eeeeeeeeerightSpring washes over the garden; a torrent of sea-green buds swell with rainwater. Song sparrows and orange-crowned warblers begin their dawn chorus well before zazen, reminding cross-legged sitters in the ten directions that it is time to sow Tarahumara sunflowers and Trail o’ Tears beans.

At Green Gulch Farm we lightly mark and honor the changing seasons of the year. Lightly, since from the thirteenth century onward Zen master Eihei Dogen has been haranguing wall-gazing meditators… Spring washes over the garden; a torrent of sea-green buds swell with rainwater. Song sparrows and orange-crowned warblers begin their dawn chorus well before zazen, reminding cross-legged sitters in the ten directions that it is time to sow Tarahumara sunflowers and Trail o’ Tears beans.

At Green Gulch Farm we lightly mark and honor the changing seasons of the year. Lightly, since from the thirteenth century onward Zen master Eihei Dogen has been haranguing wall-gazing meditators to remember that just as birth does not turn into death, neither does winter mark the onset of spring, nor summer conclude Primavera’s song.

Dogen also teaches that when you find your place where you are, practice occurs. And so, four times a year on the spring and fall equinox, and on the summer and winter solstice, we gather and take our place on the zendo deck overlooking the garden to welcome the light and dark seasons of the year.

At the spring equinox the sun stands directly above the equator, and for one moment, day and night are of equal duration. In the garden the ecliptic annual pathway of the sun intersects the celestial equator on or around March 21. As the forces of light and dark, drought and moisture, and warmth and coolness come into balance, every cell of every gardener’s True Nature stirs to life.

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