At Felsentor

I went by train, boat, and cable car from Zurich to Felsentor which sits on a shelf high above Lake Luzern. Since all the connections are timed, there is no waiting from one conveyance to the other, simply a reasonable time to go from one to the other and then it departs, almost always on time. Only something extraordinary would keep the trains behind schedule. It's Switzerland!

Lake Luzern has mountains than come straight down into the lake and in a fog they are mysterious and exotic with stone walls that shine with dampness and are alive with small waterfalls. The day I arrived the weather was fine, but afterward we dealt with either rain or fog and thunderstorms at varying times throughout the day and night. As it is quite slippery on the trails when it rains, at one point a rescue helicopter hovered about 30 feet from my room, looking down the ravine to see if there was someone who needed assistance. Many people need rescue at this still wet time of year.

The word "Felsentor" means stone gate and it comes from a Franciscan monk who lived on the mountain a few hundred years ago. When the hunters came in search of animals, the monk called the animals into the protection of the stones and away from the hunters. Legend has it that the stone developed into the shape of a monk. Indeed, it clearly looks like a monk and it is the gateway to the piece of land that sits out on the shelf where the residence is and where the Zendo is. The priest who developed the present place of practice is Vanya Palmers, a Transmitted priest of Kobun Chino Roshi. Vanya has also developed an animal shelter to save animals from the slaughterhouse.

There are seven residents who live full-time and work to maintain the facility for retreats. Two are administrators, one is a cook, one is full-time with the animals, and the others are works who garden, keep up with repairs and the myriad duties that are needed to keep such a place going. Access to Felsentor is either by a 15 minute hike from the cable train, or by the old vehicle that is used to transport food and supplies from the cable train. It's a rugged drive and not for the feint of heart.

I spent a quiet weekend sitting Zazen with the residents in the mornings and evenings, reading, sketching, taking photos, and just looking out at the mountains. My workshop had been cancelled and although it was difficult on Felsentor, I was thrilled to have the time to myself. I'd not been feeling so well and it was a chance to take the mountain air and just quiet down. I also enjoyed wonderful vegetarian food which we ate in the dining room that looks out onto the great vista. Even in cloud, it's breathtaking.

The Zendo was built in San Francisco and then transported to Switzerland. The only way to get it up the mountain was by helicopter where it was delivered piece by piece and then reassembled. Pricey, eh? I can't think of what it would take, but we might build our Olympia Zen Center several times over. But, it's a gem and a treasure on the Rigi Mountain and hikers stop to admire the beautiful Japanese architecture.

More later. I must get ready to take Esther, my granddaughter to her ballet lesson next door to the Opera House.

Memorial Day Poem 2010

The Cathedral in Bern

Every year on Memorial Day I post a poem

written by my brother, John Carney,

a Vietnam Vet.

Here is a new poem for this year.

WHO UNDERSTANDS

(Memorial Day)

John Carney 5/29/2010

Who fully understands

The meaning of this day?

The parents, spouses, sons and daughters

Who waved them on their way?

Is it the comrades in their midst

Who saw them where they lay?

Many do not comprehend

And some may not even care

That the sacrifice that was made

Is a bond that others share.

And this is not a matter

It is not the important thing

As they laid down their lives

That only some then felt the sting.

What is important for us all to know

and to realize in some way

Is that the meaning of this time

Though passion only some display,

Is we are a country, we are a people

And this liberty we hold dear

Is kept alive by our willingness

To respond when threats appear.

It may be arguable or seem wrong

And with that make some outcry

Against the leaders and their acts

Have them explain their reasons why.

But do not let this day go by

Without some pause for thought

For the fallen and their loved ones

And their comrades who also fought.

As as a nation, as a people

And our actions in this world

We should recognize and honor

Today when the flag's unfurled.

It's one time we should all realize

It doesn't matter if you fully understand

But take some time to respect such cost!

They died in service of our great land!

Toronto Airport, Zurich and Bern

A few hours layover at the Toronto Airport and I run into a Richard Serra sculpture smack in the middle of the international section of the airport. It’s almost the same sculpture I saw with Rebecca at the Los Angeles County Museum a few years ago. It’s a miracle for parents because the kids waiting for flights can run off some steam as they race through the passageways making crazy sounds that echo off the panels. It’s a wonder the structure of such height can stand and not fall over. Thrilling to see in the midst of an airport.

But the trip was long although uneventful. When I arrived in Zurich it was late morning and the sun was brilliant and warm. What a relief to see weather leaning toward summer. Everyone was out, the city abuzz on a holiday weekend: Pentecost. The Swiss close down their shops for religious holidays as well as other secular holidays. So everything is closed Sunday and Monday. No food shopping, no other shopping. It's annoying if you've forgotten to buy things you'll need, but really nice to feel the city quieted and unhurried. I went out with the kids to the park the day I arrived and fought through to evening before giving in to sleep. I hadn't slept at all on the plane except for a few hours of lucid dreaming. I finally gave in after dinner and slept through to morning.

Sunday was another brilliant day. I went out with the grandkids, Julian and Esther in the morning to see how many trams we could ride in one hour and then be back to get ready to go to Bern, the Swiss capital, for the afternoon. We only managed four trams as the ice cream shop we'd planned to go to was closed so we had to substitute for an ice pop at the main tram station and then we walked along the lake a ways. When we arrived back home, Nicolas and the kids and I got ready for the train ride to Bern, one hour from Zurich.

The Swiss trains have family cars with playground equipment in the middle of the car. Parents sit on either end of the play area and relax while kids get their exercise. Quite pleasant. We ate a picnic lunch on the train and arrived happily in Bern to meet Nicolas' sister Franzisca who is Esther's godmother. The plan was to leave Esther with the godparents for a special godparent outing. Esther's godfather, Martin a Swiss national who lives in Santa Monica was visiting and they all planned to meet at the Zoo. All very complicated.

Meantime, Nicolas, Julian and I went to the cathedral

and climbed high into the bell tower with a spectacular view of the surrounding countryside. The Alps were still a bit misty and I couldn't capture the view with my camera. Nevertheless, the rooftops gave a fine view and we could see the Eiger and Jungfrau which are fairly close to Bern. Afterward, we took a bus out to the zoo and met the group at a restaurant next to the park. Lovely time together. Then we were back at the station for a 5 p.m. train back to Zurich. In no time at all we were home and having dinner together with the weather still warm and summer like.

So, I'm in Zurich, the kids have no school Monday and the plan is to go to the Zurich zoo with just the kids and I hopping on and off trams along the way. James Joyce's gravesite is up near the zoo so I may drag the kids into the cemetery on the way. Nicolas is going into the office, Ellen is going into her studio to work. She is producing some very gorgeous new photographs which I'll get permission to preview here although she's fussy about letting things out before they are ready. At the moment I'm still in jet lag and up at 4:30 a.m. But I'm not so tired as I slept deeply and long the first night. I'm definitely improved from the mean flu that hit before I left Olympia. Things are looking up. It's a good change to be away.

Containing Contamination

Oil seepage in the Gulf of Mexico is disturbing to say the least. Earth and humanity seem besieged with calamities far larger than we can easily contain. I'm afraid to list them in case I should leave out something so immense because I can't hold them all in my mind. Haiti, Chile, China, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Iceland, New Orleans, the Gulf, Indonesia, India. All these are recent occasions of natural and human influenced disasters.

I've always felt that the earth was a mirror of my own body. The rivers and oceans are the blood stream, the stoney mountains are the skeleton, the trees and bushes are the hairy covering of the skin. When I look across the lake and think, oh that is my body, I also feel like a Lilliputian with a puny brain in relation to the size of my body, the earth. And that, of course, is the case. There's a relatively small brain engineering the human entanglements of steel towers on and off shore however remarkable the designs. We aren't exactly sure of how to solve the problems of contamination when destruction occurs. Whatever we build is destined to collapse and decay, but it's usually not in our scope when we first assemble the ladders and rigs.

Recently I saw a 4 minute YouTube film about the Hubble space telescope and the Ultra Deep Field. (See YouTube.com and "Hubble Ultra Deep Field 3D.) The Hubble, for ten days, was pointed into a tiny dark spot in the sky about the size of a grain of sand. The attempt was to find out if it was only dark space or if anything was out there. The camera revealed an unbelievable world of galaxies about 13 billion light years away. They did it again a few years later in another dark spot near the constellation Orion. This discovery is known as the Ultra Deep Field with yet thousands and thousands more galaxies. There are over 100 billion galaxies in space. This is nearly impossible to comprehend but if we look into the sky and realize the galaxies go on forever, we can see how miniscule we are in relation to the field of phenomenon.

What I'm getting at is to say that we know so little. Nature is ultimately more powerful and yet the contamination is taking its toll. It gets harder and harder for nature to respond in a healthy way. Scotland, for instance, used to be all forest. If we beat down the trees enough, they will disappear, at least for a certain time. Where I live in the State of Washington, we are slowly and surely depleting our canopy. People come from other places for the first time where there have been few trees and they are astounded at the abundance of green. However, Olympia is half what it was 25 years ago. Every day, something conspires to contaminate.

So, all this to ask, if the earth is the mirror of my body (and yours) how am I participating in the contamination? Our arteries are clogged and so are the rivers and oceans. It does begin with my own thinking, and then proceeding with those thoughts in action. The Buddha says we are what we think. Almost anyone would admit there is an awful lot of contamination in the mind. Much of the way of thinking is habitual, just like needing to drive a car. We get set in our patterns and have a heck of a time trying to change, often because it's inconvenient. But, what can we hope for if we cannot have custody of our own habitual patterns that contaminate the space around us. We (in America especially) have got to take charge of this. We have got to come to our senses and wake up.

This tiny, miniscule spot in space where I stand influences all other space. This breath that does not belong to me must enter and then leave with the same pure quality of intention. I must allow this body and mind to be influenced by it. It is Wisdom itself at work in the body of existence, in the expression of the Buddha. Let me contribute to the healing in the Gulf by being responsible for my own correct thinking and action in the world. Let me contain my own contaminating flow. This is what we work on every day, every moment, in every activity. It is called practice, and every morning Zazen is the best way to begin.

"...and what did you make of your life?"

It's April 28, my birthday. I'm 70. Seventy years ago today, my mother had already been in the hospital for two weeks suffering from exhaustion. In those days, medicine had a different attitude. A little after one o'clock in the morning she had one spontaneous labor pain, and I was born before they could get her to the delivery room. This sudden appearance saved her from the hard work of labor and from any further exhaustion. As was the practice following birth, she stayed in the hospital for another five days.

I wonder sometimes if that burst into life shaped how I am, or was it because I was already that way - sometimes impromptu, vigorous, direct, frank (my father's name) - that I pushed through so rapidly. The old chicken or the egg thing. Asking too many questions for my own good. Now at 70, there is looking back. It does feel like a bigger gate than 50 or 60. It feels like there's a weight of life behind me, a history that I can't quite comprehend because it's too much and too complex to hold, to remember, or imagine. Where have I been? What have I done?

The first bird this morning sang before 5 a.m. I woke wondering if the moon were still out. Last night on the way to sleep it was brilliant and tonight it will be full. It seemed auspicious. We'll celebrate Buddha's birthday tonight along with my own and the Full Moon. But, it remains to be seen whether the light of the moon will reach through the dark clouds.

So, I got up and fixed a coffee and went back to my room which as fung shui goes, is the room where the angels reside. A good sleeping place. I spent time writing before Zazen and fell into life questions. The big one that named the Stroud lecture, "...and what did you make of your life?" was at the top of the list. I thought about Zen practice and purpose, about the seriousness of life and the frivolity, lightheartedness and gravity, about life as an experiment, life as meaning, intention, fate, the body, the mind, the spirit. "What did you make of your life?"

How am I living my life? Am I caught by irrelevant matters? Who is standing in my shoes? Can I wholeheartedly take up the tasks I've been given?...the ones that I, myself, invented? Can I begin again for the first time? What endures? Have I the courage to live my life completely? Have I the courage not to fear death? What is there yet to do? Can I stand with who I am and who I've become? Is what I ask of myself too rigid? Can I continue to go to the zendo and sit with my questions? Can I allow the questions to continue? Life is questions and should be questions. This does not mean discontentedness. Cows are contented. Who could be contented in today's world with such suffering and turmoil. How can I turn that concern for suffering to good purpose?

Such roiling at 70! Mind you, I am not unhappy. I love life and love that I have the privilege of having gotten to this age. Lord knows I danced in dangerous pathways many times. When I think of all I've been given I'm overwhelmed by the grace and abundance.

This morning my grandchildren telephoned from Zurich. Esther, nearly 8, spoke first. I asked did she know how old I am? Yes, she said, 70. That's pretty old, I said. Oh, not so very old, she said. Ah, sweet child, sweet thought. Then Julian, nearly 10, came on the line. Happy Birthday he said. Do you know how old I am? Yes, he said, 70. That's pretty old, huh? Yes, he said, compared to my age you're very, very old. Well, I said, that's not what Esther said. Oh, he answered, she was just trying to be nice. !!!

When Julian is my age, I'll be 130. Who knows, I told my daughter when she came on the line, that science may find a way to a longevity that we can't imagine, which is all well and good so long as we don't have to live with 130 year old skin. She reminded me that the older Swiss people hang out at the lake and just let their skin be as old as they are. They bake in the sun and get deep tans and they look carefree. She says, Mom, you need to lie out in the sun and get a little sun on you. Yeah, I say as I look out at the pouring rain, yeah I'll be sure to do that, even when I'm 130.

It's just today. Another day. I've done this date 70 times. There are 6.5 billion people in the world which means that along with me, 17,808,219 other people are also celebrating this birthday. Not bad company. Happy Birthday all you 17,808,219 people all over the globe. May the year go well.

Cremation and Burial

The Sangha from Green Gulch Farm, a temple connected to San Francisco Zen Center, with Abbot Steve Stucky and Wendy Johnson performed the most beautiful Cremation Ceremony for Robert Elliot Weinberg. Cremation Ceremonies are often the part that the family doesn’t attend because it is a painful experience to feel the impact of the cremation chamber. The aloneness of it is haunting. The good bye in that way is quite difficult. So, Linda, Rob’s wife and I were steeling ourselves for the impact, but Linda insisted she wanted to be there and when it was done I was glad of her courage and determination because the ceremony helped to sustain us.

Wendy Johnson is the author of GARDENING AT THE DRAGON’S GATE, AT WORK IN THE WILD AND CULTIVATED WORLD, Bantam Dell, 2008. She knew Rob when he lived at Green Gulch and she remembered him well. Rob was one of those persons who never argued or questioned when he was asked to do something. A great Zen student, he would just say “yes” and go forward with the task doing it with complete focus and care. We don’t forget Zen practitioners like this. Wendy had developed the farm and gardens at Green Gulch, she’s the guru or farming and plants and she too is unforgettable as she looks like a blossom that can breathe and talk as a human.

Wendy stayed at Olympia Zen Center when she was on her book tour of the Pacific Northwest just after her book came out. She gave a Wednesday night lecture for us and delivered wise and tender words that seemed to coil like a tendril emerging from the earth.

Abbot Steve arrived with two other priests in training and set up an altar at the foot of the coffin made of soft pine wood with rope handles. Rob loved to sail and he loved ropes. He loved doing sailing knots and deeply appreciated that a knot could be made quite complex and yet could unravel with a single pull at one end. A small Buddha statue almost the same as the one on Rob’s home altar sat against the beauty of the waterfall in the outside garden. In Zen, the waterfall represents Nirvana.

Wendy came with a gigantic basket full of herbs which she had gathered in the morning dew at Green Gulch. Small bunches of various herbs were tied in bouquets. It began to rain and Linda said that this was God weeping and indeed, it felt so.

The six of us stood beside the coffin and chanted The Heart Sutra. Then we said some words of remembrance. I offered the poem of Ryokan, “True all the seasons have moonlit nights...the moon and the earth are one and myself one with them.....my robes soaked in tears.” This is a long Chinese poem that was Rob’s favorite by Ryokan. Others said how they had known Rob. Linda expressed her gratitude for the people and the herbs and flowers.

Then we began to circumambulate the coffin chanting “Enmei Jikku Kannon Gyo.” As we did, we picked bunches of herbs out of the basket and placed them on the coffin. By the time we were finished, the coffin was bedecked, festooned, heaped with fragrant herbs. Then we wheeled the coffin into the crematorium, placed lighted incense sticks in with the herbs and moved the coffin into the cremation chamber. All of it deeply sacred.

The funeral was held the next day in the same room and I officiated at this ceremony. The architecture of Fernwood is Frank Lloyd Wright-ish only with higher ceilings. The floors are dark stone and the art carefully selected. One piece is a large blue saucer incense bowl held up by Giacometti like figures. Another art piece is a three foot sculpture of the Buddha’s hand holding a mudra. Many asked me about the meaning of the mudra which is the thumb touching the fourth finger. All I could answer was that the fourth finger represents grief and the touching the thumb to the grief finger denotes healing.

The ceremony room has a floor to ceiling and wall to wall window with doors on either side opening to a large terrace. The garden at the back of the terrace is a sharp vertical natural planting with a waterfall cascading down its center. When the doors are opened, the room is filled with water music and cool, clean, marine air.

The altar, a high clean-lined rectangular table, held the ceremonial articles: the Buddha, a bowl for stick incense, an incense holder for powdered incense, two candles, a bowl of fruit offerings, a long string of prayer beads made by Rob out of manzanita seeds that appeared after the zendo fire at Tassajara in the 1980s. Also, there was a photograph of Rob with two bouquets of flowers. At the start of the ceremony, his ashes were carried in and placed on the altar by his nephew, accompanied by Linda.

The ceremony included a recitation of the Precepts which Rob renewed on March 21st at his home zendo and given the Buddha name KoYu "Great Cause." And, there was time for people to remember Rob. His older sister Pennie Weinberg spoke of childhood memories, others from his work days at Crissy Field, particularly those who had been his students, and work friends from UC Berkeley remembered Rob’s important contribution to education. Rob’s father, Elliiot Weinberg, had been a friend of Robert Frost, and Rob was named after the poet. I read, “The Road Not Taken” by Frost. The waterfall was the music throughout the ceremony.

A brief reception followed. The family and a few friends had lunch at a restaurant down the hill from the cemetery in Mill Valley. Rob’s ashes will be placed at Tassajara sometime in the future with clergy from Tassajara officiating. It’s still startling to think of Rob gone, but it certainly points toward a reminder of the brevity of life, the need to live well each day, and the importance of caring well for our family, friends and friendships. Rob will be greatly missed by his family and friends. If we each take a lesson from him, something particular that we each learned from him, and we remember to apply it, the qualities he lived will live on in us.

(In the next blog, in a few days, I’ll write about the Joe Stroud event.)

Rob Weinberg died peacefully early Sunday morning, April 11th, at home in Berkeley with his wife, Linda Barnett beside him. He had been cared for by Linda while a patient in hospice since leaving the hospital in February.

A Cremation Ceremony will be held at Fernwood in Mill Valley next Tuesday. A Funeral Service will be the following day at Fernwood at 10 a.m.. Rob's ashes will be scattered at Tassajara sometime in the future.

Rob recommitted himself to the Buddha's Precepts at a Jukai Ceremony at his home on March 21, 2010. He received the name KoYu, which means Great Cause.

After obtaining his master's degree at Berkeley, Rob worked for the past 20 years in the cause of education in ecology at Berkeley and at the education center at Crissy Field in San Francisco, establishing computer information regarding education in global warming and climate change. His volunteer work on a portal web site which he helped establish and maintain is regarded as one of the most important national educational tools for students and teachers on the subject of climate change. www.climatechangeeducation.org

Earlier in his life, after participating in Zen practice with Kobun Roshi at Haiku Zendo and Bodhi, Rob helped build the new zendo at Tassajara from April to September, 1978. He then lived and practiced at Green Gulch from 1978 until the Fall of 1981, when he entered Tassajara and stayed for six practice periods until the Fall of 1984. A few years later he and Linda Barnett were married at a sunrise ceremony on Mt. Tamalpais, one of their favorite places.

Rob had celebrated his 60th birthday on February 25. He was immensely grateful for the encouragement he received from the cards people sent or the well wishes and prayers sent his way during the time of illness. He never lost his humor and he stepped with incredible grace through his final days.