May 25, 2020
Here in California we are entering into an unseasonably hot week following Memorial Day, and with the overly warm weather come the sounds of children playing in the streets of my neighborhood. This sounds like a normal thing, but portends something different, as what used to be normal was a constant sound of vehicle traffic which is now just sporadic. Kids couldn’t play in the streets before, it simply wasn’t safe for them to do so with the relentlessly heavy traffic.
As the Shelter in Place order in Santa Clara County, where I live, continues, news from other parts of the state and the nation tells of the reopening of non-essential businesses, and the easing of restrictions on social engagement and travel. It will inevitably happen here as well, and the pause that many of us feel in our lives will end. However, for those who are vulnerable to the coronavirus, this is not an advantageous situation. It’s a rather terrifying one that demands great faith in social propriety, or extreme caution and social withdrawal. It’s a situation that calls out for a practice that encourages open listening and observation, and skillful and compassionate action. It would be something to guide us when we fall short of the mark, again and again. I think you know what I’m talking about.
As the Shuso of the never-ending Winter Ango (now set to end on Kobun’s Memorial, at the end of July), I’ve had to adjust my daily practice to living at home, away from Jikoji. One of the practices I have adopted is the afternoon tea break, where I sit down in a chair with a cup of tea or water, and literally give my mind a break from it’s usual random bouncing around. I make note of the last few bounces, and then give it to the task of settling into the present, and notice three different sights, one after the other. Each “sight”, or object on which my eyes land, gets full attention, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for just a few moments. Then I move on to three sounds, and finally, three sensations that I am feeling in my body or more broadly, the environment around me, like the differential between the sense of the air temperature and the temperature of my skin. I’ve found this practice to be surprisingly rich.
Another practice I’ve adopted is to periodically take note of what I am doing with my spine. It surprises me with an unbelievable array of slouchy, hunch-y, “S”-y, twisty, or compacted postures that, when noticed, are hardly comfortable (or, I imagine, healthy); it mystifies me as to how I fall into them. Then I close my eyes, relax my shoulders, and lift up my sternum, imagining my spine is a cobra stretching up to the sound of a reedy chanter. Opening up the spaces between each vertebrae seems to free up blocked energy and improve my mood.
Home bee, San Jose. Honeybee, Jikoji.
I also like to think about the life of bees. Everyday, they spend hours and hours nuzzling flowers, and sometimes, even fall asleep inside them when the sun goes down, as I’ve noticed at Jikoji with Yellow-faced bumblebees nestled inside California poppies. They are a fine example of how to shelter in place. May all beings have safe shelter!
Looking forward to seeing you on the Jikoji Zoom platform; take care and be well!
In gassho,
Reiko Connie Ralls