The writing life is filled with satisfaction and pitfalls, success and failure, public and private scrutiny, the contemplation of considered thought and research as well as the writer’s conviction expressed in the word itself. Every writer has critics and advocates and learns to pay attention to both in equal measure without melting before the ardor of either criticism or praise. Both enthusiasts and detractors raise temperatures and, as one of my favorite American politicians Harry Truman famously said, “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.” Writing is a private, solitary endeavor first (and, perhaps, foremost) and only if/when it gets published or read to an audience of one or more does it become public. It seems likely that far more writing is seen only by its author than makes its way to a larger audience, whether in a weekly newspaper, a national magazine or a best seller list. Either way its value, utility and intellectual/emotional nutrition are in the eye of the beholder, including but not limited to that of the author.
Wallace Stegner, in my view one of America’s finest writers, wrote (in a work of fiction): “Are writers reporters, prophets, crazies, entertainers, preachers, judges, what? Who appoints them as mouthpieces? If they appoint themselves, as they clearly do, how valid is the commission? If time alone makes masterpieces, as Anatole France thought, then great writing is just trial and error tested by time, and if it’s that, then above all it has to be free, it has to flow from the gift, not from outside pressures. The gift is its own justification, and there is no way of telling for sure, short of the appeal to posterity, whether it’s really worth something or whether it’s only the ephemeral expression of a fad or tendency, the articulation of a stereotype.”
The commission is assumed to be valid for the writer unless its source flows from outside pressures, in which case what Stegner refers to as “the gift” is not its own justification. It is just another hired gun in the service of the highest bidder. That is not “writing” in the sense indicated here as what Stegner terms a “gift” to the community, but, rather, is closer aligned with advertising, public relations, political campaigning or promoting a particular religious/social/economic dogma. The gift is organic (even wild) and in all ways nutritious to human thought and discourse, sustainable in the world community and beneficial to that world’s mental/emotional/physical environment. Outside pressures genetically modify some writing and spray poisonous pesticides upon the writer’s imagination and integrity. And they are seldom labeled. While that is, in my view, unfortunate for writer, reader and the larger community, both writer and reader have choices in what to write and read and why, and those choices affect the larger community. In all things it’s worth the time and effort to discern what is organic and what genetically modified.
Whether it’s nourishment for the mind, the emotions, the body or the environment, organic, to quote Ernest Hemingway, is the just right word.

A priest was in charge of a Zen temple garden because he loved the flowers, shrubs, and trees. Next to the temple was another, smaller temple where there lived an old Zen master. One day, when the priest was expecting some special guests, he took extra care in tending to the garden. As he pulled the weeds, trimmed the shrubs, combed the moss and meticulously raked up and carefully arranged all the dry autumn leaves the old master watched with interest from across the wall that separated the temples.

When he had finished, the priest stood back to admire his work. “Isn’t it beautiful,” he called out to the old master. “Yes,” replied the old man, “but there is something missing. Help me over this wall and I’ll put it right for you.”

After hesitating, the priest lifted the old fellow over and set him down. Slowly, the master walked to the tree near the center of the garden, grabbed it by the trunk, and shook it. Leaves showered down all over the garden. “There,” said the old man, “you can put me back now.”

A Zen story

I like this story. It reminds me of Gertrude Stein’s famous observation that “There are no straight lines in nature,” and of what nature is and is not and of how mankind’s idea of perfection destroys nature’s own. It’s an illustration of several things, among them the priest’s narrow (unpriestly?) pride in the beauty and order of his own work juxtaposed with the master’s more expansive appreciation of the inherent beauty of a larger, older and more inclusive edict. The word ‘respect’ comes to mind.

Thank nature for the master.

It is a much older story than this Zen version of it.

Man versus nature. Man in nature. Man in harmony with nature. Man in conflict with nature. Man and nature. Man as a part—and a small one at that—of nature. Man’s obsessive need to make order out of chaos. Man’s neurotic need to control—everything, including nature.

Keeping care of one’s garden is admirable, honorable work, and, depending on the garden, it may provide sustenance for a few people. Tending the garden is the work of survival, and man and nature as equal partners will keep man flourishing and alive. The scientific study of the natural world, the common observations of the common man, the escalating rate of species extinction and the high temperatures of summer are but a few of the plentiful indications that modern man’s partnership with nature is completely out of balance. Despite the moronic ramblings of people in high places who have every opportunity and obligation to know better—people like Donald Trump and most of his administration, George Bush, James Inhofe and others who take an unpriestly pride in answering to a higher father who goes by many names including ExxonMobil—man caused global warming is real, and it is changing the garden of earth in unknowable and irreversible ways. And there is something missing in their concept of perfection and beauty.

The Zen priest who stood back to admire his work and calling it beautiful was, as the old master pointed out, missing something in his own garden that he had made every effort to make perfect. And he was missing something as well in his own self. Though he hesitated at first, the priest had respect and took the effort to lift the old master over the wall so he could shake the tree in the middle of the garden. At the end of the Zen story there is nothing missing from the garden, the priest or the master.

May we all have such respect and do as well and lift the old masters over all the walls so they can shake those trees in the center of every garden until the leaves fall down like nature’s own.

Karma is the universal law of cause and effect. It has been called the law of moral causation and is fundamental to Buddhist thought, practice and understanding of the world. The concept of karma was central to Hinduism long before it was incorporated into what we now know as Buddhism, and it is best understood as an organic process rather than as an imposed system of justice. Karma usually takes longer than justice to manifest, but it is absolutely immune to political/economic/social influences. Unlike justice, karma is inescapable. Karma can be earned or paid for, but it can’t be bought or sold. Karma is neither a bartering system nor “an eye for an eye” transaction.

One way of thinking of karma is that the deed (original action) is the seed of a fruit that will eventually grow and ripen and fall upon the one responsible. It must be morally good or morally bad to produce its fruit, and since the ripening of karmic fruit generally takes longer than a single lifetime the effect of the original cause is not manifested for one or more rebirths…..thus the endless cycle of existence known as samsara which continues until one reaches enlightenment or nirvana. That is, the concept of karma is big mind, long term, universal thinking, not the small mind of I, me, my, mine, individual, separate and personal fate.

An action, or original cause, can be one of body, speech or mind. The karma of just a thought that is not spoken aloud or acted upon is determined by the intention of the act. Intention causes a karmic effect to arise. Intention is cause. Even if never acted upon the intention in itself is enough to create a karmic effect, and while bad deeds produce bad karma good deeds produce good karma or ‘reward.’ In karmic terms, present intention, present thought, present action are in some measure a consequence of past intention and are in a greater measure the determination of future situations.

This is not to say that karma is absolute determinism. It is not. Karma, at least in Zen practice, might best be described as the intention to pay attention without judgment or desire to influence the situation to one’s ‘advantage’ or to avoid pain. Karma determines the manner of rebirth, the situation one is born into, but it does not determine the intention or action and response to that situation. Both ‘good’ and ‘bad’ karma keep one in the cycle of existence—samsara‑‑and the way to end the cycle of rebirth is to refrain from both good and bad deeds. That is, the way out is enlightenment.

So, we are either caught in samsara or we are enlightened. Take your pick.

In some Zen centers morning service begins with a verse: “All the karma ever created by me from the beginningless greed, anger and delusion born through body, speech and thought I now fully avow.” That is, the first step is to acknowledge and accept responsibility for who we are and for the circumstances of our lives. Such acceptance is to be open to the universe and to realize that present conditions determine subsequent conditions. When we deal with our own, personal situation or the violence, ignorance and social/economic injustices of society, our intention is to lessen our own suffering and that of all beings and to encourage others to do the same. It is worth remembering that so long as we are in samsara we are dealing with these matters, with karma, every instant of our lives. The inescapable and ancient law of karma is that positive actions produce positive results and negative actions produce negative results, truths we cannot escape.

In closing, I am reminded and wish to remind you of the words of the Dalai Lama: “My religion is kindness.”