Tuesday, September 17, 2019

After the 7am Monday morning zazen we came out to experience the rain. September rain, puddles, wet clothes, smiles.

For years I sat zazen at the old house zendo in Santa Cruz.  Sat all day watching ants run along the edge of the base boards, colliding and restarting their runs.  The floor tilted.  Hearing voices and words as people walked on the sidewalk in front of the zendo.  The rustle and breathing of people in the room. The bells of the clock tower, the smells of cooking from the kitchen. And the liberating zazen bell that let me stand up and walk. The Zen Center has improved and changed and yet the old images stay with me.

I continue to read slowly LATE MIGRATIONS.