“If you really want to love Jesus, first learn to suffer, because suffering teaches you to love.”
St. Gemma Galgani

What does she mean— learn to suffer? Isn’t suffering something that just happens to us? I thought what we needed was to learn how not to suffer. And how does suffering teach us to love? Also, isn’t this supposed to be a blog about Zen pract…

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Sing to me, Muse, of that endlessly cunning man
Who was blown off course to the ends of the earth…
~Homer’s Odyssey, Translated by Stephen Mitchell

What initially draws us to Zen fades. That’s the nature of Muses: they pull us towards the path and then abandon us. That’s OK, they did their work.

What comes next?

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“There are two ways to reach me: by way of kisses or by way of the imagination. But there is a hierarchy: the kisses alone don’t work.” ― Anaïs Nin, Henry And June

There is something deeper, more alive, more sweet, more salty than teachings and techniques. Anais knew this (kisses weren’t sufficient) and so do w…

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I remembered an old Zen story when reading Philippians, when Paul says his desire is to depart and be with Christ, but remaining in the flesh is more necessary for their account.

The Zen story is about a Zen student who is with his dearly beloved teacher (who is dying). He asks his teacher, “When you die, where are you going …

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Autumn,
moving to its end.

A familiar sadness today
but it’s not so bad,
not like it used to be.

I am free to move in it
and look at things.

There is a certain beauty
here.

*Dokusan, is a Japanese Zen word for a private meeting with a Zen teacher.

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The bats are in the belfry
The dew is on the moor
Where are the arms that held me
And pledged their love before
~Innocent When You Dream, Tom Waits

Move in closer, pull away. Move in closer, pull away. This was my personal experience of Zen practice. Now, as a long time teacher of Zen, and sitting on the other side of the dokusan c…

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I taught this koan at a recent one-day retreat.

“In the sea of Ise,
10,000 feet down, lies a single stone.
I want to pick it up that stone,
without getting my hands wet.”

For me, with no pun intended, this is a deep koan, it’s a koan that only shines when the world and self have disappeared, and a single stone glows with the light of the whole universe. So I was concerned that this might not be a good koan for a one-day retreat, but just as any ocean, regardless of its depth, has a beach somewhere with shallow and sandy places where people can play in its waters, I thought the same might be true for this koan.

To my surprise, the koan captivated everyone. Everyone was coming into dokusan* with their own story of the koan. Some were focused on the 10,000-foot depth, so deep that they could never reach that far down; another person was not worried about getting wet, but something much more important - how could he breathe down there? Others noticed the things in their life that seemed unobtainable, like the stone, and felt a sense of hopelessness with no idea of how to reach it. A few people wondered why all the interest in the stone? It wasn't gold or an iPhone. They then noticed things they chase in life that are worthless - and wondered why? It occurred to someone that if they grabbed the one thing they wanted in life, things would get messy and wet.

These koan presentations were all insightful, genuine and sincere. I was moved and opened by each of them.  Yet - I kept wanting someone to reach out and grab the stone - just pick up the stone. I had a strong urge to reach out and grab the stone myself, but I didn't want to steal thunder that wasn’t mine. My urge for them to pick up the stone got stronger throughout the day. I kept thinking - don't worry about getting wet, what's there to get wet anyway? Grab the stone! Then halfway through a dokusan, as someone was sharing the koan with me and I was looking into their eyes, something in me melted. I sunk to the bottom of the ocean, and my whole perspective changed - they are picking up the stone - just the way they know how - I am the one worried about getting wet. This subtle shift changed everything for me; I only felt love for whoever was sitting in front of me.

Zen is such wonderful work, even in the depths of stubbornness and focused drive; a koan can show the simple truth of love and tenderness. Waves of kindness, like waves of gravity, unseen but felt, reach even the thickest of us.

Later, I received an email from someone thanking me for the retreat; they wrote:

"Guy, thanks for everything you do. Feels like love.”

I know!

*Dokusan is a Japanese Zen word for a private interview with a Zen teacher.

Qian lived a long time ago and is the heroine of a famous Zen koan:

Wuzu asked a monk, the woman Qian and her spirit separated, which is the true Qian?

Recently Qian visited me at my studio; she said she was feeling lost and disconnected and so, on a whim, decided to call me. I was excited to hear from her and invited her to my studio for a visit. After pouring her a glass of wine, I passed her a new Art book. As Qian was flipping through the pages, her heart started beating wildly, like water for chocolate. On each page was a beautiful art image, an image that, to her surprise, was her own artwork. Maybe it was the wine, but Qian felt a warm excitement building inside her. 

I took Qian's hand and walked into the Art Gallery next door. It was full of people mingling; wine and hors d’oeuvres were served. Large beautiful paintings were hanging on the walls, and the room was full of excitement at their unveiling. Music, Leonard Cohen's "Dance Me to the End of Love," was playing in the background. Qian and I walked around the room, hand in hand, looking at the beautiful artwork; each piece was signed by Qian.

Qian set her glass of wine down on a nearby table, and with Leonard's music pouring all over us, she leaned into me and put her lips to mine. 

That's all I remember.

Welcome, it’s nice to have you here.

This blog is an unfiltered exploration of the actual experience of zen practice and teaching - it’s unofficial zen by an official zen master.

There will be no cliches, no namaste, no mindfulness, no “we are all one”, no “power of now”. Or, as the the Zen masters of old would say, no fox spit or venom!

There will be lots of Zen inspired art and real life examples of the beauty and depth that arises when we walk the Zen path. The dark parts will be shared too.

Sometimes Zen leads to a brilliant fire, other times to a more modest shift in the way we look at things. Either way, it’s transformational.

The thing about Zen practice is that it lights up everything, teaching, work, love, art, business, and trees.