It was in the year 27 A.D. (from the Latin, meaning Annie's Dominoes) when all at the monestary somewhere in Tibet were getting ready to celebrate New Year's Eve with many hours of silent meditation and not drinking alcohol. One young man, however, was getting ready to depart.

"Jesus Christ, has it been a long year!" the Zen Master exclaimed.

"Yes, it has, master," Jesus replied. "It has been a long, difficult year, but I have learned so much from you. I can never thank you enough for what you have taught me. Yet, I have so much more to learn elsewhere during my journey. And so I must go."

Jesus picked up his old kit bag, the one he had packed all his troubles into when he began his travels, and smiled at the Zen Master. They hugged and Jesus walked out the door, down the path and off in the direction he had come from twelve months ago, back toward the Silk Road, which Christ had been surprised to find was not really made of silk. Just another one of those mysteries Jesus had to explore before his time to teach would arrive.

The leaves of the Bodhi tree are heart shaped but your heart is not leaf shaped.

The way is not in the sky. The way is in the heart. The way to the heart is through the thorax.

The Zen master and one of his students were looking out the window at the heavy snow that blanketed their monastery and the nearby village. The student, one with many questions for the master, got a quizzical look on his face.

"Master," he asked, "we know that each snow flake is an individual, yet all snow is the same, separate yet one. But Master, does even the snow flake have Buddha nature?"

"Get the shovel," the Zen Master said in reply.

Thinking this response was a koan for him to puzzle over until he could find its true meaning, the student appeared to mull various trains of thought in his head.

"Ah, Master, perhaps not just the snow flake but the shovel that pushes the snow both have Buddha nature."

The Master fixed his gaze upon his student. "No, really, get the shovel. You need to move some snow, dude. Clear me a path to enlightenment, or the main road, whichever comes first."

"I'm thinking the main road will appear first," said the student.

"You initially conceal your wisdom, only to reveal it later," replied the Master.

The Dalai Lama writes that "all spiritual progress depends on a foundation of proper morality."

Oh well, no spiritual progress for me.

Be fully aware in the present moment while in the presence of your Christmas presents.

I'll bet even the Buddha takes Christmas Day off.

A Zen-ish Christmas Tale, Part Three

Due to an overindulgence in chili dogs (with cheese and onions) Santa’s reindeer are not well and don’t look to be in any shape to fly, especially with their guide, he with nose of cardinal hue, and Vixen passed out drunk. What will Santa do now, now that Christmas Eve is here?

Eventually the tears of Santa Claus stopped flowing. He stood up, looked down at Fred, who appeared suitably remorseful for feeding the reindeer chili dogs, and said, “Well my little elf friend, we’ve got to go figure something out. I need to get the toys delivered.”

They walked back to the main house and sat in the large living room, Santa taking up most of a couch, while Fred hopped up on to a rocking chair. Fred just loved rocking chairs. Very soothing, that rocking motion. But the rocking chair squeaked and really got on the big guys nerves.

“Would you knock off that rocking!” Santa shouted, “I’m trying to think here.”

Just then an apparition manifested itself in the middle of the living room. It was nothing more than a glowing shapeless blob of light at first, but it began to assemble itself and assume shape. It was a reindeer!

For a few moments the reindeer simply stood still while still emitting a faint but ghostly green light. Santa and Fred sat, mouths agape, eyes wide with wonder until Mr. Claus broke the spell. “What in the name of Buddha are you?” he asked quietly, being almost too frightened to speak.

“I’m a reindeer,” he replied, “and I’m here to help you.”

“I can see you’re a reindeer,” Santa said, “but goodness me, where did you come from? How did get into my living room? Are you a ghost of reindeers past?”

“Uhhhmmm, no. I came from within you. As you know, all answers are within you. You have reindeer issues and the solutions are inside you.”

“Oh, great,” Fred said, “a bunch of new age claptrap from a figment of our imaginations. Santa, what are you putting in the glug? Are you adding windshield solvent in there again? Or are you secretly giving us the brown acid, because we are definitely having a bad trip right now”

“Shut up. Let the reindeer ghost talk.”

“I’m not a ghost,” the ghostly looking reindeer said. “I’m simply a manifestation of your inner knowledge made flesh in the form of a reindeer, a creature you know and trust, and I am here to help you draw out the information you already have but can’t quite access because of your current agitated state.”

Santa looked at the animal in front of him somewhat unbelievingly. “Why are you glowing?”

“Not too sure about that. Always do whenever I make an appearance though.”

“Can you fly? Is that why you’re here?” Santa asked hopefully. “With your ghostly glow so bright won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?”

“I don’t fly,” the reindeer said quietly but firmly.

“It would be really great if you could fly,” Santa said with a tone of despair in his voice. “That would solve a lot of my problems.”

“Okay,” said the reindeer while rolling his eyes slightly, “ it’s good to have focus, but you need to stop focusing on me flying, because I don’t.”

“Then what good are you to me?” Santa was on the edge of the couch now. “I need to fly around the world in one night, it’s dark out, the reindeer I need to guide me is dead drunk as is his girlfriend, and the other reindeer are having intestinal problems of epic proportions.” Father Christmas was exasperated now. “So, tell me, glowing critter, what good are you to me?”

“Breathe,” was the reindeer’s response.

“What?”

“Breathe. Sit still, think of nothing for a moment, and breathe. You too, little man,” he said to Fred.

So they did, figuring there was nothing to lose and not a whole lot of other choices. Santa and his elf sat, still, breathing.

“This is what you’ve been doing for a long time now Santa,” the glowing reindeer said. “This is what your meditation has been leading you to: clarity. Breathe in, breathe out, again and again, thinking of nothing, focusing on nothingness itself, until all is clear, and all answers are knowable and known. Breathe.”

Both Santa Claus and his elf were motionless, their appearances growing more and more calm with each passing moment.

The reindeer continued in a low voice, somewhat, surprisingly, like George Clooney’s. “This is why you practice zazen, to have clarity in moments like this, moments of stress, important moments when others count on you and your knowledge. Zazen has helped you see the answers within.”

Santa Claus opened his eyes and calmly said, “Yes.” He looked at his elf friend. “Fred, go feed the reindeer oats, lots and lots of oats.”

“Some brown rice would be good too,” the glowing reindeer suggested.

“Always with the brown rice with you sensitive types,” Fred said.

“No, he’s right, Fred,’ Santa told him. “The rice and the oats will help undo the damage you did by feeding them chili dogs. Throw in some carrots and apples as well. Do the same for red nose and Vixen, after you’ve thrown some cold water on them to wake them up. And give those two plenty of hot coffee.”

“So we can have wide awake drunks?” Fred asked.

“Yep. Even a little schnockered, those two are more valuable awake than asleep. Now hurry, there’s not much time!”

“Yes, Santa,” Fred said and off he ran to the stables.

Santa Claus looked at the reindeer with kindness in his eyes. “I feel like myself again, thanks to you.”

“Peaceful and calm,” asked the glowing one.

“Peaceful, calm,” Santa replied, “a little ornery too. But that’s just me. It’s who I am.”

“We strive to be ourselves,” said the reindeer.

“Yep. And thanks again...for everything, what you did to help me.”

The reindeer began to fade away, his glow becoming steadily less bright. “I’m glad I could help but you know very well all answers were within you all along.”

With that the ghostly glowing reindeer faded from sight. Santa stood for a moment, then rushed to the stables. There he saw the last of the toys being loaded onto his sleigh. All nine of his reindeer, looking none the worse for wear, were hitched up to the sleigh and ready for their flight. The big guy took one last look in the mirror on the wall, adjusted his hat, straightened out his belt, and then Fred helped him into the sleigh.

“Sorry about the whole chili dog thing, boss.”

Santa looked down at Fred and said, “That’s okay. All’s well that ends well. And I know you won’t let it happen again, will you?” He glared menacingly at Fred (or as menacing as one can be in a white fur trimmed red suit) and said, almost under his breath but loud enough for Fred to hear, “If you do, you really will be a polar bear snack.” At the look of abject fear on Fred’s face Santa let out a roaring “Ho Ho Ho!!!!” “Then he smiled widely and said, “I could never kill you! Least I don’t think I could.”

Then Santa Claus let out another booming “Ho Ho HO!!!!” and snapped the reigns. “On Donner! On Blitzen! On Vixen and Nixon!” he shouted, then his voice began to trail off. “On Dasher and uhmm, Ringo and Pete and...oh, hell, let’s just go!” The reindeer team galloped through the wide stable door and up and up and up they rose, over the treetops, silhouetted against the moon, into the frosty clear night air and off into the distance, off to circle the globe, traveling faster than lightning speed until, back at the North Pole, they were neither seen nor heard but for a faint “ho ho ho.”

A Zen-ish Christmas Tale, Part Two

The blissful, near-enlightened state Santa Claus was in during his meditation has been interrupted by Fred, the elf in charge of the reindeer. There’s a problem in the stables and it needs Santa’s immediate attention.

Fred took Santa’s hand in his as he headed towards the door. “Let’s walk and talk, big guy.”

They hurried through the house, scurried past elves working furiously in the factory and out the back door to the stables, moving as quickly as a 350-pound man and an elf can while walking hand in hand.

Along the way, Fred told Santa what the problem was. By the time the pair were ready to enter the stables the big man was apoplectic.

Santa stopped in his tracks. “Let me get this straight,” he said to Fred. “You ordered up chili dogs from Chicago?”

“Yes. You get the best chili dogs in Chi-town. But a food junkie like yourself would already know that.”

“And you fed the chili dogs to the reindeer?”

“Yes. Chili dogs with cheese and onions. That’s the way to roll. Had some myself. Wasn’t gonna let the reindeer have all the fun. Had me some onion rings too. A little greasy though. I know I shouldn’t have had them, they always give me indigestion...”

Santa cut Fred short. “Enough. You fed the reindeer chili dogs...”

“With cheese and onions,” Fred said.

“...and you thought this was a good idea?”

“Well, I thought maybe they were getting a little tired of the same old thing. Fruits and berries and lichen. You ever see lichen? Looks like moss. I’d get tired of eating that. So I thought I’d give them a little treat for the holidays.”

“A treat?” Santa rolled his eyes. “Well, let’s go in and assess the damage. I take it the chili dogs didn’t agree with the reindeer?”

With that Santa opened the stable door and entered. “Ho ho hoooooooooo...what in the name of the Dalai Lama is that smell?!?”

“That smell would be the result of 7 reindeer with loose and angry bowels,” Fred responded. “The liked eating the chili dogs well enough. Guess they didn’t sit too well though.”

Santa stood still, stunned by the odor and the sight of his oh so valuable reindeer, the creatures that were shortly to fly him around the world in one night delivering toys to good little girls and boys, lying on the straw covered stable floor, groaning and writhing with spasms of terrible, terrible indigestion and horrifically upset tummies.

Santa turned angrily on Fred. “Of all the stupid things to do, and to do it now, when I need these beasts more than ever. You cannot begin to fathom how pissed off I am...”

“Hey, calm down there, big fella,” Fred said, “I though fat people were supposed to be jolly.”

“Fat people?!?” Santa screamed. “I’ll have you know I have a glandular problem.”

“Is it a glandular problem when you eat a cookie in every damn house you go into on Christmas Eve?”

Santa had had enough.

He put his big, meaty hands around Fred’s neck and lifted him so that they were eye to eye. Fred kicked his feet and flailed his arms, but to no avail; Santa just continued to look Fred coldly in the eye while he squeezed the life out of him.

Eventually, Santa spoke to Fred in a low growl. “I’m gonna throw your wee body in the woods. You’ll be nothing more than a polar bear snack.”

Fred gasped and managed to speak in a whisper. “Santa, we got other problems.” Santa stopped pressing Fred’s Adam’s apple for a moment and looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean ‘other problems’?”

Santa put Fred down and Fred started to breathe normally again after a minute or so. “Remember, I said we have seven sick reindeer.”

Santa’s eyes got wide. He looked around the stable and then cast a suspicious glance at Fred. Santa asked, “Where’s Ru...uhmm, you know, that reindeer whose name I dare not mention for fear of possible copyright infringement? And Vixen? Where is she?”

“They flew off together.”

“What?” Santa shouted.

“They broke into your wine cellar, drank a couple bottles of glug, then flew off into the night.”

Santa Claus became enraged and picked up poor little Freddy by his neck again.

“How in the world could you let this happen? You’re supposed to protect them! What am I going to do now?!?”

Fred could barely speak but he managed to whisper, “Do you hear that noise? Maybe that’s them.”

“Don’t try to distract me from killing you, you rotten little son of a...”

Before Santa could finish the job, Vixen and the crimson-nosed one came crashing through the roof, flew in a circle around the stable, knocked Santa and Fred down as they passed and then landed in a haystack. The reindeer couple looked at Santa with bleary red eyes, tried to get up but quickly passed out and started snoring.

Santa Claus sat motionless, simply staring at the two unconscious reindeer. “I’m ruined. I’m ruined. What will I do now? How will I get gifts to all the children of the world?”

Santa put his big head in his hands and began to sob. Fred put his arms around Santa’s shoulders, but it was no use. Jolly old Saint Nick was not jolly, he was inconsolably sad.

“I’ve got to find a way to save Christmas,” Santa said through his tears. “Pray for a miracle, Fred. And pray that I don’t kill you.”

To be continued...

A Zen-ish Christmas Tale

The Zen garden was part of the large house but not of it. The house, a factory as well as a house really, was loud and vibrant, full of almost constant motion and commotion, the noise of many men and women hammering and sawing and painting and drawing and creating, and always the sound of feet running here and there and everywhere. All through the year there was so much to do. Sometimes, well many times, there was stress, and if you were the boss, the one who had to make sure that everything went smoothly, no, perfectly, on the big night, then sometimes there was a whole bowl full of stress. And we all know stress needs to be addressed and dealt with.

That’s why there was a Zen garden, just off the living quarters of the boss and just far enough away from the hubbub of the factory that all of it’s noisy chaos was a mere din, a white noise, a background buzz.

The Zen garden was really a large indoor room with concrete blocks (all the better to block out the factory sounds) forming the four walls, but those walls were covered by Japanese print screens. These showed scenes of birds and forest creatures, and the sea, and beautiful women. The floor of the garden was covered in sand in which had images of snowflakes and bells and Christmas trees drawn into it. In the middle of this sand garden was a large overstuffed cushion and on the large overstuffed cushion sat a large overstuffed man in the half lotus position; it was hard for a man of his girth to sit comfortably in the full lotus, so half lotus was better than no lotus at all. Here in meditation, in deep contemplation of everything and nothing, sat Santa Claus.

Zazen (sitting meditation) was a marvelous boon to ol’ Saint Nick. Before he discovered zazen Santa would get stressed and grumpy and quarrelsome and could be not so very Santa-like at times. But zazen helped calm his mind so Santa could see what was really important, like who was naughty or nice. The big guy still had his moments, but what human doesn’t, at least one who hasn’t obtained enlightenment?

Unfortunately for Santa, one of those moments was about to arrive. Santa was sitting on his overstuffed cushion, eyes half closed, hands on his knees, nothing to hear in the garden but the sound of his own breathing. That’s when Fred, the elf in charge of the reindeer, came bursting through the door, shouting “Santa! Santa! Come! Hurry! There’s a problem in the stables!”

Upon hearing Fred, Santa leapt up from where he was seated and whirled about. He was speedy for such a large man but whenever he moved that quickly his belly really did shake like a bowl full of jelly.

“What...what’s happening?” Santa asked. “You know, I don’t like you guys barging in on me like that. I could have been close to enlightenment.”

“Oh, yeah,” Fred responded. “Lots of enlightenment going on up here at the North Pole. That’s why you still call us elves, like we’re all living in a tree making cookies or something. We prefer to be called little people.”

“Whatever. Listen...” Santa could feel his face flush, but he checked his anger. Fred was a cheeky monkey but he was a union man (all the elves were unionized) so he would be hard to fire. Easy to hide such a small body though, Santa thought, then he quickly tried to erase that thought and find the inner peace he been experiencing just moments ago. Rather than commit elficide, Santa asked Fred what the problem was that needed such immediate attention from the boss.

To be continued....

Release yourself through laughter; it is the best medicine. Pharmaceuticals can be very helpful on occasion though.

The idea of control is an illusion. I know that I do not control most things in my life. Zen, and many years of marriage, has taught me this.

The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear, and then there is more you just don't want to hear.

"Animals see us, don't they? So we're their animals." - the late Captain Beefheart, musician, artist, apparent Zen-ish master

The Buddha teaches us, "He who is seeking his own happiness and who punishes those who also long for happiness is running after a chimera." Give me a moment while I look up the word "chimera." Darn my public school education.

Desire is the source of all suffering. But what if I desire to suffer?

I've got nothing for today, so here's an oldie but a goodie:

What did the Zen master say to the hot dog vendor?
"Make me one with everything."

I believe it was the 4th Dalai Lama, Yonten Gyatso (1589-1616), who said, "Frigid cold temperatures and Tuesdays always get me down."

A flower falls, even though we love it; a weed grows, even though we hate it; some people continue to live, even though, let's be honest, if they slipped under a speeding bus, we wouldn't be all that sad.

Attachment is an illusion. That snow and ice attaching to your car outside, the one you're trying to clean off now as the wind whips ice pellets into your face? Illusion. It's all illusion. Except for the ankle you just broke slipping on that icy spot you didn't see. The pain and swelling in your ankle area is no illusion. Get to a hospital.

Delusion is one of the causes of our suffering. My delusion is that I'm just too real, man. Therefore my reality is a delusion, which in turn makes my delusion a delusion. Therefore my delusional state is really my reality. Or is it that my perception of my delusion being a reality is really a delusion? Which would in turn...uhmmm, I'm going back to bed now.

You must learn to embrace the present moment. The present moment has a stranglehold on you so you may as well hug back.

To understand everything is to forgive everything. Except for that guy who cut me off while I was driving home last night. Him I do not forgive. Never!

Success has a hundred parents, but failure is an orphan. Mediocrity has many brothers and sisters, as well as an aunt in New Jersey.

Every action of every day must be performed with mindfulness. Or is it mindlessness? No, that wouldn't make much sense, would it? Mindfulness. Yes, that's it. Where would mindlessness get you? Well, a reality show on E! but certainly not a step closer to enlightenment. At least I don't think so. You know, I'll check on that.

No snowflake ever falls in the wrong place, but a snowball hitting the wrong person can lead to a lot of trouble.

You cannot travel the path until you become the path itself. So get used to being stepped on.

A Zen master and his student were shoveling the heavy snow that had fallen upon the monastery, clearing the paths so that the monks could get their exercise.

"Master," the student asked, "is it true we are each like the snow flake? Every one of us an individual, yet every one of us the same?"

"Who the hell cares?" the master replied. "Just keep shoveling."

With that, the student became still, his eyes half closed, a smile came to his face, and he seemed to glow with new found knowledge.

The Zen master looked at him and said, "If you don't get that look of enlightenment off your face and start clearing the path I will hit you squarely upon the forehead with my shovel."

And so master and student continued to shovel.

The Buddha states, "We are what we think." Which implies that many people are nothing.

Conquer the angry man by love. Or a lethal weapon if need be. Either one is cool.

Don't sit under the bodhi tree with anyone else but me.