wood. Buddhism is something you can build using Zen. If you only learn and follow Zen, you're just continually hammering nails into a board.

But even this isn't right, because in ways Zen is Buddhism just fine. In some ways, it's all just looking at the same thing from different angles and perspectives. I actually don't know a whole lot about Tibetan Buddhism, and so I defer a lot in terms of respect and sophistication. And that isn't always fair to the tradition that resonates more clearly with me.

I sometimes think of Tibetan Buddhism as like a particle accelerator, where scientists can take a single atom and zip it around this circular course and control it to smash into another particle and learn about it from the ensuing collision.

Zen is more like neutrino hunting, whereby scientists take this huge vat of super pure water, so pure that it's undrinkable, line it with special sensors, and bury it deep in a mine or under water to eradicate all other sources of cosmic and terrestrial radiation. Then they wait for a chance neutrino to pass through the earth and through the vat of water, setting off the sensors. Neutrinos are notoriously hard to detect because they would be able to pass unhindered through hundreds of thousands of miles of solid lead, or something like that.