I meant to post this prior to class this morning but the week just got away from me. I think this is still appropriate as an after class thought in reference to exercise 9–
Doing exercise 9 for me has shed more light on a story I heard nearly a decade ago. Many years ago there were 2 Rinpoches who were quite well known and who had heard of each other but had never met [one of these Rinpoches may have been Trungpa Rinpoche, I can’t remember now]. When they finally meet for the first time they sit together in a garden and a student, who was very curious to hear what these 2 great minds would discuss upon their meeting, eavesdrops on them. Neither man speaks at all for quite some time. They sit in silence next to each other in the garden. Finally, after what seemed like a very very long time, one Rinpoche speaks. Pointing he says, “And they call that a tree.” Both of the Rinpoches then break out into laughter.
In doing exercise 9 – as I notice myself labeling things my senses pick up – I am reminded of this story. As I hear an ambulance go by [as was mentioned in today’s class] I think to myself, “and I call that an ambulance.” This makes me smile and breaks the incessant labeling for at least a milisecond. It allows for a little crack of space to open up around the labeling.
I have been finding this class and everyone’s comments so very helpful. I began reading TSK by myself about 9 months ago and found it difficult to get thru. But as the class goes on I’ve been able to really pick up on the concepts more and more. I wanted to take a quick second just to thank everyone. So… Thanks Everyone.
-Diana
And it’s all a story in space.
What about the intersection of 3 Journeys —
The dog who lifts his leg urinates on the tree. The urine contains nutrients that fertilize the soil allowing it to be more fertile so the tree can absorb the water that soaks into the ground. Maybe?
Michael – you just blew my mind, dude.
Hi, Diana. I have a story about the perception of trees. Working as a deckhand on a barge, I read during crossings, but a book of Koans completely lost me until I encountered the following: “Q: outside the gates of the temple, water is flowing uphill. A: the village dog is liffting his leg against the old oak tree.” Ahha–finally I understand a koan–the stream of urine is arcing upwards.” Then, years later, I was looking out my window on a gray day, and an image popped into my head, along with a recollection of this koan. The image was roughly: a tree is the intersection of two living flows. Water and nutrients are flowing up out of the darkness into the world of light; sunlight, tarrying for awhile on earth, is gathered by the leaves and flows downward into the hidden realm of roots underearth; and the tree is the intersecion off these two journeys. . . . Michael