Tenshin Reb Anderson - Warm Smiles from Cold Mountains: Dharma Talks on Zen Meditation
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Warm Smiles from Cold Mountains: Dharma Talks on Zen Meditation: summary, description and annotation
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DescriptionA collection of dharma talks, Warm Smiles from Cold Mountains explores the life of passionate commitment that lies at the heart of the formal practice of Zen meditation. Reb Anderson draws on over thirty years of experience as a Zen priest, exploring Buddhist yoga and psychology and the relationship of wisdom and compassion to the personal, social, and ecological crises of our time. At once inspirational and practical, he bows to an ancient tradition as he helps us to forge a modern-day Buddhism that urges us to sit still in the middle of all living beings.ReviewReb Anderson moved to San Francisco from Minnesota, in 1967, to study Zen Buddhism with Shunryu Suzuki Roshi, who ordained him as a priest in 1970. Since then, Reb has continued to study at San Francisco Zen Center, which includes Beginners Mind Temple at The City Center (San Francisco), Green Dragon Temple at Green Gulch Farm (near Muir Beach, California), and Zen Mind Temple (Carmel Valley, California). Reb served as abbot from 1986 to 1995 and is now a senior dharma teacher.He lives with his family and friends at Green Gulch Farm, where he teaches, lectures, and leads practice periods.About the AuthorReb Anderson moved to San Francisco from Minnesota, in 1967, to study Zen Buddhism with Shunryu Suzuki Roshi, who ordained him as a priest in 1970. Since then, Reb has continued to study at San Francisco Zen Center, which includes Beginners Mind Temple at The City Center (San Francisco), Green Dragon Temple at Green Gulch Farm (near Muir Beach, California), and Zen Mind Temple (Carmel Valley, California). Reb served as abbot from 1986 to 1995 and is now a senior dharma teacher.He lives with his family and friends at Green Gulch Farm, where he teaches, lectures, and leads practice periods.
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Table of Contents
By Reb Anderson
Being Upright
Warm Smiles from Cold Mountains
Homage to our great original teacher, Shakyamuni Buddha.
Homage to the whole succession of disciples in the way.
Homage to the radical liberator in China, Bodhidharma.
Homage to our lofty ancestor of eternal peace, Eihei Dogen.
Homage to our compassionate founder, Shogaku Shunryu.
Homage to the whole succession of disciples in the way.
Homage to the radical liberator in China, Bodhidharma.
Homage to our lofty ancestor of eternal peace, Eihei Dogen.
Homage to our compassionate founder, Shogaku Shunryu.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
INNUMERABLE BEINGS contributed directly and indirectly to this little book. I thank them all and, in particular, I want to name a few of them. Throughout the years, many inspiring and patient students and teachers of Zen have invited me to speak about something that is vital to me: the practice of Zen meditation. Those who wanted to make these talks available to a wider audience encouraged me to put them in written form and gather them into a book. Meiya Wender provided the initial impetus for this project, did much of the editing, and generally expedited the production of the first edition. Susan Moon was the principal editor of the first edition, selecting, editing, and arranging the entire manuscript. The first edition was designed by Rosalie Curtis.
For the second edition, I added Chapter Two, A Ceremony for the Encouragement of Zazen. Donald Moyer edited this edition, suggesting the current order of chapters and the division of the manuscript into three sections. Setsuan Godwin and Charlie Pokorny made many editorial improvements throughout the manuscript. Diana Gerard provided invaluable overall assistance, from footnoting various sources to acquiring permission for reprinting quotations. Katherine L. Kaiser copyedited the second edition of this book.
For the third edition, I added Chapter Seven, Suzuki Roshis Teaching of Shikantaza, and Chapter Nineteen, September 11: Letting Go of Hatred, which were edited by Holly Hammond.
Many other people have transcribed and edited these talks throughout the years. I would especially like to thank the people who helped me to edit the earlier versions of these talks that appeared in San Francisco Zen Centers publication Wind Bell: Shosan Austin, Peter Bailey, Rusa Chiu, Sonja Gardenswartz, Jane Hirshfield, Michael Katz, Myo Lahey, Jeffrey Schneider, Furyu Schroeder, Laurie Senauke, Meiya Wender, and Michael Wenger. Leslie Boies edited Fathers Day, and Susan Moon edited The Acupuncture Needle of Zazen and Life Is Not Killed, all of which originally appeared in Turning Wheel: Journal of the Buddhist Peace Fellowship.
Lastly, I would like to thank my daughter Thea Anderson, for teaching me to be a father by insisting on being herself, and Rusa Chiu, for her immeasurable and undefinable contribution.
I bow deeply to you all.
Reb Anderson
Green Dragon Temple
Green Gulch Farm
Muir Beach, California
January 2005
Green Dragon Temple
Green Gulch Farm
Muir Beach, California
January 2005
FOREWORD
THE BOOK IN YOUR HAND, a sheaf of white leaves with black markings on them, started out as a voicethe voice of Reb Andersonspeaking in a Zen temple. The chapters were originally dharma talks, given at Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, Green Gulch Farm, or The City Center, some of my favorite places in the world. I would like to set the stage for you, tell you a little of what you cannot know from the words on the page: the smells, the sounds, the bodily experience.
I had the good fortune to be a monk at Tassajara a couple of winters ago, and to hear some of these talks when they were first given, down in that valley, deep in the mountains. During the winter practice period, lectures are scheduled for midmorning. The zendo is cold. The sun is up, but its light doesnt yet reach down the valley to warm the zendo roof. The morning dew is still dripping off the eaves.
The stream outside the zendo sings a constant song, like breath, swelling or softening according to the rains. The caw of blue jays punctuates Rebs words. Well-trimmed kerosene lanterns around the room burn steadily, reflecting off polished wood. And the people around the room, sitting on raised platforms in our black robes, we are lanterns, too, burning our calories, breathing our way from moment to moment, a family of us, become intimate through the long months of sitting together in these quiet mountains, this protected space.
Even inside the zendo, you can smell the freshness of the mountain air. And, of course, you smell incense. If the lecture lasts a long time, longer than the schedule says, then the kitchen crew has to leave before its over to fix our lunch. So while they cook for us, we listen, for them. The jays outside grow noisier, greeting the sun as it reaches down into the valley.
Some of the talks were given at Green Gulch Farm. Green Gulch is another valley, a valley by the sea, where the air is moist and soft. Sometimes, in the zendo, you can hear the ocean waves. You can hear frogs peeping in the nearby pond, and sometimes the distant swoosh of a car passing up on Route One. At both Tassajara and Green Gulch, the listeners are nestled together in a valley, in a bowl, in the palm of Buddhas hand. The words of the lecture, along with the frogs, along with the rattle of the garbage truck, are filling a silver bowl with snow, pouring milk into milk.
Reb offers himself up in his talks, like the stream. There is something devotional about the way he speaks, a willingness to make contact in each moment. He sits upright. His voice is gentle, but remarkably intense for its softness. Sometimes he speaks slowly, sometimes in a flood of words, and always as if there is all the time in the world. And there is. He pauses, he looks out at us, he asks from time to time, Are you with me? Are you hungry? Shall we sing a song?
The words blend, seamlessly, with the jays, so that the jays, too, are saying, Listen to this body. Life is not killed.
He is demanding. He asks us to stretch our understanding to the limit. Approaching colors is not just the colors being the colors, but you approaching them. This is misery. What does he mean? Black cushions, gleaming brown wood reflecting lantern light, the green of someones sock, peeking out from under her robes. Or, through the open door, a pink explosion of crab apple. But if we do not approach these phenomena, if there is no seam between them and us, then these very same skandas, these very same colors and sounds, are bliss.
Because were all in the soup together, Reb brings in all of our stories. Some of the stories are about himself: about a dog he had as a kid, about what it feels like to be a father, about cleaning up his desk. He mixes the old Zen teaching stories of the ancestors with stories of students and friends. We hear about Good Servant, who sees his reflection in a river and is enlightened. We hear of an anxious monk at Tassajara who comforted herself by chopping turnips. We hear the story of Dogen walking around a pillar before his death, and the story of a student who was worried about her loud swallowing during zazen. All these stories are equally worthy.
Now the talks have become chapters in a book, and more people can read them. But the words still have the immediacy of Rebs voice. We can still feel his wholeheartedness, his commitment to sharing himself with his listeners and now with his readers. He does not hold back. And he calls forth our deep response, as well. Again and again, he reminds us that were intimately connected and already Buddha. Each of younot separately, but in the cauldron with all beings, cooking and being cookedis realizing awakening.
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