The Least I Can Do

Two weeks ago during a workshop at Midwest Sangha Weekend a dharma teacher from the Kansas Zen Center reminded me that many years ago I had given her first instruction in meditation. She told me also that she remembers the talk I gave that morning, which was in part about the trials and tribulations of trying to a grow a lawn. I've posted a version of that talk below: click here if you'd like to read it.

When Jane reminded me about that talk I had to laugh because within about two years, our magnificent lawn reverted back to its former state of dirt and weeds and random clumps of grass. Even funnier, I had just decided to try again for that lush green look, and only days before I left for Chicago, the guys at Blueville Nursery came out and overseeded.

If you've ever put in a lawn you know that the secret lies in keeping the seed moist. So twice a day for the last week I've gone outside to water. This is actually a gift, because like any daily practice, watering the lawn offers me a chance to see my own mind. And I am happy to report that my mind has changed over the past nine years: even though I still worry that the grass won't grow, I have a lot more confidence that each of the thousands of seeds knows how to grow and will grow if I keep giving it what it needs.

But I'm also forced to admit that my mind hasn't changed entirely for the best. Since I left the Kansas Zen Center four years ago, my practice has gotten kind of lazy. My mind has sprung a lot of weeds. Greed and anger and ignorance have grown tall and rank.

As you may know, greed, anger and ignorance are the three roots of suffering. The Buddha prescribed various kinds of medicine for suffering. All of them involved some kind of meditation practice. Meditation is like weeding your mind. It creates some clear space so that wisdom and compassion can grow.

After the Midwest Sangha Weekend I prescribed a little Buddha medicine for my mind. So I'm renewing my commitment to perform 108 prostrations every morning--the great mind medicine Zen Master Seung Sahn prescribed for his American students--and to sit for at least fifteen minutes. And I'm adding fifteen minutes of sitting meditation to my evening chanting practice. It seems like the least I can do.