Zen (Chan)

The meditation (dhyana) school originating in China that emphasizes "mind-to-mind transmission"
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    Reading Back Paid Member

    I kept a journal when I went to Japan in January of 1960 to join my husband-to-be, a Beat poet and student of Rinzai Zen living in Kyoto. I continued keeping a journal during the four years I spent there—an account of housewifely copings with an unfamiliar culture, social doings of the foreign community, experiences of practicing meditation, voices of the lineage of writing I wanted to become familiar with, and the exhausting question “Who is this self?” plus a few jokes. Reading back some thirty years later is to acquaint myself again with this somewhat brash but unsure person and to recall the beauty and severity of the practice of Rinzai Zen at Daitoku-ji, one of the greatest historical centers of Japanese Buddhism, in Kyoto. More »
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    Visible & Invisible Paid Member

    MUCH INK HAS BEEN SPILLED in recent years over the question of what con­stitutes genuine "American Bud­dhism." ls it the Buddhism of recent European­ American converts, or the generations-old tradi­tion into which many Americans of Asian ances­try were born? ls it a matter primarily of ideas or of practice? ls it meditative, devotional, or both? Must one be a member of a specific organization to be counted as a Buddhist, or should "free­lancers" be included as well? In short, are there any criteria at all for defining ''American Bud­dhism," and precisely who should be included in the picture? More »
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    The Buddha's Robe Paid Member

    I AM SEWING MY FIRST RAKUSU—the rectangular bib-like garment that is worn by Zen Buddhists. It is formally conferred during jukai, the ceremo­ny of taking refuge in the Buddha and receiving the precepts. Unlike many people I know, I have never wanted a rakusu. I do have a narrow black doth band (a wagesa) that I received during my first jukai many years ago, but I keep it folded in a comer of my drawer—my sock drawer. Some­times I feel a pang of remorse that for so long l have allowed it to lie among my socks, socks that slide along the floor and gather dust balls and the smell of sweat and leather. But the truth is that hidden among my socks there are also a few family jewels: an amber bracelet from Poland, a black onyx crucifix that belonged to Great-Aunt Maria, my mother's moonstone bracelet. More »
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    Parting Words Summer 2014 Paid Member

    Men ask the way to Cold MountainCold Mountain: there’s no through trail.In summer, ice doesn’t meltThe rising sun blurs in swirling fog.How did I make it?My heart’s not the same as yours.If your heart was like mineYou’d get it and be right here. More »
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    Roused from a Dream Paid Member

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    Reflections of the Flowerbank World Paid Member

    Detail from Unattached, Unbound, Liberated Kindness, 2013. Pencil, gouache, 22 karat gold, and gum arabic on rice paper. More »