Breaking the tea cup

We are really happy that Rev. Heng Sure will be introducing ONE MIND and joining the Q&A at the upcoming premiere this Sunday, Dec. 18th. He is the director of the Berkeley Buddhist Monastery, which is in the lineage of the late Master Xu Yun (Empty Cloud) who revived Zhenru Chan Monastery in the mid-20th century. Rev. Heng Sure is a groovy monk (he’s also a banjo player and nature photographer) and we think everyone will enjoy hearing his reflections on the film.

Watch Rev. Heng Sure tell a story about Master Xu Yun and why breaking a tea cup isn’t always a bad thing! 

ONE MIND - U.S. Premiere

Bringing ONE MIND to life has been a rich and challenging adventure! You’ve all been very patient, and we look forward to sharing the film with you. Therefore, we are very excited to announce the U.S. premiere of ONE MIND!

The Buddhist Film Foundation will present ONE MIND at the Smith Rafael Film Center in San Rafael, California (about 30 minutes drive from Berkeley or San Francisco) on December 18th, 2016 at 6:30 PM.

Agnes and I are in the U.S. right now, so we will both attend the screening. A very special guest, Rev. Heng Sure of the Berkeley Buddhist Monastery, will present the film. And Rev. Heng Sure will join me for what we hope will be a lively Q&A discussion after the film. 

We look forward to having as many of you as possible join us for this premiere screening!  

Tickets on sale here: http://rafaelfilm.cafilm.org/one-mind/

Posted on December 15, 2016 and filed under Organic Film-making.

The Ox is Difficult to Tame

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It is a new spring. Here in Beijing, the weather is warming. Today I noticed tourists pausing to smell the lilac tree out in the hutong.  It's a beautiful time of year.  

In search of inspiration for the edit, I went to my bookshelf a few weeks ago for my copy of Bill Porter’s translation of “P’u Ming’s Oxherding Pictures and Verses”. It is a beautiful, visual, poetic work and a narrative on meditation and spiritual practice. 

“in willow shade by an ancient stream

the herdboy gives the ox free rein

from dusk blue clouds and sweet grass fields 

he leads it home untied” *

For the last several months, I’ve had my “Editor” hat on and these images and words of the ox-herder have taken on yet another meaning for me.  

There are about 100 hours of footage here for One Mind (I just counted), covering four seasons. It took months just to comb through each second to find the most precious and revealing moments of life at Zhenru Monastery. Then my quandary was just how to combine these moments into something more than just an accounting of daily activities. How to turn it all inside out? How to reveal the great wonder within? 

If I approach too aggressively, with too much intention, it slips away. If I approach too lightly, it just hides there in the high grass, unexpressed, unrevealed. Yes indeed, the ox is difficult to tame!

We are very close.  The film is on track to be finished this summer, and we are getting very excited to share One Mind with you all!

*Image and Text from "P’u Ming’s Oxherding Pictures and Verses", translated by Red Pine, published by Empty Bowl

 

 

Posted on April 5, 2015 and filed under Wonder and Inspiration.

Far from society, close to humanity.

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The word "hermit" is pregnant with implied meanings and cultural assumptions.  When one hears the word, “hermit,” many of us imagine people who want to run away from society, to be alone and separated from others. Some think this is a selfish pursuit, while some others believe it is a noble path to take. So which is it?  My teacher, a bit of a hermit himself, would probably say, “both and neither.”

But what I want to talk about is what it means to be a hermit here, in China. Not anywhere else, as I can't speak to that.  I started to visit the Zhongnan mountains in 1999.  Up until that point, the only hermit I knew anything about was Han Shan, a man who lived in the very remote reality of the Tang Dynasty. I envisioned his tattered robes and his wild, joyful gaze, leaning against a pine tree over-looking the mountain forest. I imagined him writing poetry by moonlight and passing away quietly on the mountain. 

And though I have discovered some such literary and romantic moments, the reality of hermit life was different than I had imagined.  What surprised me early on was that the population of monks and nuns living as hermits in the Zhongnan mountains was a very fluid and changing population.  For those of you that have seen Amongst White Clouds, a few years after finishing the film, I returned to the valley and found that some of the hermits had moved on. Some huts laid empty, while others had new hermits living in them.  In some ways, I felt that this made the moments with the characters in the film that much more precious as they were “like clouds passing by” as Han Shan would say.  Very few hermits are hermits for life.  Most monks and nuns see hermit life as a practical choice to support their practice at a specific time when it’s needed. After a period of time (typically anywhere from three to ten years), most return to life in a monastery. 

photo by Ishwar Harris

photo by Ishwar Harris

As it’s highly impractical to live a life totally severed from society, you’ll actually find that most hermits, as the crow flies, don’t live that far from us.  Though it is true that there are some hermits that live deeper in the mountains which can take days to reach on foot, most hermits are as close as a couple hours hike from a local village.   The reason for living in closer proximity to village life is practical - sometimes hermits need supplies or laypeople who support them may come to visit the hermitage. Although some hermits do live in caves, many actually live in hermit huts which are often converted shepherd’s shelters or simple structures built out of stone, brick and wood.  Some hermits build these shelters themselves, like the nun and the ascetic monk in Amongst White Clouds. While for others, the shelters were already in place when they arrived.  

To say that hermits are completely isolated and alone is a misnomer. The hermits tend to live from just 30 minutes to a few hours hike from each other. They check in on one another and care for each other when they get ill. They share the fruits and vegetables from their gardens. At one shared water-well in the Zhongnan mountains, my teacher told me that the hermits would hang their water dipper on the well when they were on the mountain, so that when any one visited the well for water, he/she would know exactly who was on the mountain at any given time. It's a “hermit community”. And that's not an oxymoron. 

So what purpose does living as a recluse serve? It is true that practice is strengthened by the stuff of life and living among others in family and community. The hermits are not strangers to this notion. It is at the heart of Buddhist practice.  But there are certain esoteric practices which serve to take that experience to a deeper, more profoundly transformative level which require extended, uninterrupted periods of time. So they head to the hills for a time, so to speak. It's a practical gesture, supported by an ancient tradition accepted by society, and even exalted.  

And few would argue the importance of cultivating these illuminated states of awareness, as they are not just an experience, determined by conditions, but are actual changes in the makeup, the alchemy, of perception which allow us to understand, in life, the truths of nature and existence. That is why much time is devoted to these practices - we need these people, as this cultivated wisdom is seen as beneficial for all beings.  I sleep better at night knowing that there are hermits out there. And when the right time comes, most of these hermits return to life in community at a monastery. There they will help guide others on the Path.  Bill Porter once told me that if monks are the undergraduates of the Buddhist world, then the hermits are like the PhD students. 

I believe that in the end, in our modern world, we are in fact the masters of isolation. Our collective cultures, for all the beauty and complexity, we must admit, have cultivated a myriad of ways to distract us from one another, from our society’s issues, and from ourselves. With so many tempting distractions, it can be difficult to just be there and be present, mindful of ourselves and others. There is always a TV to turn on, a link to click, or another update in our inbox. Not to say these things are necessarily bad (as I am also a frequent user of this technology), but I think they often can be used to distract ourselves from facing what really matters to us.   

If this impulse to distract ourselves is at the root of our inability to resolve our own collective suffering, then hermits might be among the most responsible members of our society!  Because, though they take time out to leave our society, they return to their humanity. And the hermits have chosen to make this a full-time pursuit. They return to their human-ness, and they stay there, without distraction, for better or for worse, comforting or painful, dark or light. We have to ask ourselves, honestly, do we have the courage today to return to our humanity, and to stay there face-to-face with it for a long moment, a breathe, an hour, a day, a lifetime? 

Edward Burger, edited by Agnes Lam

 

Posted on October 29, 2013 and filed under Shared Journey.

the best of intentions...

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Reviewing the footage today for One Mind, I found a conversation with a young monk who is talking about how tough it can be to maintain a pure and motivated heart for the practice. He says folks always arrive at the monastery with the best of intentions, but inevitably the novelty and excitement wears thin. What follows is a period where you have to reach deep, remember your purpose and commit to seeing it through before really settling into life there.  Sound familiar?

Posted on October 17, 2013 and filed under Shared Journey.

On finding a hermit monk

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Over the years, a number of folks have written to ask me, how do I find the hermit monks in the Zhongnan mountains? And honestly, this has been a really difficult question to answer.  

On one hand, there are real practical considerations. For example, hermits are generally not hermits for life so they move here or there or return to monastic life with a community, so one can never say with certainty where they are. There are real language and cultural barriers. Although I speak Mandarin, I needed a translator to understand some of the monks in the film as many were from different parts of China and spoke with heavy accents or in local dialects.  I imagine many of you remember that in Road to Heaven, Bill Porter gets picked up by the police because he wandered into a restricted area while looking for Wang Wei’s mountain. And we can’t forget that hermits are hermits in some respects because they don’t want to be disturbed.  I share this not to discourage but to shed light on some of the realities of this journey.

But most importantly, I think it’s important to reflect upon why it is that we are seeking a particular path.  I learned this lesson the hard way, as they say, when I set out on my journey after graduating from university.  

When I was a student, I wanted to be Japhy Rider. He was my hero. Just as Japhy Rider did in Dharma Bums, I also set out to read Han Shan poems from the original texts, and I spent a summer on a fire lookout in the Pacific North West.  Inspired by his story and the amazing wisdom he encountered on his path, I wanted to go to Japan to study Zen.  I decided to write a hand-written letter to Gary Snyder (Japhy Rider) telling him about my plans and why I wanted to go to Japan.  I told him that I wanted to write a book and translate poetry and other grand schemes only a twenty-one year-old could utter all at once in a single breath.  He graciously returned my letter and pretty much told me, If you are going there for those reasons, then please don’t go. He told me I should go if I am seeking spiritual cultivation and really feel that it’s my own authentic path, but if it’s for any other reason, I shouldn’t bother.

I knew he was right, but I didn’t understand his meaning. Not at that time, anyway.  I felt that my motivations were definitely spiritual. What I think I didn’t understand was the “authentic” part. I still bought a one-way ticket to Japan and I found my way to a Zen Monastery. And it was only until I was actually sitting meditation in a Zendo, staring at the cold slate floor, that I realized I was not supposed to be there.  Something deep in my stomach told me that this wasn’t right and that I was not following my own authentic path.  I made the painful decision to return back home. What followed was a long period of doubt and confusion.  I was overcome by frustration over my failed trip.  I didn’t know what I was supposed to do next. 

And then one day I was sitting meditation in my room at home.  I was feeling agitated and couldn’t keep my eyes closed. I then looked up at my bookshelf and realized that the shelf was full of books about China and Chinese Buddhism.  Not Japan. China was the place I was really committed to. The Chinese poets were the ones that carried me through the day and taught me to appreciate the world around me, the nature, the subtle wisdom of strangers, the good things in life, like moss on rocks and a shady spot under a pine tree. The Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch was full of mysteries into which I knew I wanted to inquire. I hardly slept that night, for when one thinks they have discovered their path, they want it to start right away.  I awoke the next morning and started making plans to go to China. And China is where I lived for the next decade.  China is where I found my teachers.  And meeting the hermits and making Amongst White Clouds has only been part of this larger journey.  

So being with hermits has taught me something, yes. But I don’t seek them out anymore. Opportunities for practice are all around us, usually in ways that we never expect.  Nowadays, I actually spend more time with Chan monastic communities, where I enjoy the support of a community of seekers, all gritting our teeth through sore legs and cold, cold nights. The relevance of these organic, deliberate communities is the topic for my upcoming film, One Mind.  

Will your path bring you to the Zhongnan mountains? Maybe, or maybe not. The important thing is to follow your Path for what it is, not what you envision it aught to be. So thank you Mr. Snyder for the poetry of that letter. I only half-listened back then. But I hear you now, loud and clear.

Edward Burger, edited by Agnes Lam

Photo by Ishwar Harris

Leading the Winter in

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People have asked me over the years about the music in Amongst White Clouds and so I wanted to share one of the songs from the sound track, Leading the Winter in.  I recorded this song with an old friend, Wu Zhuoling (the female voice) in 2003.    

I can't say that I understand much of the Daodejing (Tao Te Ching), but I seek refuge in its pages from time to time.  Many years ago, when spending time in the mountains, I wrote this song inspired by the pure poetry of that text. 

Leading the Winter In ©2003 EA Burger

Posted on October 7, 2013 .

What makes us happy?

Years ago I met Willoughby Britton at Brown University. She is an assistant professor of psychiatry and human behavior, director of her own lab at Brown, and also works with Hal Roth and his Contemplative Studies Initiative. That's how I met her. Hal Roth had invited me to screen Alms and Vows as part of his program that year. That's when I learned about Willoughby Britton's fascinating and very relevant work. The Britton Lab at Brown "researches the effects of contemplative practices on cognitive, emotional, and physiological aspects of affective disturbances in the interest of the cultivation of greater well-being." To put it another way, she's studying the mechanics, the chemistry, (the alchemy?) of happiness, contentedness, and compassion. It's the real work. I think it's very exciting science. 

Today I discovered a TEDx talk Willoughby gave last year. If you ever wanted to know what neuroscience has to say about happiness, this is a great, very concise 15-minute introduction. And it's hopeful. It says that mind is ours to mold - and that if we want happiness, we have to work at it, just like anything else. The key, it seems, is to understand what it is exactly that makes us human beings happy, and let that be the point of departure. She says getting what we want doesn't make us happy. So what does? Watch the video to find out. 

As a Buddhist and meditator, I have my own way of processing and appreciating this kind of science. What's your take on it?

 

Visiting with the Shadow Master

This past week I hopped on my Yongjiu bicycle and peddled through the narrow hutongs west of Houhai, where I’d arranged to meet up with Larry Reed, an amazing theater artist and one of the few people in the world specializing in shadow theatre. After many years of studying and performing Balinese shadow puppetry, he’s recently made some trips to China in search of Chinese shadow puppetry artists to learn and collaborate with. This was how our connection began years ago, as I was working on A Life in Shadows.  

Shadow puppetry has a long and complex history in China. In some villages in you might manage to see traditional shadow puppet performances performed by farmer-artists, like they’ve done for hundreds of years. But modern history has really taken its toll on these lived folk arts, and the village performance tradition has been rapidly fading away. 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world (in San Francisco), Larry has been working to modernize this art-form, integrating shadow play with modern theater and breathing life into the traditional stories performed by shadow puppetry troupes in villages around China. In one of the first few collaborations of it’s kind, Larry was invited to Beijing to direct a performance with Mao Mao, a young shadow master from North-east China.  Mao Mao himself is a rare character, he’s only in his mid-thirties and is passionate about his art. Together, they created a show that holds onto the qualities of these traditional folk stories, but infuses modern language and visual techniques into the performance. It was a really special show!  I will post some video in the coming weeks showing the final result and with a little interview with Larry explaining his take on puppetry, folk arts preservation and what the shadows can teach us about life, love and war.     

See the article I wrote, On the Art of Shaanxi Shadow Play in the Kyoto Journal  to learn more about this amazing art-form.  

 

Posted on September 30, 2013 and filed under Wonder and Inspiration.