Rev. Morris Doshin Sullivan
Sensei, Volusia Buddhist Fellowship

I was walking my dog early one morning a few days ago. He suddenly moved in front of me and looked up at me, as if he needed something. He does that sometimes, when he steps on an acorn shell and it sticks to the bottom of his paw, or if he has a sticker clinging to his fur someplace uncomfortable. So I picked him up, checked his paws and his fur, and he seemed fine. But as I held him, he relaxed against me—settling against >my chest, obviously enjoying being so close, so supported.

That’s all he needed at that point—to be held. After a few moments, I told him he was a good dog, put him back on the ground, and we went on our way.

That’s my dog pictured above, by the way. He had been a stray. We call him Deedee, but his full name is Diogenes, after the Greek philosopher. Diogenes of Sinope was known for being highly independent and skeptical of conventional human behavior; he lived in the street with the stray dogs.

When early followers of the Buddha were asked about the teaching they followed, they would often explain their path of practice: doing good things; avoiding evil things; purifying the mind of tendencies that lead away from true happiness and bring us back to stress and suffering. Much of Buddhist practice has become a formalized variation on those instructions: Make offerings of a certain kind; bow in a certain way. Take certain precepts and follow them in a certain way. Meditate, chant, even sit and breathe in a certain way.

And that’s fine. As we practice over time, with effort and persistence, we gradually reduce our mind’s tendency to cling in ways that cause suffering. We become more compassionate and loving, and we see, as we awaken, that there is no shortage of light in our world.

But sometimes we just want to be held.

Our practice can do that, too. I have felt “held” by my practice several times in my life. Almost 15 years ago, when I was only a few months away from finishing the Bright Dawn ministry training program, I got laid off from my job as a features writer for a daily newspaper in Florida. I must have mentioned that during that Sunday’s “class,” which was done via conference call back then.

At the time, I wasn’t too shaken up by the abrupt career change. I had spent most of my life self-employed, so I intended to return to freelancing. But a few days later, I got a letter in the mail from Bright Dawn. There was a brief, handwritten note from the head of the organization, Rev. Koyo Kubose, acknowledging my layoff. It ended with a short, simple instruction: Keep Going! The note was accompanied by a printout of Kubose’s poem, “The Dharma is My Rock.”

As it turned out, transitioning back to self-employment didn’t go all that smoothly, and a few lines from the poem came back to me again and again as I navigated my way back from steady job to gig-based income:

Beyond good and bad,
Beyond sorrow and joy,
The Dharma is whispering
Everything is Okay,
Even when things are not going okay.

Years later, I relocated from Florida where I had spent most of my life to New England. We had mostly settled into our new place, and I started visiting spiritual communities in my area. I soon joined a welcoming UU congregation, but my attempts to connect with a Buddhist group up here weren’t going as well, and I was really feeling me separation from my sangha in Florida.

One morning, I walked Deedee, had a cup of coffee, and then did my usual morning practice. After I offered candles and incense to the Buddha, made a few bows and said the nembutsu, I sat down to meditate. As soon as I sat, I had the remarkable feeling that I was being received by my practice. I wasn’t “practicing”—I was being embraced by practice.

It was a nice feeling, like being wrapped in a warm blanket by someone who cares for me. I didn’t get up from my meditation seat knowing the answer to 1,000 koans or anything like that. But I was reassured in a very palpable way that the dharma was there for me, to help me see “the Suchness of all things”—wherever I happen to be.

Once we encounter the dharma, we learn that we are always supported by it. At the same time, we intuitively support others. We might do this in the form of the Great Vows—by resolving to liberate all beings. But we can also leave dharma rocks for others to find—or just hold them, when that’s what they need.

Dharma Rocks
No matter where placed, dropped or thrown,
Are hugged by the earth
With respect and gratitude.

The Dharma is My Rock
Rev. Koyo Kubose

Many things are happening
In my life right now.
Underlying it all
The Dharma is my Rock.
Beyond good and bad,

Beyond sorrow and joy,
The Dharma is whispering
Everything is Okay,
Even when things are not going okay.
Eyes full of tears,
Heart heavy with pain,
Stone Therapy helps me see
The Suchness of all things.
Dharma Rocks
No matter where placed, dropped or thrown,
Are hugged by the earth
With respect and gratitude.

Yes I will struggle;
Yes, things may not turn out
Exactly the way I would like.
Yet, I will keep going
Forward with a smile.
Because I know
The Dharma is my Rock.