At the Gate, through the Gate (Allen)
The monastery gate affected rust, but this was an optical illusion. By exposing coat after coat of red-dirt primer, the resulting bumps and crevices simulated aging. This had the advantage of appearing decrepit to casual passersby, the grounds uninviting in their assumed impoverishment.
Mike the UPS driver tapped one
foot until finally a young monk cheerfully swung open the right panel of the gate. Mike carried a shoebox sized package wrapped in brown paper.
Young Monk: I’ll take that. [He holds both hands out, palms up and slightly cupped as if it to receive it in
sacrament.]
Mike: Can’t. Instructions are it has
to be hand-delivered to some guy named Dogen.
Young Monk: I’m new here. I don’t
know any Dogen. Let me find someone who does. Wait here.
* * *
Tenzo: You have a package for Dogen?
Mike: Yes.
Tenzo: I’ll take it. It’s probably his
favorite dried apricots. He says the fresh ones are too sweet. They need air to
ripen.
Mike: Like I told the other guy, my
instructions are to hand-deliver it to this Dogen guy.
Tenzo: Hmmm. Dogen can be hard to
find. He’s slippery that way. Let me find someone who can help you.
* * *
Treasurer: You have a package for
Dogen?
Mike: Yes.
Treasurer: I’m the treasurer around
here. It’s probably a donation of gold coins. We could use it.
Mike: Look, I already told your two
buddies that my instructions are to hand-deliver it to Dogen.
Treasurer: But I’m the treasurer.
Mike: I don’t care if you’re the Emperor
of the North Pole. This is for Dogen and Dogen alone.
Treasurer: Hmmm. Dogen can be hard
to find. You can’t ask for him so much. He just tends to show up when you need him, like money.
Let me find someone who can help you.
* * *
Chief Monk: You have a package for
Dogen?
Mike: Yes.
Chief Monk: I’m the chief monk
around here. It’s probably the vase he smashed and sent out for repair. He’ll
be so happy when I return it to him. Here, I’ll take it.
Mike: Oh Jesus, for the last time.
My instructions are to hand-deliver it to Dogen. Why don’t you let me in and I’ll
help you go find him? We’ll have two sets of eyes, your chief monk eyes and my
delivery guy eyes.
Chief Monk: Oh, that’s a good idea.
We like visitors. Some even stay. Please, come in.
Mike: Thanks. So what does this Dogen guy look like?
Chief Monk: Let’s see. Not sure
anyone’s ever asked me that before. He’s bald, medium height, wears red robes
and sandals.
Mike: Buddy, that describes just
about everyone around here.
Chief Monk: Oh, he’d love to hear
you say that.
* * *
Chief Monk: You seem tired. I’m
sorry we haven’t found him. We’ve been everywhere on the grounds except the
latrine. We can’t go in there, but I assure you he never dawdles. Would you like
some water?
Mike: Yeah, thanks, buddy. This
place is sure clean.
Chief Monk: We like it that way.
Mike: What way?
Chief Monk: Clean.
Mike: Yeah, I can see that’s your
way.
* * *
Dogen: I hear you’re looking for me.
Mike: You Dogen?
Dogen: That’s my name.
Mike: Here. This package is yours.
Dogen: From over the mountains? Across the sea? Oh, I can’t take that. It’s
not for me.
Mike: —
Dogen: It’s for my grandson here.
Mike: You want me to give that four-year-old
this package?
Dogen: If you would please.
Mike: I guess that’s OK. Hey, kid.
Dogen: Here's help for that wrapping paper, Little Dogen.
Little Dogen: Oh, wow! Legos!
LOL!
ReplyDeleteAlways get a good chuckle out of your posts :)
ReplyDeleteAs this little parable unfolded line by line in front of me, it kept adding complications. Typical Jesus and Buddha parables are built economically to serve up a vertical lesson. While observing the parable, you find yourself sitting under or above it, acting it out. At the end is found the meaning. Occasionally the floor drops out, and a third version (the parable’s, your interpretation’s, and now some weird divine revelation) shows up. With or without revelation, typical parable leaves me with a feeling of knowing a slice of myself better.
ReplyDeleteWhile Dogen adopts metaphor, he only nods to parable in passing. The symbols in a parable are well-known and clear. The symbols in Dogen are obtuse. Their intent is to get you thinking. Parables rely on the familiar. Dogen supplies the unfamiliar in the familiar. Dogen’s essays don’t expand vertically so much as horizontally. The feeling is of an expanded view, of the world, myself, or both.
Dogen presumably has a belief in meaning. Typically meaning is found at the conclusion of a parable. Perhaps Dogen also attributes meaning to the conclusion of an essay. It is hard if not impossible to separate meaning from conclusion. On some days I believe that meaning is a fancy way for stating: “I finished the puzzle.” Either way, I’m allowed to feel a brief emptiness before going on to the next moment.
All of which brings me to the weirdness of how this little parable unfolded. For one thing, at the start it didn’t know its own point. For another, as it emerged line by line it refused to sit within a single economical parable.
How did you read it? These seemed to be the major possible readings:
Little Dogen, the parable of the original face
The Four Messengers, the parable of personal bias
The Broken Vase, the parable of Dogen’s way of teaching
The Three Officials, the parable of the three worlds
The Gate, the parable of the expanded interior view
The Gift, the parable of finding yourself where you are
I can make an argument for each of these drawing on the other elements of the story in support of its meaning, and forming a reasonably economical whole.
What I don’t know is whether these overlapping parables are necessarily nested in or associated with each other, or whether they appear randomly. I don’t mean that just in terms of authorial intent, of which I sincerely claim little. How far can I go with the metaphor of the moon in a dewdrop? Can I extend it into all meanings being in support of all other meanings?