So, here I am at a coffee shop in the Plaza district, at least I think it’s the Plaza district of Kansas City. Very upscale. ‘Tis where the good folk from Shawnee Mission Unitarian Universalist Church parked me as I spend the weekend as their “distinguished” guest, unaware that as long as I have decent coffee and web access, I’m happy, and they could’ve put me up much cheaper.
Today I do my little dog & pony show, explaining Zen Buddhism to Unitarian Universalists. I consider it sort of an evangelical pursuit to bring these, my spiritual traditions, together. It is the lovely good news of the great peanut butter and strawberry jelly of spiritual encounters. Just made to go together. At least that’s my story. And I never tire of sharing it…
Tomorrow I will occupy their pulpit for their regular worship services. I gave ’em the choice of a half dozen relatively recent sermons I’ve felt less embarrassed by, and they chose my little meditation on “how to grow a soul.”
Kansas City certainly is an interesting place. As I drove in from the airport I was impressed by the skyline. With something under half a million souls, the city is a bit smaller than Providence, but with a metroplex of a tad over two million, is larger than the divine city’s hegemony. I know it is a place with a complex history and more than its fair share of problems. But, ain’t that life? Ain’t it the way it has always been…
Yesterday, I spent a few hours at the Nelson-Atkins Museum, mostly wandering in the Asian collection. I’d been warned there is one wonderful Buddha there, but nonetheless really wasn’t prepared for it when I stumbled upon the nine foot tall great Amida Nyorai placed at a landing on a stairwell. Wise to have it by itself, just too overwhelming for pretty much anything else to be close by.
I spent a few moments considering the Pure Land tradition and how it is increasingly pulling at my being, if in my liberal and Zen Buddhist way…
Later with all the contradictions inherent in my life, from gazing upon the Buddha who saves all beings who call upon his lovely name, I went and picked up take away from Arthur Bryant’s. I drove to the original location, it is now a small local chain. It was pretty much as Calvin Trillin described, in the middle of a warehouse district, and very, very basic. It really is all about the meat. I don’t know about Trillin’s “…single best restaurant in the world.” But it was very, very good.
I realize there isn’t a lot to bring these various things together beyond that forever invitation into the reality (invited, hah! whether we like it or not, come gently, or dragged kicking and screaming.) that things that have little or no obvious connections are in fact all connected.
Many.
One.
Not one. Not two.
And, so, here with all those contradictions on full display right here, I’m feeling very much at home…
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