Ed Gabrielsen

Words are only words. And each word is constructed from letters. Fingers type letters into a keyboard. What is this? How amazing that this happens!

I suppose there are people who read these posts. I wonder why. Do they read these posts and “like” them because they are hoping that I will see the “like” and then, out of curiosity, go to their blogs and read their posts? Maybe that’s how this game works. I don’t know. I am just writing to write. Perhaps someone will find what I write helpful. Perhaps this is simply a waste of time. But a writer is only a writer if there is writing. Otherwise, it’s just a big nothing. The Great Way is simple, but it abhors choice and attachment. Joshu was a great teacher. His every word and every gesture embodied and manifested the Great Way.

This morning it was 7 degrees Farenheit when I woke up. The house was cold. The oil furnace has been working overtime. That is just life in Maine. There is so much salt on the walk and driveway I had to wash off my houseshoes. My blue Jeep is coated in a layer of white salt. Even so, with such low temperatures, the bright sunlight convects warmth to these shoulders as I walk back into the house. It is February 3rd today.

I spoke with my mother yesterday. She lives in an assisted living place in Texas. My brother visits her twice a week. She is 86 years old. Where did time go? What is this? Her voice still sounds the same as it ever did. She is my mother. There is only that one voice in all the world. I am fortunate that I can still hear her speak on the phone. Maine is a long way from Texas. She sounded good. Even cracked a few jokes. But I know that she is not happy and she wants to go back to God. She told me so the last time I visited her. Life is such a gift and such a mystery. What is this?

One of my favorite koans is “Hyakujo and a Wild Duck.” I’ve been studying the koans in the Hekiganroku for about a year now. The Wild Duck is Case #53. In the story, Zen Master Baso is walking with his student, Hyakujo. A wild duck flies past and Baso says, “What is it?”

Hykujo says, “It is a wild duck.”

Baso says, “Where is it?”

Hyakujo says, “It has flown away.”

At this point, Baso gives Hyakujo’s nose a sharp pinch. Hyakujo cries out with pain. Baso says, “There, how can it fly away?”

To me, this is such an amazing story because it captures the mystery of time. It captures the mystery of motion and time and where things go. Where do the years go? Where do the events of our lives go? We have an experience, and then it’s over. We have a relationship, and then, it’s over. We have a family, and then, they are gone. We have a mother and father, and then, we grow up and become adults, and our parents are gone.

Where does it all go? Where does the wild duck go? Hyakujo says, “It has flown away.” But Baso pinches his nose. OUCH!

What is it? Where does the wild duck fly away to?

–ecg