I vow to taste the truth of the Tathagata's words. Good morning everyone. Good morning. Today is our twenty-fifth celebration of Arbor Day and also a special day for the children. Every month we have the honor and privilege of welcoming young people. And I hope you've enjoyed the rainforest sounds from the babies. They help set the scale and scope of what we're about today, planting trees in this temperate rainforest. So I'd like to welcome the young people by offering you a greeting from the North, let me get this tribe right, the North Natal Zulu people of South Africa. You know what they say when there's an important gathering, they sit down together very carefully

[01:00]

and look at each other and then they say, I see you. And they look very deeply. And the people that are being seen answer either silently or out loud, I am here. Very simple. So I'm looking at all these future foresters of the Western world and it's wonderful to see you. And you can say, I am here. There's also an important phrase that these people say that a person is a person because of other people, because of other beings. A person is a person. So today we're going to go outside this afternoon and take little tiny baby oak trees and put

[02:03]

them in the ground and baby redwood trees and put them in the ground and pull up some cape ivy and do all kinds of things and I hope that some of you can stay. If not, Nancy and Daniel and Leslie and Michael and others have surprises for you. You'll be able to plant a tree today at the end of this brief talk, but I wanted to tell you a wonderful story and I think some of you may know the story of the man who planted hope and happiness. Do you know that story? No. Oh, good. Then it'll be more interesting. It's a great Dharma story from a wonderful French writer named Jean Genot who wrote in the middle part of the 20th century. He was a person, do you know, he never went to school. He didn't go to school. He didn't have a chance to. His parents had to work really hard so he never learned how to read and write in school but he taught himself and he loved words and he believed in stories. So he told the wonderful story of a lonely peasant man who grew up in the central part

[03:09]

of France, right where the steep Alps mountains go down and meet the land, meet the land of Provence which is where Monsieur Genot grew up. And he told the story of as a young man walking in the mountains right around that region and he went, he came into a desert. Have any of you ever walked in a desert? Have you ever walked in a place where there aren't any trees growing and there's no water flowing? It's kind of scary, at least it can be, a frightening landscape. Anyway, this young man, Monsieur Genot, was walking through such a landscape and he noticed that he was out of water. He kept walking and walking and it was growing dark and he went to an old village which pretty much every house in the village had been abandoned and the land was so dry that it had cracked open and there were big, like, snake-like patterns in the ground and he could just see his breath whenever he walked because it was so dusty.

[04:10]

He could see his breath and he could feel the dryness of the ground and it was getting darker and darker and he saw a single black shape on the edge of the mountains and he headed toward that shape. And do you know what it was? What? A box of seeds. That's a great, there is a box of seeds involved in this. What do you think, Sisi? Did you say something? A mountain. A mountain of a man was there, a lonely shepherd who was about my age, kind of old, and very quiet and he motioned to Genot and Genot came close and the man had a few, he had a small flock of sheep around him and Genot noticed that the man was very neatly dressed even though he had poor clothing on and he noticed that he was very friendly and he motioned to him and took him to his little house and there in that dry, dry place he had a tiny

[05:12]

house that he had made of stone and wood and he took the lonely walker, hiker, in and gave him some beautiful, clear, fresh water and then he had a big pot of soup bubbling on a wooden fire and it was clear that Genot would spend the night. And so even though Genot was only about twenty-two years old he thought this was a good thing and he had a good feeling being there. So they had supper together and when it was dark the man lit a candle. Do you know what he did then? He took out a bowl that was full of acorns. Do you know what acorns are? Tiny things. Yes, they're tiny things. What else are they? They fall from trees. You're right. Do you know from which tree? Her father, who's a carpenter, is coaxing her and reminding her that they come from oaks but she's covering up his mouth, which is good. It's a good sign. Culture is alive and well.

[06:14]

Anyway, he took out a bowl of these tiny oak acorns and spread them on the table and with meticulous care, with great care, he began to investigate the oaks, the oak acorns. And it took him a little while and after he'd spent a few hours he had one hundred beautiful acorns. And Jeannot offered to help his older friend but the peasant shepherd declined. In other words, he said, I don't need any help. Thank you for offering. This is my work. And the next morning, after they took care of the sheep, the young man and the old man went out on the hills and Jeannot noticed that the old man walked with an iron cane and he used the iron cane to make a hole in the earth, to pry open the earth, and in each hole carefully he planted the seed of an oak. Do you know when you plant an oak tree, this is a kind of secret, you plant it on its side.

[07:21]

If you plant it facing down, which is what you might think because the root comes out from here, the root doesn't grow as easily. If you plant it on the side, the root arches out like a serpent and goes down into the soil and then the top stem comes up really well. So if you're ever today, if you're planting oaks, when you go outside, you're going to take some of these seeds and you can sort through them carefully at tea and plant some of them along with the live tree. So they planted the acorns on the side, digging the hole, planted the acorn on the side, covered in the soil, very carefully, just 100, that's not so many. And the young man never forgot this day. He went on and the next year he went to fight in a world war, in the first world war, and he didn't come back to that region of France for about six or seven years. And when he did, the first thing he noticed was an extraordinary number of oak trees. When they sprout, this tree is, anybody here, let's see, this tree is a little more than

[08:26]

a year old, Lucas is pretty soon going to be a year old, maybe closer to two, this is an oak tree. And the acorn is planted right about here, and the roots come down, you'll see when you take this tree outside, the roots are coming right down through the pot and the top is going up. Well, the young man noticed that there was quite a beautiful forest growing there and he found his old friend who had given up sheep and had taken to tending bees, because the sheep, guess what the sheep like to eat? The oak trees, you got it. So he'd stopped tending sheep and had taken up bees, was raising honey, and you know, guess how many trees he planted every, how many trees he had planted since the time they'd seen each other? See if you can guess. How many? Lots of oak trees. Can you guess how many? Guess a big high number, what do you think? 600 is a great guess, but actually he planted 100,000 acorns.

[09:31]

And of those 100,000 acorns, only about 20,000 germinated, sprouted. So that means very few of them actually sprouted and grew, and of those 20,000, only half of them had made it. So from planting 100,000 oak acorns, 10,000 trees had grown, and they were healthy. And they walked through the forest, he said they were like slender maidens, blowing in the wind, about 10 years old, very beautiful. And underneath the oak trees, guess what had happened to the earth? See if you can imagine. Can you imagine? Was it dry still? No. No. Not at all. It had water. It did. It had great, deep water running under the earth. And Junot stayed with this man and made very good friends with him and came back every, maybe every five or ten years. And by the time that the shepherd was 86 years old, he had planted thousands and thousands

[10:36]

of trees. And that whole region of France had come back to life, just from the simple act of planting a tree and taking care of it. So I'm sure that you have all planted trees, haven't you? So today, you've never planted a tree? How lucky you're here today. How did you know to come today? You must have heard the oaks beckoning you to come to this valley. Anyway, it's wonderful that you're here. And I tell you this story because even though it's a story about an old man, there are plenty of wonderful stories of people your age doing this kind of work. I think of a young man who was six years old and lived in Sweden. And when he heard about land being destroyed because of no trees, he set up a campaign to raise money to save land in the rainforest an acre at a time. And he, from this campaign, from his program, they've saved thousands and thousands of acres of land in the rainforest and made sure that trees are planted.

[11:38]

So it's good to see you this morning. It's good you're here. And I hope you have a wonderful time now as you get to finally go outside to the so-called real world and get to work. There's also some sweet surprises involved. So please say goodbye to your parents. And you'll see them again, I promise. And thank you for planting trees. Let's see. Do you want to take this? Great. Hi, Sophia. Hi, sweetheart. You want to take this? Okay. Thank you for the song, Lucas.

[12:41]

Oh, this is weird. I'm used to going out with them. It's kind of nice, too. So thank you for helping me stay here. I love this day so much, the first day of the Chinese New Year, the Year of the Dragon. I think of all the work so many people all over the world are doing to take care of this land we call our home, our provisional home, for a little bit of time, for a brief moment. And I think of our great opportunity to live in an upright human form. You know, we are upright and alive with our hands and mouths and minds because of trees. You know that, of course, that the opposable thumb comes from us growing and evolving along with the great long-limbed trees. So to have a day when we honor the fact of multiple beings practicing together and go and spend an afternoon, a timeless afternoon with the trees, is a great pleasure, a great

[14:03]

fresh event. When I think of that story, which incidentally more literal-minded people determined to find out if it was so-called true, a true story. So they went to the hospice where Jeannot said that the old man Elisard Bouffer had died. They went to check at this French hospice and found out there had never been any such person. When confronted with that, apparently Jeannot laughed uproariously. The fact that people would think that a story is true if the person only existed as we know existence was very comical to this illiterate, deeply spiritual person. I tell the story, he said, so that we can all become more human ourselves.

[15:07]

It's a story of potential strength. But I know from reading and I know from studying a little bit of what's happened from this story that many, many, many thousands of acres of trees have been planted because of the inspiration of these words. So I want to remind us of that today. And when the children ask you, is it true? I hope you'll find a very deep way to answer them. I think of my daughter and her good friend Stephan, who she went to nursery school with, getting into a fist fight on the playground when some children dared to doubt the truth of the tooth fairy. They stood up and had a battle, a kind of noble battle. And I think that that kind of spirit can infuse our lives if we can trust in that kind of spirit

[16:09]

and bring it forth. That's a good thing. So today I want to encourage everyone who's here to please go as deeply as you can into your spiritual roots and bring up your true nature. Yesterday, before Arbor Day, we have a tradition of walking on the land around our home, around this place of practice, spending a whole day outside walking, receiving the tidings of the ground and the plants and animals and all the beings. We call it the Watershed Walk. It was well-named yesterday because we shed water all day as we walked. Every year when we have a rainy day on the Watershed Walk Day, I think, oh, no one's going to come. And every year people do come. So yesterday about ten of us, well-dressed, met at Muir Woods National Monument and spent

[17:12]

the entire day outside in the pouring rain walking and learning a little bit more about ourselves and our land. No bad weather, said one of the men who was from the Scandinavian countries. Our motto in Scandinavia, he said, is, no bad weather, only bad rain gear. So that was true. So we were extraordinary looking as we went out and came home drenched. And I was cold for a number of hours, but warm inside from that experience. And I thought a lot walking. I thought a lot about time and change, which is what I'd like to talk about this morning. I thought a lot about that because we've been doing this walk for nine years, and we've noticed a lot of change, a lot of growth, a lot of decay, a lot of loss, and a lot of new life as we walk, not only in the so-called outer world, but also within each other.

[18:19]

It's a great thing to walk with the same people, too, every year. And traditionally, we stop on the high bluff overlooking the valley and eat our bag lunches and recite poetry or songs. This year, it was so rainy and blowy that we hid underneath the redwood trees and came to Green Gulch and had hot yam soup, and then we recited poetry and songs. It went much better doing it that way. One of the women who was with us yesterday is a radio reporter. She started her own radio station, and she calls it the T.U.C. station. We said, well, what does that mean? She said, well, T.U.C. is an aeronautical term. She thought when she was founding her radio station, she thought, well, what responds or what corresponds to the airwaves? So she looked up aeronautical terms, and does anyone know this term, T.U.C.? It's an abbreviation for Time of Useful Consciousness.

[19:21]

And I thought, how interesting. She said, well, when I saw that, I was very excited because those words seemed so strongly connected to my sitting practice, time, useful, consciousness. But in fact, what the term, it's a technical term. It has to do with what happens in that period of time from the point at which oxygen deprivation becomes serious until you pass out and are no longer functional. So you have this small window of opportunity. This is for a pilot. He knows, okay, I have a time of useful consciousness before he's gone, he or she is gone. So that was very sobering, having Mariah tell us about that, T.U.C., that window of opportunity, which we have to be effective in our life as life subsides.

[20:23]

So I can assure you that we walked in the forest with that reminder, a time of useful consciousness, very present. And we were aware as we walked, you may not know this, but Muir Woods National Monument is in this known world. I emphasize this. As a gardener and practitioner, I know that there are many worlds within the world system that we see. In this known world, Muir Woods National Monument is the last intact old-growth forest. That means that there has never been cutting, there's never been logging, there's never been any human challenge to the environment there. And you can see a forest that hasn't been adjusted, with the exception of an old bad habit that they had of sweeping any litter that was larger than the size of a pencil. That's about the size of a pencil. They used to sweep up any litter that had fallen that was that size.

[21:25]

Now they're not doing that any longer, and they let the forest lie and grow deep. So we walked through many dead and dying trees. It is the sign of health to walk in a forest of death and decay, and great use and regeneration at the same time. So we had an extraordinary day walking with a ranger from the woods who was able to take us over the fences. So we went into the forest that you don't usually see and spent the day walking, lost in the forest. And I thought about this notion of time of useful consciousness as we walked. I thought about the way we measure time in the Western world, spring, summer, winter, fall, northeast, west, south. And I thought of the native people who've lived on this continent for so many generations before us.

[22:28]

Do you know the Kahila people of the desert part of this state in the southwest measured time from the trees? They found eight seasons, the budding of trees, the blossoming of trees, trees forming their seed pods, seed pods ripening, the falling of the seed pods, and then they actually called it mid-summer, the cool days, and the cold days. So that's eight measurements. But a lot of that had to do with connection with the natural world, something that's so missing in so many of our lives. And closer in, the people of the northwest coast, measuring time by flower time, that's spring, and dust time is summer, and seed time and snow time. They were a little farther to the north of us. So how would it be for us, living on this earth, practicing meditation,

[23:33]

taking care of our children and families and each other, how would it be to find a way to measure time that's more linked to the natural world and to one another, a kind of time that allows us to be able to greet one another by saying, I see you, I see you, and you would answer me, I'm here. And human beings would become more humane because of depending on each other. I think for me, this day is always very rich. For many years, my father would come from New York City and join us on Arbor Day. He had trouble sleeping because it was so quiet in Kringle.

[24:35]

I always felt we should record the subway and maybe cabs honking. Years ago, when Kathy and Norman Fisher lived in New York, Kathy and the twins would walk around the streets and they had this practice of whenever they heard a cab honk, they had to stop breathing, and they couldn't breathe again until they heard another cab honk. So they measured their time by the honking of cabs. And actually, they hyperventilated. There was so much honking. So my father would come to Kringle and have a time of useful consciousness, a real time of useful consciousness. He was a pilot and a person who loved the natural world, spent a lot of the later years of his life recreating the dunes of Fire Island where we grew up. But he loved to plant trees, to plant redwood trees. And every year we made a pilgrimage to Muir Woods. And last year he died in December, and I miss him very much. But it's a wonderful thing to be able to be in this land and go out and plant

[25:42]

in honor of those we love and remembering the continuity, a great wheel of continuity. This Arbor Day is also unique for me because after living at Kringle for 25 years, my family and I are moving next door to Muir Beach. We're going to move off campus, make a little room at Kringle for the next generation. You heard them. They're everywhere, of young, newly born Zen people and older Zen people. So it's a healthy thing to be doing this. But there's a great deal of... I'm experiencing the upheaval of change, the kind of... the bite of change. And everything feels very precious. This morning walking up from Muir Beach, I remembered years ago on Arbor Day going by the dining room when I was a young mother, and I was carrying my son who's 22 and has been planting trees every year

[26:46]

with us here at Kringle, and I was carrying Jesse. He was little. And trying to get the trees ready and get everything set up for Arbor Day, and I was hurrying to get over to the dining room and put him down in his high chair and feed him and get on with the next thing so that we could plant. And I looked in through the window, and lo and behold, there was another baby sitting very happily in my son's high chair, eating up a storm and banging his spoon on the table. And I was so horrified. But I think it was one of the most important reminders for me of the basic teachings of the Buddha, to see that. And I realized, standing there outside the window, it was a cold day, and the dining room was warm from everybody breathing and eating, and we were outside kind of dirty and ragged, looking in through the window, and I realized, oh, this is going to change.

[27:48]

My place here will change. There will be a new baby in Jesse's chair. And I, somehow, in my busy, full life, I had forgotten that primary truth, and my time of useful consciousness had been covered over by busyness. But standing there in that moment, I saw that it does change, in spite of me. So I continue to be extraordinarily grateful for these reminders. I was thinking today, holding that oak tree and passing it on to the children, thinking today of the great oaks that we had growing outside of the Gringotts' office, where every morning when I went to Zazen, I lived right next to that oak tree, and I would stop and bow to the tree, or else go up to it and lean against it and look up into its branches. I remember one year, my son, when he was about eight,

[28:51]

was showing off when his class came to visit, and he climbed up into the tree and fell off and landed on his back. And there was a time of useful consciousness there. I wondered if he was going to breathe again, but he did. He got up and ran. I thought so much of my life was oriented around that tree. It was kind of my north star, if you will. And a few years ago, after a shiso ceremony, in a big storm in December, the tree blew down. And I think you remember, those of you who have been practicing here for a long time, remember the presence of that great being lying on the lawn. In the redwood forest, those beings are allowed to lie in state. And do you know that a redwood tree, 1,000 years old, takes 1,000 years to decompose? It's a balanced life, an ancient life. I think an oak would go down faster, and it certainly went down faster for us because we cut it up into sections. And hopefully one of those sections will one day be Kama Han,

[29:54]

the wooden sounding board that we use to call us to meditation. So when you live in a place for 25 years, a lot of these stories move through you. And particularly for me, the notion of what does it mean to practice with change all around me, to recognize that everything changes. The Buddha said our existence is marked with three marks. The nature of life is suffering. That's the first mark. Everything changes or everything is impermanent. And third, there is no permanent self or no separate self. So those three marks have animated this teaching hall for generations. But today I'm looking at everything changes and feeling the truth of that. I am aware that with this teaching of everything changing, nothing being permanent,

[31:02]

it is my responsibility as a practitioner and someone who loves Buddhist practice to fully and dynamically investigate what it means. There's a great comment that D.T. Suzuki Roshi made. Let's see if I can find it. The mind, he said, the mind that does not understand is the Buddha. I love that comment. It's the not knowing mind. The mind that does not understand change makes an effort to know change inside out, to know impermanence inside out from our direct experience of living this lifetime in our particular casings and being. So if we could make that effort today, each of us, to fully investigate the teachings and find out where they're true,

[32:05]

where they're accurate, where they're alive for us, then I think we are giving ourselves a great gift and using the opportunity provided by this wonderful old hayloft meditation hall where we've been sitting for so many years. We've lived here for, we've been taking care of green goats for almost 30 years, 30 years next year. And, you know, when we celebrated the 25th anniversary, I'm happy to say that we had lots of wonderful speeches, but we also had some real work and right outside this door we planted a seedling oak. The big oak tree had crashed down and been sectioned up into pieces and we planted a new oak. Maybe this new oak that's right outside of the meditation hall doors will, when it becomes august and venerable, like its forebear was, will do the same kind of ceremony that we did 20 years ago. No, not 20 years ago, 10 years ago, for the original oak.

[33:09]

We did, with Reb, we did a special ordination ceremony where we recognized that tree. Great Patriarch Tree was the Buddhist name that Reb gave to the oak tree. Great Patriarch Tree. I think that's right. And we chanted and offered incense and recognized that this being is a great teacher and help to us, giving us strength and courage to investigate, to fully investigate the Dharma. So, this is the main offering that I wanted to give to you today. I have lots of prepared talk and ideas that I don't feel like bringing up, but I did think a poem would be appropriate. This is a poem by Jane Hirshfield, who's a practitioner,

[34:13]

who lives not far from here, about five miles from here. Within this tree, is her poem. Within this tree, another tree inhabits the same body. Within this stone, another stone rests. It's many shades of gray, the same. It's identical surface and weight. And within my body, another body whose history, waiting, sings. There is no other body. It sings. There is no other world. So, because everything changes, because an acorn seed has to break free,

[35:16]

lying on its side, sending down roots into the dark, sending up a top stem into the light, because the children that are screaming and acting out here today have to become responsible, because we have oppression, because we have oppression, because we are in a conscious time of useful consciousness, because we are put together in our bodies and minds in such a way that we don't have any other choice but to get up early Sunday morning, on a beautiful day, and come here to this old hayloft, to be together, to see one another, and to be here, because of all of these causes and conditions, and because everything we know, everything we hold dear, will change and come apart. And every high chair that we hold on to be our own will be inhabited by another little squirmy butt soon enough. Because of that, we dedicate our practice to the full awareness and awakening and well-being of all life,

[36:20]

life as we know it, and life as it's not yet known by us. So please use your extraordinary intelligence and curiosity and confidence to be a fully endowed human person. And let's make a pledge today as we dedicate this first day of the Year of the Dragon. This is the Green Dragon Zen Temple. We say the Green Dragon stirs the fine mists of teaching of Dharma for the West and the East. You know, the dragon has its tail in the sea stirring the sea, and its head in the clouds, and its body is this scaly green valley right here. So on this first day of the Chinese New Year, maybe it's the second day, I hope I'm not wrong, but first or second, at the beginning of the Year of the Dragon, in the fresh start, fresh breath of the 21st century,

[37:24]

let's not give up following our curiosity. Let's take, if we lose confidence and lose our courage, even for a moment, let's take our strength and renewal by looking within this tree, within our own bodies, and knowing as much as we can about ourselves, and drawing on the tools and gifts of Buddha's practice, particularly the gift of not knowing, not knowing for sure. And vow to be fully awakened beings in this time of youthful consciousness. And I hope that when we have an opportunity to discuss the teachings a little bit more deeply, in question and answer, that you'll come and we'll have an opportunity to talk about how trees have served us in our lives because they've been so extraordinarily helpful. I know every year at Arbor Day we have a chance

[38:26]

to talk a little bit about practicing with trees. You know, it's no accident that the Buddha took his seat underneath the pitbull tree, or the bodhi tree, the tree of awakening, and sat still under that tree to awaken for all beings, for the benefit of all beings. He needed a tree at his back, though, and perhaps the tree needed his presence, his solid sitting presence. So remembering that cooperation and how everything changes is our work, is our joy, and is our gift today. So the kids are taking some oak seeds that Suki started in the garden, and they've grown into young trees like the ones that I showed them, and they're planting them around the pond cabin out here. They're going to make a little grove. And then the little kids, along with some of the residents here, made beautiful tree-shaped cookies,

[39:27]

which if you stay all day and plant trees with us, you'll get to taste. And they're icing them right now, so they should be very excited to see you all again when you come out. And I hope you'll pause outside and notice their offerings to the ground, and notice the oak tree that's right outside the door. But more than that, notice your own body and mind and what a gift it is to be here, to see one another, and to be here. Thank you very much, and happy Arbor Day.

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