Some say we go to heaven when we die. What do you say?
It is, so no one has ever arrived there.
So, we can't get to heaven?
No.
We just die?
No. It is, so how could anyone overlook it?
Just because one does not see that they see does not mean they do not see.
Just because one does not see that they see does not mean what is seen is not present.
*Brian K. Wilcox. "Meetings with an Anonymous Sage."
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Hasidic story -
The Jews in a small town in Russia were eagerly awaiting the arrival of a prominent Hasidic Rabbi. They spent a lot of time preparing questions for this rare event. When he arrived, they met with him in the town hall. He sensed tension, while all prepared to listen to the answers he would give.
The Rabbi remained silent at first, then he gazed into their eyes and hummed a melody. Soon, everyone began to hum with him. He started singing, and they sang. He swayed and danced in solemn, measured steps, and they joined in. The people became so involved in the dance, so absorbed in its movements, they were lost to everything else on Earth. And every person was made whole inwardly and could see the subtle truth.
The dancing continued for almost an hour. Afterward, everyone sat in silence, with peace pervading the hall. The Rabbi spoke the only words he said that evening: "I trust I have answered your questions." He left without saying another word. Everyone went home cheerful.
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The Hasidic Jews speak of Devekut: Hebrew for "communion, sharing, fellowship." The Hasidic affirms the presence of the Holy in the world and the potential of fellowship between the "upper realm" and "lower realm."
In this communion, a dance can be an answer, a prayer can be laughter, praise can be a teardrop. This dance is the humbled, freely-given spaciousness without limitations of memory, a memory that decides what is possible or not in this moment, the next, the next, ...
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When communing outside a sense of separation from the Sacred, one joins with Presence in the ordinary, daily details of life, those pleasant and those unpleasant. Life becomes seen and felt as holy, for life is life. Joy arises beyond feelings of happiness.
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As says the late Soto Zen Teacher Dainin Katagiri, in Each Moment is the Universe, "We have to manifest the unknown world simultaneously with the known world." His words signify that in whole-hearted engagement with our lives, we join the "upper realm" and "lower realm," or Spirit and matter. Harmony arises and is sustained in the one holy communion.
In the harmony, questions like how did this get here become playful, not so serious. Communion with the particularity of this apple on this tree limb dissolves even the idea of the oneness of this with all else. Both oneness and duality dissolve in the harmony of this apple here, now, on this tree limb, here, now. The Sacred is invited and enjoyed through wholeheartedly being with the apple on the limb without thinking of anything but the apple on the limb.
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If you are the dance, do you care how the dance became the dance or if it was ever not the dance? Do you stop and speculate, theorize, about the dance? The dance is the dancing. The fog is fogging. All life is living. Life keeps living; you are life living.
We even separate life from eternal life. Where is the seam? Can you find it? If you try, that is the dance. You cannot get out of the dance, but you can be asleep to its beauty and wonder. You can forget the bliss of gratitude.
People can poop on the jewel, but the jewel is still what it is. Life is life... beautiful, wondrous. Spiritual practice is about removing what keeps us from seeing this, here. This suchness, seen and unseen, "above" and "below," is the harmony you cannot step outside of, even as you cannot step inside it. Both the outhouse and the church house are participants in this sacred suchness.
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Buddhist koan -
A monk asks the Teacher Kenpo: "Buddhas in the ten-thousand directions enter nirvana [absolute peace; cessation of suffering, rebirth; "above"] through one way. What road are they on, I wonder?" The Teacher, picking up a stick and pointing up the road, says: "They are here."
The monk poses an idealistic query. The question is devoid of harmony with where he is when asking the question. His world is fractured. The Teacher points out the idealistic - nirvana, heaven, "above" - is not other than the materialistic - the road - "below." They are not opposites, yet not the same. So, not even just up the street, instead, where the Teacher picks up the stick and points. Here it is. It never came or left. And there it is, up the road. Everyday life, with gates into nirvana, heaven, to be walked through without going anywhere. And when you enter a gate, you might be surprised at how what you discover is not special at all. Yet, it is wonderful!
