using the arrow buttons.
by clicking on the page.
the page around when zoomed in by dragging it.
the zoom using the slider when zoomed-in.
by clicking on the zoomed-in page.
by entering text in the search field, and select "This Issue" or "All Issues"
by clicking on thumbnails to select pages, and then press the print button.
displays sections with thumbnails and descriptions.
displays a slider of thumbnails. Click on a page to jump.
allows you to browse the full archive.
about your subscription?
Buddhadharma : Spring 2012
SPRING 2 0 1 2 BUDDHADHARMA: THE PRACTITIONER’S QUARTERLY 17 DAYTIMER BLUES Zen practitioner Mark Rinsan Pechnovnik says we needn’t despair when life gets busy. There was a time when I didn’t keep a calen- dar. My life was open and I could follow my impulses without much thought. My weekly appointments were few enough that I had them memorized. Then I got busy. I don’t know how it happened. It just seemed to creep up on me. I first noticed when friends would ask me if I could have a coffee or meet for lunch during the week. While I could normally rattle off times and options without a second thought, I suddenly had to pause and think it through. When I stopped being able to do it so eas- ily, I started keeping a calendar on my com- puter. I didn’t put everything down, just the major non-negotiables. I could then visualize and hold in my memory the large open blocks that tended to repeat and told me I could do what I wanted. Then those blocks stopped repeating. My life was less and less regularly structured and more and more complex. I ended up buying an iPhone so that I could have my calendar on hand. My duties and obligations are now with me all the time. This is my life today. There is a part of me that does not like this. It complains and says, “There is too much to do.” “I have no freedom anymore!” “My day is already planned and completely packed!” “I’m overwhelmed and exhausted.” “There is no time for ME!” When I think this way my mind sours, my body tightens, my heart rate increases. I begin to dwell on the day’s ending before it has begun. I start to plan some indulgence that will help soothe me as soon as the demands of the day are over. I’ll go home and turn on a movie, get under the covers, read a book, eat ice-cream, hide from everyone else, do something to reclaim the “ME” that the day, presumably, has not given enough time to— as if the chance for being alive and present was not there all along. In truth, life is here, planned or not. Only my mind and its stories are in the way. With mindfulness, I can pause and look into the present moment with a sense of clar- ity and curiosity. I don’t have to believe the delusion that I am in control or that the cal- endar is in control or that life is supposed to be a certain way. I can appreciate life simply unfolding. Here it comes. There it goes. Taking it a breath at a time. Breathing in, I prepare myself. Breathing out, I calm my thoughts, drop my expectations, open my heart, my eyes, my ears and listen for what is coming next... in all its lovely exquisiteness. As we say in Zen, the present moment is all we have. The future is an idea, the past a dream. If I do not rest in the shape of the day that has settled itself around me (not like a leg iron but a comforting quilt), then I’m living only in ideas of what should be, what could be, what is coming up, what I have missed. There is rarely satisfaction in ideas, and what seldom satisfaction arises does not last long. Like my children who are now grown, the joy of holding them as boys will never return. Today, I enjoy sitting and talking with two young men. FROM INK ON THE CAT, OCTOBER 2011, A PUBLICATION OF THE ZEN COMMUNITY OF OREGON