Willa's Journal - Simply to notice

Sleeping Goddess

Simply to Notice

I would begin with an empty bowl.

~ Sue Bender, "Everyday Sacred"

I'm reading Sue Bender's book "Everyday Sacred." Well, actually I'm not reading it in the sense that I sit down and start at the beginning and read it through to the end. I haven't started that yet. Right now I'm at the stage of picking up the book, admiring it--the design of it is so pleasant, the size just right for my hand, the printing delightful and perfect--and then opening it to a page at random and accepting a small bit of wisdom from it.

I generally don't read more than one book at a time, and I'm currently in the middle of a book of fiction. So I don't want to commit to Everyday Sacred yet. I want to give it my full attention when I do start to read it, I don't want to just skim it. So for now I'm sort of absorbing its wisdom by osmosis and fleeting glances.

But the premise of the book is this--traditionally, a Zen monk will leave the monastery in the morning with an empty bowl in his hands--his begging bowl. A monk has no income and must rely on the generosity of the people he meets to fill his bowl. Whatever is placed in his bowl during the day becomes his nourishment for that day. He must therefore go out into the world with hope and acceptance, and trust that his needs will be met. And I have a feeling that they most generally are.

The term "begging" bowl is probably a misnomer. The larger picture is that the monk does not "beg" as we understand that term in our culture. He doesn't accost passersby and ask for anything. He simply goes about his day, performing whatever tasks have been assigned to him, and accepts whatever comes his way. In this way, whatever does come his way is a gift, not a duty. And also, in this way, the smallest gift takes on new importance.

I try to live my life this way, as much as I can. I try to notice and be grateful for the gifts that come my way every day. When I take out the trash at night, I try always to look up--to be thankful for the stars and moon, and to notice the configuration of the clouds. I spend hours in my garden in the spring, clipping off the dead leaves and stems of plants, making room for the new shoots. And many summer weekend afternoons are spent weeding that same garden, pulling out the plants that don't belong, the ones that choke the life from the herbs and flowers that I grow. But I look upon this task as grooming not only my garden, but the earth, and I don't go about it with abandon.

I take it seriously and do it with deliberation and honor. It allows me to get close to the earth and makes me feel connected to something more important than the things that go on in my daily life. It makes me feel thankful for the opportunity to spend time outside, something I do far too little of. It slows me down and forces me to be quiet, and slow, and to therefore notice all the things that we sometimes move too fast to see--the bumblebee in the flower, the toad under the fence, the bird singing in the tree above.

Simply to notice and be thankful. There are so many beautiful things in the world. Sometimes we need to slow ourselves down and take time to see them. To accept what is placed in our bowl during the day, and to realize that whatever it is, it is a gift. Simply to notice what is placed in our bowl is the first step.