I went to Hwa Gye Sah Temple today. It was nice. I sat in on the dharma talk (even though D. told me not to pay attention to dharma talks), and even managed to get on Korean TV. I asked Hyon Gak Sunim JDPS, guiding teacher of the Seoul International Zen Center and Hwa Gye Sah Temple, what he thought about Byron Katie's 4 questions.
"It's Buddhism," he said. Then he took each question in turn and answered them Zen style by smacking his hand on the podium:
"Is that true?" Smack!
Can I absolutely know that's true?" Smack!
Who would I be without that thought?" Smack!!
Turn it around. Smack.
Then he smacked the podium and asked me, "Is it true?" I had no idea what he was referring to. I wasn't paying attention. Some camera guy was in my face. I just said, "I don't know." Those Buddhists love "I don't know."
"You don't know?" he asked, rather surprised.
"No," I said.
"Okay," he said, and then he asked this Korean guy, and the Korean guy smacked the ground in reply. I could have done this, but it felt kind of moot to me. I mean, I understand how smacking the ground unifies everything, because we're all experiencing the sound simultaneously, but I felt fake smacking the ground after he did 8 times. I also didn't really know. I mean, I could say I do, but I think I'm getting dumber. I also don't really care.
Maybe, D. was right. Maybe, I need to shut my mouth and fuck the dharma talks. I do a lot better with sitting. Talk just bores me - unless it's stories. I love telling stories.
After the temple, I went with my friend, So Hee, to Penelope's in Suyu Yuk. That was fun. We told stories about our high school sexual experiences. Then I drank a Guiness, smoked cigarettes, and yakety-yaked some more. I like telling stories.
During Hyon Gak's talk he mentioned wondoo, a Korean word for the essential question that is passed down by a teacher to a student for them to consider during their monkhood or life. He said that he didn't get any wondoo from Zen Master Seung Sahn. He said he already had his wondoo since he was a little boy. It was to ask why. Why am I alive? What is it all about? That made me think about what D. told me in the bar we went to: "Why do you write?" he asked me. "Answer with no words."
I guess that's my wondoo. I don't have any answer. I could smack the ground and all, but that doesn't seem write (I meant right, but I'll keep my mistake). I could think about it, but that wouldn't get me anywhere. I guess that's what I'm supposed to ask when I'm meditating and all. I think I'll ask it tomorrow morning. If I don't, then I won't be upset. I just don't care about wondoo. I don't care about Zen. I like it, but I don't really care all that much.
I like stories. I like movies. I like Spiderman 3. I also like that Byron Katie put up something I wrote for her on her blog. That was cool. Now I'm going to watch Spiderman 3. I think I'm in love. I'm going to watch Spiderman 3. I'm watching Spiderman 3. I'm tired. I like donuts. I'm tired. I don't like donuts. I like the word donuts. I'm going to sleep. I am not watching Spiderman 3. I am turning off my fan. I turned off my fan. I am lying in bed. I am asleep.
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I guess that's my wondoo. I don't have any answer. I could smack the ground and all, but that doesn't seem write (I meant right, but I'll keep my mistake). I could think about it, but that wouldn't get me anywhere.
I just answered my wondoo. That was pretty cool. Fuck! I am the shiz nit. I know Buddhists aren't supposed to say they're the shiz nit, but I am so dancing right now. Well, not actually dancing, but I got my answer. At least I got one.
"WHY DO YOU WRITE?" HE ASKED. "ANSWER WITHOUT WORDS."
I just did, eh? I haven't said a fucking thing. Boo yakasha!
(For people who have been asking why I am cussing lately, it's because I believe cussing makes me happy. If I was more aligned like the solar system, I would still cuss. I would still say I'm the shiz nit. I would fly into space. I would kiss Stephen Hawking upside down on the gravitron. I would tell him I am the shiz. He would say knit. I would say yarn. He would say barn. I would say house. He would say Mickey. I would say Florida. He would say Sarah. I would say gorgeus. He would say yum. I would toss salad. He would pour dressing. I would send this to the United States Review of Poetry. They would say huh. I would say duh. No one would say spluh.
Then I would ask the quesitons again. My wondoo is good. It's almost as good as mondoo.
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