Zen Humor

This strip is not focused on Zen as a rule, but the humor of this one is a bulls-eye if you practice. Laughed out loud when I read it, and thought I'd share.

Form and Ritual in Zen

Many forms and rituals can be used in Zen

The latest issue of Bodhidharma magazine is dedicated to exploring form versus practice, that is, the way we practice versus the practice itself. All religions wrestle with this, and the magazine provides some great thought around the questions entailed. How important is form/ritual? What should it consist of? What do you do to practice your faith? Is there a better or best way? Are there certain things you should not do? Practice usually leads to many such questions about form. My belief is that - in Zen Buddhism - form is irrelevant. In other words, any form you choose is acceptable as long as it doesn't become an impediment to practice.

What does this mean? Let's take zazen as an example. Some Zen Buddhists practice with their eyes open and others prefer to close their eyes. Some emphasize breathing while others ignore it. Some people practice zazen while seated in a specific place, while others do so while walking down a street, working out, or in any place they feel like. None of these forms are better or worse than the others. We're free to practice zazen standing on our heads with clown hats on our feet if we want, so long as we successfully discipline our minds and enter samadhi.

However, form encompasses more than just how we meditate. It also includes ritual and 'things' that go with ritual. Do we tap a gong to start and stop zazen? Do we light candles? Are there certain clothes we must wear? Do we play music? Do we chant mantras? Are all of these things to be avoided? Just as with the form of zazen, the accouterments of its ritual (or lack thereof) is neither good nor bad, so long as we successfully discipline our minds and enter samadhi.


Given these points, it is clear that form is irrelevant to zazen and - by extension - to Zen Buddhism more generally. Some may balk at this, but the fact is that it would be silly to say no one can effectively sit in zazen while playing music (or not playing music). That one must be in a group (or alone). That one must chant, or light candles, or have a 'special Zen spot' (or that any of these things absolutely preclude successful zazen). Bottom-line: Disciplining the mind does not have anything to do with details of ritual or form, so we can never designate a particular form as a requirement.

That doesn't mean ritual and form are useless. In fact, they are often extremely positive aspects of practice. Some Zen Buddhists find some or all of the items mentioned above very useful in practicing zazen and reaching samadhi. As such, they are helpful and should not be categorically rejected. Form and ritual are never a problem unless they become an impediment to zazen practice or if we endow them with intrinsic importance. In other words, if we view a form or ritual as anything other than a tool or a means to an end, then it will become a barrier to effective practice and are detrimental. We cannot forget that practice only requires what is inside us; it never demands a ritual or an object outside of us.

When we assign intrinsic importance to ritual and form, then they are naturally used to assess the quality of practice rather than focusing on the actual practice itself. We will find ourselves thinking things like: "I can't sit in zazen today because I ran out of candles" or "I can't reach samadhi today because group meditation was cancelled" or "until my iPod is fixed, I won't be able to play the music that quiets my mind enough to practice." When put in this way, we see how negative the reliance on any form or ritual can be. It distracts us from the fact that we can achieve samadhi at any time and in any place.

So while form and ritual can be very helpful, we must always keep them in their proper - and non-essential - role. A person who cannot achieve samadhi or quiet their mind without the right ambiance or the proper ritual possesses a questionable level of mental discipline. Such is person is unlikely to bring the mind state they achieve in zazen into day-to-day life and, as a result, will reap minimal benefit from their studies. And if we are unable to apply what we learn or the wisdom we gain, then it is it questionable whether we have learned anything or possess wisdom.

So how do we navigate ritual and form with other practitioners? Must we set up rules or dogma about what is and is not correct? Should we debate these rules with others? Should we discourage what we judge as ineffective practices when we encounter them? The answer is a resounding "NO!"

Since form and ritual possess no intrinsic value, there is never any justification for debating about them with other practitioners or concerning ourselves with them beyond what we like to do in our own practice. For example, if I enter a zendo where practitioners chant mantras and that is something that I see little purpose in, then my proper action is to "go with the flow". The forms may help those around me, and I should be disciplined enough so that engaging in them will have no negative impact on my practice. If the fact someone lights a candle or engages in a ritual prevents you from sitting in zazen with them, it is not their fault. It is yours! Work harder to discipline your mind.

Of course, following this line of thinking is hard (perhaps impossible) to those who are just getting started. Quieting the mind during zazen and achieving samadhi takes much practice, and if we find that certain rituals or forms help us get the hang of it, then we should most certainly use those rituals or forms. If we find ourselves in a challenging environment, we should look at it as an opportunity to see how disciplined we have become.

All practitioners, new or old, must always guard against any ritual or form hardening into dogma or being mistaken for the discipline we are developing. The latter - not a lit candle or a successfully followed ritual - is the true measure of the effectiveness (or lack of effectiveness) in our practice.

Proud to Run 5K

With the Supreme Court coming down in favor of gay marriage, I don't think it's exaggerating to say this year's Gay Pride takes on a special significance. So it was wonderful to be a part of things by joining in the Proud to Run event, my second 5K since I started jogging in December.

Rain threatened to ruin the day all week long and, even as late as the night before, the weather was pretty awful. In the end, aside from a cold wind in the early morning before the race, the sun and the weather cooperated and we had a great race day.

This time I ran the entire 5K course, without walking. I also felt as if I recovered very quickly. Within a few minutes, I'd caught my breath and didn't feel wiped out at all. Despite all these successes, I unfortunately did not improve on my time. I completed the course in 32 minutes, about a minute slower than my last 5K. Nevertheless, it was great fun!

Given how quickly I recovered, I'm thinking that my next race should be a 10K!

First 5K Run

Heading into the finish

I have kept running since I started over the Christmas holidays (excepting a week or two where the temperature never rose above the single digits and the wind chill was well below zero). Running has become a lot more enjoyable than I expected it would be. Not that there aren't some days where I groan at the idea of getting out there, but it is a nice way to make sure I get outside more. As the weather has improved, it's great to be outside and running is one more way to do that. Running has also proved to be a great way to enhance cardiovascular fitness, and it helps me calm my mind and face the day with positive energy. I've even noticed that my legs have become harder (i.e., stronger) and my sense of physical balance is improving a lot.

It was slow going at first, but I'm now running close to two miles each time I go out. This is an important goal, because the train station is two miles away from our house. So, if I can do two miles, then I could sometimes run home from the train station instead of taking the bus. That would increase the number of runs I do each week in a convenient way and further increase my endurance.

Over the past few months, I've learned a lot about running. Pacing is really important. It's easy to burn out by running too hard, too fast. Breathing is key, too. Of course, it's kind of hard to succeed at anything if you stop breathing! However, in running I had a tendency to gulp air or breath shallow. It's important to pay attention to breathing and keep it as natural as possible. That is very similar to what some people do in meditation.

This weekend, the work all paid off. I ran my first 5K run and completed it in 31 minutes! Quite a milestone since I ran almost the entire race (very little walking), even though it was a longer course than I'd ever attempted before. So I suppose I need to find ways to keep pushing myself.

The Garden of Adonis, Suite for Flute and Harp - Hovhaness

A couple years ago, I wrote a post about Diabelli's Serenata Concertante op. 105, because I often play it right at the start of Spring. After the harsh winter we suffered this past year, I'm more than eager to welcome Spring with open arms and listened to Diabelli this afternoon on the way home from work.

Another composition that evokes the return of Spring for me is The Garden of Adonis, Suite for Flute and Harp by Alan Hovhaness (1911 - 2000). Like the piece by Diabelli, this one is made up of multiple movements. There are seven movements, in fact, but each is quite short and the entire piece is only 16 minutes long.

Hovhaness was an American composer, and the only music I have of his is the pictured album featuring Yolanda Kondonassis on harp. The album contains several pieces, which are all wonderful. However, The Garden of Adonis is especially ear-catching with its mystical melodies and muted beauty.

Mumonkan, Koan 34: Nansen's "Reason Is Not The Way"

Nansen said, "Mind is not the Buddha; reason is not the way."

The Buddha in the tree at a temple in Thailand
(photo from the blog "Life as you make it...")

At first, this koan seems to directly contradict what I learned in koan 33 and to also contradict Baso's words in koan 30 ("This very mind is the Buddha"). My first reaction was that these statements cannot both be true, however this is not so.

The issue is using words to speak about Zen. Words are imprecise, which is why Zen is usually transmitted wordlessly. The statements are contradictory if we focus specifically on the words and what they mean, but if we read between the lines at the understanding that these words are trying to convey, we can conclude that both statements are true and are in agreement.

We find Buddha nature through our mind, and it is the only place we can find it. However, we cannot say the mind is Buddha in a concrete way because the mind is an object just like a book or a couch or a TV set. Living things have Buddha nature, but that does not mean a cat or a whale or myself are the Buddha.

Wine has flavor, but it is not flavor. A balloon is filled with air, but it is not air. The mind is the Buddha, but the mind is not the Buddha. No object, concrete or abstract, is the Buddha. But all living things are the Buddha.

I think this is the best I can do to explain.

Bitchslapped by Koan 34

Once I've worked through a koan, I move on to the next one naturally enough. In this case, I received a big surprise when I read koan 34 given my solution to Koan 33.

Koan 34 reads: Nansen said, "Mind is not the Buddha; reason is not the Way." The first part of this directly contradicts my solution to koan 33! Hmmmmmm......

Well, koans are intended to challenge us! This should be interesting to say the least.

Mumonkan, Koan 33: Baso's "No Mind, No Buddha"

A monk asked Baso, "What is the Buddha?" Base answered, "No mind, no Buddha."

The first thing that must be noted about this koan is that it's almost identical to Koan 30: Baso's "This Very Mind is the Buddha". So much so, that any attempt by me to extract a separate meaning from this koan versus that one felt forced at first.

The repetition made me think of Bodhidharma's Bloodstream Sermon. (Note: I read the translation of this sermon by Red Pine in his book The Zen Teaching of Bodhidharma). In this sermon, Bodhidharma spends a lot of time saying "buddha is mind" and "you mind is your nature" and "your nature is buddha" in a bunch of different ways. His repeating this over and over made me think of why Zen is not transmitted verbally. He can preach the same simple message all day and all night, but if we don't understand it then it doesn't matter how many times we're told.

In any case, his point matches the message of koan 30. However, Bodhidharma also makes a related point in the Bloodstream Sermon that outside our mind or nature, there is no buddha to be found. This would seem to be the point of koan 33. So I suppose there is a difference in between the two koans. Buddha is mind or nature, and then there is nothing outside of your mind/nature to find. Kind of says the same thing, but from two separate vantage points.

Perhaps Mumon felt this point was important enough to dedicate two similar koans to it...or that the two sides of the point need to be understood to really 'get' it.

[PS: After arriving at my solution, I read Mumon's comment about this koan: "If you understand this, you have finished studying Zen." So that's pretty good evidence that he felt this koan and koan 30 speak to something essential in Zen.]

Learning Doesn't Require Agreeing

Temple wall painting of the Buddha

In today's society, too much emphasis is placed on evaluating whether we agree or disagree with peoples' viewpoints. Even worse, this evaluation is often used to determine whether a person has anything useful to say at all. Contrary to common platitudes about how "we're all able to learn from everyone", in practice many people act as if those they disagree with can have no correct views on anything and therefore can teach them nothing. This is most evident in the realm of news media and politics. In this arena, many people pick a 'team' (e.g., conservative, liberal, Republican, Democrat) and agree with whatever positions their team stands behind and whatever spin of current events best promotes its goals. At the same time, they proclaim that everything the other team does is always bad.

This mentality can be clearly seen on social media. For example, each of us probably has a friend or two who insist on sharing their political views on Facebook. I've noticed that such posts are often followed by lots of comments from the poster's friends, all agreeing with the viewpoint. It seems to me that these posters are pontificating in an echo chamber, espousing views in forums where people share similar views. In such spaces, everyone agrees with each other and those who post a dissent of any kind are quickly, and virulently, slammed. As with the news media and political issues above, every minor issue is reduced to a means of showing that "I'm right (i.e., my team wins) and you are wrong (i.e., your team loses)".

In short, our society has become infested by a fear of alternate viewpoints. Even a disagreement on a minor issue is like ringing a bell in a boxing ring. Everyone comes out swinging for their team or party or "ism", determined to prove they are right and everyone else is wrong (and, by extension, that their wrong views are the cause of all difficulties in the world).

Without the 'weight training' of alternate viewpoints,
your mind becomes small and weak

While people naturally enjoy speaking with those they can relate to, surrounding oneself only with people and ideas we agree with is limiting. It's limiting because, most often, learning and growing occur when we are challenged by an idea or situation that doesn't fit neatly into our preconceived ideas or our comfort zone. In the simplest terms, it's the 'no pain, no gain' concept. No one gains pec muscles by lifting ten pound weights and never pushing beyond that level. Similarly, it's hard to grow spiritually or mentally if one stagnates within the same set of ideas and beliefs year after year.

Unfortunately, the echo chamber of stagnation is exactly what many people seek, treating contrary viewpoints as dangerous viruses that must be destroyed. The result an antiseptic mind-state where everything a person believes and thinks is right because they believe and think it. In this state, a person never challenges themselves, never learns where they have made mistakes, and never changes and evolves in light of new information, changing situations, or innovative points of view. Changing your mind is looked down on as moral relativism or "flip-flopping". Instead, one should "stay the course" no matter what happens.

Obviously, this is damaging in many ways. To a Zen Buddhist, such limited thinking related to practice creates complacency. Everything we're doing is right, and we never read books or hear speakers or ponder views that do not match our existing practice. We have no chance to learn anything new, because we do not listen. We evaluate whether we agree or disagree and that's as far as we go in evaluating a lot of ideas.

I was reminded of the value to be found from listening to people who we do not agree with after reading - and being impacted by - an article in Bodhidharma magazine. The article was "Are You Just Coasting?" written by Jim Willems and published in the Winter 2014 issue. Well aware of the potential danger of coasting as a solitary practitioner, I was eager to read the article to learn how I might be making this error. And Willems' premise is a very good one: that as we gain experience in meditation we can sometimes use it as a way to relax or cope with stress, which has nothing to do with disciplining the mind and training.

However, as I read Willems' well-written article, I found myself in disagreement with a good deal of his thinking about meditation. He consistently spoke about meditation having a goal and even  referred to an "ultimate goal". He also spoke of focusing the mind on a specific idea during meditation, such as "ending all suffering".  For me, this is all antithetical to Zen practice. Zazen and - more broadly Zen - do not have discrete goals or 'finish lines' that we seek to attain. Even if they did, the cessation of suffering would not be one of them since a tenet of Zen Buddhism is that we cannot escape suffering completely. I would even argue that enlightenment itself should not be sought after. Enlightenment is, instead, something that comes on its own, and it is certainly not the end-point of practice.

Critical thinking can be noise if it is undisciplined

So as I was reading Willems' article, I was engaged in an inner dialogue in my head: "Well, I don't agree with that." "Yikes, that just seems wrong." "Oh, I agree with what he says there." Now there is absolutely nothing wrong with critical thinking; we need it to function as intelligent people, Zen or no Zen. However, such thinking must be managed within a disciplined mindset or it becomes destructive. Given free rein it takes on a life of its own and we will listen to our opinions about reality - our assessment of it - more than we pay attention to what we have in the moment before us. Taking this to the extreme, our critical thinking can pre-set us to reject - or filter out - people whose ideas we disagree with and lead us to only accept information from the narrow band of people who seem to be in agreement with our beliefs. When that happens, we're clearly off the Path. And worse, we risk shriveling up into a narrow-minded fathead who does not think in any meaningful way about anything.

But if we open up, we stand to gain a great deal. For example, as much as I disagreed with Willems on many issues, I didn't stop reading his article because of it. As a result, I came across something of his that was incredibly impactful for me. It was the way he described samadhi: "With samadhi, we are single-pointed in our attention and our awareness is clear and sharp; our sense of intention is present and awareness becomes a fine tool" (italics mine). This description of samadhi resonated so much with me that I found myself considering it the next few times I sat in zazen. I worked on maintaining the single-pointed clarity of focus he wrote about (without invoking overt concentration on a particular object or idea). It helped me avoid coasting by making me think again about my zazen practice, which keeps it from becoming a rut.

So to return to the point of this post, agreeing with a teacher (or anyone) is not a relevant consideration in whether or not that teacher (or person) has something wise or useful to impart. If we are truly students, then we should not place limitations on where we find knowledge and wisdom. We should spend hold off on evaluating until we make sure we are listening.

Listening to contrary views can never be harmful, because the proper mind-state will never allow us to accept an idea that is unhelpful to us. More broadly, the quality of the ideas we accept and live by (in terms of ethics, truth, or whatever) depends much more on whether our conscious mind is disciplined than on whether we listen to someone who advocates something 'good' or 'bad'. By being open to alternate views and even seeking out ideas that contradict our own, we help ensure we have truly thought things through from all angles and that can only strengthen our understanding and, thereby, our conviction.

In contrast, if we make the mistake of treating ideas as potential toxins that we must vigilantly filter based on whether we agree with a person, we will most certainly avoid ideas that might be 'bad'. However, we will also sterilize our mind by not allowing in anything new to counter what we already know. This can only result in mental stagnation, and that is antithetical to Zen.

So put some yin in your yang (or yang in your yin)! Listen to or read something by a credible person that you disagree with in many ways...and, as you do it, do not think "they're wrong, they're wrong, they're wrong" all the way through. Instead, challenge yourself to find something in their words that is true and insightful. When I do this, I'm surprised at how often that is exactly what happens and how much I gain from the effort.

Mumonkan, Koan 32: A Non-Buddhist Philosopher Questions The Buddha

photo: Leh Ladakh Tourism

A non-Buddhist philosopher said to the Buddha, "I do not ask for words; I do not ask for non-words." The Buddha just sat there. The philosopher said admiringly, "The World-honored One, with his great mercy, has blown away the clouds of my illusion and enabled me to enter the Way." After making bows, he took his leave.

Then Ananda asked the Buddha, "What did he realize, to admire you so much?" The World-honored One replied, "A fine horse runs even at the shadow of the whip."

The Buddha's answer suggests that someone who has trained their mind does not need to be to be told they are on the Path or told anything in order to learn. Just as the mere shadow of the whip is enough to make the horse respond, the enlightened mind needs no overt words or guidance.

Further, there is something in this koan about how what we have learned manifests itself in our behavior. When we learn something...truly understand it...then it becomes part of our nature. We do not need to be told or preached to or reminded. If a person has been enlightened or come to an understanding of something, then they need no words and that learning naturally manifests itself in their life and behavior. If that isn't happening or reminders are needed, then it has not been learned and we do not really know or understand it.

There's a big difference between saying words and living the meaning behind them.

Mumonkan, Koan 31: Joshu Investigates An Old Woman

Trail to Taisan summit (photo by Scott on summitpost.org)

A monk asked an old woman, "What is the way to Taisan?" The old woman said, "Go straight on." When the monk had proceeded a few steps, she said, "A good, respectable monk, but he too goes that way." Afterward someone told Joshu about this. Joshu said, "Wait a bit, I will go an investigate the old woman for you." The next day he went and asked the same question, and the old woman gave the same answer. On returning, Joshu said to his disciples, "I have investigated the old woman of Taisan for you."

It's helpful - but not essential - to know that Taisan is a sacred mountain full of temples to which many people make pilgrimages. So the old woman's comment appears to be a criticism of pilgrims for their practice of going to a 'sacred place' of any kind. This is solid Zen philosophy: Place or location have little or nothing to do with the Path or gaining enlightenment. If you cannot find it where you are right now, moving 5 feet away to the left or making a pilgrimage to a sacred mountain will not make any difference. I believe the disciples tell Joshu about the old woman because they assume her criticism reveals an understanding of Zen.

Joshu investigates the old woman, perhaps to determine whether she truly does have some understanding. If that is the purpose of his investigation then, as soon as she answers the question in the same way and gives him the same criticism, he realizes she possesses no true wisdom.

First, to provide the same guidance or criticism to everyone you meet is wrong-minded. It is generally true that a pilgrimage is not essential to enlightenment, yet even so and even if we assume that most or all of the people who pass her have wrong-minded reasons for heading to Taisan, one still cannot mouth the same platitude to all of them and pretend that it is wisdom (or even relevant to the person being addressed). This is why Zen does not proselytize nor transmit wisdom through literal explanation. At best, even the greatest teacher can only point the way. A seeker must find the Way for themselves.

Second, since Joshu is a master who is clearly already living on Taisan at this particular time, the old woman's answer proves that she is merely mouthing a platitude - because in this case the platitude is completely meaningless. Joshu was not asking her the way Taisan because he wanted to go there (he already was there!) and not because he was seeking enlightenment (he already had attained it!). Thus her criticism is off the mark. She is not evaluating the situation or person she speaks to, her pronouncement is like the repeated words of a parrot.

Joshu's remark at the temple lacks an explanation of what he found for two reasons: 1) He found nothing, and 2) It would be wrong for him to feed his conclusion to the disciples. They must think over what occurred and what Joshu said and perhaps find their own understanding of this event. By not explaining his conclusion, Joshu avoids making the same error as the old woman.

Back From New York City

Gawking at a massive meteorite at the MoNH

I've been to the Big Apple a few times over the years, but it was always very briefly and always for business. So I never have had a chance to see much of the city. Recently, The New Criterion ran a review of the "Henri Matisse: The Cut-Outs" exhibition at MOMA. It's an entire exhibition of 100 works brought together to provide an overview of Matisse's last period of creativity. As often happens when I read about such shows, I thought: "Wow, I would love to see that! Maybe I will just go to New York." In one hemisphere of the brain and out the other; I never act on this impulse.

However, as fate would have it, the same issue of The New Criterion also had a review of the Met's exhibition "Cubism: The Leonard A. Lauder Collection". This privately held collection of cubist painting and sculpture is being donated to the Met and includes 81 pieces by Picasso, Gris, Braque, and Leger. I looked up from the magazine and said to Jim: "I'm going to New York."

He decided he wanted to go too, so it instantly became a trip. For the first time, thought was transformed into action! Of course, once it became a trip, we planned other things to do as well. We decided to buy a Wolf Kahn...until we got the dealer's preview and saw that prices on his work have gone up quite a bit since I last priced them. Fail. More successfully, we went to see The Book of Mormon, bummed around Times Square, and hit the highlights at the Museum of Natural History.

It was a short but very enjoyable trip! Sometimes it's a good idea to act on impulses.

Tony Dekker - Prayer of the Woods (2013)

While I listen to all kinds of music, at any given point in my life there is usually one genre I most gravitate to. Over the past year, I've gravitated to music I call roots music. I made up the name because the music/sound I'm interested in doesn't usually match a single genre; it seems to drift amid the blurred borders of blues, folk, country, bluegrass, and rock. It's largely acoustic music, with a streak of Americana in the lyrics or the musical approach. Listening to roots music is likely one reason I started taking guitar lessons this past year. As I began writing songs, I searched for music that fit into my made-up genre, as it is the kind of music I would like to write.

Tony Dekker's solo album Prayer of the Woods is one of the albums I've stumbled across in seeking out such artists (meaning I'm unfamiliar with the work of his band Great Lake Swimmers). Prayer of the Woods is totally roots music: quiet, melodic, and deeply imagistic songs performed with basic instruments played and arranged with great skill. The lyrics are very poetic, and brimming with emotion without getting maudlin or overdramatizing them in a 'tears in my beer' way.

In both lyrics and music, Dekker conveys emotional states quite effectively even though it's not usually clear what his songs are about specifically. Even on tracks that resolve easily into states of mind or portraits ("On My Way Back", "Final Song"), one feels Dekker drawing a curtain between the listener and himself. It's as if the truth or meaning of his song is always sitting just outside one's field of vision. Many artists who write this way leave me cold, but Dekker's writing, performing, and sound are so consistently evocative that one doesn't mind being mesmerized rather than being directly told a story or drawn a portrait of someone. 

His songs on the latter half of the album are the least concrete. Yet even there (and really throughout the entire album) there are enough clear anchors for the listener - in terms of locale and emotion - to make each song resonate as if you fully get it. For me, many of the songs feel like they take place in late winter or fall and in the woods or rustic landscapes (certainly not in a big town or city), which the title of the album would seem to confirm. Emotionally, a sense of recent loss pervades the lyrics and is sharpened through Dekker's soft guitar playing and gently toned - but clipped - vocals. Even when he's weaving a picture, as on "Under a Magician's Sky", there's a terseness to the delivery that prevents the album from becoming dreamy or abstract. You always know there is something concrete behind that curtain he's pulled down.

Every one of Dekker's songs works with great melody, and his two covers fit into the feel of the album so well that you might not suspect they were written by someone else. Only the difference between Gordon Lightfoot's sense of melody and Dekker's marks the final track ("Carefree Highway") as definitely by another writer. However, the most intriguing bit of composition is the title track, which Dekker apparently wrote around a poem by an anonymous source. It's almost as if in this litany of how wood from forests permeate our lives that Dekker is also drawing together the emotional content in the rest of the songs. Not only do we draw materials from the woods, but some of our deepest memories and experiences can be come from there as well. The prayer "harm me not" could then apply equally to treatment of the forest and to how we hope to interact with others and they with us.

Prayer of the Woods is a beautiful album, but despite this it is also one that comes across as basic as burlap or bark. The consistent, yet nuanced, style all the way through makes for a terrific complete listen. Highly recommended.

Another Point in the Orbit

I'm not much of a believer in New Year's Resolutions or for celebrating the New Year in general. While I certainly don't mind a party, I see little reason to designate a random spot in Earth's orbit as an especial time for new beginnings, of a year, or anything else. While the calendar seems to provide some justification for viewing January 1st as the start of a new year, the fact is that any point on the calendar is the first time we reach that day in a year's time and, hence, any and every day of the year may rightly be designated as New Year's Day. I've found that eliminating the concept of a new year is a very positive thing to do.

I may have been led to question the logic of New Year's Day as a result of Zen Buddhism's emphasis on being in the moment without deluding ourselves about that moment. Whatever the genesis of my turning away from the concept of a new year, not having one emphasizes that we can start over at any time. It allows for small changes during the course of a year that can roll-up into great change and progress over time. Most of us, in fact, engage in this behavior, but I'm not sure we always realize it, but it's important to take time to realize it and celebrate it. I like to think of this as the 'Another Point In The Orbit' celebration.

Here's how you do it. Whatever day it is, look back over the 365 prior days and identify your big accomplishments or experiences and put them on a rough timeline based on when they occurred or when you started them or when you hit an important related milestone. As you lay them out, think of (or discover) something about each event that was a new experience, a challenge to yourself, a major life lesson learned, an example of solving a problem, or simply a case of taking charge of life in some manner. Here's mine as an example:

• January - Wanting to be more active in supporting causes I believe in, I initiated my first annual Charity Shopping Spree. I calculated what percentage of my income I could afford to set aside for charities on an annual basis and then...went shopping! It's a morale boost knowing I'm doing something to support good work. And, best of all, the annual nature of the Spree means I will support causes I care about on a consistent basis. 
• April - Vacation in St. John, Virgin Islands. Amid the usual snorkeling, sunning, deep sea fishing, sunsets and stargazing, we did something pretty unusual Although we're not hikers, we undertook a fairly long hike into the rocky terrain on the south side of the island. One of the few hikes I've ever done in my life. Beautiful views!
• May - Officiated the marriage of two good friends: Stacy and Greg. I had to write the speech and vows that an officiator delivers and make sure they were unique but also made the day special for the couple. Totally outside-the-box experience and something I'll never forget!
• June - After taking stock of my career, I initiated a lot of healthy (and overdue) change. Sometimes, no matter what I bring to the table or how much I can help, some problems are not mine to solve (and perhaps cannot be solved).
• July - Sick and tired of not being creative, I stopped griping about it and did something to galvanize me into change: I signed up for guitar lessons. Since then, I've been practicing almost every day, started writing my own songs, and am even teaching myself to sing. Playing guitar is neither writing nor art - the two creative pursuits I've leaned on for decades - but by trying something different, my creative life is thriving for the first time years.
• August - Recognizing that I hadn't been reading much, I subscribed to sixteen magazines selected to reengage me with topics that I love (or want to love). To name a few: planetary science, world events, contemporary writers, art, and whimsically...whiskey! I'm indulging in my love of reading again, and I'm learning so much.
• September - With my weekly schedule not allowing for trips to the gym, I hadn't worked out for months. I did a lot of research and developed a new workout which I could do at home. Two sets of dumbbells, push-up bars, 20-25 minutes, and the willingness to rise early is all I needed to get back on the horse again.
• December - As an extension the new work-out, I wanted to do serious cardiovascular exercise now that I'm getting older. Martial arts was too great a commitment, biking was out during snow and rain so I landed on...running! Never done it before, and I was a very worried I'd wimp out. Despite a first run in cold weather that was difficult, painful, and thoroughly demoralizing, I pushed through and just completed my fourth run. I plan keep to training with the goal of doing my first 5K in spring or summer.

As you can see, the 'Another Point in the Orbit' celebration - aside from celebrating what we have accomplished - shows that we don't need New Year's Resolutions or to designate an arbitrary day as a time for new beginnings. Every day - every point in the orbit - can be a new beginning.