a journal of self-propelled dharma
Hello to my loyal fanbase—all both of you! Sorry I’ve been out of touch. It’s been a wild time. Here’s what went down. One year ago last June, just after I hauled my monkish ass back to Vancouver after 6 months at San Francisco Zen Center, Bicycle Buddha got hacked to smithereens. Twelve years of …
I am Fukudo! Pelting through the halls at 4:50 am like a zen town crier, clanging a brass bell on a glossy red stick. I begin in the basement zendo, flipping on the lights and gently ringing to bring the corners of the room to wakefulness, finishing up with three big cascading peals to rouse …
In Canada people are breathing. I notice this the moment I step off the plane, home from San Francisco for a weekend visit. There is spaciousness here, where people draw breath full down to the belly and then, in a natural and relaxed manner, release the diaphragm and gently exhale. In America it is different. …
I am so all about the post-breakfast power nap. Here’s the routine: 5am wakeup bell, zazen, kinhin, zazen, service, cleanup, breakfast, NAP! The nap can be up to twenty minutes, or as few as seven or ten if I’m in a rush. But that’s all. No longer, or else I feel groggy and am back …
Why would a person spend hours and hours staring at a white wall? I ask myself this question a lot. On a spring Saturday sixty of us rise at 5am and hustle to the basement for the monthly one-day sit. We hunker down for another big day in the zendo—sitting, slow-walking, sweeping, eating brown rice …