Self-Nature is Mysteriously Profound

We stop at Jikoji. I'm glad to arrive. It's our third day on the road since leaving Peggy's and I'm tired of being in moving vehicles. However, I'm grateful for Bridget, her driving, her company, and the scenic route.

There's a Tassajara contingent here: Abijah, Marta, Eli, Cat, Bridget, Patrick, and Julie Chen. I share their camaraderie and their friendship. I did not seek it. I do not have it. I don't even seek dharma. I am only here now, in what this is: Abijah receiving precepts. The humble truth of a warm, big-eyed, largehearted man. "Handsome and gentle being" writes Sally Carlsson. Welcoming and accepting all. Devout, sincere, ready. Easy to get attached to that one!

There's no adequate explanation for this ceremony, ritual/rite, symbol, performance, dance, passage.

Words? No words.

Mirror Phoenix, Leaping Mountain

No praise. No blame.
No speaking of past mistakes.
No difference, no sameness.
No single form.
No self.

One dharma, one great truth.
Unattainable, unexplainable.
Original. Basic. Pure.

Self-nature is mysteriously profound.

Yet, sometimes there is praise. Sometimes blame.
Sometimes mistakes and speaking of mistakes.
Difference. Equality. Form. Self.
Bewilderingly estranged. Supremely attuned.

Echelle, a little girl of five years, collects and distributes elemental wands. Earth, wind, water, and fire. In accord with the ten grave precepts, we will use their powers to free her parents, trapped in the belly of a monster. Echelle's wand becomes a phone. Echelle's phone is chewed up by a dog. We all come down the mountain.