Shaolin

I'm definitely going to gush in this post, because there is no way I can overstate how fantastic Shaolin is! That's all I need to write, but I will go on nevertheless.

Shaolin is incandescent with the spirit of the martial arts, and it's no surprise the Shaolin temple itself endorsed the movie. It must be said that the fights are not ends-in-themselves scenes that you get from most great martial arts movies. There's nothing like Jet Li schooling a crowd of martial artists in Fist of Legend or anything like Tony Jaa wrecking dozens of thugs on the way up a massive staircase in The Protector. The fight scenes in Shaolin are satisfying for sure, but they are also  completely integrated into the plot. This is a good thing, and it elevates the film into the stratosphere, but it is something to keep in mind if you like your martial arts films to heavily emphasize fights. That said, I can't imagine anyone into martial arts movies being dissatisfied with Shaolin because the martial arts and - what the movie terms Martial Zen - are so central to the plot.

Aside from that tiny non-caveat, Shaolin has everything you could possibly ask for in a martial arts movie: rousing battle scenes, amazing fights, martial arts philosophy, Zen monks, a spiritual journey for the hero, a believable villain, great characters, a fantastic cast, genuinely touching drama, and terrific comic relief. At just over two hours, I loved Shaolin so much that I wish there was a version that works in the deleted scenes so I could enjoy the additional depth they provide in future viewings. Of course, as good as the deleted scenes are, I can understand why the director cut them. Strictly speaking, there are not necessary. Further, for a wide audience, pumping the length of this movie towards three hours would likely be too much. I found Shaolin so rich in plot, character, and action that I would eat up the extra material! Director's Cut please!

I'm not even sure where to begin in discussing this phenomenal movie. It must be said that the plot is not original. Andy Lau plays evil warlord Hou Jie, whose ambition overtakes him and causes the destruction of everything he has and most of the people around him. Brought to utter despair, Jie becomes a Zen monk and rebuilds himself through Martial Zen amid the monks of Shaolin temple. We've certainly seen this kind of story before (e.g., Fearless). However, the path Shaolin takes through the trope makes it as engrossing as if it's the first time we're seeing it. For example, since Jie defiled the Shaolin temple just before his fall, most of the monks are not thrilled that he has claimed sanctuary with them and Jie has to prove himself. Also, fate washes up wave after wave of bad karma for Jie to wade through, and it's not long before he has to face the music for his past offenses despite the fact that he has changed. (Again, the deleted scenes deepen Jie's transformation from warlord to monk in some wonderful ways).

All this plot works up to a massive battle scene at the end. Despite the huge scope of this final battle, every detail resonates powerfully because we have so much back story on all the characters. Even secondary and tertiary characters are filled out (often in the deleted scenes) so as to be like flesh and blood people, an example of the amazing writing and characterization woven into the action and fights. This movie would definitely reward multiple viewings.

Andy Lau in Shaolin

As for the performances, I just can't say enough about Andy Lau as General Hou Jie. He commands all the different facets of his character - cruel warlord, doting father, shattered man, earnest monk, and contrite hero - equally well. The evolution and (I think it's fair to say) enlightenment of his character is totally believable and presented in a seamless fashion. Lau also does a great job communicating his character's state of mind, even when he has little or no dialogue. I especially found the scene where he lies at the bottom of the pit and stares at the stars asking "Why?" to be emotionally affecting and right on the money from a 'Martial Zen' point of view. His character's transformation in this movie is one of the most complex performances I've ever seen in a martial arts movie, largely because it can stand on its own as a true dramatic performance.

But the rest of the cast is also strong. Of course, Jackie Chan is a highlight. As Wudao, the eccentric cook, Chan provides comic relief without ever going over the top. His character also has its own subtle transformation, although a lot is left open. This is, of course, a sign of good writing and a movie that doesn't look down on its audience. We don't need every little thing spelled out for us. Elsewhere, Nicholas Tse delivers a wicked villain whose learned his lessons too well at Jie's knee. It would have been easy to overdo this character, but Tse is able to go right up to the edge without losing control. Martial artists Wu Jing and Yu Xing (the latter a Shaolin monk in real life!), and actor Shao-Qun Yu play senior monks in the temple. Each is given a fully-defined character and - in the deleted scenes - subplots to help us get to know them. Xing is especially sympathetic as the fiery Jing Kong who reaches enlightenment when an unexpected refugee arrives at the temple. Great stuff! And this is only about half of the characters that get small but critical screen time without at all detracting from the flow of the main story.

While the martial arts content satisfied me, as I said if you really must have fights that are totally upfront and center, then Shaolin might not be as obvious a 'thumbs-up' movie for you. On the other hand, the amount of material relating to martial arts and Zen philosophy that is sensitively and believably worked into this script (without being preachy), for me, would make up for any possible deficiencies in the number and length of fight scenes. It should also be noted that Shaolin relies on a good number of large battles and, as usual, these scenes tend to displace the hand-to-hand fighting most desirable in martial arts movies. However, on the plus side, every fight and battle is driven by the character's paths. When characters die, triumph, or meet their fate, there is always a resonance for the viewer because these people are so clearly drawn for us. The final battle is totally satisfying and a worthy capstone to the complex story and excellent action that has occurred up to that point.

I've just watched Shaolin, so I hate to be too laudatory. However, I really believe Shaolin will ultimately end-up as one of my favorite martial arts movies of all time. Like Fearless, this is a beautiful-looking movie that celebrates the martial arts spirit, has strong fights, and yet also goes above and beyond by delivering affecting characters in a well-acted and powerful story.

Definitely a must see!

Zazen vs. Meditation

One of the reasons I was initially attracted to Zen Buddhism is that I associated it with calm and inner peace. Find myself running too fast in the world? Letting too many things mess up my equilibrium? Need to remind myself what's important to me? Zen - and specifically Zen meditation  - is the answer! I'm oversimplifying somewhat but, at root, this is kind of what I thought about Zen Buddhism when I started studying it.

During the intervening ten or eleven years, one thing I've learned is that there is a big difference between popular ideas of meditation like the ones I had and Zen meditation (or zazen). One the most important differences is that while popular meditation seems to promise things like happiness, reduced stress, and inner peace, zazen does not. More deeply, Zen itself makes no claims about providing these things to practitioners. Even so, whenever you hear a Zen monk speak - or even just look at the way they carry themselves - you can just tell they have achieved those things (although 'contentment' might be a more accurate word than 'happiness'). So why is this? I believe the explanation lies in the philosophical differences between Zen and the self-help/new-age movement.

A few disclaimers before I continue. In writing about these differences, I'm not trying to say one way or the other is wrong or could never be helpful to anyone. I'm just sharing my own experiences and understanding. Let's also define some terms: 'meditation' will refer to popular practices and 'zazen' will stand for Zen meditation specifically. Now, onward...

The best place I can think to begin explaining the philosophical differences between zazen and meditation is to say that meditation seems to view unhappiness (or more broadly, suffering) as an emotional state that is very different from happiness. It's a kind of negative energy from which we need to free ourselves in order to be happy or at peace. In contrast, Zen views both suffering and happiness as responses to the world around us. So, in essence, they are the same thing.

Further, in Zen both happiness and suffering are temporary states. We are happy until something makes us unhappy, and then we remain unhappy until something makes us happy again. Zen is about escaping from this vicious circle entirely. As a result, from a Zen perspective, the idea of meditating to end unhappiness or stress is wrong-minded.

While Zen Buddhists see suffering as an inherent part of being alive, we also believe that much of the suffering people endure is unnecessary. It is needlessly self-induced. When we are unhappy or stressed or lacking inner peace, it is often not the result of external factors but due to our own undisciplined thinking. The human mind is a magnificent machine that can solve the deepest scientific questions about the universe, envision masterpieces of art, and compose symphonies. However, in our day to day life, it can be more like a spoiled brat: running amok as if high on sugar and stamping its foot and screaming if it doesn't get a cookie that it wants right away. The Zen view is that, left undisciplined, the mind is more likely to create suffering than symphonies. Zazen is the means of disciplining the unruly mind and, by extension, ourselves and our approach to life.

This Zen idea of zazen as a form of self-discipline, or a way to bring the mind under control and focus it, is very different from popular thinking related to meditation. Most commonly, meditation seems to be presented as some kind of altered state of consciousness or a sleepy never-never land we visit to chill out. In contrast to these ideas, during zazen, one is alert and acutely aware of the immediate moment. Posture and/or breathing is rigorously paid mind to and, in some Zen meditation groups, a teacher will give you a little whack if you are not sitting correctly or are doing something else not appropriate for zazen. Compared to meditation, zazen seems a lot less like relaxation and much more like lining up before a drill sergeant for marching.

That may seem like a bit of an exaggeration, but there's definitely some truth to it. Just like a gymnast standing on one foot on a balance beam must have absolute focus and control over their body, during zazen we must have absolute focus and control of our minds in order to discipline them. To extend the metaphor, the time during which we sit in zazen is the same as the 'center' on which the gymnast's body is balanced. If the gymnast lets their body move off-center either backward or forward, they will fall. In zazen, we focus on the present moment and do not let ourselves move off-center by thinking about the past or future.

And when I say 'the present moment', I really mean right that second and nothing more. We do not think about what we will be doing even in an hour in the future, nor actively consider what has happened to us within the last hour. This kind of focus takes a good deal of effort at first, because we are simply not used to reining in our minds this way. When someone has achieved this focus during zazen for a sustained amount of time, we say they have entered samadhi. I've found that, when I am in samadhi, I have those feelings of calm, peace, and contentment promised by meditation.

Unfortunately, while one can have these feelings during meditation or samadhi (and perhaps even hold onto them for a short time afterwards), unless one is learning to discipline the mind, the feelings will 'wear off' within a few hours. This is why the focus of zazen is not these emotional benefits but the ability to discipline the mind. Without this discipline, nothing is actually gained. Further, once this discipline is mastered, it can be summoned and maintained during normal life.

So the positive emotional benefits are ancillary benefits of zazen - as opposed to the goal in meditation - and they occur as a result of the discipline we're learning by repeatedly sitting in zazen. In essence, sitting in zazen and experiencing samadhi in training us to recognize what the right mindset feels like. As we become familiar with the experience, we almost instinctively know when we are engaged in undisciplined behavior and we can shut it down. This helps us rein in our minds and avoid needless, self-induced suffering.

A final point also needs to be made about the difference between zazen and meditation. While meditation often uses phrases such as 'finding inner peace' or 'seeking truth', Zen practitioners believe we already have inner peace and truth. However, because our minds are not disciplined, we cannot focus on these things. The writing of ancient Zen masters all the way back to Bodhidharma repeatedly exhort us to merely sit in zazen because, in so doing, truth and understanding come without effort.

In fact, the picture to the right and the quote: "Peace comes from within; do not seek it without" is attributed to the Buddha. So you can see that this tenet goes right back to the origins and root of Zen Buddhism.

The implication of this tenet is that using zazen to seek... anything...or to actively strive for something is wrong-minded. Again, this is very different than meditation which often refers to a 'journey' we are on with some goal at the end of the trip. No trajectory of this kind is desired in Zen Buddhism.

It was difficult for me to put all this into words, and I may not have everything correct or stated as clearly as I intend. However, this is something that has been simmering in my head for a couple years now, and I wanted to take a stab at crystallizing it!

Merry Christmas!

Zen and Neuroscience

Buddhist monk participating in a neuroscience experiment

In recent years, neuroscientists have made strides in understanding human brain function. These strides have implications about our behavior, where our identity (some would say 'soul') resides, and even the concept of free will. Of course I imagine one must take these theories with a grain of salt since the science is relatively young, and we may not understand emergent brain functions that go beyond what specific areas of the brain can do. Still, there is no question that neuroscience is demystifying our brains (and us), and demystification is usually another way of saying we're abandoning superstition.

One of my closest friends is what can only be described as a 'born-again atheist', and he posts articles to Facebook about science, debunked religious beliefs, longevity research, and neuroscience. He also sends me articles in a futile attempt to convince me that cats and dogs have no emotions but he is, of course, completely wrong about that, (jab jab, Paul!). Anyway, a while back I discussed one of his neuroscience posts that spoke to the physiological impact that sitting in zazen has on the brain (see post: Zazen and Brain Physiology).

He recently sent me an interview with a neurophilosopher(?) named Patricia Churchland in which she addresses the implications of neuroscience, what she terms neuroexistentialism (see New Scientist article You Are Your Brain). These implications tend to disconcert people. For example, they suggest our identity or self may be strictly tied to our brains. This would tend to discredit any belief that says who and what we are is an ethereal essence, which can continue after we die by floating off to heaven or being reincarnated into a new life. Despite the obvious controversial nature these views have for many people, I continue to be surprised how tightly they fit with Zen philosophy or, in some cases, how Zen philosophy seems to help me integrate them into my life in a positive manner.

The Afterlife

For example, while neuroscience may never be able to definitively prove or disprove the existence of an afterlife, the direction it takes us in is very disconcerting to afterlife proponents. In this question, Zen Buddhism counters by suggesting we should be focused on the moment. Not the past, not the future, not what might or might not happen after we die. As such, I found myself not especially upset that there may be no afterlife. Since I can't know what will happen when I die, expending mental thought fretting about it isn't sensible. Further, how do I know that when I'm however-old-I'll-be when I die that I'll want an afterlife? Again, worrying about this now and drawing myself away from the life I do in fact have just makes no sense. I have this equanimity as a result of the discipline I've learned while sitting in zazen.

Free Will

Another issue tackled by Churchland in the interview is that of free will. Does it exist? Her answer is very interesting from a Zen Buddhist perspective: "A better question is whether we have self-control...We need to be able to maintain a goal despite distractions. We need to suppress certain kinds of impulses." While this is a rather clinical description of the mindset one achieves through zazen, I can't find much fault with it. Through Zen, I have learned that the quantity and quality of my responses do much more to shape the reality I experience than the specific situations I face in a normal day. Many of us make ourselves unhappy by reacting to everything. In contrast, when I am disciplined enough to control and withhold response, I retain my equilibrium and focus. A natural by-product of this centered mind state is a sense of peace and, often, contentment. Again, this is core to Zen Buddhism.

Finally, there is Churchland's explanation of why she feels no need to be a 'cultural warrior' preaching the wisdom of the neuroexistentialist view: "People are, by and large, smart enough and reasonable enough that they come to a good decision eventually. But it takes time to think about it, to go back and forth. It's something that you have to marinate in for a while." This is absolutely the way Zen Buddhists learn. There is no proselytizing, and 'marinating' is a great way to describe what a Zen Buddhist is doing during zazen (and with their Zen studies, in general). We are experiencing the moment, finding the knowledge we have, and slowly learning how to bring that knowledge out of zazen and into everyday life.

I have repeatedly found that Zen Buddhism seems perfectly compatible with even the most challenging frontiers of science. In a way, it's as if Zen Buddhism helps me to embrace reality - even a potentially off-putting reality - and allows me to accept it in a way that is positive and healthy. Perhaps this is the true role of spirituality in relationship to science?

The Dalai Lama may have said it best during a talk where he was asked if the findings of cosmologists - which disprove certain Buddhist creation myths - will threaten Buddhism. In his opinion, the exact opposite is true. Science furthers our progression down the path.

Holiday Party 2013 (and a mini-rant about 'Happy Holidays')

We just had our annual Holiday Party. Here's some photos from the festivities! Thanks to Kelly and Stacy for the photos (since I took none this year!)

Happy Holidays!!!!

13 Assassins

Takashi Miike's 13 Assassins is an excellent samurai movie filled with loads of swordplay and action. Samurai movies aren't my usual cup of tea, because I prefer weaponless hand-to-hand combat. However, I was fully able to enjoy this movie thanks to the direct nature of the battles. Unlike many large-scale battle scenes where individual combatants are like ants on the screen, this movie places you right in the midst of the battle with specific characters. This has a lot to do with how well-shot 13 Assassins is. There is nothing low-budget or amateur about the look or cinematography of the film (although a few CGI scenes are off). Despite the polish, the movie never gets in the way of showing us action and plenty of it. Miike struck a near-perfect balance there.

While I typically do not demand character development to enjoy a martial arts movie, I certainly don't think it's a bad thing when it is well-integrated in the story. In this case, characterization is definitely thin, and 'development' is not on the menu. Given that we have thirteen assassins, that means some of them get lost or seem the same. However, I felt I could distinguish them enough for the movie's purposes, and their comradeship and interaction - such as it was - was compelling enough for me. If the movie had spent a little more time with them, yes it would have been a better movie for sure. However, the movie was not harmed by the lack of focus on characterization.

The movie is really in three acts: 1) assembling the assassins for the battle, 2) traveling to and preparing for the battle, and 3) the battle. In order to drive deeper characterization, the movie would have had to pump up acts one or two, and I think this would have made the movie take too long to get to the pay-off. And make no mistake, the pay-off is the battle at the end. It's a long, amazing battle that totally delivers! Best of all, I don't recall any use of wires, gravity defying superhumanism, or poetic beauty shots. This made everything much more exciting, in the moment, and rendered the swordplay much more impressive to me.

The only exception to the realism was when the vagrant character, Kiga, reappears at the end alive and well. He was obviously killed earlier in the movie, and I did not understand why/how he came back to life. However, the movie is so strong, that I attributed this to me missing something related to samurai culture/folklore rather than the movie doing something goofy. And it certainly didn't hurt my enjoyment; I just went with it.

13 Assassins was a thrilling ride, and I would definitely watch it again. Recommended!

The Grandmaster

While flying home from LA on a business trip, I was stunned and delighted to find that the selection of movies included a martial arts movie: director Wong Kar-wai's Ip Man biopic The Grandmaster! Thank you, United Airlines, for not limiting my choice to the usual airline fodder: the latest attempts at comedy from former SNLers and formulaic rom-coms.

From what I understand, three cuts of The Grandmaster have screened (insert annoyed growl). There's the original Chinese theatrical release (130 minutes), a version shown at Cannes (123 minutes), and the typically slashed US version (108 minutes). From what I gather in the always helpful consumer reviews on amazon, no 'full' or 'uncut' version of The Grandmaster exists because new scenes were added to the Cannes version that did not appear in the Chinese release. So buying a copy of this movie right now is risky, as the situation cries out for a Director's Cut or Collector's Edition. I'm not sure which version I saw, but I'm 99% positive it wasn't the US version because a) what I saw had to be a minimum of two hours, b) there was no option for dubbed English, and c) dialogue concerning martial arts philosophy is what usually ends up on the cutting room floor in US versions of martial arts movies.

So, with that out of the way, the other elephant in the room is how Kar-wai's The Grandmaster stacks up against what (I imagine) is its key competition, Donnie Yen's Ip Man and Ip Man 2 (click to get to reviews on Zen Throw Down). My conclusion is that the Kar-wai and Yen movies are so different in approach and style that it's a bit hard to compare them. Yen's Ip Man (the original, that is, the sequel is pretty lame across the board) is the better picture in terms of fight scenes. While Leung reportedly studied martial arts to star in Kar-wai's movie, Yen is without question a far better martial artist. Ip Man has far more satisfying displays of martial arts than we get in The Grandmaster. The latter movie uses a too much wire-fu, slow-mos, cuts, and slick art direction to compete on this score. For example, the first fight in the movie employs a ludicrous amount of rain to dramatize the scene. It's like the actors are fighting in a pool of water! It's not that the fight scenes in The Grandmaster are bad; they're just not intended to be as direct and visceral.

That said, the fight scenes in The Grandmaster are given a far better context than Ip Man provided. Ip Man was a bit dark in tone and lacked much focus on martial arts philosophy. The Grandmaster delivers this content in spades. Over and over, the dialogue - and perhaps the whole theme of the movie - is steeped in martial arts philosophy and questions of honor. Several fights are driven by or preceded by such content. For me, this makes the fights resonate more. For a fan of martial arts movies, I think both are worth seeing depending on your mood. If you want straight-up fight scenes, then Yen's movie is your choice. If you want something deeper then opt for Kar-wai. For those not into martial arts movies as a genre, The Grandmaster is the best choice.

The Grandmaster has flashes of the cinematography and graceful wire-fu that made Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Hero beautiful to watch. Wisely, Kar-wai doesn't take his film anywhere near as far in this direction as those movies. The Grandmaster and remains mostly grounded in reality. This approach fits the more dramatic tone of the movie, yet does not make us question whether the movie belongs in the genre. The Grandmaster is also propelled by the performances of an excellent cast. Tony Leung's portrayal of Ip Man outshines Yen's for, while Yen is without doubt the better martial artist, Leung is without doubt the better actor. The Grandmaster also offers the always compelling Ziyi Zhang. She very nearly steals the movie as - strangely - she has more storyline than Leung!

As a biopic overall, The Grandmaster works better than the Yen franchise. The Grandmaster covers the same historic timeline as the two Ip Man movies however, since Ip Man 2 is a very weak movie, The Grandmaster does a better job telling the whole story. Both films also have brief references in their endings to Ip Man meeting the young Bruce Lee. In Ip Man 2, this meeting is handled in an embarrassingly ham-fisted manner. In The Grandmaster, it is quite subtle. The facial resemblance of the child playing the young Bruce Lee to the actual actor is the only cue we're given and we are allowed to make the connection ourselves.

I'd highly recommend The Grandmaster, even if you have seen Ip Man. It's a different take on the story and a different kind of movie altogether, and it's a satisfying viewing experience filled with dialogue and fights that breath in the spirit of the martial arts.

Dragon (starring Donnie Yen)

It's been a while since I watched a new martial arts movie, and I just got done watching Dragon. [FYI: I saw the uncut, 155 minute version. The US version apparently cut over 30 minutes. Grrr!] In Dragon, Donnie Yen plays Liu Jinxi, a quiet paper maker and family man who lives in a small village. He becomes a hero when he inadvertently defeats some thugs who come to the village looking for trouble. An investigator (played by Takeshi Kaneshiro) looks into the case and slowly unravels Jinxi's past, which is much darker than anyone suspects. Don't worry; no spoilers!

The movie raises a couple themes, such as: Can people change? What is the relationship of mercy and justice? Admittedly, Dragon doesn't tie these questions up too well, but I did find myself watching Yen's character for evidence one way or the other of the answer to the first question. That was rewarding. Plus I was able to overlook the lack of full resolution for a lot of reasons, mainly because Dragon has a strong plot as well great martial arts scenes. This is a pretty rare combination in a martial arts movie. Second, I totally bought into Yen and Kaneshiro's characters. Good performances by the males leads made this side of the film a highlight, especially during some creepy scenes where we're not sure what Yen's character is capable of. All this, plus a great look for the film placed Dragon in the above average category pretty much from the start. Noteworthy that Yen directed the action sequences himself, and he did a top notch job.

On the downside, as the movie progressed it unfortunately tried to up the ante on the quiet, character-driven story through the use of over-the-top melodrama and bat shit crazy violence. As Dragon made Liu Jinxi's past darker and darker and a long-lost person from that past nuttier and nuttier, I found the film less and less engaging. I was actually kind of underwhelmed during the final fight scene, not because the skill or filming was off but because I just didn't buy the situation and characters anymore. It's almost as if the writers didn't have enough faith in their story, so they felt they had to introduce extra flashbacks of cruel violence and dysfunction to compensate. For me, it hurt the film.

Part of my objection is that I generally find martial arts movies that get too dark just don't work for me. The best martial arts movies display great skills from the stars which, of course, entails a degree of violence (and even some 'ick factor' too!).  However, the best films also rarely stray too far from the spirit of the martial arts. Dragon starts out really well along these lines, and it does a great job subtly working in some martial arts/Zen philosophy early on. Later, however, we get bloodthirsty psychos, cruelty to children, and a lightning bolt. That stuff just doesn't fit with the spirit of martial arts, and it falls flat. Of course, this is just my taste, but I doubt I'm the only martial arts fanboy who feels this way. Plus, Dragon did not need to go there in order to work.

Bottom-line: I enjoyed this movie very much but my enjoyment definitely dipped in the last third of the movie. I recommend it as a strong martial arts movie, especially for Donnie Yen fans and those who want a solid plot in their martial arts flicks.

Haiku Thursday

It's been a while since I did a Haiku Thursday post (largely because I haven't been writing any!). This one came to me while I was in zazen after doing my first walking meditation.

Walk like the elephant
In one breath the tide goes out
endless as starlight

Mumonkan, Koan 25: Kyozan's Dream

In a dream, Kyozan Osho went to Maitreya's place and was led in to sit in the third seat. A senior monk struck with a gavel and said, "Today the one in the third seat will speak." Kyozan rose and, striking with the gavel, said, "The truth of Mahayana is beyond the four propositions and transcends the hundred negations. Taicho! Taicho!"

This koan's solution seems to be the same as what I pulled out of Koan 24 (Fuketsu's Speech and Silence). Specifically, the idea of speech and silence not being different. To clarify, per Sekida's notes, the 'four propositions' are existing, non-existing, both existing and non-existing, and neither existing nor non-existing. Also according to Sekida, the 'hundred negations' are the multiplying of the four propositions. I would imagine the 'multiplying' refers to interpretation and critical thinking or, in other words, thought that interprets reality rather than being a direct perception of it. (Maybe the setting of the dream also relates to the idea of the experience pulling from both existing and non-existing.)

So just as speech and silence are and are not different in the last koan, here existence and non-existence are and are not different. Two sides of the same coin perhaps. Ultimately, it doesn't matter how we think of it because the truth does not come from nomenclature, classification, or analysis. It's about the purity of experience in the moment.

The similarity of the solutions between koans 24 and 25 made me think about how and why Mumon selected koans for inclusion in the Mumonkan. Did he select and order them so as to create a ladder? By that I mean does solving one koan give you a piece of the puzzle for solving the next one? Or did Mumon simply select koans that he felt were most useful with his students?

I'm not sure anyone knows this, given how long ago the Mumonkan was put together. I suppose it's unlikely Mumon was interested in constructing a ladder. That seems to be far too linear an approach for something that should be as open-ended as koan studies.

Halloween 2013

Here are some photos from a friend's Halloween party. I went as a 'French marquis' and won the costume contest! My trophy was a fun jack o' lantern bobble head. This year was also the first year in a long time that Jim and I did some decorating in and outside the house, including carving pumpkins. Plus there was tons of horror movie viewing. It was a very rainy Halloween, and we didn't anticipate many kids coming by. But the rain stopped and it turned out to be a pretty warm evening. We ended up with a good turnout yet...alas...still plenty of candy left over.

Very Halloween!

Thich Nhat Hanh's Tea Meditation (With Oprah)

I've been meditating with a group (i.e., a sangha) each Monday for about a month, and I've found the experience to be very helpful in many ways (see my post about Koan 24 of the Mumonkan). Some members of the sangha are really into Thich Nhat Hanh.

I had heard of Hanh before, but all I knew was that he was a living person who published a lot of books about meditation and Buddhism. I didn't learn more because this was enough to make me a little leery. It wasn't an objection to him personally but, as I have often stated on this blog, I'm generally leery of groups, gurus, books, and objects that I might want to join or purchase. Meditation should be all I need to find my way, so why bother with 'stuff'? In fact, such 'stuff' can be distracting and deluding by interposing itself between me and direct perception of reality.

The members of the sangha do not push Hanh, but their interest made me curious to read more about him. I learned he is a monk (and a legit one for sure), seems to have a positive purpose in his life, and certainly has a compelling history. But I was sold when I saw this interview with Oprah, where he blew me away with his ability to put into words the idea I call 'Everyday Zen' (see post). The way he describes it is so much clearer than how I described it in my post and is even clearer than the way I think about it in my head. His words helped crystallize my belief further.

An encounter with a teacher can be positive this way. It's not so much instruction as it is 'pointing the way'. Listening to Hanh speak in this interview was like that for me. That said, I'm not at all inclined to join a Hanh group, go to one of his retreats, read his books, or anything like that. As I said, doing these things feels like being pulled off the path to me, so the way I tend to feel about moments such as this is that I should simply smile thanks and continue on my way.

The full interview is also on YouTube and was fantastic from start to finish. Oprah asked really good questions.

PS: I'm not an Oprah groupie, but I love it how, when Hanh says it takes an hour to drink a cup of tea, she's like: "A cup of tea like this? One hour?"  Despite all her power and glam and self-help agenda, I always see flashes like this that tell me the down-to-earth woman who took over AM Chicago is still part of her. She's open, but she's still got moxie!

Mumonkan, Koan 24: Fuketsu's Speech and Silence

A monk asked Fuketsu, "Both speech and silence are faulty in being ri or bi. How can we escape these faults?" Fuketsu said,"I always remember the spring in Konan, where the partridges sing; how fragrant the countless flowers!"

Ri and bi are the inward and outward actions of the mind. We do not need to 'escape' these faults; we simply should not accept that they exist. There is no inward or outward action of the mind. There is only the mind.

I understood this while sitting in zazen during my first experiences with a meditation group I joined a little over two weeks ago. In joining, I was concerned I would not be able to attain samadhi as effectively (i.e., it would be 'bad'). To a certain extent, it is harder for me to attain samadhi in these sessions because I find myself being self-conscious or paying attention to the presence of the others. While this is 'bad' it is also 'good', because it demands from me a greater discipline of mind. So it is helpful to meditate in a group precisely for the reasons that it is unhelpful. I realized that allowing the concepts of good/bad, helpful/unhelpful into my thinking was the problem, not group meditation.

This was the key for me in solving this koan. Speech and silence are not different. Inward and outward actions of the mind are not different. Each is not good or bad. They are both...and neither. We do not admit them, nor try to escape from them. All that matters is the mind, being present in the moment. This is where there are no faults. So we do not escape these faults so much as we should refuse to shackle ourselves with them.

The significance of Fuketsu's response is that he is recalling an experience he had, namely the spring in Konan. This could be related to an experience of kensho he had or perhaps it simply evokes the idea of samadhi for him. Whatever the case, maintaining the right mindset is the path away from the monk's question.

Jaime Manrique - "Cervantes Street"

I learned about Jaime Manrique through an interview in BOMB magazine, and it was a great lead. He's a wonderful writer. Manrique's latest work is Cervantes Street, a historical novel built around the life of Miguel de Cervantes who authored Don Quixote. My recollections of Don Quixote are fuzzy, so it's not necessary to know the novel to understand Manrique's piece. That said, it sounds as if Manrique interpolated structure and/or actual content from Don Quixote into his novel.

While the book barely breaks 300 pages, it evokes its world nearly as well as (usually) long works of historical fiction. Like most historical fiction, the facts are merely a skeleton upon which the author invents a good yarn with imagined (though perhaps researched) detail, dialogue, and characterization. As such, I wish Manrique had done more to describe details of setting: what were people wearing, what was the ambiance of a room, what was the character of a town. Sometimes I felt myself wanting to visualize things more, but there were insufficient details in the narrative for me to do so. I almost wish Manrique had expanded the length of his work to provide more 'canvas' with which to further develop his story, setting, and characters.

The rivalry between the two men at the heart of the book never heats up in any overtly dramatic sense, and there is little actual contact between them. While this side-stepped some potential sparks, I think the point of the novel is less about the rivalry than to contrast the life of the luckless Cervantes with the privileged life of Luis, with the final fortunes of Sancho and what we know about Cervantes place in history providing the insight into what pays off in life. What was most enjoyable about Manrique's work is that the story, the rivalry of the two characters, and even the flow of the text matches what you might read by Dumas or Sienkiewicz or other masters of the form.  Manrique can't touch them for scope or depth of characterization, but he's got the goods and if he attempted something more ambitious in scope I have the feeling he might be able to pull it off.

Overall, the strength of the plot, the energy of the language, and the overall vibe of Cervantes Street ring very true and are fantastic to immerse oneself in. I'll likely pick up other works by Manrique.

Bodhidharma Day - Zen is inside us; stop running from it

Bodhidharma figurine
Hong Kong Museum of Art

I'm not sure when Bodhidharma Day is each year, but I thought it was October 5th in a previous year so...Happy Bodhidharma Day!

What better way to celebrate a day dedicated to the founder of Zen, than to commemorate some of his insights? The translations I'm using come from Red Pine's wonderful book The Zen Teaching of Bodhidharma. This short book (125 pages, including notes) contains translations of the four sermons of Bodhidharma which have come down to us. All the excerpts below come from the Bloodstream Sermon.

Bodhidharma believed we are all buddhas and, further, everything that we need to achieve enlightenment is already inside us. At any time, we only need to stop, look, and see. We don't find enlightenment; we stop running away from it. I've found this to be very true in my own experience with Zen, so much so that I believe reading books about Zen or listening to lectures about Zen is inherently wrong minded. Zen is inside us, ready to be experienced by a disciplined mindset (usually achieved through sitting in zazen). So there's no need for books or lectures, rules or how-tos. In fact, such outside influences are most likely to confuse us and keep us trapped in delusion. That said, the words of a master can point us toward right mindedness and be a helpful guide.

Here are some great nuggets from Bodhidharma relating to the idea that we have everything we need already inside us:

"Awareness isn't hidden. But you can only find it right now. It's only now. If you really want to find the Way, don't hold onto anything...Understanding comes naturally. You don't have to make any effort. But fanatics don't understand what the Buddha meant. And the harder they try, the further they get from the Sage's meaning. All day long they invoke buddhas and read sutras. But they remain blind to their own divine nature."

"Once you see your mind, why pay attention to doctrines?"

"Buddhas don't recite sutras. Buddhas don't keep percepts. And buddhas don't break percepts. Buddhas don't keep or break anything. Buddhas don't do good or evil." 

"Once you stop clinging and let things be, you'll be free, even of birth and death. You'll transform everything. You'll possess spiritual powers that can't be obstructed. And you'll be at peace wherever you are."

All quotes are from Bloodstream Sermon (translation: Red Pine), The Zen Teaching of Bodhidharma

Paris (Day 4) - The Loire Valley

Jim and I at Chambord

The weather in Paris was not optimal during our trip, but it wasn't bad. Just cloudy, with a tendency to be cool. However, we got one absolutely sunny day and it was fortunately the day we took a day trip to the Loire Valley. The cloudless sky and plentiful sun were an asset to seeing the sights here. Plus we had a great tour guide named David who was able to give us a primer/refresher of the history and key characters: da Vinci, Francis I, Henry II, Catherine de Medici, and Diane de Poitiers. We stopped at three of the Loire chateaux: Chambord, Amboise, and Chenonceau.

While the drive to and through the Loire Valley is easy, I'm glad we did a tour. After walking all day, I was quite happy not have to deal with the crazy Paris traffic when we returned. Better to doze off and let someone else manage it!

We started with Chambord, which was less a chateau and more what I imagine a castle to be like: courtyards, huge stone staircases, and towers slicing like needles into the air. While much of Chambord is not decorated, I could feel what it must have been like when it was occupied by Francis I in the 1500s. I loved the hunting-lodge-on-steroids vibe: thick wood doors, imposing stonework, and the impressive scale. The best part was the terraces. They run all along the top perimeter of the castle, and we walked among the spires to enjoy the fantastic views.

The Loire and town of Amboise from the terrace

Next was Amboise. While Chambord was set in a forest (and apparently is home to a considerable population of wildlife), Amboise was located within a town that brings the word "quaint" to mind. While Amboise is an impressive building also offering fantastic views of the valley from its terrace, it is much closer to a home than Chambord. My favorite room was Henri II's bedchamber, which had a very masculine feeling for a room steeped in such ornate decor. Lots of wood and rich but uncluttered furnishings. The chateau is also the burial place of Leonardo da Vinci.

Finally, we stopped at Chenonceau, which is the most palatial of the three chateaux. It was here that the most detail seems to have survived (or at least has been restored/added). Beyond the chambers the royals used, there were many rooms - such as a kitchen - where servants would have worked. Catherine de Medici's bedroom was evocative for me, especially having read Alexandre Dumas' Queen Margot. In fact, dozens of famous royals lived here at one time or another, and the related stories are fun to know before going in (another reason I'm glad we had a guide). 

Chenonceau

For example, the competition between Catherine de Medici and her husband's mistress, Diane de Poitiers, permeates the place. Mary Queen of Scots lived here. Henri III's queen retired to a room here after he was assassinated, and which she apparently set up as an over the top 'shrine' to her late husband (perhaps putting her in the running to be the first fag hag). There were huge bouquets of lilies in this room, which gave off an intoxicating, sweet fragrance. On top of the fantastic interiors, the grounds were also like something out of a fairytale. 

I'm sure there are plenty of other castles and places to visit in the Loire Valley, and I feel like we got a good sampling of a variety of buildings given that we only had the one day in the Valley. It was good to get out of Paris for a day, and this was a trip highlight for sure!

Samsara

Twenty years ago director Ron Fricke released Baraka, a film consisting of disparate visual vignettes from all around the world. The point of the movie seemed to be adding up the visuals into a holistic semi-whole. It was a gorgeous movie and a wonderful viewing experience.  In 2008, he released Samsara, a movie with a similar approach.

The title of the movie suggests what the holistic message might be. Samsara is a concept that seems to recur in multiple religions. In Zen Buddhism it refers to the world around us, which is rife with delusion and contention. When we are wrong-minded, we buy into it and create suffering. Another - more Zen-like - way of describing this is "the cycle of life and death". Hence, the initial brief images before the credits consist of related images: a sarcophagus, a mummy, lava erupting.

After this there is a shot of monks painstakingly using sand to create a mandala which (I'm willing to bet) is a depiction of samsara. (If not, I'd love to know what it is as I think it must be a key to understanding the movie's message). The film goes on to lay out some beautiful images, drawn from all over the world. The fractal-like shapes seen in the mandala are echoed in shots of highway systems at night and housing developments over the sea in (I believe) Dubai.

The film goes on to some beautifully shot but disturbing images: juxtaposing human-looking robots with images of the sex trade, seeing animals trapped in pens for feeding and then obese people eating the products of those animals at a fast food restaurant, people in slums and then convicts doing calisthenics with dance music tracked over it, the manufacture of weapons of war with tribal peoples holding the weapons.

If I'm correct about the meaning of the mandala the monks create at the start of the movie, then one of the last scenes is especially pointed. The monks wipe away the mandala they have painstakingly created. This would be the solution that Zen suggests for dealing with samsara and delusion. Don't.

Samsara is beautifully shot and is very interesting visually, although be prepared for some disturbing images in this amazing video essay.

Mumonkan, Koan 23: Think Neither Good Nor Evil

The Sixth Patriarch* [*Eno] was pursued by the monk Myo as far as Yaiyu Mountain. The patriarch, seeing Myo coming, laid the robe and bowl on a rock and said, "This robe represents the faith; it should not be fought over. If you want to take it away, take it now." Myo tried to move it, but it was heavy as a mountain and would not budge. Faltering and trembling, he cried out, "I came for the Dharma, not for the robe. I beg you, please give me your instruction."

The patriarch said, "Think neither good nor evil. At this very moment, what is the original self of the monk Myo?" At these words, Myo was directly illuminated. His whole body was covered in sweat. He wept and bowed, saying, "Besides the secret words and the secret meaning you have just now revealed to me, is there anything else, deeper still?"

The patriarch said, "What I have told you is no secret at all. When you look into your own true self, whatever is deeper is found right there." Myo said, "I was with the monks under Obai for many years but could not realize my true self. But now, receiving your instruction, I know it like a man drinking water and knowing whether it is cold or warm. My lay brother, you are now my teacher."

The patriarch said, "If you say so, but let us both call Obai our teacher. Be mindful to treasure and hold fast to what you have attained."

I sense several concepts in this koan, running from how to attain buddhahood to how to retain it to what you are supposed to do with it.

Myo is offered the robe, but Eno's words have a double meaning. The robe is only a symbol, so fighting over it is foolish. That's the reason it should not be fought over. Myo can't pick up the robe anymore than he pick up the insight he seeks. Nor can either be given to him. This reminded me of a passage from Bodhidharma's Bloodstream Sermon:

"Trying to find a buddha or enlightenment is like trying to grab space. Space has a name but no form. It's not something you can pick up or put down. And you certainly can't grab it." (source: The Zen Teaching of Bodhidharma, translator: Red Pine)

Myo cannot pick up what he is seeking, but he is illuminated when Eno advises him to look within ("at this moment, what is the original self of the monk Myo?"). Thus, Myo attains enlightenment.  Neither the robe nor instruction, if given, leads to enlightenment. This comes from within.

Eno fends off Myo's question about "anything else, deeper still" by again urging him to look to himself ("your own true self"). This is done independent of good or evil...or any sort of mental assessment of what true self means or represents. It just is.

Lastly, Eno urges Myo to "hold fast to what he has attained." Without doing this, a moment of enlightenment is just that: a moment. A brief flash of illumination and then darkness again. Enlightenment must be retained and inform us from then on if it is to have any real value. Knowing is one thing; retaining and making use of what you know is something else.

Paris (Day 3)

This was a big walking day for us! First we took the metro to the Tuileries with the idea of getting into the Musee de l'Orangerie, but it was unexpectedly closed. Since it was fairly early (at what time do people in Paris get to work?), we strolled the gardens and took a gander at the obelisk in the Place de la Concorde.

Then we crossed the Seine on the Pont de la Concorde and hit the Musee d'Orsay for a deep dive into Impressionism, Post-Impressionism, and Symbolism. By this time, I was already overwhelmed by the wealth of art Paris offers a visitor. No matter how enthusiastic one is, there's only so much art that can be absorbed in a meaningful way in such a short amount of time. Nevertheless, I could not stop looking.  Even when my back and feet were killing me, some amazing painting would beckon. Oh, to live in Paris for a while and be able to pop into the museums every so often, check out one wing or a few works, and absorb things more deeply! It's not fair!

After lunch, we strolled along the Seine, crossed back over on the ornate Pont Alexandre III (stopping to enjoy the amazing views), and checked out the architecture along the Avenue Winston Churchill, before heading up the Champs Elysees. Overall, we didn't take a ton of pictures on this day. I guess we just generally prefer to be free of the whole 'recording the moment' mania. Jim is better about this than I am, but taking a picture doesn't really make the moment more personal. Sometimes, it's better to just 'be'. Anyway, the Champs Elysees was obviously a part of the trip we were really looking forward to. And...well....

Let me just say this. The Champs Elysees is a wonderful walk, no question. Saw some crazy sports cars, got a sample of cologne, and enjoyed the people watching. However, I can't help but wonder if it's perhaps a little less impressive than it may once have been. The reason I say this is that the brands/stores along the way were not very different from what one would see on the Mag Mile in Chicago or what we saw on a main drag in Rome. I'm sure it sounds terribly jaded to - in even an oblique way - say 'meh' to the Champs Elysees (it's the Champs Elysees!), but perhaps one downside of globalization is that each country loses a bit of its unique charm. After all, there's nothing Parisian about Benetton, Nike, Hugo Boss, or the Disney store. Even brands with some legit French heritage (Louis Vuitton, Lacoste) are readily patronized just about anywhere. Or maybe I just don't get it because I'm not a hardcore shopper!

All musings aside, we enjoyed the walk that led us to the Arc de Triomphe. Totally impressive piece of architecture, and the view from the top was truly worth it. Paris is such a fantastic looking city in general, but to see it sprawling out before you from that height is breathtaking.

After all this walking and sightseeing, we were wiped out and - after dinner - sleep was a well-earned luxury!

House on Fire

Zen Master Linji

Something I enjoy very much is reading with the windows open, seeing the light and feeling the breeze, and hearing trees moving in the breeze or children playing outside or birds singing. Maybe sipping some wine too. I'll pause in my reading, look out the windows, and get this sudden feeling of deep, deep happiness. I don't need to do anything. Although I'm very alert, there's no need to analyze or plan or think. I just sit there and soak in the moment like it's a warm bath. This is when I am the most happy.

Sometimes there also is a sadness that creeps into these moments. I'll suddenly think how the moment must pass. Light will fade, warmth will pass as winter comes, windows will have to close, children will grow up, trees will die, and so will I.  Everything eventually ends. It seems terrible that so much life and beauty should be so temporary. It doesn't dilute the moment for me, but the reaction always struck me as curious.

Years ago, I found a wonderful book called Zen Essence: The Science of Freedom edited by translator Thomas Cleary. It contained insights Cleary pulled from the writings of various Zen masters over time.  There is one from Zen Master Linji (? - 866 CE) that encapsulated and spoke about my feeling of sadness about the impermanence of things:

There is no stability in the world; it is like a house on fire. This is not a place where you can stay for a long time. The murderous demon of impermanence is instantaneous, and it does not choose between the upper and lower classes, or between the old and the young. 

If you want to be no different from the buddhas and Zen masters, just don't seek externally.  The pure light in a moment of awareness in your mind is the Buddha's essence within you. The non-discriminating light in a moment of awareness in your mind is the Buddha's wisdom within you. The undifferentiated light in a moment of awareness in your mind is the Buddha's manifestation within you.

All things around us are on fire, on fire with impermanence. They - and we - will all die away or end. All that they can give us or that we have is this moment, even if it's only for a few minutes or a couple hours.  This is why direct perception is stressed in Zen. The flames comes and things change, but if we do not seek beyond the flames we can learn from each moment we have. If we do not, there is nothing else to have that is real.

I return again and again to this concept of the house on fire in my Zen thinking. It can be applied to our experiences, relationships, and view of ourselves.

Paris (Day 2, Part 2) - Pompidou Centre

Pompidou Centre

As everyone knows, Paris was the hub of the art world for many decades. So traveling here means museums are going to be on your itinerary. This is where Jim and I ran into some problems. Jim is fine with museums and looking at art, but our opinions about art diverge a lot as we get into modern and contemporary works. Further, if left to my own devices, I could have happily spent all nine days gliding around the various Parisian museums and galleries, soaking up art. Jim is not interested in standing around all day looking at paintings.

Many say the secret of a successful relationship is compromise, and I suppose we were a model of this during our afternoon at Pompidou Centre. After cruising the modern art floor (probably too much time for Jim's taste), he was in no mood to check out the contemporary art floor. On my side, I would have spent much more time on the modern floor and then happily have tackled the contemporary stuff.  This is the inherent flaw in compromise. While everyone gets to influence the decision, the final decision doesn't make anyone really happy.

Personally, I think Jim and I should have seen this coming and planned for it. Just because we're a couple doesn't mean we do everything together. We're a couple, not Siamese twins! On a trip like this, why not have a day where we take off on separate trajectories? It certainly wouldn't have taken much thought to find something Jim would have enjoyed more than several hours of Matisse, Mondrian, and Braque. At the end of the day, we could meet at some great restaurant for dinner to regale each other with our adventures. So much better for everyone! Oh well, hindsight is 20-20.

Le Luxe I, 1907
Henri Matisse
Oil on canvas, 210 x 138 cm

If you're not a Matisse fanboy (or girl), I suggest you stop reading this post right now because I promise there is nothing of interest here for you.

I learned a great deal seeing some Matisse works in person. But then one always does learn more about art by seeing the real deal rather than pictures in a book or magazine. Photos often fail to get the colors exactly right, rarely convey the scale of the piece, and usually lose the texture of paint application. As a result, it's not wrong to say that a photo of a painting can be visually inaccurate.

The Matisse paintings at Pompidou Centre are an example of the inferior viewing experience provided by photographs of art. In photographs, Matisse's work takes on a solid, colorful appearance. Sort of like icons. The actual works are not this clean or simple. The colors are there, but the roughness of the brushstrokes are surprising if all you've seen are photos.

Matisse - like many modern artists - wasn't especially concerned about polish. Often, he wasn't even concerned about covering his entire canvas. You can see the lack of overt finesse in the way fields of color are sometimes not blended. There are also many places on his canvasses where brushstrokes were low on paint and leave most of the canvas or underlying color exposed. It appears Matisse made little attempt to hide these artifacts of his painting process.

I also wonder about how Matisse prepared his canvasses (or if he did). Standing before the actual works, you can see that some of the exposed areas are filthy. Not sure if that's due to a lack of priming or an issue with the history of the paintings. Also, in many works, Matisse's fields of color are cracked, which seems odd given the relative youth of these paintings. Not sure what that's all about, but it's interesting information to have in understanding the works and how they were made.

And this was just my experience with Matisse's works! The Pompidou's modern art floor had plenty of Cubism, Surrealism, Color Field, and installation works, including a Rothko and a Mitchell. Just too much to appreciate in a few short hours!

After we left the museum ('escaped' might be the word Jim would use), we went for dinner at a cafe just down the street. We were both dead tired by this point and were happy to relax with some wine and watch the world go by.

Jim enjoying a well-deserved meal and rest!

Paris (Day 2, Part 1) - Montmarte

Sacre Coeur

We woke up well-rested and ready to dive into Paris with a vengeance! The morning was to be spent in Montmarte which, to us, is the place where Amelie lives. If you have no idea what I mean by that, then you must see the French romantic comedy Amelie with Audrey Tautou.

We started by heading up to the Basilica of Sacre Coeur, which is positioned impressively on a high point in the city. The views from the basilica were amazing, with all of Paris stretching out below. The interior was equally impressive and, again, there was a mass going on while we walked about the basilica.

Although I enjoyed the basilica's statues, art and ambiance, I had a problem with the way money was being pulled out of visitors. Okay, I should reword that. Nothing was 'pulled out' of anyone; it was all donations. However, I've been to the Vatican and seen the immense wealth the Church has, so I find it hard to swallow placards suggesting donations are needed to keep the basilica going. And when these placards and donation boxes are situated below a five foot tall - apparently solid silver - statue, I have an even tougher time with it. Of course, we don't want people melting down art for operating funds, but there was a lot of other revenue streams flowing in this church. There were the usual spots one could make a donation and light a candle to a saint. Plus there were machines with commemorative coins for sale and a 'gift shop' of sorts. There's a part of me that cannot get past this overt commercial aspect in what is allegedly a house of religious worship.

Okay, point made. 'nuff said. The basilica was quite beautiful and we enjoyed seeing it.

St. Pierre de Montmarte, spookified

Outside, we saw the mountebanks begging for alms and then made our way past St. Pierre de Montmarte, which seriously made me think of a haunted mansion. Check out the photo. All I had to do is give this photo a slightly darkened black and white and - voila! - instant spooky home of the undead vibe. Gotta love that gothic(?) architecture!

We spent the rest of the morning enjoying Montmarte. First we jumped into the Place du Tertre, where we took in some of the local art, admired a few shops, and sat just outside a little restaurant to people watch and partake of escargot and snacks. It was always good to find time to sit during our stay in Paris! After thinking about entering the Dali Museum but getting a distinctive 'tourist trap' feel from the place, we headed down the Rue Lepic towards the less touristy part of Montmarte and made our way to the Montmarte Cemetery.

At the grave of Emile Zola

The Cemetery was enormous and jam packed with mausoleums from the 1800s, some of them absolute towers. Loads of sculpture, mossy tombs, and shady lanes made the place very atmospheric. There was even stained glass windows on some of the tombs. It could totally have been the set for a vampire movie. Aside from the graves, there were plenty of wild cats running around. I tried luring one over, until Jim suggested they were probably crawling with bugs and might not be the friendliest critters to ever walk the earth. Pet Semetery?

There are plenty of famous people buried in the Montmarte Cemetery. I believe Jim Morrison is one, but I wasn't all that keen on seeing his grave.  We did located what I thought was the grave of Alexandre Dumas, until I remembered that the fils after the name means it was his son. But, while I didn't get to see the grave of one of the greatest romantic writers ever, I did get to see the grave of the master realist: Emile Zola.

Literary Geek Moment #1 of this trip!