Wake Up And Spill The Coffee
Justice, justice shall you pursue so that you will live, and inherit the land which the Lord your God is giving you. -Deuteronomy 16:20
The mind that keeps a question is of a profoundly different disposition than the mind that rests on an answer or its own certainty. In the Zen tradition, it is felt that the mind that questions is the true nature of our mind, and that we are in delusion as soon as we let the mind rest on anything. Truth is being revealed all the time, and the closed mind is less receptive to that experience, preferring instead the world of its own ‘knowledge.’
In that tradition, the key practice has to do with keeping the mind open to the revelation of each and every moment – literally. The mind that keeps a questioning attitude, the mind with its eyes wide open and not “already knowing,” is described in traditions like Zen as our original home: our first inheritance. Maturity expresses itself in a person’s capacity to keep a not-knowing attitude yet still walking a clear path, responding appropriately to situations. How is that possible?
Does not justice have to do with perception, with how we see? How are we measuring situations? How do we perceive what our God is giving us? In Zen, it is said that if we do not open our mind’s eye, if we do not perceive openly with all of our senses, one cannot digest a single drop of water. How, then, do we receive our inheritance from our Lord?
That scope of this inheritance cannot be contained by our letters, ideas, and opinions. It cannot be contained within human understanding. Yet humankind tends to follow its opinions and ideas, instead of regarding these things as tools with appropriate uses.
What else can we stand on? What is true discipline, or true justice?
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Taking this perception into the world of name and form, we do our best with myriad ethical quandaries that present themselves to us. My participation, for instance, in the wasteful economy of disposable coffee has been a puzzler.
Coffee needs milk, if you’re me. Extra milk.
When I can’t get to Stir Crazy on Melrose or Bourgeois Pig in Hollywood, or the wonderful Un-Urban Cafe in Santa Monica, I often end up in one of the super-java chain stores like Starbucks or Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf.
At Coffee Bean, a 16-ounce cup of coffee is called a ‘regular’ size, but at Starbucks this is considered a ‘grande.’ The baristas always pour the coffee right up to the top of the cup, and what many patrons do is spill some of the coffee into the garbage to make room for sugar, milk, cinnamon, or whatever adulterant they prefer. Pouring coffee into the garbage always seemed disorderly to me, so I would ask them to leave me room – extra room, lots of it. The baristas smile sweetly – and hand me a cup filled all the way up, heedless of my requests.
A little while ago, the baristas started offering me advice. If I wanted the extra room, I should order a “tall” coffee (that’s what a “small” size is called at Starbucks) in a grande cup. This would allow room for milk and save me money to boot.
Sounds sensible. So now I order my coffee that way. “May I please have a tall coffee in a grande cup?” The baristas smile knowingly, and hand me a grande cup – filled to the rim. Now I am a thief, getting discounted coffee under false pretenses; and I still have to pour out some of the coffee.
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When my shuffleboard partner, the evil Rabbi Borak, was in rabbinical school, he found himself in a discussion of justice as measured in Talmud law. At issue was the payment of damages for inflicting a wound (mum, in Hebrew). If it is a wound that heals and disappears, that is one thing, but the penalty is steeper if the wound gets infected and turns colors.
Borak raised his hand and said, “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me we have to pay more for a mum with a hue?”
“I have to kill you,” said his instructor. Unfortunately, he did not follow through on that vow, and Borak now works his evil in several languages.
September 17th, 2005 at 6:39 am
Wow, what a great submission. ” . . . the closed mind is less receptive to that experience, preferring instead the world of its own ‘knowledge.’” I often wonder if that is a common pitfall of growing older. Even within the prosaic fold of making a living, the “not-knowing” attitude can valuable indeed. Heck, when flying for a living, it can keep you alive. For the last year, I’ve been flying with several young, relatively inexperienced copilots, and I’ve strived to remember that, while I have more experience (sheesh, it’s a little strange to fly with a guy young enough to be my son), that “new” copilot may have a better idea than mine when it comes to planning a flight or tackling a difficult landing area. Experience, in life and on the job, can surely be a good thing. But, with experience sometimes comes the “forest for the trees” syndrome.