Facing the Wall

The same old fellow. The same wall

Long before I had zendo or robes. Before I had zafus, incense, scrolls, gongs, candles, statues, or clappers.

Long before that I was a soldier, sitting on a wadded-up pillow, facing a blank wall and seeking enlightenment

Now over fifty years have passed, I'm older than my master was, and I'm still facing a blank wall every morning and the purpose has never changed. I still haven't resolved all the questions.

So much has happened in those years: times when I thought the sun of awakening had risen, times when the moon of uncertainty dominated the sky, times when I merged both into one. Was I ever right? I don't know.

But always there was that impenetrable wall. I realize now that all those years it was the same old fellow facing the wall, just as my teacher did and his teacher before him and it was the same wall we faced and will always face.

We face the wall and we become the wall and the wall is Buddha. This is not trivial. That's the truth of it.

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