4. Diligence

"Diligently cultivating virtues without interruption is called diligence, pure and unalloyed, advancing without regression.

"Buddha said, 'O monks, if you make diligent efforts, nothing is hard. Therefore you should be diligent. It is like even a small stream being able to pierce rock if it continually flows. If the practitioner's mind flags and gives up time and gain, that is like drilling for fire but stopping before fire is produced -- though you want to get fire, fire can hardly be gotten this way.' "

(From "The Eight Awarenesses of Great People," translated by Thomas Cleary in "Shobogenzo: Zen essays by Dogen.")

(Photo: Williamsburg, Brooklyn, December 2009)

Georgia O'Keeffe

I had an incredibly busy day yesterday. I went to the Georgia O'Keeffe exhibit at the Whitney Museum in the morning -- it's a show of her abstractions and, predictably, it's fascinating. I've been to so many Georgia O'Keeffe shows that I've seen several of the paintings repeatedly. It's a strange feeling to stand in front of "Music: Pink and Blue II" and think, "I stood in front if this very same painting in 1985 in Washington, D.C.!" Kind of like saying hello to an old friend.

Anyway, she is my favorite artist, and as always I enjoyed the richness of her color and her supple organic forms. Seeing a reprint of a Georgia O'Keeffe painting just doesn't do it justice. The colors are so deep and vibrant that they prompt despair for modern printing techniques -- all those gift cards, calendars, books and posters look sadly pale by comparison.

After the show I took myself to my local diner for brunch, then ran some errands and went out to Queens to do some photography. I hit a couple of graffiti spots, then walked into Brooklyn to my friend Kate's house. I had coffee with her and we had a wander around her Greenpoint neighborhood at dusk, where I got to experiment a bit more with my camera in low light conditions.

Finally I headed to my friend Dan's house in Sunnyside for his 39th birthday party, then after about an hour I hopped a subway, raced home and picked up a bag, and caught a train out to New Jersey where I am now. It's amazing how much ground you can cover with mass transit in the NYC metro area!

(Photo: Wall in the East Village, Nov. 2009)

3. Enjoying Quietude

"Leaving the clamor and staying alone in deserted places is called enjoying quietude.

"Buddha said, 'O monks, if you wish to seek the peace and happiness of quietude and nonstriving, you should leave the clamor and live without clutter in a solitary place. People in quiet places are honored by the gods. Therefore you should leave your own group as well as other groups, stay alone in a deserted place, and think about extirpating the root of suffering. Those who like crowds suffer the vexations of crowds, just as a big tree will suffer withering and breakage when flocks of birds gather on it. Worldly ties and clinging sink you into a multitude of pains, like an old elephant sunk in the mud, unable to get itself out.' "

(From "The Eight Awarenesses of Great People," translated by Thomas Cleary in "Shobogenzo: Zen essays by Dogen.")

(Photo: Shopping center parking lot, North Brunswick, N.J.)

Lobsters

Longtime blog readers will remember that I'm a fan of David Foster Wallace. Last March, I bought a copy of his book of essays, "Consider the Lobster," at my erstwhile employer's annual used book sale.

Having as usual a considerable backlog of reading material, I've only just now finally gotten around to Considering the Lobster. The title essay was prompted by an event called the Maine Lobster Festival that evidently involves tourists chowing down on hundreds of pounds of crustaceans in a huge tent. Wallace wrote about the festival but eventually moved on to a more salient issue: Do lobsters, when being boiled, feel pain?

As a longtime voice for lobster liberation, I'm really into this topic. Wallace ultimately contends that we just can't be sure. Some people say lobsters don't have the neural development to feel pain like people or higher animals; others say they do, and anyway, how can we possibly know, without the power to project ourselves into a lobster's body in time to endure its final moments?

Wallace says a lobster's neurology lacks the ability to produce endorphins and other chemicals that mitigate pain in mammals. This could mean either that lobsters don't feel pain and thus never needed those chemicals, or that they feel even more pain than mammals would.

He also points out that lobsters do appear to struggle when they're boiled, clanking against the sides of the pot, and that marine researchers say they take up to 45 seconds to die in boiling water. The fact that they struggle seems to suggest pretty strongly that they're hurting, though some people argue their movements are involuntary and reflexive. (He also says quickly plunging a knife into their heads, a supposedly merciful method of killing them before boiling, doesn't completely disable their neural circuitry.)

He continues:

"In any event, at the (Maine Lobster Festival), standing by the bubbling tanks outside the World's Largest Lobster Cooker, watching the fresh-caught lobsters pile over one another, wave their hobbled claws impotently, huddle in the rear corners, or scrabble frantically back from the glass as you approach, it is difficult not to sense that they're unhappy, or frightened, even if it's some rudimentary version of these feelings...and again, why does rudimentariness even enter into it? Why is a primitive, inarticulate form of suffering less urgent or uncomfortable for the person who's helping to inflict it by paying for the food it results in?"

Thus, in considering the lobster, I'm even more certain I don't want to eat one anytime soon. I eat chickens, I eat fish, I've even lately eaten beef and pork. But there's something about a lowly lobster that seems especially forlorn to me. I can't pretend that contradiction makes sense, but there it is.

(Photo: Lobster street art in the East Village, September 2008)

Interlude

Typing the title for this post reminds me that when I was a kid, the public television station in Tampa used to broadcast what it called a "musical interlude." My brother and I would be waiting for Sesame Street or The Electric Company to start, and there would be a black slide with multicolored instruments displayed on the screen with those words, and tinny music coming from the speaker. I guess they did it to fill time between shows. Seems pretty old-fashioned, doesn't it?

Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed the excerpts from Dogen's "Eight Awarenesses of Great People" the past few days. I plan to post all eight of them. I've always found this essay inspiring and motivating.

I've returned to slightly more active practice this week, after watching the beautiful movie "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring" over the weekend. I saw it in the theater years ago, and I wanted to show it to Dave, because I thought it might help him (and me!) understand some things about Buddhism. (I say "slightly" more active practice because, while I've been reading about Buddhism a bit more and trying to be more mindful of my day-to-day reality -- walking more slowly, being more observant -- I still haven't returned to sitting.)

People often ask what Buddhism is about, and I've been taught that it can never truly be described -- only practiced. The minute someone tries to describe and define it, they've destroyed it. Dogen, however, manages to define some of its essential qualities in a way that makes me want to practice more diligently.

Practicing, however, did not stop me from having a fantastic gin & tonic when I got to Dave's last night! I took the bus from the city and then walked from the bus stop to his apartment -- it's a longer walk than would be practical every day (about 40 minutes) but it's manageable when he's tied up and can't get me with the car. I'm here to see a holiday concert tonight where he performs with handbells. Should be fun!

(Photo: PetSmart, North Brunswick, New Jersey.)

2. Being Content

"To take what one has got within bounds is called being content.

"Buddha said, 'O monks, if you want to shed afflictions, you should observe contentment. The state of contentment is the abode of prosperity and happiness, peace and tranquility. Those who are content may sleep on the ground and still consider it comfortable; those who are not content would be dissatisfied even in heaven. Those who are not content are always caught up in sensual desires; they are pitied by those who are content.' "

(From "The Eight Awarenesses of Great People," translated by Thomas Cleary in "Shobogenzo: Zen essays by Dogen.")

(Photo: Abandoned gas station, East Brunswick, New Jersey.)

1. Having Few Desires

"Not extensively seeking objects of desire not yet attained is called having few desires.

"Buddha said, 'You monks should know that people with many desires seek to gain a lot, and therefore their afflictions are also many. Those with few desires have no seeking and no craving, so they don't have this problem. You should cultivate having few desires even for this reason alone, to say nothing of the fact that having few desires can produce virtues. People with few desires are free from flattery and deviousness whereby they might seek to curry people's favor, and they also are not under the compulsion of their senses. Those who act with few desires are calm, without worry or fear. Whatever the situation, there is more than enough -- there is never insufficiency. Those who have few desires have nirvana.' "

(From "The Eight Awarenesses of Great People," translated by Thomas Cleary in "Shobogenzo: Zen essays by Dogen.")

(Photo: Edison, New Jersey.)