have deep faith and accept three precepts


 

Even if

you know how to recite

the texts, you still have to discern reality

from artificiality. Why? Sound and form dim the mind,

falsehoods fool the ears; personality and ego become second

nature, the disease of self-affirmation is deep-seated.

When the mind is separated from the

Way,  the principle is hard to

comprehend.
 

If you wish

to return to the supreme

Way, have deep faith and first accept

three precepts. If you practice in accord with

these three precepts consistently from

beginning to end, then you will

attain the true Way. The

three precepts

are:

 

simplifying involvements 

not craving anything 

quieting the mind

 

…A scripture says,

“If people can empty their minds

and not contrive anything, it is not that

they want the Way, but the Way

spontaneously reverts

to them.”

 

Treatise on Sitting Forgetting

 

don’t learn from a pampered cat


 
You want

to learn to catch a mouse?

Don’t try to learn from a pampered cat.

If you want to learn the nature of the world,

don’t study fine bound books. The True Jewel’s

in a coarse bag. Buddha-nature stops at huts.

The whole herd of folks who clutch at looks

of things never seem to make the

connection.
 
 
Shih Te
 

 

9 November 1998 – 27 November 2010:
 on this date a buddha was born


 

Once

upon a time ago, after

living for a year and a half without a dog,

I got a call from my friend Lynelle.  She had been hiking on

Mt. Sanitas, run into a woman with two beautiful standard poodles,

asked where she’d gotten them, called the woman in Rock Creek who was

the source, and discovered that she had a litter of puppies ready

to go.  I phoned the woman, got directions to her home,

took Sofia out of school, and

drove there.

 

I used to believe,

having trained dogs when I was

younger, that I knew something about them.

When we got to Rock Creek, I started performing puppy tests,

in my mannish way, to sort out which was the best dog of the five available.

Sasha was the first dog I tested, the runt of the litter, and it took me all of a minute

or so to dispense with her.  I was on to the third or fourth puppy when

Sofia, who was sitting quietly against the fence with Sasha

in her lap, spoke softly.  “Dad, I think we

should take this one.”

 

 

“Really?!”, I said.

I’d been decidedly unimpressed with her.

But I always knew my daughter was smarter than me,

so that was the end of it.  We paid the woman

and went home with our

new dog.

 

 

It would be fairer

to say that Sasha raised Sofia than

that I did.  She slept with her every night,

napped with her every afternoon,

communed with her

constantly.

 

 

When I lost

my daughter more than fifteen

 years ago, it was Sasha who carried me through it.

 In Tibetan culture dogs are regarded as the reincarnations

of high lamas, and are treated accordingly.  Sasha

taught me over the course of a dozen

years that this is fact,

not fancy.

 

 

To try

to recount all else that

Sasha carried me through, taught me,

helped me to bear, suffered or savored or celebrated with me

would require more space than the internet offers.  I realized early, as did

most everyone who knew her, that I was in the presence of a realized being —

pure grace, pure patience, pure humor, pure steadfastness.  I didn’t

always behave accordingly, though mostly I’d like to think I did,

at least in the way I held her, regarded her, treated her.

But I did always know what I was looking at

when I looked in those

eyes.

 

 

When she was

diagnosed with melanoma

in 2008, they told me,

“Three months,

tops.”

 

 

She

stayed twenty four,

through three surgeries, a bunch of

radiation, an experimental study at CSU.

Throughout she was as present, as loving, as kind

hearted as ever.  In early fall of 2010 I walked over to

Whole Foods with her for a cup of coffee to drink with my NY Times.

We sat down at the tables out front, and a middle-aged woman a couple of

tables away was talking, rather incessantly, with a young couple at a table on the

other side of her.  I could tell immediately that she was somewhat needy

and unhappy, describing her husband’s refusal to let her decorate

her home the way she liked, and things like that.  The couple

answered her politely, if unenthusiastically,

and left after a few minutes.

 

At that

point she turned to me and

 began asking questions.  I don’t love a lot of

conversation first thing in the morning, especially of a certain

kind, especially with strangers, and I answered in the best way I could

to get across the message, “I’m going to drink this coffee and quietly enjoy my

paper now.”  She understood and quieted down after a few questions, but

I could still feel her very real unhappiness just vibrating away.  After

a minute or two, Sasha got up, walked over to her table, and lay

at her feet.  She stayed there, soul-doctoring

in silence, until I left a half an

hour later.

 

 

This was Sasha

on the day she left her body.

One eye had stopped working a few days

earlier, the other was glassy, and she had a hard time

locating us if she was more than a few feet away.  But when

you put your face next to hers, or curled your body

around her, she was the same as she ever was.

She curled back into you and

radiated love.

 

I could never

summarize her and won’t try.

But I understand in my bones what bodhisattva

means because of Sasha, and also how Rumi stopped

searching for Shams because he came to

understand that Shams lived

inside him.

 

 

This is

the best friend and

 greatest teacher and purest love

I’ve ever known, on the 25th of July of 2010,

filling my home in Boulder with God.  Ibn al -Ghazali wrote

that “Prayers for the dead are on the same footing as gifts for the living.

The angel goes in to the dead with a tray of light, bearing a cloth of light,

and says, ‘This is a gift for you from your brother so-and-so,

from your relative so-and-so.’ And he delights in

it just as a living man rejoices

in a gift.”

 

Do me

a favor today and

send a tray of light to Sasha.

Trust me when I tell you that she is

never not sending one to each

and every one of

you.

 

IMG_3523 sasha shadow canyon instagram

 


North star,

guiding light,

beloved.

 

the future

hevrin khalaf, unifier, dead of too much zuckerberg > trump > erdogan

 

Anything could happen,

and whether we act or not has everything

to do with it. Though there is no lottery ticket for the lazy

and the detached, for the engaged there is a tremendous gamble

for the highest stakes right now. I say this to you not because I haven’t

noticed that this country has strayed close to destroying itself and everything

it once stood for, in pursuit of empire in the world and the eradication of democracy

at home, that our civilization is close to destroying the very nature on which we

depend—the oceans, the atmosphere, the uncounted species of plant and

insect and bird. I say it because I have noticed: wars will break out,

the planet will heat up, species will die out, but how many,

how hot, and what survives depends on whether

we act. The future is dark, with a

darkness as much of

the womb as the

grave.
 
 
Rebecca Solnit