Nothing to Give, No One to Receive It

Excerpt: Nothing to Give, No One to Receive It - Norman Fischer Some gifts we see as gifts (the birthday or holiday gift) and others we usually don’t see as gifts (the gift of sunlight, the gift of breath). The practice of giving extends to all forms of giving. Traditionally, there are three things to give: material gifts, the gift of dharma, and the gift of freedom. But really there are many more things to give: the gift of listening, the gift of love, the gift of creation, attention, and effort. To make a poem or a painting is to practice giving, as is cooking a meal, cleaning a room, putting a single flower in a vase. In his fascicle “Four Methods of Guidance for Bodhisattvas,” Dogen writes that to launch a boat, build a bridge, and earn a living are acts of giving. To be willing to be born—and to die—is to practice giving. I usually think of four simple ways to practice giving: giving yourself to yourself (that is, to be generous in your attitude toward yourself); giving materially to others (giving money or other material gifts to those in need and to those not in need); giving fully and without reservation the gift of your presence and respect; and giving yourself completely in your meditation practice. There are six paramitas or perfections that define the Mahayana path: giving, ethical conduct, energy, patience, meditation, and wisdom. It is no wonder that giving is the first of these. The more you study it, the more it seems that giving is the whole of the Buddha way.

Many thanks to Polly Shikan Perez for this blog post!

Notes from my hand-written Journal.

“Out of nowhere  heart-mind comes forth.”
―Diamond Sutra

My morning ritual is to stumble out back to the zendo and turn on the electric heaters. I want to feel the day. I want my meditation spot to get warm while I drink my coffee. And I want my bowels to move. I also want to hear birdsong, the chatter of the universe, so I pour birdfeed into the feeder and check the bird water.

Yesterday was a day of clouds and cold winter rain. It’s easy for us desert people to get bone-chilled and sad on days like that. Sure, we know better. Our rational minds remind us how good the rain is for the desert, but deep down there’s a hunger for warmth and sunshine. Radiant heat! Three or four cold days of clouds and rain and desert folk start talking some serious sorrow.

This morning when I got up I was half-expecting more rain. Drowsy and still warm from a night under the covers, I put on my robe and crocs and went out the back door― the new day absolutely startled me. Golden sunlight lit up the rooftops and made Franklin Mountain beyond glow. The white-winged doves, perched high up on the electric wires where the sunshine is the best, began to coo and flap their wings. They were ready with their winter hunger. Likewise the house sparrows and finches (some juncos too) sat quietly hidden in the bushes, watching and waiting. I peed on the leafless desert willow. It too was waiting. I went back inside. Behind me the birds began to celebrate the feast.

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Post Script. I've neglected writing on this blog for so long. New Year Resolution! Write more Zen Stuff! Ha! Wonder how long that will last. Perhaps some of our fellow Sanghistas will join me.