MY MASTER NEVER ATTENDS MASS

My Zen master tells me that out of chaos comes order. He talks about form and non-form and that both co-exist. He insists that black and white aren't opposites but are reflections of each other. He tells me that nothing contains everything and that everything is the essence of nothing.

"In order to see must you watch or in order to watch must you see?" he posited.

I gave him a puzzled look and he whacked me over the head with his paddle.

"Do you understand?" he bellowed.

"Yes, I understand," I stammered because I didn't want him to whack me again.

But he struck me and screamed, "How can you understand what you can't understand?"

I thought for a moment.

"The brown dog pees on the red fire hydrant," I ventured.

"What?" he queried in a more measured voice.

"The brown dog pees on the red fire hydrant," I replied with increased confidence.

He gave me the paddle.

"Strike me! You are finally on the road to enlightenment."

None of it makes any sense to me, but it's not suppose to make any sense I'm told by my fellow Buddhist disciples. I have convinced myself that I am neither alive nor dead. I am part of an eternal moment. When I am with my sons, I should relish that I am with my sons. When I am drinking wine, I should relish that I am drinking wine. When I am making love, I should relish that I am making love.

My master has informed me that I should embrace pain. He says that it brings the moment into a sharper focus. I don't know if I desire such clarity. In fact, I am abandoning awareness. It does nothing but awake me to my ignorance. When I am in this state of mind, my master nods his approval.