My favorite time of day is twilight, when the sun is just below the horizon. Light is diffuse and refracted. The world seems soft and full. Objects call out for a sense of curiosity. Things may not be what they seem. Things may not seem as they are. The atmosphere of possibility arouses the heart of interest.
Letters from Emptiness is a collection of writings that I hope will inspire introspection and curiosity. For these together are vital for liberation from the personal narrative—the feedback loop of dissatisfaction, expectations unfulfilled.
What if we were to discover that life defined by expectations is painful? That without attachment to them, our responses are imbued with possibility, flexibility, and openness.
What if we were to discover a moment empty of the expectations that the personal narrative breeds? What if that moment was right now? What if sight, sound, smell, taste, or feeling could draw awareness out of the dream of self-interest?
I love language that points to a fullness that is beyond words. I love double entendre, metaphor, and subtlety of phrase. Language such as this can coax us out of our canned responses that transform the world into a possession. My hope is to tell stories that expose the angst of narrative, and the myriad ways that life demonstrates peace.
We’ve all had experiences where something we are sure is true… turns out not to be. Or something we thought made perfect sense… does not. This is our starting point.
My interest in the human condition has been lifelong, with events from early life inviting much consideration and questioning. Decades later, when introduced to Zen thought and practice, this introspection was revealed as a great teacher. With guidance (and Dharma Transmission) from Steve Hagen, my journey found a home as a Zen teacher at Dharma Field. It became an opportunity to offer guidance to those who sought answers. But seeing the footprints of matriarchs and patriarchs everywhere, I stepped into a new chapter and left the life of formal teaching. To be immersed in muddy water without a formal role as one who sees, works for me as the most authentic expression of practice. Even so, some musings seem to want voice, so I write. Each posting is simply an invitation to look within.