Stairs of Fire

While there I had time on my hands, had always been a great reader. But school books became lifeless, the very thought of school. A fellow patient, a Zenist, handed me books on the subject. As I turned the pages, my thoughts went to my early years when Buddhism had played a small part in my life. When I started studying Zen, I was amazed to find so much in Buddhism which I hadn't seen before. Life became so simple, so real.
Hideo Kotaki


Another found photograph :

The Railyard, Summer Study

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As the summer came to a close, I realized I had come a long way in just a few short months. People and animals were reacting differently toward me. I was no longer reacting to what was around me, rather, I was guided by an inner sense of what was right.

I was experiencing a moment to moment Zen state, no longer confined to the sitting cushion. Practicing 8 hours a day at the warehouse - walking around with my green pull cart, aware of my breathing, hauling iron elbows, driving the fork lift, interacting with crazy coworkers. If Zen was really based on truth, an average guy like me should be able to achieve and maintain it anywhere. If it could only be practiced in Far East temples with incense, how useful could it be?

One morning as I was driving to the warehouse, breathing deeply, relaxed and centered, I noticed a car in my rear view mirror driving a few inches behind. Things of this sort could not pull me out of myself. I checked my speed and was going the limit, so I felt no need to go any faster. Eventually the car was able to pass, but as it did so, it slowed beside me. I looked over slowly, smiling, feeling happy. I saw an angry man in the car, yelling at me. He flipped me off, and no doubt was calling me an asshole. His actions caused not a ripple inside of me, I continued to smile, and turned back to the road. He sped on, the look of his car and how he drove expressing extreme agitation and anger.

A few days later, back at the river with my frog friend, I sat in my usual spot, feeling tired from a long day on my feet at the warehouse. Fred had not fired me, and it looked like I was going to be able to finish the summer in good standing and return to school in September.

I picked up my guitar, and felt this would be the last time I would see the frog. His lumpy gray head half out of the water, gazing at me, I felt sadness knowing this would be the final time we would be together. The music I made was somber, and the light of a long summer day was beginning to fade. Cicadas droned and wheezed, and the summer heat was sticky. The river smelled strong and stale as it flowed slowly away from me. I saw a heron further down the river, looking like a Zen master, standing midstream, motionless for minutes at a time. When it did move, it was to spear a passing fish with its beak.

As the sun merged into the river trees, the frog slowly lowered its head into the dark green water. I stopped playing the guitar. The river seemed empty without its log-like presence. The heron remained - hungry, silent, still. I gathered my strength and stood up, inhaling a deep breath, getting as much river scent into my blood as possible.

I walked slowly along the path, following the small lake which was fed by the river. I moved with ease and steadiness, my breathing deep and measured. As I neared my car, something broke open inside of me. I stopped walking, and stood motionless as the heron, feeling as if a budding plant had burst open into a full bloomed flower inside my chest.

My blood was instantly filled with the redolence of the flower, and it filled every cell which danced inside my body. I looked at the water, and saw a crescent moon reflected in the darkened lake, floating in undulating tree branches.

I began to walk again, feeling bliss in every step. When I reached my car and sat down behind the wheel, I smiled, and felt the flower closing itself as the darkness of night filled the sky.

That evening, as I lay in bed, I wondered what had happened to me as I stood by the lake. I had never felt anything like it before. It had lasted 15 minutes, and then slowly faded, my calm silence replacing its absence. For an instant the veil of illusion had seemingly dropped from my eyes, making my dusky evening stroll extend to infinity.

to be continued