Tuesday, August 21, 2007

on cultivation


earlier in the summer, which is rapidly drawing to a close, around june, i decided to experiment with a little gardening. i cleared a patch and planted tiny tomato and jalapeno plants. i also sowed coriander, basil and cucumber seeds. the basil seeds were tiny- smaller than the tiniest mustard seed imaginable. with a bit of skepticism (actually a lot), i sowed, watered and watched them closely as weeds and grass sprouted. but in about two weeks, something miraculous appeared in the form of tiny basil plants- unmistakable in their shiny green, already fragrant leaves. the basil plants are now about a foot high and redolent- it was indeed a miracle that had unfolded right in front of me- in the here and now. i cannot resist making parallels with mindfulness and meditation practice. in our quotidian life, we try and sow seeds of mindfulness, accompanied by weedy doubts but nevertheless watered by the gentle rain of daily practice, and they eventually bear fruit. that is the heart of dogen zenji's shikantaza or just sitting. miracles happening under our noses waiting to be experienced while we try and strive for them and miss them.

i have a good friend who used to be vegetarian but had to switch to a meat diet for health reasons. she was naturally a bit upset about it and brought it up in a conversation earlier on the day i was clearing the patch. as i was uprooting the grass, clover and unnamed plants and loosening the soil, i also noticed earthworms and ants. it struck me that even a vegetarian way of life involves killing sentient beings. while i had understood this intellectually, its visceral significance struck home only that day. i was aware of the countless sentient beings that have been sacrificed in the fields, in the roads by the trucks bring produce to the store, as we walk.. just bring food to our plates.

i will end with a beautiful meal gatha recited in sesshin before partaking of food-

first, seventy-two labors brought us this food,
we should know how it comes to us.

second, as we receive this offering,
we should consider whether our virtue and practice deserve it.

third, as we desire the natural order of mind to be free from clinging,
we must be free from greed.

fourth, to support our life we take this food.

fifth, to attain our Way we take this food.

Monday, August 20, 2007

late spring


watching late spring last night.

no other movies are as meditative and capture the passage of time and the nostalgia as subtly and beautifully as those of Yasujiro Ozu. the unmistakable stamp of ozu is writ all over- the lack of jump cuts or fades, the pillow shots, the tatami-level camera work, lack of irrelevant details and most importantly the camera that just observes still life and motion, unmoving- characters come in and out of its field of view, it keeps recording.


the plotline is very simple and a familiar one- an aging widower and his just_over_the_conventional_marriageable_age daughter and the natural, unaffected love they have for each other, played by ozu favourites Chishu Ryu and Setsuko Hara. Setsuko is in full bloom in the movie, especially in the first half- she is radiant with joy, just like spring itself. As the movie progresses and the separation (due to her marriage) inevitable, the sorrow or more precisely mono no aware is captured beautifully evoking the feeling associated with the approach of autumn as spring progresses- the imminent cold balanced by the prospect of beautiful colours. there is considerable use of zen imagery in the movie- the tea ceremony with which the movie opens, the Noh performance, the visit to the temples in Kyoto including the famous rock garden of Ryoanji. However, they are all used as backdrops and juxtaposed with secular and material situations perhaps hinting at the changes already happening in post-war Japan. The characters are shown indulging in seemingly trivial pursuits during these solemn occasions (talk of mending trousers, making eyes at a marriage prospect, debating about marriage). It is only in the beautiful final scene when the aging professor returns to an empty nest after his daughter's marriage ceremony and starts peeling an apple that he openly expresses his sorrow, albeit with restraint. throughout the film, ozu's camera is a detached observer cataloging changes in Japanese society without praise or blame- coca cola signs, baseball games, stenography jobs, divorce, remarriage ...


i discovered Ozu serendipitously in a large store selling rip-off DVDs and CDs in Colombo, oddly on the island of Serendip. It was a double bill of Floating Weeds, a silent version he made in the 30s and a brilliant colour remake of the same story in 1959. it was immediate seduction and continues. in my view, his films typify the japanese aesthetic and sensibilities far more than any other director (Kurosawa and Mizoguchi included). to be continued later.

cooking (aug 18, 2007)


as i dwelt a little longer in my asana today than the last time.

the novitiates of the whirling dervishes (sufis) of the Mevlevi order are asked to practice their whirling for a year, adding an extra turn every day so that by the end of their year, they are fully 'cooked'. it is an interesting metaphor, cooking. Rumi takes the metaphor further in a beautiful poem about chickpeas in a pot and how they try to escape the cooking by jumping out. the cook chides them and tells them that after all they are going to be united with Him after they are cooked. In a line, beautifully rendered by Coleman Barks, he (the cook) asks-

"Remember when you drank rain in the garden.
That was for this."

notes

sometimes when iam in meditation (or yoga), after the regular chatter has died down and i am following my breath, thoughts/insights/haiku arise the latter usually only during sesshin (retreat). i don't fight it and let it rise and ebb; some of them are interesting so i have decided to write them down. perhaps a year (or even a day) from now, it will appear jejune. i am definitely inspired by prather's lovely journal notes to myself which i recently restumbled upon in a used bookstore, not having seen it in almost 15 years.