Episode Details

We are emerging from the monthly return of the moon’s dark face—where from earth’s perspective the sun and moon appear to kiss, an aspect that astrologers refer to as a conjunction. In the Zen tradition, the moon cycles served as markers for the calendar year—with the new and full moons being opportunities for ritual and ceremony around atonement and renewal of vows.

In my own life and practice, I have been contemplating the mystery of being, what is often unseen or unacknowledged in the ways we normally move through space and relate to others and the world. In celebration of this New Moon and the Great Mystery, I offer a reflection on the following koan, Zhaozhou’s Deeply Secret Mind.

Hidden Lamp: Zhaozhou’s Deeply Secret Mind

A nun asked Master Zhaozhou: What is the deeply secret mind?

Zhaozhou squeezed her hand

The nun responded Do you still have this?

Zhaozhou replied: You are the one who has this

I was reflecting the other day about why I started practicing Zen. In my home sangha, the Zen Community of Oregon, we have been having conversations about paths of practice. So, I invite you to reflect as well. Why did you start practicing meditation? And if you practice in a particular tradition, why that tradition?

In my own reflection, it seems like Zen chose me. Someone gave me a Zen book and it resonated, then the meditation group I sat with in college was Zen, then my partner in college took me with him to a Zen Temple—at that point I didn’t really think about the other meditation traditions and if one would have been a better fit. I just followed the path that was opening itself up before me.

When I entered a Zen Monastery for my first retreat, I was greeted by an ambiance that felt ancient. The dark zendo, the temple bells, physical mudras that evoked stillness, gratitude and wonder as the monastery building played with the natural world in a way that the two felt indistinguishable. Though my thoughts frequently played the worries and dreams of this particular person, I had a sense that these stories weren’t the whole of who I was. The ancient timeless peace of the monastery was my heart too.

It was here that I felt, perhaps for the first time in my adult life, Zhaozhou’s hand reaching out and squeezing mine—the monastery + zen forms provided the physical invitation into this open secret.

Another way this koan is translated is: The nun asks, What is the inner-most heart?

We say Zen is transmitted heart to heart, mind to mind. A few weeks ago I was at Great Vow for a weeklong silent meditation retreat called Grasses and Trees Sesshin. The retreat takes place completely outdoors, we practice with the grounds and forest, the trees, leaves, meadows, birds and bats.

During our sharing circle on the last day, someone shared a story of sitting with a spider, and feeling the spider extend one of its legs, as the person held out a hand.

Others spoke of touching the earth, a rock, a tree —palm to palm, hand to heart, eyeball to eyeball, soma to soma.

When we spend a week, or a day or years or even minutes sitting with another being in silence, in openness, in presence—we know each other in a way that words can’t even begin to explain.

Think of all the hands you have held over the years. The hands you have squeezed. What was being communicated? What were you sharing? What state of Mind? What quality of Heart?

All the time we are holding hands with this sacred life.

Tooth brush hands, tea cup hands, peach + apple hands, dirt hands, human hands, dog hands.

Sometimes maybe we are saying, I love you, I’m scared, hold me, other times especially with the seeming objects of our lives, it might feel more transactional, or maybe we fail to not