Haibun, by Eddy Street

For a few moments I believe I’ve forgotten what day it is. The pandemic has removed an element of usual time for me as my accustomed props and punctuations of the week have become redundant and my old map for time spent has become obsolete. Global and local are now not so separated as ‘remote’ acquires a new meaning and I can spend time, described as real, with distant friends. I idle away at bits and pieces, but knowingly wait for the reminder of the meditation session that provides a new found structure.

Phone flashes
a call to meditation
to end the shapeless day

It is a short step to practice as my journey to the Zendo involves a walk from the kitchen to the study. There was a time when I imagined all this would be just a brief interlude so this room and its Buddha were prepared in a compromised manner as I had made arrangements of the furniture without much planning or forethought.

Familiar routines
once shielded by habits
now requiring amendment

My portal for joining other practitioners is my computer and a whirring begins as I turn it on. Before logging on, I light the candle and incense and take pleasure at the way I am accustomed to this. The strong evening light forces me reluctantly to curtain out the sun so that I can avoid a shining screen as I go to the website. And now – where to sit? profile or face on? sound or muted? video or not? – choices absent from my introduction to the method long ago. 

First instruction
the cushion, the breath
at the bell bow to the wall 

I click to join the zoom meeting and the screen announces my name. That persistent koan “who am I?” now finds its digital manifestation. I smile at the screen and smile at the picture of me that then smiles back. I wonder if I am watching a ghost that is me as my waving hand of welcome moves of its own volition well after my experienced intention. We begin. 

Bell rings
the silence of sitters
now in gallery view 

We share a space but not the ambiance as only I can hear the noises of my house and the outside traffic, but sitting in the enquiry of adaption I am still comforted by the palpable presence of others. This mutual endeavour is just as it is. It’s just like this.¹ Just this. 

Together
expressing a small testimony
to the nature of being

Notes 

1. Once a monastic asked Quingyan, “What is the meaning of Bodhidharma’s coming from India?” Quingyan said, “It’s just like this!” Case #10: Kazuaki Tanahashi & John Daido Loori (trans) 2005 The True Dharma Eye. Zen Master Dogen’s Three Hundred Koans: Shambhala. Boston