A Clay Jug Full of Canyons

Today was prop up your good friends day, which I am always more than happy to do. One of the people who needed propping was really at the end of her rope already when she had some old, icky business rear it's head.

"I thought I was done with this! I thought it was out of my life and I wouldn't have to deal with it anymore!" When she was done with her well-deserved freak out, I told her that now I was going to "go all Buddhist on her ass." And proceeded to do so. The reason I did was that what she said clearly resonated for me with what was on my mind with yesterday's post.

Kabir wrote about the clay jug which can contain mountains and canyons and the tools we need to test our mettle (or metal), because we contain everything. All our experiences, every lake we've gazed at, every leaf we've raked, every eclipse we've watched, they exist inside and outside us. We contain them entirely. No matter how many things we make part of our experience, part of us, there is infinite space left.

The upshot of this is that we cannot leave behind our experiences as we contain them, but that bad relationship, tragically embarrassing experience, or profoundly moving moment mean no more, or more less than that moon, that canyon, that raked leaf. They all just are.

Fingers Pointing to the Moon

Inside this clay jug there are canyons and pine mountains,
and the makers of canyons and pine mountains!
All seven oceans are inside, and hundreds of millions of stars.
The acid that tests gold is there, and the one that judges jewels.
And the music from the strings that no one touches, and the source of all water.

- Kabir (translation by Robert Bly)

I met Erik Storlie Sunday at the MZMC; he was the guest speaker for the Dharma talk and, I learned, one of the founders of MZMC. He shared the Kabir poem above as an example of how we are infinite in scope. Usually, Zen poetry is used to illustrate Zen principles, but although Kabir is many things, a Zen Buddhist is not one of them.

In addition to this poem, he made a reference to the concept of enough (Dayenu) from the Pesach seder. It did my heart so much good to hear him draw from a multiple outside sources. Immersing myself in comparative religion has been an avocation of mine for many years. When I am concentrating on getting clarity on spiritual and philosophical issues, I draw from my exposure to a wide variety of world religions, but Buddhism, most especially Zen Buddhism tends to draw somewhat exclusively from their own (admittedly large) pool of texts and poetry. It was comforting to see someone else feeling free to look outside the proverbial temple for inspiration.

There is a famous teaching that the teachings of the Buddha are like a finger pointing at the moon. Having Judaism, Hinduism, earth spirituality, Sufism, etc. from which to draw from feels like I have many friends with me, all pointing. It seems to me that the more fingers that are pointing, the more easily I can find the moon.