What do you need to shift to be complete?
We are all broken, falling down, and getting up—gloriously
Recognizing the weight and beauty of being human happens when we are in community. Sometimes there is harmony in sangha. More often, there is a need to atone for our missteps. This is what is essential about sangha practice!
All of this, right now, is our life and we have a rare opportunity to practice. How rare? Like a little sea turtle, breaching the surface of the water every one hundred years, poking its head through a small hole in a board floating in the middle of the ocean.
Do not squander this chance to practice. And don’t worry about doing it right.
There is a poem I love called “My Cracked Wooden Bowl” by Ryokan, a wonderful Soto Zen poet. He was so playful and loved playing games in the neighborhood with children. He was often made fun of because instead of being at the monastery he was off hanging with the kids in town, getting dirty, playing ball.
This treasure was discovered in a bamboo thicket –
I washed the bowl in a spring and then mended it.
After morning meditation, I take my gruel in it;
At night, it serves me soup or rice.
Cracked, worn, weatherbeaten, and misshapen.
But still of noble stock!
Learning how to hold both is not easy. To really look at the cracked parts of ourselves, what is misshapen and weatherbeaten and yet, noble and honorable.
How can we really see both sides, and to attend to the places where we are out of balance? The awakening way is about honoring and atoning, about experiencing our oneness and coming back into relationship when we forget that we are deeply interconnected with all that is.
Greenland comes to mind. There was a story a few years back about the tectonic plates ripping the country apart. We are no different. We are of this world too. Coming apart and coming back together. It is painful and exquisite.
Many of us engage this path of practice because our suffering is close to our faces, ringing in our heads, heavy in our hearts. We keep showing up because there is a desire to change our life or change our direction and move toward something more whole. We feel that we are not in accord with ourselves. Zen literature is filled with such stories – monks, nuns and laypeople trying to figure things out, feeling really disquieted, uncomfortable, and uneasy.
How do you work with your discomfort?
Asking questions is a place of practice.
I’ve been thinking about my mother lately. She used to say this amazing thing to me, which is also very strange. From the time I was probably seven years old, she would say ‘Are you happy? Are you content? If you died now, would that be ok?’ I was like…????? And she asked me these questions quite a lot in childhood.
Maybe this is part of how I came to be a Buddhist monk. I really had to consider matters of life and death from an early age…’I don’t know, but can I go to tap dance? I am late to class, mom.’ ‘But are you ok if you die now, on your way to school?’
As crazy as it felt, it was amazing to begin to think about these things. This is also my cracked life. I had a mom who was asking me these wild questions and yet they are essential. It got me very existential at a young age. I remember walking to school thinking about that: “am I complete with my life if I die now?”
It is so interesting to me to recall this now and to write it here.
Let’s practice together.
So it is part of my conditioning that I think about matters of life and death. And it surprises me that some people get caught up in other things and question, because isn’t everyone me? We all have our blind spots. Some of us move slowly and some of us move more quickly.
Take a moment to come into stillness. Notice your breathing. Feel your feet flat on the ground. Since waking up this morning, what thought or feeling has caught you? What would coming back into balance look like? Where in your body do you hold both the coming apart and the gathering together? Allow your breath to anchor you to this moment.
Let’s have a dialogue.
We are all misshapen, weatherbeaten, and noble. When you feel tangled up and see your cracks, what supports you coming back into wholeness? How do you honor inherent goodness and atone for what is unskillful? Please share your experiences and insights in the comments below.
May we find spaciousness to realize we are everything.
Koshin
P.S.
If you're feeling called to deepen your practice or simply reconnect with what matters most, I invite you to join us here at the New York Zen Center (online or in-person) for one of our upcoming programs:
📖 Catch Your Mind: No Mud, No Lotus (Begins September 13)
A ten-month journey into the Lotus Sutra. An exploration of courage, clarity, and care in the midst of our messy, beautiful lives. Through monthly daylong sessions of meditation, study, and reflection, we’ll walk the path of awakening together. Open to all.
🧘 September Half-Day Retreat (Also September 13)
Whether you’re part of the Catch Your Mind course or simply want to ground yourself this fall, you’re welcome to join us in person or online for this restorative morning of practice. Catch Your Mind students receive access to all upcoming half-day retreats through July 2026.
🪷 Living an Ethical Life: A Study of the Zen Precepts (Begins September 14)
Together with Chodo Sensei, we’ll enter the living koan of the Zen Precepts—not as rules, but as invitations. How do we love well? What does integrity look like in daily life? A ten-month reflection for both new and seasoned students.
📚 Zen Studies: Awakening in the Ordinary (Begins September 17)
Led by Jisho Sara Siebert, we’ll study the Ugraparipṛcchā and Vimalakīrti Sūtra through the lens of Thich Nhat Hanh. These teachings, across 13-weeks of study, are not abstract, they are about how we show up with wisdom and compassion, moment by moment.
🧡 Contemplative Care Retreat (September 24–28)
For caregivers, meditators, and those longing to reconnect: join me, Chodo Sensei, Ayo Yetunde, Dan and Bianca Harris, and others at the beautiful Garrison Institute. A space for rest, renewal, and remembering what really matters. Registration closes September 17.
This was so beautiful. Resonant is your experience of being a child and holding the experience of falling apart and coming together. For me, coming back to wholeness is a daily practice of moving my body (running, climbing, yoga) and then sitting on my bench in stillness (my knee no longer cooperates with my cushion). As much as possible I practice meditation outside, kneeling on my bench near a body water or on a paddle board when the water is still and I become one with the lily pads. I feel held together under the expanse of the sky in a way that’s hard to describe with words. In winter or inclement weather, the feeling of the bench underneath me has come to feel like an old, loving friend. When I don’t practice, pieces of “me” start to float away. Thank you for 88/90 days of inspiration.