Tag Archives: Shunryu Suzuki

Warrior’s Quest

Posted on October 26, 2020 by ivonprefontaine

Sometimes, I make sense of the life and the worl in paradox. With questions I can deepen conversations. I serve questions. Father Richard Rohr says maturity leads us to stop chasing certainty. In this way, I seek eloquent questions without ready answers: and invite others into dialogue.

After I read Chögyam Trungpa‘s Shambhala:The Path of the Sacred Warrior, I realized a warrior combats his/her own self-ignorance, moving towards being a human with a brave mind and ethical impulse. I cannot attain these qualities, but they are always worth questing towards and they do not come without struggle. Shunryu Suzuki and Thomas Merton used the analogy of a meadow to explore how we each can meditate, contemplate, and pray.

Warrior’s quest;

Resting in paradox–

Seemingly incompatible;

Space inviting space,

Forming spacious meadow.

Deepening dialogue;

Lacking pre-formed answers–

Questioning with eloquences;

Remaining open,

Experiencing wonder.

Lightening load;

Being grateful for gifts–

Even suffering,

Serving the journey;

The questing.

Emerging path;

Readying to step–

Understanding it is meant,

Fulfilling its rightness;

Knowing only it is unknown.

The warrior’s quest is much like standing at the base of a mountain. It is exhilirating and creates a sense of wonder: What is there on that mountain? On the other sides? I took this picture of Mount Robson on one of our many trips to visit family and friends.

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Posted in Blogging, Community, Leadership, Mindful Life, Nature in All Its Glory, Photography, Poetry, Reflective Moments, servant-leadership, teacher as transformer, Writing and tagged Chogyan Trungpa, contemplation, Dialogue, eloquent questions, Ethics, meditation, Mount Robson, mountains, nature, paradox, poetry, prayer, questions, Richard Rohr, Shunryu Suzuki, Thomas Merton, warrior, writing, writing poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Gentle Rain

Posted on August 24, 2020 by ivonprefontaine

I wrote this poem as part of a Sabbath activity at the retreat I mentioned in One’s Story and Companions. When I attend a retreat, I enter into a covenant with myself to slow down, talk less, and listen more deeply. In most retreats, that is the norm. We choose to set time aside purposefully and share with purpose in small groups, listening and being present for each other, reflecting in time set aside for solitude, and finding our way back to the circle of kindred spirits. In these ways, it is unlike other conferences, workshops, and training filled with busyness. I focus on opening up space where I experience being vulnerable, in solidarity with others, reflecting, and as I find myself coming home.

The poem began to emerge as I meditated in the morning in the main hall. As I sat, I became fully aware of sounds coming to me from outside as the voice of nature spoke. The reflective moment brought back a memory of the sudden and tragic passing of a young woman the year before. I met her briefly several years before.

Shunryū Suzuki and Thich Nhat Hanh wrote about how each person we greet on life’s journey leaves an imprint on us. We only need to stand or sit quietly and listen and like a wind and gentle rain voices are heard again and again in the silence of that moment.

Sitting inside the drum;

Hearing rain,

Singing a reverent song,

Tapping, oh-so gently–

Occasional Increased tempo

Adding rhythm in a fresh moment.

Shaking tree limbs and leafs–

Sighing gusts of wind;

Breaking free from reverie,

Dreaming, exploring, imploring

Reaching out–

Turning inward.

Inviting gently,

Each receiving;

Walking, remembering, enjoying–

Gathering together–

Carrying bits of each other.

Yet, in solitude

Communing.

I took this picture in Waterton Lake National Park several years ago. Memories act like water on rock. They live an imprint, carving out a place in our lives.

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There was a time I would reject those

Posted on May 3, 2017 by ivonprefontaine

Ibn ‘Arabi wrote “My religion is love. Whichever the route love’s caravan shall take, That shall be the path of my faith.” He speaks of a journey and shared path.

I recalled the statement attributed to the German Lutheran pastor Martin Niemöller:

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

When we reject others because of ethnicity, religion, skin colour, politics, gender, etc, we lose sight of what makes us human, our common humanity. This humanity is deeper than any of the markers we have that identify and group us.

Shunryu Suzuki compared mindfulness to a compassionate space that expands and contracts depending on the needs of the moment and the people we share that space. When we reach out to others, we acknowledge we are pilgrims on a shared journey where we speak for and on behalf of each other.

There was a time I would reject those
who were not my faith.
But now, my heart has grown capable
of taking on all forms.
It is a pasture for gazelles,
An abbey for monks.
A table for the Torah.
Kaaba for the pilgrim.
My religion is love.
Whichever the route love’s caravan shall take,
That shall be the path of my faith.

I took this picture in Jasper National Park. Kathy and I walked for several hours on this path just enjoying being there.

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When the Mind Is at Peace

Posted on May 14, 2016 by ivonprefontaine

When we experience the world, we often do so through the traditions that have been passed down to us. Those traditions colour the world in a particular way that is hard to shake. Culture and its traditions are not easily overcome without questioning how we perceive the world.

Marcel Proust suggested to overcome the cultural biases we each have was to see the world through new eyes rather to seek new landscapes. This idea is shared by others in various ways. Shunryu Suzuki described the beginner’s mind, which involves an attitude of openness. As we study a subect, we seek to explore it as child might rather than limiting ourselves to a single “expert” view of the subject.

Layman P’ang’s proposes peace in the world is a result of having peace of mind. In this way, we are ordinary people exploring the world not through pre-conceived ways of knowing, but always emerging and fresh understandings. We remain open and question what we think is real.

When the mind is at peace,
the world too is at peace.
Nothing real, nothing absent.
Not holding on to reality,
not getting stuck in the void,
you are neither holy nor wise, just
an ordinary fellow who has completed his work.

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Posted in Leadership, Mindful Life, Poetry, Reflective Moments and tagged beginner's mind, conversational journey, creativity, eloquent questions, Layman P'ang, Marcel Proust, Mindful Practice, poetry, Shunryu Suzuki, teacher as transformer, When the Mind Is at Peace. Bookmark the permalink.

Are You Okay, God?

Posted on July 5, 2012 by ivonprefontaine

I read Seven Lessons of Chaos by John Briggs and David Peat last summer. They used a koan about a ‘hole in the whole’ describing what we do when we analyze things and lose the mystery of the wholeness in life. We break life and its events down, analyze them, and forget to put all the pieces back and lose something vital in the connectedness to the world, leaving a “hole in the whole.” Humans attempt to explain the mystery of life and not embrace it and the richness of our existence. Mystery and spirituality work together. We cannot intellectually explain the fullness and mystery of life. Thomas Merton and Shunryu Suzuki spoke of this attempt as human arrogance.

A former student took this picture, again with pretty straightforward phone technology, and the beauty, the richness, and the wholeness it conveyed is powerful. It reminded me of the song we learned as children There is a Hole in My Bucket. The hole in the clouds or bucket could be there for a reason we do not understand. Despite the potential arrogance, I wrote a short poem that might explain the hole.