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Zen and the Pinhole Pace
As I search for the sacred, the desire to actually see the "invisible" teacher attracts me to a myriad of stone and wooden statues. The many different faces and emotions of the forest sages and water guardians invite me to visit them and contemplate life. Sometimes they offer advice or console me. They offer friendship in lonely times and places. I feel safe knowing they are always there, protecting the forest and mountains, the water, the traveler, and the rice in the fields. These sensei remind who I am and what I can be. Perhaps the blurred images of the pinhole camera I use express the Japanese's blurred vision of their spiritual selves. With the pinhole camera's long exposures the results are often left to chance or fate, mirroring the Japanese attitude of resignation and submission to one's destiny. When I have the right attunement, not only do I get interesting images, but destiny allows me my sacred moments.
At another ancient mountain temple about an hour outside of Kyoto, I spend five magical hours where it seems I am invisible. No one interferes as I wander into the different moods of my Buddha self. The wide arching roof and spacious garden open the heart. The clean lines on the railings center me, the long straight hallways focus my thoughts. Here I find the two directions my life wants to take. I am attentive to the here and now as I walk the floors polished by the flow of the humanity. When the moment is right, my spirit is lifted by an unseen energy that sweeps through the open doors and gardens. I linger for a while in a timeless state until the gong of the temple bell striking the heart calls me back to the middle way.
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