Well, I finally thought I got some of the Soto Zen forms down a little bit with the incense, you know. I come from the community of Thich Nhat Hanh, so the forms are different, so I remember the last few times feeling a little awkward and nervous. Am I going to do the incense thing the right way, the way they do it? And I thought oh, I finally got it today, and then you changed the words to the welcome. It reminds me—oh, yes. All right. Okay. Can you hear me?

This reminds me of the last sentence from the Genjo Koan by Dogen Zenji: "Because the nature of wind is permanently abiding, the wind of the house of the Buddhas makes manifest the earth as pure gold and turns the long river into sweet cream." Well, I'm not going to expound on this, but wind is so ever-changing and flowing, so that just reminded me of that experience this morning.

I would like to begin this morning with a short metta meditation, and I'm going to include a little bit of a visualization exercise with the meditation, and I'm going to play a song that I wrote a couple of years ago when I was at Deer Park monastery, one of Thich Nhat Hanh's retreat centers. So, you may close your eyes for this meditation, and before we play it, let me just do a little bit of guided visualization with us first.

Thank you. Because the nature of wind is permanently abiding, the wind of the house of the Buddhas makes manifest the earth as pure gold and turns the long river into sweet cream. I saw this beautiful verse taped up on the wall at Compassionate Ocean Dharma Center yesterday as I was there at the retreat, and assisting Joen. I had never actually read this before, and I was struck by its beauty. I had no idea what it meant, but I was struck by its beauty, and so I thought I might touch on what came to my heart as I reflected on it. And I'm not saying it is the interpretation of this line. I've no idea what its deepest meaning is, but maybe I will use it as a jumpstart to my talk this morning.

Well, it is been wonderful coming here every few months to the Twin Cities. I usually come here when it is not so cold. And I was very delighted with the weather this week. I was noticing that there are many causes and conditions that have brought me to this very moment here and now. There are many causes and conditions that brought all of us here and now. I think my inner heart is saying to change direction, so I need to change the topic of this morning.

You know, there is so much suffering in our world today—the earthquake in Haiti and Chile recently, and I'm sure all of us can feel the suffering in our own lives and the lives of those around us, and it can feel like inexplicable. Why is there this suffering? And all we can really honestly say is, "I don't know."

I have a friend—actually a past roommate from many years ago in college named Juan, and he told me about an incident that occurred when he was a young teenager. He was walking out in front of the house playing ball and went into the street to retrieve it, and he did not see, but a car was rushing by, and he was struck by the car, and he said that he felt himself leaving his body and floating toward a beautiful light. And he knew that if he would go toward this light, he would be completely safe, completely accepted, completely embraced, and that everything would be okay. And this light was so warm and so welcoming, so much of a feeling of being home that his whole being just wanted to go toward the light.

But as he was going toward the light, he heard below the voice of his mother crying, "Mijo. Mijo. My child. My child." And as he heard his mother's cries, he made a choice in that moment. And he knew that if he went toward the light, it would be okay, and eventually even his mother would be okay and all those who knew him would be okay eventually. But in that moment, he remembered something deep within him, maybe not in words or concepts, but a deep, heartfelt knowing that he still had things to do, things to finish. He still had opportunities to love others and to learn wisdom and share that with others. So in that moment, his Buddha heart opened. He would not call it that, but his Buddha heart opened, and in Mahayana Buddhism, we call it bodhicitta. And so instead of going toward this light of bliss, he returned back to his body, his painful body, out of love. And of course, he did come back because he was my roommate several years later.

And in the course of the last several years since then, many people have shared with me many similar stories. Even though I have never experienced anything like that particular experience, I have no doubt that is a real experience for the friends of mine who have shared this with me. And I've had my own particular experiences as well of a different sort, which confirmed to me that there is this beautiful, spiritual reality that we live and move and have our being in. So I have no doubt that they are telling the truth, their particular understanding of the truth.

What is it that would turn our hearts away from going toward a life of bliss back into a painful body? You know, there is nothing wrong with wanting to experience peace and joy and a little bit of bliss now and then. In fact, many of us know from experience that our practice can bring moments of peace and deep, heart-opening love, joy, and even bliss. But if we seek that bliss and grasp onto that bliss and only on that bliss, we will miss the entire point of this practice. Yes, of course, if you're not experiencing any joy in your practice, maybe you need to look at how you're practicing, but I am just saying, don't hold on to it. Find what is deeper than bliss.

You know, I have some friends in Texas, where I come from, who are a little bit addicted to bliss. And I don't see them that regularly at sangha, and they go off on these different retreats and vacations trying to recapture that sense of bliss, but their lives are so unhappy and their emotions are going up and down, and their particular mood that day is so dependent on certain factors being in place. And I so want to just give them a warm heart and just transmit about this truth, which of course I cannot do that. I want to, but I know that they will eventually learn it themselves. It is this truth: Don't seek bliss. Seek peace instead, if you want to use that term as a bridge to this truth. And don't even seek bliss or peace. Seek service instead. And of course ultimately, don't even speak at all. Just be. Be that service, which is itself peace and true bliss.

Some of us may think that well, okay. If I practice long enough and do this well enough, I will finally become enlightened, and then I don't have to worry about anything anymore, and it will just be bliss and peace forever, and I don't have to work at anything anymore. I hope I'm not going to discourage you this morning, but practice never ends. A couple of years ago, I was in San Francisco, and I was at Sokoji, where Suzuki Roshi was originally teaching at many, many, many years ago, and I think it was a Sunday morning, very early, before I had to give a talk somewhere else, and I wanted to practice a little bit before I gave a talk elsewhere. So I went there, and there was just one Zen priest and me and one other layperson, and so we sat, and we chanted, and then we did working meditation and had tea.

During working meditation, my job was to sweep the front porch. It was a little bit windy outside, so I would sweep the dust and the trash, and then I would go to another section, and I would look back, and there is more dust and trash one over there, so I would go back and sweep, and as I was doing that, I remembered a time a few years back at Deer Park monastery, one of Thich Nhat Hanh's centers in California, where I was doing working meditation, and I was supposed to sweep the meditation hall, which was quite large, and I only had half an hour to do it. And I was trying to calculate how fast I would have to sweep to get it all done, so I swept very fast, and I was just very, very exhausting myself, and I was determined to get the whole thing cleaned, cleaner than anything else ever cleaned it before.

Well, a monk walked by me, and he smiled, and he said, "Here. Let me show you how to sweep the room." I was like, "I know how to sweep the room." Well, I didn't say it out loud. And he said, "Sweep, breathing in and breathing out. Breathing in and breathing out." Kind of like, "Wax on, wax off." So I understood in that moment what he was trying to teach me, so okay. Mindfulness. And he told me, "You do not need to sweep to get the hall all completely clean. Just sweep to sweep. And if it is not finished, it is okay. There's working meditation tomorrow, too." So it reminded me of that.

So, I was sweeping the front porch, and suddenly this feeling of peace and joy welled up in my heart as I realized that no matter how much I swept the front porch, it would never stay clean. My reaction was not disappointment. It was peace and joy. And I think it is because it also reminded me of a time right in this room about five years ago when I went through my first Soto Zen sesshin. I think it was rohatsu with Joen Snyder O'Neal, and boy, was it tough. But I stuck to it, and I remember but I think the second or third day of the sesshin, we were doing our sitting, and then afterwards, we were fluffing our zafus and sleeping with our hands the zabutons, you know, and this was the second or third day, and I thought, we have been doing this so many times. My zafu is fluffed already. My zabuton is clean already. What is up with this? And I just thought, this is kind of crazy.

But for whatever reason, for that particular sitting session, afterwards when the bell rang, I turned around, and I fluffed my zafu, and then I put my hands on the zabuton. And in that moment, there was this feeling like time slowed down, and I knew the beauty of this practice, particularly this moment, and I began to cry, and I felt so much joy in my heart, and I just felt so grateful to the zafu and the zabuton and to this very moment. And if I were to put the insight into words, I would say that I realized that taking care of the little things is how we take care of the big things. And taking care of anything is how we take care of everything. And I knew in that moment one of the deep meanings of that chant that we all do, "Beings are numberless. I vow to save them." I realized that if I can't even take care of the dust particles on my mat, who am I to say I am going to be saving all beings? And when I am fully, deeply present here and now with my heart fully open, taking care of this moment is the saving of all beings.

And you know, it never ends. Taking care of this moment never ends. The saving of all beings never ends. Because the nature of wind is permanently abiding, the wind of the house of the Buddhas makes manifest the earth as pure gold and turns the long river into sweet cream. The wind, maybe that refers to Buddha nature. The house of the Buddhas, maybe that refers to our practice. But you know, if we think of Buddha nature as just what is blissful and pleasant and beautiful from our point of view, we miss a lot. You know, Buddha nature can manifest as difficulty, as uncertainty, as suffering, as dust and trash blown by the wind as you are sweeping the front porch.

And yet, it is this very ingredient of taking care of our suffering, taking care of the uncertainties of life, taking care of the dust particles and the trash. It is that very ingredient that is the key ingredients in the formation of fully enlightened Buddhas. It is exactly that practice of taking care of ourselves and each other, taking care of this moment that manifests the earth as pure gold and turns the long river into sweet cream, that manifests the earth as the pure gold of wisdom and turns a long river into the sweet cream of compassion.

Wisdom and compassion are the very ingredients of a Buddha. But wisdom cannot come without suffering. Compassion cannot exist without suffering. Do you see? If you think about someone who has never gone through any difficulties in life, how can you say they have wisdom? Maybe they have knowledge, but that is not the same as wisdom, the wisdom of experience, the wisdom of going through things, the wisdom of knowing the depth of the human condition. That requires suffering and taking care of suffering, and the same is true of compassion. Can someone really have compassion if they don't know anything about suffering or uncertainty or difficulty or loss? No. They may have a surface kind of kindness and joy, but not compassion. Compassion is born out of suffering, and it is the very ingredient of a Buddha.

So, it is this heart called bodhicitta, which literally means enlightened mind or enlightened heart, awakening heart, but it refers to that attitude of being on the path of enlightenment in solidarity with all beings, not separate from, but in solidarity with. It is that attitude of being on the path in solidarity with all beings. And you know, this word was emphasized in the Mahayana Buddhist traditions, but you know, it is found in all traditions of Buddhism in various forms. In the Theravada tradition, you can see it in their metta practice, their lovingkindness practices, and their compassion practices, and you can see it in the way they live their lives. You can see it, you can feel it from the heart of the true monks and nuns in that tradition.

And in the Tibetan tradition of Mahayana Buddhism, it is expressed in 100,000 million ways, every possible conceivable kind of Buddha you can think of. Green Buddhas, blue Buddhas, yellow Buddhas, white Buddhas, red Buddhas, female Buddhas, male Buddhas—I mean, all kinds. But I think the one who expresses it the most in that tradition is the mantra of Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva of compassion, Om Mani Padme Hum.

And in the Pure Land Buddhist tradition of Mahayana tradition, that same bodhicitta that is expressed as metta in the Theravadan tradition, as Om Mani Padme Hum in the Tibetan tradition, is expressed in Amitabha, this Buddha who is determined to create a Buddha field, a Pure Land, a place of practice for as many beings as possible, to make it as easy as possible for them to come into the practice, and to help them until full enlightenment. And then, even then, to then send them back to whatever worlds they want to go to, to continue the work of compassion. It never ends. Amitabha literally means infinite light, and infinite can refer to wisdom and light reaching out and shining light for all beings in the darkness. That is compassion. Infinite is emptiness, and light is the form. Amitabha.

So, the Tibetans use many, many different forms to get the point across, and then the Pure Landers condense all of that into just one form, one name, one practice, Amitabha. And of course, the Theravadans kind of like to stick by the book, just this, this, this, and this, maybe this set of seven or whatever. So four stages of enlightenment, etc. The Eight-fold Path. Let's not collapse them into just one. Let's not expand it into one billion others. Let us stick by the book.

And then there is Zen. Ah, Zen. Would you like to sing a song with me? All right. (Plays shruti box) So, in the Pure Land Buddhist tradition, we can condense all the various mantras and various practices and the various teachings into one word, Amitabha. That is not a negation of all the practices. I think there is a misunderstanding that is going on between the Zen and Pure Land schools. It is not a negation. It is like the word Amitabha is simply a little memory chip, where it has all the different meanings, because it is the understanding of interbeing. All Buddhas are in one Buddha. All dharmas are in one dharma. See? So, if we can deeply practice even that one dharma, we know all dharmas. So let us chant that beautiful word, Amitabha, which is really an expression of the bodhicitta heart, and it is our vow to be in solidarity with all beings and to know that all the Buddhas and bodhisattvas throughout space and time are in solidarity with us.

So, repeating after me with our palms together at the heart, let us take a deep breath.

(Sings) Amitabha.
Audience: Amitabha.

ChiSing: Amitabha.
Audience: Amitabha.

ChiSing: Amitabha.
Audience: Amitabha.

ChiSing: Amitabha.
Audience: Amitabha.

…

ChiSing: Repeating after me: May we and all beings be happy and free.
Audience: May we and all beings be happy and free.

ChiSing: May we and all beings transform our suffering.
Audience: May we and all beings transform our suffering.

ChiSing: May we and all beings rejoice in all joys.
Audience: May we and all beings rejoice in all joys.

ChiSing: May we and all beings be at peace.
Audience: May we and all beings be at peace.

ChiSing: Awakening to the truth of who we are.
Audience: Awakening to the truth of who we are.

ChiSing: Amitabha.
Audience: Amitabha.

ChiSing: Infinite light.
Audience: Infinite light.

ChiSing: Infinite love.
Audience: Infinite love.

ChiSing: Infinite life.
Audience: Infinite life.

ChiSing: Because the nature of wind is permanently abiding, the land of the house of the Buddhas makes manifest the earth as pure gold and turns along the river into sweet cream.

Transcribed by Jessica Hitch