When we listen to music, we enter the flowing nature of time. A note sounds, fades, and is gone. Yet what we hear in each instant depends on what came before and what we anticipate will come next.

The work of opening the heart is at the root of Zen practice. This opening is inseparable from awareness itself.

It’s an invitation to loosen the carefully constructed image of who you think you are—an opportunity to dismantle the ego’s scaffolding, revealing the raw, flowing nature beneath.

Through Zen practice, I’ve come to see that the separation between myself and the world is merely a persistent thought.

The depth and vastness of life reveal themselves in the simplicity of everyday things. A cup on the table, light on a wall, a flower in a vase—each holds the entire universe if we look closely enough. Nothing is missing.

From the depths of my Zen practice, I often return to the question, “What is this?”

My Dharma name, Sōkei, means “vital joy,” and was given to me by my Zen teachers when I took the Buddhist precepts. It is both a gift and an aspiration. Vital joy is not something I can chase or create. It arises freely, without cause or condition.

In the Temple garden, the leaves are falling. Each one turning, gliding, and coming to the earth without resistance. Their descent is quiet, unhurried, and complete

In my art, in my Zen practice, and in my work with the Temple community, I keep returning to the same refrain: “Don't hold anything back.”

We often imagine we need to first understand the whole picture before taking a step. Yet life never asks us to solve it all at once.