Welcome to 04/04. Created by Rami and Aaron Shapiro (www.rabbirami.com) for use in public libraries, 04/04 promotes journal writing as a means of exploring your thoughts and sharing them with others.
Our name comes from George Orwell’s dystopian novel Nineteen Eighty Four. It was on April 4, 1984 that Winston Smith, the hero of the novel, began journaling to free his mind from the Thought Police.
04/04 is a three-hour journaling workshop held each April 4th in public libraries around the United States. We explore the craft of journal writing from picking the right pen and notebook, to getting yourself past the blank page, and delve into the art of using a journal to deepen your capacity to think things through for yourself.
04/04 provides participating libraries with help in running a successful 04/04 event, and attendees can sign up to receive free monthly writing prompts to help them keep their journals going. We encourage 04/04 members to write out their thoughts longhand in a journal, and then share edited versions on the 04/04 blog (www.0404journal.blogspot.com)
Given the limitations of "blogspot," the way 04/04 works on line is this: Each month we will post a journal entry on the theme for that month. 04/04 participants are then free to add their own entries as comments. You need not comment on the opening entry; it is just there to help get the technological part of the process moving. Our hope is that 04/04 will turn into a conversation on the theme of the month, creation a virtual community of writers and thinkers from across the United States.
If you would like to bring 04/04 to your community, email Rami directly at rabbirami@gmail.com.
Sunday, April 4, 2984
Monday, March 2, 2009
04.04 March Journal Prompt
This Is It
James Broughton, (1913-1999)
American poet, playwright, and filmmaker.
This is It
and I am It and You are It and so is
That
and He is It and She is It and It is It
and That is That.
O It is This and It is Thus and It is Them and It is Us
and It is Now and here It is and here We are so
This is It.
This is It. There is nothing else.
And what is this It?
Do you see the tree in the courtyard, or do you see God treeing? Do you see yourself in the mirror, or do you see God you-ing? Do you see tears or do you see God crying? Do you see the smile or do you see God laughing? Do you sit in meditation to realize God, or do you sit and realize God is sitting? Do you pray in hopes of speaking to God, or do you pray and know God is praying?
This is It. It is all there is. And It is God.
You might imagine God is not It. That It is something else, and God is behind It, or beyond It. It is too near, too obvious, too everyday. God must be far-off, hidden, special. And that too is It. Everything is.
There is no here or there in God. No near and far, or hidden and revealed. There is just God in you, with you, as you; just God in, with, and as everything else. It is the way God is; you are one way God knows It.
You are It, so what do you make of that?
James Broughton, (1913-1999)
American poet, playwright, and filmmaker.
This is It
and I am It and You are It and so is
That
and He is It and She is It and It is It
and That is That.
O It is This and It is Thus and It is Them and It is Us
and It is Now and here It is and here We are so
This is It.
This is It. There is nothing else.
And what is this It?
Do you see the tree in the courtyard, or do you see God treeing? Do you see yourself in the mirror, or do you see God you-ing? Do you see tears or do you see God crying? Do you see the smile or do you see God laughing? Do you sit in meditation to realize God, or do you sit and realize God is sitting? Do you pray in hopes of speaking to God, or do you pray and know God is praying?
This is It. It is all there is. And It is God.
You might imagine God is not It. That It is something else, and God is behind It, or beyond It. It is too near, too obvious, too everyday. God must be far-off, hidden, special. And that too is It. Everything is.
There is no here or there in God. No near and far, or hidden and revealed. There is just God in you, with you, as you; just God in, with, and as everything else. It is the way God is; you are one way God knows It.
You are It, so what do you make of that?
Sunday, February 1, 2009
04.04 February Journal Prompt
Are You Well, Brother?
Rabindranath Tagore, (1861-1941)
Bengali poet and Nobel Prize winner (1913)
In a crack in the garden wall a wildflower blooms,
Nameless, lowly, and obscure.
“Shame on this weed!” the cultivated plants tell each other;
the sun rises and calls, “Are you well, brother?”
Brother Weed finds a home in the wall’s cracks, and flowers. Or better yet, Brother Weed forces open the crack that allows the sun to break through the garden wall to feed it that it might flower. The garden wall keeps the garden from the world, creating a paradise separate and secure. Brother Weed shatters that separateness and threatens that security not by letting the world in, but by flowering outside the wall. In time the wall will crumble and the world will be invaded by flowers.
The garden flowers are the carefully cultivated blossoms of religion, walled off from the world that they may be enjoyed only by those who escape the world. They value their preciousness. But the sun welcomes the weed for the world needs the wildflower in its midst.
It comes unnamed, “lowly and obscure.” It comes unbeckoned. It comes without fanfare. It comes without warning. It is the smallest of all the seeds on earth, yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs (Mark 4:31). It is the mustard seed-sized faith that can move mountains (Matthew 17:20). This is the kingdom of heaven. No sky–splitting return, no earth transcending Rapture, but the cracking of the wall that keeps the spirit from leavening the world.
Where is your wall threatened by the weed? Who are the plants damning it? How are you shedding life-giving sunlight on it? When are you calling it Brother?
Rabindranath Tagore, (1861-1941)
Bengali poet and Nobel Prize winner (1913)
In a crack in the garden wall a wildflower blooms,
Nameless, lowly, and obscure.
“Shame on this weed!” the cultivated plants tell each other;
the sun rises and calls, “Are you well, brother?”
Brother Weed finds a home in the wall’s cracks, and flowers. Or better yet, Brother Weed forces open the crack that allows the sun to break through the garden wall to feed it that it might flower. The garden wall keeps the garden from the world, creating a paradise separate and secure. Brother Weed shatters that separateness and threatens that security not by letting the world in, but by flowering outside the wall. In time the wall will crumble and the world will be invaded by flowers.
The garden flowers are the carefully cultivated blossoms of religion, walled off from the world that they may be enjoyed only by those who escape the world. They value their preciousness. But the sun welcomes the weed for the world needs the wildflower in its midst.
It comes unnamed, “lowly and obscure.” It comes unbeckoned. It comes without fanfare. It comes without warning. It is the smallest of all the seeds on earth, yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs (Mark 4:31). It is the mustard seed-sized faith that can move mountains (Matthew 17:20). This is the kingdom of heaven. No sky–splitting return, no earth transcending Rapture, but the cracking of the wall that keeps the spirit from leavening the world.
Where is your wall threatened by the weed? Who are the plants damning it? How are you shedding life-giving sunlight on it? When are you calling it Brother?
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
04.04 January Journal Prompt
The Fish Are Thirsty
Kabir, (1440-1518) Muslim Poet
I laugh when I hear that the fish in the water are thirsty.
You do not see that the Real is in your home
and you wander from forest to forest listlessly!
Here is the truth!
Go where you will, to Benares or Mathura;
if you do not find your soul the world is unreal to you.
Many of us were taught that when we find our soul the world will be revealed as unreal. Kabir inverts this: until we find our soul the world appears as unreal. Living in an unreal world is like being a thirsty fish swimming in a lake of fresh water. We do not realize that what we need is what we already have. Living in unreality is living in a state of imagined, and hence perpetual, lack and longing.
We seek to satisfy our imagined hungers by consuming material goods; clothes, cars, computers, and the latest gizmo, gadget, and got-to-have fad. When these fail to satisfy, we turn to spiritual goods: we buy self-help books, and hire gurus; we take yoga and meditation classes; we sign up for seminars and workshops always hoping that the next the new thing will at last be the one real thing. This is what the Tibetan monk Trungpa Rimpoche called Spiritual Materialism. It too fails to satisfy us, but we comfort ourselves with the delusion that we are somehow freer than before.
When we find our soul everything changes, and nothing changes. The fish that learns to drink does not change lakes; it only realizes the true nature of the lake it has always been in. When you find yourself you are not other than you are, but at last who you really are. So who are you, really? How do you know?
How to find the soul? The same way the fish finds the sea. Stop looking and start drinking. [I am, of course, referring to the sea, not booze.] When you stop imagining that you are lacking, when you stop insisting that your soul is somewhere else, you will realize what is and has always been waiting for you right here, right now. Where are you trapped in seeking and hence blinding yourself to finding?
Kabir, (1440-1518) Muslim Poet
I laugh when I hear that the fish in the water are thirsty.
You do not see that the Real is in your home
and you wander from forest to forest listlessly!
Here is the truth!
Go where you will, to Benares or Mathura;
if you do not find your soul the world is unreal to you.
Many of us were taught that when we find our soul the world will be revealed as unreal. Kabir inverts this: until we find our soul the world appears as unreal. Living in an unreal world is like being a thirsty fish swimming in a lake of fresh water. We do not realize that what we need is what we already have. Living in unreality is living in a state of imagined, and hence perpetual, lack and longing.
We seek to satisfy our imagined hungers by consuming material goods; clothes, cars, computers, and the latest gizmo, gadget, and got-to-have fad. When these fail to satisfy, we turn to spiritual goods: we buy self-help books, and hire gurus; we take yoga and meditation classes; we sign up for seminars and workshops always hoping that the next the new thing will at last be the one real thing. This is what the Tibetan monk Trungpa Rimpoche called Spiritual Materialism. It too fails to satisfy us, but we comfort ourselves with the delusion that we are somehow freer than before.
When we find our soul everything changes, and nothing changes. The fish that learns to drink does not change lakes; it only realizes the true nature of the lake it has always been in. When you find yourself you are not other than you are, but at last who you really are. So who are you, really? How do you know?
How to find the soul? The same way the fish finds the sea. Stop looking and start drinking. [I am, of course, referring to the sea, not booze.] When you stop imagining that you are lacking, when you stop insisting that your soul is somewhere else, you will realize what is and has always been waiting for you right here, right now. Where are you trapped in seeking and hence blinding yourself to finding?
Sunday, November 30, 2008
04.04 December Journal Prompt
Sweetness
Kanakadasa, 16th century Hindu saint
Sweetness is in sugar, sugar is in sweetness!
Both sweetness and sugar are in the tongue!
The tongue is in the mind and the mind is in the tongue!
Both tongue and mind are in You, O God!
Fragrance is in flowers and flowers in fragrance!
Both fragrance and flowers are in the sense of smell!
Not even my breath is in my hands!
Everything is in You!
Two Buddhist monks are looking at a flag waving in a strong breeze. One monk says, “It is the flag that waves.” The other says, “No, it is the breeze that waves.” They debate this for some time. Their teacher happens by and asks them what they are discussing. “My friend says it is the flag that waves,” one of the monks replies, “but I say it is the breeze that waves.” “You are both mistaken,” comments their teacher, “it is the mind that waves.”
Would a rose smell as sweet if you had no nose? The world is a conversation and you are an integral part of the dialogue. You are the way the rose smells sweet. You are the way the lion evokes awe. You are the way the sunset creates wonder. You are the way a symphony creates music and not just noise. And all of this happens in your mind.
Does that mean there is no rose, no lion, no sunset outside the mind? Claiming this is like the claiming your radio creates the musicians whose music it plays. The mind taps into the world as a radio taps into signals in the air. Like the radio, the mind must be attuned to the signals. If your world is full of static chances are your mind is improperly tuned. Do not seek to fix the world until you first fix your mind. Doing so will only make matters worse. Attune your mind, and most often you will discover the world is just fine. What static do you pick up? How do you fine tune yourself to the conversation with the world? What do you hear when you do?
Kanakadasa, 16th century Hindu saint
Sweetness is in sugar, sugar is in sweetness!
Both sweetness and sugar are in the tongue!
The tongue is in the mind and the mind is in the tongue!
Both tongue and mind are in You, O God!
Fragrance is in flowers and flowers in fragrance!
Both fragrance and flowers are in the sense of smell!
Not even my breath is in my hands!
Everything is in You!
Two Buddhist monks are looking at a flag waving in a strong breeze. One monk says, “It is the flag that waves.” The other says, “No, it is the breeze that waves.” They debate this for some time. Their teacher happens by and asks them what they are discussing. “My friend says it is the flag that waves,” one of the monks replies, “but I say it is the breeze that waves.” “You are both mistaken,” comments their teacher, “it is the mind that waves.”
Would a rose smell as sweet if you had no nose? The world is a conversation and you are an integral part of the dialogue. You are the way the rose smells sweet. You are the way the lion evokes awe. You are the way the sunset creates wonder. You are the way a symphony creates music and not just noise. And all of this happens in your mind.
Does that mean there is no rose, no lion, no sunset outside the mind? Claiming this is like the claiming your radio creates the musicians whose music it plays. The mind taps into the world as a radio taps into signals in the air. Like the radio, the mind must be attuned to the signals. If your world is full of static chances are your mind is improperly tuned. Do not seek to fix the world until you first fix your mind. Doing so will only make matters worse. Attune your mind, and most often you will discover the world is just fine. What static do you pick up? How do you fine tune yourself to the conversation with the world? What do you hear when you do?
Saturday, November 1, 2008
04.04 November Journal Prompt
Only This
Feng Kan, 7th century Chinese Ch’an (Zen) master of the T’ang dynasty
Only this. Nothing more.
No need to dust. No need to sit.
To dust is to cleanse the mind of distraction. To sit is to meditate as a means of doing so. Feng Kan doesn’t mind the dust, hence there is no need to sit. But why is he so tolerant of dust? Doesn’t he care about reality? Is he so attached to distractions that he prefers them to Truth?
Feng Kan has no need to dust because he sees the distractions as nothing more than the play of the mind. Just as you can watch the play of others without having to place a wager or jump into the game yourself, so Feng Kan can appreciate the dust as dust without having to make it more or wash it away.
You wake up in the morning and there is already dust on your mind. The contents of a dream, or the anticipated conflicts of the day—dust. Concerns over the known and fears of the unknown—dust. Expectations of pleasure, anxiety over possible loss—dust. Success and failure—dust. Winning and losing—dust. Even enlightenment, even salvation–dust!
Dust is the drama playing itself out in your mind. Trying to erase it gives it more credence than it merits. There is no need to dust, just don’t be distracted by the dust.
How? “Only this, nothing more.” The only thing that is real is the very thing that needs doing in this moment. Do that, nothing more, and the dust will take care of itself. As you brush your teeth, just brush your teeth and don’t distract with a story about later or before. When you sip your coffee just sip your coffee. When you work, just work.
Reality is nothing other than what is given you to do here and now. Doing it without distraction is doing all that needs doing. Nothing left over, nothing left out. Don’t dust. Just do. Unless, of course, dusting is what needs doing. What do you do? How do you dust? What happens when you don’t?
Feng Kan, 7th century Chinese Ch’an (Zen) master of the T’ang dynasty
Only this. Nothing more.
No need to dust. No need to sit.
To dust is to cleanse the mind of distraction. To sit is to meditate as a means of doing so. Feng Kan doesn’t mind the dust, hence there is no need to sit. But why is he so tolerant of dust? Doesn’t he care about reality? Is he so attached to distractions that he prefers them to Truth?
Feng Kan has no need to dust because he sees the distractions as nothing more than the play of the mind. Just as you can watch the play of others without having to place a wager or jump into the game yourself, so Feng Kan can appreciate the dust as dust without having to make it more or wash it away.
You wake up in the morning and there is already dust on your mind. The contents of a dream, or the anticipated conflicts of the day—dust. Concerns over the known and fears of the unknown—dust. Expectations of pleasure, anxiety over possible loss—dust. Success and failure—dust. Winning and losing—dust. Even enlightenment, even salvation–dust!
Dust is the drama playing itself out in your mind. Trying to erase it gives it more credence than it merits. There is no need to dust, just don’t be distracted by the dust.
How? “Only this, nothing more.” The only thing that is real is the very thing that needs doing in this moment. Do that, nothing more, and the dust will take care of itself. As you brush your teeth, just brush your teeth and don’t distract with a story about later or before. When you sip your coffee just sip your coffee. When you work, just work.
Reality is nothing other than what is given you to do here and now. Doing it without distraction is doing all that needs doing. Nothing left over, nothing left out. Don’t dust. Just do. Unless, of course, dusting is what needs doing. What do you do? How do you dust? What happens when you don’t?
Monday, October 13, 2008
O4.04 October Journal Prompt
Only You
Levi Yitzchak of Berditchov, Hasidic Jewish Mystic
Wherever I wander—You!
Wherever I ponder—You!
Only You everywhere, You, always You. You, You, You.
When I am gladdened—You! When I am saddened—You!
Only You! Everywhere You! You, You, You.
Sky is You!
Earth is You!
You above! You below!
In every trend, at every end,
Only You, everywhere You!
If God is infinite can there be a place or a thing that is not God? Can it be that God is everything but you? Are you so strong as to be the boundary that holds the Infinite in check, making it finite?
You may, of course, not believe in God at all, let alone one who is infinite. Or you may believe in a finite god who lives somewhere rather than everywhere; a god to whom you can direct your attention because he is there rather than here. This is not Levi Yitchak’s God. For this Hasidic sage God is infinite, unbounded, Ayn Sof (without beginning or end), and hence right here, with you, in you, as you.
God does not reward you with joy, God is the joy and the enjoyer. God does not punish you with sadness. God is the sadness and the sufferer. You cannot go to God because you cannot leave God. You cannot be separated from God because God cannot be any less than all.
When you look in the mirror you are looking at God. When you pass an oak tree in the courtyard, you are passing God. When you smile at a fellow pilgrim at lunch you are smiling at God and God is smiling back! When you sit in prayer alone and with others, you are sitting with God. You are not here to seek God, but to find God. God isn’t hiding. You only have to look. Where do you look? How do you look? What do you see?
Levi Yitzchak of Berditchov, Hasidic Jewish Mystic
Wherever I wander—You!
Wherever I ponder—You!
Only You everywhere, You, always You. You, You, You.
When I am gladdened—You! When I am saddened—You!
Only You! Everywhere You! You, You, You.
Sky is You!
Earth is You!
You above! You below!
In every trend, at every end,
Only You, everywhere You!
If God is infinite can there be a place or a thing that is not God? Can it be that God is everything but you? Are you so strong as to be the boundary that holds the Infinite in check, making it finite?
You may, of course, not believe in God at all, let alone one who is infinite. Or you may believe in a finite god who lives somewhere rather than everywhere; a god to whom you can direct your attention because he is there rather than here. This is not Levi Yitchak’s God. For this Hasidic sage God is infinite, unbounded, Ayn Sof (without beginning or end), and hence right here, with you, in you, as you.
God does not reward you with joy, God is the joy and the enjoyer. God does not punish you with sadness. God is the sadness and the sufferer. You cannot go to God because you cannot leave God. You cannot be separated from God because God cannot be any less than all.
When you look in the mirror you are looking at God. When you pass an oak tree in the courtyard, you are passing God. When you smile at a fellow pilgrim at lunch you are smiling at God and God is smiling back! When you sit in prayer alone and with others, you are sitting with God. You are not here to seek God, but to find God. God isn’t hiding. You only have to look. Where do you look? How do you look? What do you see?
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