#noelle oxenhandler

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

©Arthur Rothstein

* * * *

The most important thing is to keep working for the world we long for, even when the odds seem overwhelming. After all, isn’t this the essence of the bodhisattva’s vow that many of us have recited again and again? All beings are numberless, I vow to save them. —Noelle Oxenhandler, “With Eyes in All Directions” [Thanks Candace Chellew]

[via alive on all channels]

[tasteforrot]

“It’s not God I want, it’s someone in skin!” a child once cried out to his mother.  With an almost unbearable honesty, he expressed the extravagant—and even sacrilegious—nature of parent-child love.  “Thou shalt have no other gods before me,” God boomed in the desert.  But parents and children do have a way of filling the universe with each other.

[eelhound]

"To put it bluntly: I don’t want anything around my neck. I balk at feeling encumbered. Yet I know that the very origin of the word religion carries the meaning of tying back and that the words yoga and yoke are etymologically linked. I accept the need for forms, remembering too well the pain of being pathless. Indeed, though it’s been more than twenty years since a young monk from Thailand first showed me how to sit cross­ legged on a cushion, I still sometimes — in the midst of bowing or chanting — have to blink back tears of relief...

There is a point at which these feelings of unease sink much deeper; howev­er, approaching the level of dynamic question. Why, if in practicing the Buddha Way we seek to discover the oneness of all beings, should we differentiate our­selves in outward appearance? Why, if our own true nature is formless, unborn, and undying, should we express this through limited form? If our practice is that of seeing into — and becoming one with — the unconditioned, then why do we act conditionally, responding to a particular circumstance in a particular way, ris­ing to put on our priest’s robe at the sound of a bell?

It is here, in asking these questions, that the act of putting on the Buddha’s robe takes on another dimension. Now it is something far more than a signifi­cant moment of transition, a passage between one way of life and another. For now, at the deepest level, it is the practice of asking the question 'How does the Buddha manifest in this world?'

Now we can understand why the Buddha’s robe is, as a symbolic object, so highly charged — appearing in numerous legends, teaching stories, and koans. For it is a particular thing that we put on in a particular way to announce our commitment to that which is beyond all particular determination: no color, sound, smell, taste, touch. It thus embodies one of the most fundamental ques­tions in Buddhism: the mystery of the relationship between relative and absolute.

It also embodies another central question: that of our relationship to the lineage. In putting on the Buddha’s robe, we announce that we are followers of the Buddha — and of all the buddhas before and after him — but what does this mean?

It is this question that, more than any other, is at the root of Dogen’s words on the kasaya. At first this may be hard to see, for much of what he says is meticulously — even fanatically — detailed. For example:

The unfolded kasaya should be put in a clean wooden tub. Then, adding fragrant boiling hot water, let it soak for approximately two hours. Then, hold it with both hands, being careful not to crumple it up or tram­ple on it. Continue washing the kasaya until all the dirt and grease have been removed. When this has been done, rinse the kasaya in cold water containing incense of aloes or beadwood, and so on. After having dried it thoroughly on a clean rod, fold it and put it in an elevated place. Then burning incense and scattering flower petals, walk clockwise around it sev­eral times, prostrating yourself before it three, six, or nine times.

Illustration by Lois Long.

In fact, Dogen moves seamlessly between the literal, devotional, and magi­cal aspects of the kasaya. For him these aspects are inseparable, all of them converging in the awesome phenomenon of transmission. After giving detailed advice as to how to sew, wash, dry, fold, and put on the kasaya, he can in the next breath declare, 'When you put on the kasaya, it is the same as when a prince ascends the throne.' Understood in this light, to put on — to really put on the kasaya is to throw one’s life into asking the question 'How does Buddha become Buddha?'"

- Noelle Oxenhandler, from "The Buddha's Robe"

[joiedevivrephilosophy]

Realizing one is simply part of the machinery, or the music, of the universe, with its resonating structure of wave patterns: this one giving rise to this one, giving rise to this one...to hear this music, piercing as it is, restores a measure of order in the havoc of pain.

Noelle Oxenhandler, “A Streetcar in Your Stomach”

[joiedevivrephilosophy]

This is who and what we are: constellations of matter, vulnerable, impermanent, and—for moments? for lifetimes?—illumined by the miracle of awareness. Whether fleeting or eternal, it’s a miracle that we must never take for granted.

Noelle Oxenhandler, "Awake and Demented"

[dk-thrive]

Humility: the word contains the same root as the word humus, which refers to soil, earth, the ground

Humility: the word contains the same root as the word humus, which refers to soil, earth, the ground. It is also linked to the word human, for we are earthlings, we are creatures whose feet touch the ground.

~Noelle Oxenhandler

[rainbowtwo]

To Drink a Glass of Water

‘Once, long ago, in the midst of a zen retreat, I stood in a darkened hallway and drank a glass of water.

That’s a lie.

The truth is: I stood in a darkened hallway and discovered that I couldn’t even drink a glass of water! Of course, I could lift the glass, open my mouth, and swallow the water. But I couldn’t perform this simple activity simply, wholly - with each gulp, my mind splintered into myriad thoughts of past and future, each one of them bearing its weight of self-consciousness, its little tag marked me, me, me.

For years thereafter, if anyone had asked me, “Why do you study Zen?” the answer would have been: I just want to be able to drink a glass of water. Still, today, those words express both my greatest happiness and my deepest aspiration.’

- Noelle Oxendhandler, To Drink a Glass of Water, from the Summer 2005 issue of Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

[selthine]

I just read a book where they were talking about the power of spacestar ordering and weren't joking. Seriously.