Spring 2018 in Montclair, New Jersey

See the complete set of images in Colorful Montclair.

Zen in a Cherry Tree Garden

It's that time of year again.

At the Brooklyn Botanic Garden on the Cherry Tree Esplanade each springtime the spectacular cherry trees are blooming. Many varieties, in various locations, some with an extravagant display of double pink blossoms.

During the last week in April every year since 1982 the Japanese Cherry Blossom Festival, “Sakura Matsuri” is celebrated.

When I attended the very first festival there were several Japanese cultural exhibits. At one there was a venerable Buddhist monk executing calligraphy. Impeccably dressed in traditional robes. He worked at ground level with an ink brush over a sheet of paper on his hands and knees. The fine rice paper sheet measured something like 36 X 48 inches. He would ask every person requesting his calligraphy for their name, which he inserted into each unique drawing. A donation was appropriate. I wanted one for myself, but didn't have any cash. So I hurried back home a short walk away and arrived back with my donation.

As I waited my place in line, a big black ink spot accidentally dripped from the brush onto the pristine white paper. That sheet was about to be discarded, but I stepped forward and said that I would take that one, just as it was.

When he heard my request the old monk stood up straight and sang a beautiful song in Japanese. Then I gave my name and this is what he brushed for me. Notice the equipoise, flowing brush strokes and precise alignment.

" Seasons change. 
Flowers bloom. 
People come and go."

After all that a beautiful older woman gently folded the paper, wrapping it loosely in an even finer blank sheet of rice paper. I took it as an invitation of some kind. I never was able to find that monk, or that group of Buddhists. Another lesson in impermanence. And, Zen. 

I used that fine blank paper to wrap a wedding gift for friends. It looked pretty casual for gift wrapping, but the richness of it was there. Not everything can be seen with the eyes. 

Later on in the park I came across some friends. They asked me what I had there. Still filled with the Zen spirit, I replied, "Just some ink on paper".

PS While back in Old Nippon, they did it right.

Tree Cathedral

Imagine this. What would you call it? 

Place yourself on ground level in the middle of a circular area approximately the area equivalent to a regulation football field; or, say, half the size of an average city block. Around 25,000 square feet. Big. But, circular in shape.

Now, picture tall trees growing at close, precise spacing around the circumference of that round space. The trees are very tall. With broad branching canopies which grow into each other to make a cathedral-like vault, some one hundred or more feet over the ground below.

At very precise intervals the canopy of each tree sports two symmetrical openings, each shaped like chevrons. Window-like. The sun streams through.

And, on the ground floor, it's not covered grass; but with hard gnarled roots growing intertwined like snakes, everywhere. Almost completely covering the entire circular space.

Magical. Awesome. Terrible. 

What would you call it?

Life Lesson #1 ...

The failure of the mind to recognize its own nature is what is meant by the term "ma-rik-pa," or ignorance, the first level of obscuration or defilement in the mind. As a result of this ignorance, there arises in the mind the imputation of an "I" and an "other," something that is other than the mind. This dualistic clinging, something that we have had throughout beginningless time and that never stops, is the second level of obscuration, the obscuration of habits. Based upon this dualistic clinging arise the three root mental afflictions: mental darkness, desire, and aggression. Based upon those three afflictions are the 84,000 various mental afflictions, the third level of obscurations, called the obscuration of mental affliction. Under the influence of this, we perform actions that are obscured in their nature - the fourth level, called the obscuration of actions or karma. These four levels or types of obscurations are the cause for all sentient beings to wander in samsara. If these are removed or cleaned, then the inherent qualities of mind's nature, which we refer to as wisdom or "yeshe," will naturally manifest and spread like the rays of the sun. The word in Tibetan for the removal of these obscurations, "sang," means "cleansing," and the word for the spreading of the inherent qualities of the mind that occurs as a result of that is "gye," or "increasing." "Sang-gye," these two words together, is the Tibetan word for a Buddha. Therefore what is meant by Buddhahood is the recognition and realization of the complete purity of the mind.

– Kalu Rinpoche

The Boy Who Wouldn't Eat His Beans

It's really that simple. He just wouldn't eat beans. Not a bean. Not a one.

One wonders. If he was my kid, you know what I'd do? He'd get a bowl of beans for breakfast. A bowl of beans for lunch. A bowl of beans for dinner. Snacks too.

He'd come around. They say hunger is the best sauce. 

When my daughters were just barely old enough to talk in complete sentences the older girl at dinner one time said, "I don't like that!" As in, "I'm not gonna eat that!" I saw the younger one take that in and promptly add, "Me too!"

My simple response: "Who said you had to like it?" Never a complaint again.

Now, that boy may have some chemical reaction to beans. [We all do. If you know what I'm talking about ... and, you do.] You know, that old jingle about "magical fruit" and "toot". But, I think the bean thing for that young pup might just as well likely have been his rebellious stance.

The parent might inquire directly, "Is this refusal to eat beans some sort of juvenile contrariness you're acting out?" But, who is so psychologized with their children to speak like that?

Why, in my day it would be, "Eat your beans!" Done. ["Has Beans."]