Karen Maezen Miller is an errant mother, delinquent wife, reluctant dog walker, expert laundress, and stationmaster of the full catastrophe. Author of Momma Zen: Walking the Crooked Path of Motherhood, she is a priest and dharma holder in the Soto Zen lineage of Taizan Maezumi Roshi and a student of Nyogen Roshi at the Hazy Moon Zen Center in Los Angeles. Her writing appears in the Shambhala Sun, Literary Mama, Religion Dispatches and the anthology The Maternal is Political. She also blogs at Cheerio Road.
A few years ago my daughter piped up from the backseat, which is where children of her age are prone to do their piping.
“Mommy, if you ever write another book please make it not about Zen.”
I asked why.
“Because the whole idea of Zen is bogus.”
I don’t put this little story in the category of Kids Say the Darnedest Things, although they do. I put it in the category of Ear-Splitting Truth. Continued
As with all things, too much has been said already about the Brit Hume/Tiger Woods Christianity versus Buddhism thing, including what’s been said by me. In the New York Times, columnist Ross Douthat opened up another front, suggesting that Buddhists man up to the debate, instead of playing what he calls “the victim card.”
“If you treat your faith like a hothouse flower, too vulnerable to survive in the crass world of public disputation, then you ensure that nobody will take it seriously,” he writes. Talk about faith, he admonishes, so you can “compete with other believers (and nonbelievers) in the marketplace of ideas.”
I’m going to take up his challenge and talk about faith. But I’m not going to talk about my faith, because that wouldn’t serve anyone but me. Continued
The New Year is a powerful time in our lives, and by that I mean in our practice. Through no effort of our own, we arrive at a point of culmination. A moment of reflection and renewal. In this span between what we think of as the old and the new, regret can stir. We may be more aware of our stubborn habits and shortcomings, our losses and the never-ending ache of unfulfillment. Another year gone, and all those things we were going to do! All those changes we were going to make!
This recognition is a rare and momentous blessing, and one to be used. Recognition is all any of us needs to make a change. Continued
When you’re as easily teased by Buddhist discourse as I am, you can see the same arguments over and over.
Among the refrains I keep hearing are the ones I call The Biggest Lies in Buddhism:
I’m not a Buddha. You most certainly are; you may not yet realize it. “Buddha” does not equate to an imaginary celestial being but to an awakened one. When human beings live in their natural awakened state, undisturbed by delusive thoughts and emotions, they live as buddhas. Buddhahood is your birthright. You claim it every time you wake up to the present moment.
My ideas are as good as yours. That’s true, however, neither are any good at all. The practice of Buddhism is not intended to democratize personal views; it does not aim to equalize the worth of everyone’s self-reinforcing preferences; it simply transcends them. We practice Buddhism so we will no longer be blinded by what we think, and wake up instead to how things are.
No one is perfect. Everyone is perfect as they are, we just don’t view them – or ourselves – to be so. Imperfection lies solely in our judging mind, the mind that picks what we like and calls it best or right, and labels what we don’t like as worse or wrong. This mind between your ears is the source of all conflict, and even then, it is functioning perfectly. Seeing it clearly, we must unleash ourselves from its mastery over our lives. Only then can we hope to repair the mess we have made of the world we inhabit.
From time to time I’m asked this question: What do Buddhists believe?
I don’t know what some Buddhists believe, but I like to respond that Buddhism requires no beliefs. That’s rather hard to believe. And so I offer this solely as my own testimony.
People are by nature cautious, so I’m often asked the best way to choose a teacher. It is a reasonable question, and the same question I once asked Maezumi Roshi. Now I see how comic that must have been: sitting face-to-face with a teacher, asking how to choose a teacher. He responded sincerely, and so I’ll do the same. He said, “Choosing the wrong teacher is worse than having no teacher at all.”
Continued
From time to time I get an email like this:
“I have tried to read several books on the principles of Zen, but have found them difficult to pierce because they are heavy with jargon. Do you have any suggestions for books on using the principles of Zen in one’s everyday life?”
I told the writer that I couldn’t recommend books on the principles of Zen because there are no principles of Zen. Continued
We can get so worked up trying to be happy that I wanted to strike a different note to the tune of full disclosure:
Sad.
What about when you’re sad? What about when bad things happen or good things don’t? What about tears and disappointments? Continued
How is your daughter? How is your husband? How are your in-laws? How is your job? How is your boss?
How is your dog, your fish, your garden, your laundry, your dishes, your life?
How do you answer?
It’s easy to think that Buddhist practice is about the big questions. Birth and death, cause and effect, form and emptiness, delusion and enlightenment, attachment and non-attachment, and whether a dog has Buddha nature or not. I just hope you’re not actually thinking about any of that stuff. Continued
Shortly after my husband and I moved into our house with its old garden, we invited the experts and academics over tell us what to do. Some would say that our backyard is Southern California’s oldest private Japanese garden, dating from 1916. Some would say that it isn’t; that by virtue of geography, topography, plant selection, and cultural anthropology, it can’t ever be Japanese. We were twisted into a fit by these and other debates about the right way to care for the place. Heaven forbid we make a fraudulent move when we were already paralyzed by ignorance from the get go! Continued
Living in the foothills north of Los Angeles, and being — yet again — surrounded by wildfire, SunSpace blogger Karen Maezen Miller has seen with her own eyes this week the startling science of extinguishing fires.
Here’s what she’s learned, and what it might mean for our practice.
I seem to recall that Maezumi Roshi said something like, “People misunderstand Zen because it is so plain.” Maybe he didn’t say it. My memory doesn’t always serve me because memory doesn’t keep things plain and simple. Perhaps I remember it this way because it serves my purposes right now. That’s what memory usually does: whatever we want it to do.
Even if he didn’t say it quite like that, we can see right away that it is true.
Last week I attended a retreat and came home infused with quiet calm and well-being. Then I glanced at the headlines in the newspaper and was shocked anew at the unimaginable depth of pain in this world. The scope of suffering is inconceivable. How can we respond in the face of this?
Where do we begin to do good? I will tell you the only way I know to begin. Continued
There must be something in the connotation of the word “being” that makes it seem like the opposite of “doing.” I say that because I’m sometimes asked how, as an avowed meditator, I ever get things done. Perhaps they picture me curled up in a corner.
A regular meditation practice is the last thing that prevents me from totally engaging in activity. Continued
The momentary fascination with the reality TV train wreck “Jon & Kate Plus 8″ has me wondering if the sad saga of family striving and dissolution is beneficial as a morality tale. Does the failed couple’s melodrama teach a real-life lesson about balancing careers, money, self-image, household responsibilities, individuality and passion post-parenthood?
Yes, there’s a lesson, in the same sense that wildfires teach us not to throw matches and car accidents teach us not to text behind the wheel. The damage, however, is so dear that it’s hardly redemptive unless we can change the course of our own catastrophe. Continued