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Buddhadharma : Winter 2011
ALL: Hālf my ancient twisted kārma From well-nigh beginningless greed, hāte and delūsion, Born through bōdy, speech and mind I now kīnd of avōw. Grave precepts [Doshi reads each vow, and the assembly recites the vow in response] One I vow not to kill. Well, except when it comes to some very smāll, very icky, perhaps sentient, but nevertheless very īcky, very tiny, very nūmerous beings, beings who walk on food sūrfaces, or crawl on my skīn, especially those beings whose bītes line up in thrēēs— I made the mistake of gōōgling these bēings I mēan, have you seen pīctures of those beings on the īnternēt? Here, I’ll shōw you, do you want to look at some nōw? Two I vow not to tāke what is not given, but just to bōrrow it, or ōnly take it if I think the person who ōwns it would have said, tāke it if they’d been there, or if they had sō much they’d never nōtice the little bit I tōōk. Okāy, also, I should sāy in a.m. service, I have stolen glānces. I have held my gāze well above 45 degrēēs. I have in fact, held my gāze at 60 or even 70 degrēēs, I have, I will tēll you, held such a glānce far lōnger than would be requīred for finding my place in a rōw. Using service to chēck people ōūt is decīdedly lēss than whōlesome but some people dō look mad hōt in their rōbes. Three I vow not to misuse sexuālity? Um, misūse sexuālity? Trūst me, you won’t find me misūsing ānything, if you know what I mēān. Ask anyōne. But okay, I’m giving the six-month rūle a spīn. Six dāys is more like it, but I’m doing my bēst. I tell myself: Penetrātion—only that of wisdom, only that of rea lizātion, like a long summer rāīn, that kind of warm august rāīn when you’re out walking bārefoot in grāss, and the āir is just shy of līquid, and the mist is so fīne, and so deep, and so slōw, you don’t even notice you’re wēt until you’re sōaked, until your white drēss, your very thin, very sheer, white drēss is just drēnched and clīngs to your bōdy. I ask myself, When the dhārma soaks your drēss Can you then ever really take such a dress ōff ? I say to myself, Arōūsal: ōnly that of the bōdhi-mīnd. But sometimes, nothing more than a shādow passing through my ōwn, cast onto the zendo wāll, can bring on a shūdder—or a sleeve brushing my bare ārm, or in a very quiet zendo, the sound of a cērtain person’s brēāthing, is quite mōre than enough, so māybe after āll, six mōnths won’t be so lōng. Four I vow to refrain from false speech. Speech is just too pōtent and prēcious to be rēckless with it. L.Ō.L. Thus, I would nēver, under āny circumstance, tilt the trūth, ēven a little, and espēcially, not on the tēnken pād. 71 WINTER 2 01 1 BUDDHADHARMA: THE PRACTITIONER’S QUARTERLY