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     Lately, I've felt enormous difficulty in practicing buddhism, a lot of confusion.  In order to counteract this, I have been trying to settle upon a succinct expression of my practice that I can remember, like a mantra perhaps, and with which I can re-focus my attention and motivate myself in following this path.  So I wrote down some that came to mind, and wrote down some thoughts, and hopefully something comes up.

My practice is:

Like having a molten iron ball in my throat, which I cannot swallow and cannot spit out.
     This is a koan that I found very helpful in times of difficulty during my summer at Tassajara, and it is an immensely accurate metaphor for my life and practice.  I miss Tassajara dearly.  Dear: (from the free online Merriam-Webster dictionary) "highly valued : precious ... affectionate, fond ... heartfelt," (from Google) "regarded with deep affection".  Yes.  All of that.  And lately I have experienced a profound tension between my longing to return to Tassajara to study and ordain as a monk and my duty to complete the military service I agreed to.  Truly, it is beyond duty, and I know it.  For all the reasons I have already mentioned (and some I haven't, and still more that I have yet to uncover), I do freely undertake my military service.  My perception that it somehow stands between me and somewhere I would rather be is so quintessentially indicative of my susceptibility to greed, hate, and delusion as to be laughable.  So I make peace with my desire, I make peace with my aversion, and I make peace with my delusion.  I remember that being a sailor is merely a step on my way to becoming a monk.  Serving in the Navy will end up serving me, allowing me to return to Tassajara (or anywhere) under my own financial steam.  And my experience throughout is actually the flesh and bones of practice, rather than some ceremonious activity in the mountains of California.  Really, I think the tension I feel about my term of enlistment and my aspirations to follow thereafter might be viewed or interpreted as actually tension between my idealistic and practical natures, or as difficulty in resolving acceptance of the world for what it is with the hope to improve it.  And that is never going to go away; there will always be people, for example, who feel that an attitude of living for the benefit of all beings is foolish because ending the suffering of the world is an impossible task.  Well I would be very foolish indeed to believe it were actually possible to save every person from their greed, hate, and delusion.  But it is not my wish to throw my hands up and stop trying to live an awakened life.  So without spitting out the molten iron ball in my throat, and without swallowing it, whatever else I do is practice.

Non-clinging and non-aversion
     This is a good companion to the last one.  My practice is striving to accept what is, as it is... not getting caught up in wishing I was at Tassajara instead of in the Navy.  Because as I explored earlier, such wishes are useless.  My practice is also throwing away my ideas of what it means to be in the Navy as fast as they crop up.  In this way I cultivate being not "sticky," and what I can experience in place of my ideas and daydreams is actual dharma.

Living by vow and not by karma
     If I had continued living by karma, I would still be working at Starbucks -- staying up too late watching TV, putting off house chores and neglecting my first true aspiration of making a living as a comic/actor.  Instead, I formulated a plan based on new goals that shows real potential to enable me in living a more meaningful life.  I am "engaged to be engaged," doing the Navy thing in support of my aspiration to ordain and train.

Seeing one thing through to the end
     This phrase comes to me from another Suzuki-Roshi quote, in which he is answering a student's question about what Nirvana is.  In a dharma talk I listened to recently, Jaime Howell said that this phrase shouldn't be interpreted for something like the military.  Well, so much for that admonition.  Ironically, I joined the Navy after seeing from my experience at Tassajara in the summer of 2011 that I DO have the ability to see something through to the end, even when it is difficult.  And so I remember this description of Nirvana in times of difficulty, when thoughts of giving up come slinking seductively up my arm like a waif in a dive bar (as they did numerous times at Tassajara, and again in boot camp, and occasionally here at nuke school) because it is true.  I received no glorious dose of supreme radiation as I rode in the passenger seat of my friend James's rental car as he drove out of the valley and back to Los Angeles when I was finally finished with my 5-month stay.  Rather, I just felt peace.  Later, it occurred to me that what I did NOT feel was more important: regret (at leaving prematurely), anger (at whatever caused me to leave), lust (for the comforts I had been living without).  And I suppose that is more what constitutes Nirvana anyway: absence rather than content.  So again, I practice seeing this thing through to the end.  And then the next thing, and then the next thing...

The best practice I've had so far
     This phrase came to me from my good friend Evan Casler, who actually introduced me to zen back when we were roommates in Tucson.  He said it in describing what things were like for him as a member of the board of directors for Zen Desert Sangha in the wake of Pat Hawk Roshi's death.  It's a very poignant observation; it is when practicing becomes difficult that it is most important.  For me, that time is right now.  I am mostly surrounded by people who are at best unfamiliar with buddhist concepts (and at worst downright hostile to them) -- a far cry from the support offered by an intentional community.  I am employed all day every day by an organization whose sole purpose is to kill people and sow destruction, when instructed to by government leaders.  So I can throw "right livelihood" out the window (for now).  The culture of this organization is downright psychotic: on the one hand acknowledging over and over that we are people and people make mistakes, but on the other hand fostering a merciless conviction in notions such as that people either ARE or ARE NOT "dirtbags," that perception IS reality, and that being in charge means being right.  The effect this has on many people that I have seen (including myself) is subtle and worrisome.  My teacher was right to try to dissuade me from taking my practice into this environment.  Indeed, it sometimes seems impossible.  But as stated above, it is in those times that practice becomes most essential. 

And with that, I come to a phrase that occurred to me that I quite like. 

My practice is...      

...like carving a path in solid rock.