The Unyielding Spirit
Who Was The Buddha?
What most people don't realize is that the word "Buddha" is not a name, but a description. Like the word "budded," to which it is etymologically related, it connotes a awakened state.
Siddhartha Gautama, the historical Buddha, was born 2,500 years ago in the northern Indian city of Kapilavastu. He was a prince of the Shakya Clan, and is therefore often referred to as the Buddha Shakyamuni. At the age of thirty, Shakyamuni left his pampered life, and set out across India, seeking to understand the nature of human existence---really to find himself. Over the next six years, Shakyamuni practiced various disciplines, both ascetic and indulgent. Frustrated by this seemingly endless, answerless life of seeking without finding, he declared that he would sit in meditation either until he became enlightened or he died trying. Enlightenment came with the dawn. It is said that when he perceived the morning star he intuited the singularity that is all existence.
Following his
enlightenment, Shakyamuni spent the next fifty years wandering
throughout India teaching others what he had learned. These people
became the foundation of the Sangha, the Buddhist community. Today the
extended Sangha exists throughout the world, with large populations in
Ceylon, Burma, Thailand, Singapore, Malaysia, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia,
Korea, Mongolia, China, Nepal, Bhutan, Japan and Tibet, as well as
smaller but vital groups in India, Europe and the Americas.
There is no one Buddhist dogma. Instead, Buddhism has developed hundreds of divergent branches. All Buddhists ascribe to the "Four Noble Truths" and "The Eightfold Path" and to some version of the Buddhist Precepts, but the forms of Buddhist practice are almost as numerous as the Sangha itself. Although many of the various Buddhist sects have woven colorful legends around him, there was nothing supernatural, divine, or magical about the Buddha. He was a mortal man who lived about eighty years and died of food poisoning, a quite ordinary occurrence in ancient Asia.
At most, and this is much, it can be said that the Buddha "got it," that he was one of those individuals who lived every moment of his life, that he was aware and mindful of himself, of others, and of everyone and everything's place in this world. If Zen practice can be said to have any point it is to live life in that manner.
Soto? Rinzai? Or Doesn't It Matter?
Japanese Zen practitioners belong to a number of different "schools," each of which maintains it's own traditions of ritual, liturgy, and approach to practice. The two major schools are "Rinzai" (named for it's founder) and "Soto" (named for it's two founders, Sozan and Tozan). Both schools use Zazen and Koans in their teaching, though Rinzai uses more Koan study and Soto more Zazen. Rinzai is frequently known as the "sudden enlightenment" school, while Soto is known as the "gradual enlightenment" school. Some lineages, such as the White Plum Asanga, have antecedents in both schools.
Is Zen A Religion?
This is one of the most common questions I come across. Certainly Zen, like other Buddhist sects, has a liturgy, a formal priesthood, and a congregational structure. But significantly, there is no one answer every Buddhist (Zen or otherwise) will give to questions about, life, death, a deity, reincarnation, vegetarianism, or even the Buddha himself. Unlike Christianity, Buddhism does not consider its founder to be more than human. Unlike Islam, Buddhism does not consider the message of its founder to be the ultimate revelation. Unlike Judaism, Buddhism makes no assertions as to the nature of God and His relationship with Man. There is no Holy Writ. Buddhists recognize the validity of their texts as guides to right living, but they also recognize that sutras and stories about the Buddha are not historical documents. And Zen goes further than most Buddhist sects in jettisoning iconography and liturgy. The old Zen Masters were wont to tell their students, "If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him!" and to burn wooden statues of the Buddha to keep warm in their chilly Zendos. Symbols have meaning, but only as symbols. Zen addresses the present moment, and Zen training is all focused on living fully in the present in a meaningful and ethical way as expressed in the Precepts. Meaning and ethics are found through quieting the "monkey mind," that small, angst-ridden, past and future obsessed and infinitely selfish chatterbox inside our heads. As our inner dialogue, wants and fears subside, we are able to live more fully in the present without anxiety and distraction. The methodology of calming the monkey mind and of opening oneself to the present is Zazen.
Western Zen does maintain some traditional Japanese forms, having come from that country. Participation in Sangha activities, adoption into a lineage, and ordination ceremonies are important symbolic wayposts for the dedicated practitioner, and as indicators of the student's depth of commitment. There is, however, nothing that precludes a Zen practitioner from maintaining an active relationship with, or even a religious office within, another tradition. Zen practice and living by the Precepts may deepen a person's spiritual life, but dedication to Zen practice is no more "religious" than an equal dedication to the study of the martial arts.
Buddha, Dharma, Sangha, Karma
These are terms that recur repeatedly in Buddhist practice of all types. Each one of these words has multiple meanings. One Buddhist scholar notes that there are 40 (!) separate definitions for "Dharma" alone. Even the term "Buddha" evades easy definition. The word means "Awakened," and it, of course, is the title given to to that Prince of the Shakya kingdom who sat under the Bodhi Tree seeking Enlightenment. But the Buddha is not the only Buddha there is. Many Buddhist schools revere other Buddhas alongside Siddhartha Gautama. According to certain schools of Buddhism (including Zen) we are all Buddhas and the universe is an expression of Buddha nature.
"Dharma" is even less easy to grasp. In it's most concrete sense, the Dharma is the teachings of the historical Buddha, but Dharma can also be used to describe any positive sharing between individuals. It can also refer to the natural rhythm of existence. And, as might be expected of a word with so many shades of meaning, some of them are undeniably subtle.
The "Sangha" is the community, usually meaning the membership of one's own Zendo or monastery, but it can also refer to the Buddhist population as a whole, and by even further extension, the entirety of the human family. Together with Buddha and Dharma, Sangha is one of the Three Treasures of Buddhism.
"Karma" means "action," and depending upon one's point of view, Karma may be a system of retribution and reward for prior acts, or it may simply refer to an individual's working out of his own life's path, or the world's fate. People often speak of "good Karma" or "bad Karma" or even "instant Karma." The thing to remember is that none of these definitions excludes any of the others.
"Enlightenment" is that state of existence reached by the Buddha. Exactly what Enlightenment entails is hard to say. It is certainly not some superhuman condition. According to Zen, we are all already Enlightened, though we are not usually aware of the fact. In our unaware state we often act in ways counter to the behavior inherent in our Enlightened selves. Despite being Enlightened, there's no doubt that the Buddha had head colds, aches and pains, and cranky days. He aged and died quite normally. It was the manner in which he addressed the conditions of his life which made him Enlightened. In Japanese, a "breakthrough" moment of Enlightenment (which we all have) is called kensho. Closely related is satori, the condition of Enlightenment. And when we practice Zazen and quiet our minds, we are experiencing samadhi, a kind of pre-Enlightened state of receptivity. Other students of Zen might define these terms radically differently, but in my own practice these are the working definitions which I feel are most meaningful to me.
The First Noble Truth: An Ordinary Day
Western scholars and philosophers have usually translated the First Noble Truth as "All Life is Suffering."
However, the Sanskrit word "Dukkha" can also be translated as "unease," "discomfort," or "dissatisfaction." Mick Jagger said it best: "I can't get no satisfaction."
In Sanskrit itself, "Dukkha" literally refers to the "stuckness" of a cart wheel in mud . . .
Now imagine it's today.
It's right now and our car is mired up to the axles in mud, four wheel drive notwithstanding. Not only can you and I get nowhere, but time is passing, darkness is falling, we need to get where we're going, and, to be honest, we just want to go home.
How much brute force is it going to take just to move the car out of the mud? Maybe I'm annoyed because I told you to make a left back there and you didn't. Or maybe you did, and now you're annoyed at me. The kids are crying. I have to "go," real bad. Thanks alot, Einstein. And it could be worse; it could be raining. We might fall face first into the mud in all our floundering around. Wonderful.
What a job it's going to be first emptying the trunk, making sure our stuff doesn't get muddy, and then reloading it all afterward so we can get on our way. Chances are that beside the jack, the spare and a few tools, the rest of the stuff in the trunk shouldn't even be in there: "Why didn't you take the dry cleaning into the house?"
"Since when is that my job? It's your stuff."
By the end of it all, we're going to be dirty, tired, uncomfortable, sore, bruised, and angry---Angry at ourselves for taking the muddy road (especially if we already had some idea that the road might get muddy), angry at the County for not fixing the road---what are they doing with all that tax money, anyway?---angry with the what and who and why of being out on the road, and angry with each other.
Not to mention that my boss might be angry because I'm late again or your mother's angry because we missed picking her up for your sister's wedding.
And so far we're only up to the First Noble Truth!
Now imagine . . . In our story nothing really bad has happened to us. This is just an inconvenience. That's an awful amount of exertion---exertion to the point of exhaustion---considering that
Nothing happened!
The Second Noble Truth: Gimme Dat, Gimme Dat, Gimme, Gimme, Gimme Dat, Gimme Dat Ding
Western scholars and philosophers have usually translated the Second Noble Truth as "The Cause of Suffering Is Craving."
It's just a fancy way of saying that we make ourselves nuts when we want what we can't get.
Think about it. Especially in our Western culture we are completely hung up on getting more stuff.
"Gee, I really want a flat screen TV. A sixty-inch. And TiVo. What's the point of getting a TV without TiVo? Oh, yeah, we might as well get a Blu-ray while we're at the store. We're gonna need a new TV stand for the TV. And it's gotta match the furniture we already have. And, boy, am I dumb, but we'll have to replace the DVDs with Blu-ray discs, at least a couple at first. I know we just bought "Quantum of Solace" on regular disc, but I've got to have my James Bond! Should we call up and check on satellite TV?
Of course we'll get something out while we're shopping. Chinese? Mexican? How 'bout that new steakhouse that just opened? I hear they carry Brooklyn Brown Ale.
Yes, we'll have two New York strips with garlic mashed potatoes and---Green beans, hon?---She'll have green beans. I'll have peas.
Dessert? Nah, I'm stuffed. You too? No dessert; just the check please.
What do you mean my credit card's been declined???"
Boy, what an evening! We just bought about $2,000 worth of electronics that will be obsolescent in about three months, we've got bills to pay, which means work, work, work, thank you very much, we've eaten a heavy dinner which is making my bowels growl, and now we suddenly realize we've tapped ourselves out. Lucky we have that other card. That's also been declined? Didn't you pay the bill? Look, it was your idea to buy this junk, it was your idea to go out to eat---I know you're just full of lousy ideas. Wasn't it your idea to get married in the first place?
By the time the argument's over, one of us is going to be sleeping on the couch. We're probably going to fight over that because that new big TV is in the living room. Does it never end?
Not really, if we stay stuck on craving. And it doesn't just have to be material things. Even craving for something as altruistic as World Peace can be a problem, because we aren't going to get it. Damn those guys in Stanannistan! Why don't they get it? World Peace, man!
Basically, everything is craving. Even going to the Zendo to meditate can be a trap if I walk in there thinking that meditation is going to give me peace of mind. It's like saying, "Don't think about peppermint candy-striped elephants." Calm my mind? Yadda, yadda, yadda. Why can't I turn this off? Aaargh! Isn't that the point of coming here?
Not really. The point is that there is no point to sitting beyond the actual act of sitting itself. If I sit with a goal in mind then I'm craving, desiring that goal or outcome. I'm still stuck on the wheel, still living out my Karma. That's human life. Even the Buddha wept when he heard the news that his native land had been invaded and conquered by its enemies.
Is there any such a one as a fully enlightened one?
The Third Noble Truth: Do I Need This?
The Buddhist philosophers say that the Third Noble Truth is translated as "The extinguishment of suffering is the extinguishment of craving." It works the other way around, too. That's a mouthful for certain. I've heard someone else describe it as "Suffering can be beaten." I don't like that one. Something about "suffering" and "beaten" in the same sentence tells me we're missing the point somewhere.
The point is that only when I let go, stop wanting, stop craving, stop desiring, that I'll stop suffering. Maybe I ought to stop beating myself up.
Easy enough. I'll quit smoking. And I'll go on a diet. And I'll be a vegan. And I'll donate time to the Big Brothers/Big Sisters. And I'll do all these good things and I'll stop all these bad things.
So why do I still feel lousy?
Okay, so not all of it is my "fault." It's not my "fault" that Mr. Outsource in Hyderabad mangled his English so bad that now I'm paying for six homeowner's policies on my one house. That can be fixed. And it's not my "fault" that the economy's so bad. And it's not my "fault" that there's starvation and death in Darfur. But it sure causes me stress, and the angrier I get at Mr. Outsource, the worse I feel, and the less compassion I can muster. The less the compassion, the less the intimacy, the more the suffering. Mine and others.
Compassion is key. A feeling of intimacy toward the world is key. What compassion and intimacy can I feel if I'm living pretzel logic and every shrug hurts?
No one said this was going to be easy.
It's certainly simple enough to say, "I'll quit smoking." It's not so easy to do. Man, you crave that cigarette. But you know it's bad for you, so you persevere. And maybe you quit.
But what about the good things of life, the excellent food at my favorite restaurant, Bow-Thai, in Coral Springs? What about the pleasure of a baseball game on a hot summer's day with a dirty water chili dog, or a cold beer in a plastic bottle for seven bucks?
Or what about making love to your wife?
All of a sudden, Bow-Thai closed. They did reopen with the same owners and the same cook, so I suppose reincarnation is possible.
And the game was rained out the day my best friend came to town.
And then you caught me making love to your wife.
Suddenly---whoa!---this isn't so pretty (especially not for me).
How do you quit the good, healthy and helpful habits? Giving up the good things is far harder and just as necessary, as giving up the bad things. Ideas of heaven, of love, of bliss---THROW 'EM OUT!
Ideas of hellfire, pain, damnation, and Macaulay Culkin?---THROW THEM OUT, TOO!
They're all attachments. What we fear and what we love are on the same side of that line. We want life to stay the same. We want our parents to be forever young and to love us unconditionally, we always want to be twenty-five and slim, we fight those smile lines with Oils of Delay, we don't want this movie to end or the Dodgers to leave Brooklyn, or your wife to rat me out (at least I don't want that to happen). We want things or we want love and we want it the way we want it. We want to stay in our comfort zone, and the problem is that our comfort zone keeps shifting. (Actually, philosophically, we can argue that the comfort zone is fixed and that we're moving, but I don't know that it matters.) And even if we don't mind change, the "Good Old Days" always seem to have been better than the "Right Now Days." Actually very few of us live in the "Right Now Days." We usually live in the past---"Remember when?"---or in the future---"When I win the lottery"---and spend only a few moments each day dealing with the here and now. And most of our here and now time is really either anxiety---"I gotta get this done"---or selfish desire---"I wish Mr. Cloggenbrane would shove that clarinet up his nose, when he plays it sounds like a dying wombat."
Even happiness leads to suffering because it inevitably fades. The girl I love has a bad day and breaks my chops. I get mad. Or upset. Or even sad because she's having a bad day. I suffer right along with her.
We can't sustain what we have. Or what we don't have. We don't get what we want. And when we get it we don't want it anymore. The car breaks down, the love breaks our hearts, the dish just breaks. It's unavoidable. That's life!
But since life is even more ephemeral than Macaulay Culkin's career, the only workable way to stop all this wanting and its associated suffering, is to realize that you already have everything you need.
Sounds easy, right? Sure! All it takes is an entire shift in your earthly perspective. All it takes is a constant state of mindfulness. Such a state of mind takes years to develop, and like everything else, it's impermanent and will come and go.
I don't know if you can ever totally escape suffering. Why try? Are you more than human? Will the escape from suffering make you less than human? Be careful what you wish for. The desire to escape suffering is like the desire to escape breathing. It's like any desire really, just another attachment. There is the story of the Zen Master whose son died unexpectedly. When one of the Master's students found him weeping, the student said one word, "Attachment." The Master answered, saying, "No, not attached. But still sad."
If you do manage to let go of suffering even for a moment, suddenly it doesn't matter so much that I'm not twenty-five because I have only this instant to live. And the next instant, and the next instant, and the next, until I'm instant'd out. What would I do if I only had an instant to live? THINK FAST! 'Cause it's already gone.
If I only live in this instant, how can my desires control me? And how can my likes and dislikes define me? I can choose to do or not to do something, I can choose to decide to buy or not buy something, and I can choose how to feel about it or how to act on it. No longer a slave to habits and impulses, I'm also no longer a slave to the thinking I've been doing or the things that I've been doing. I still think and I still do, but the reality is that it's all of my choosing.
Too many people, having read Kerouac, are under the impression that Zazen is about stopping your thought process. It isn't. Zazen is about observing your thought process, watching how the thoughts arise, where they go, how they make you feel, and how they bounce around in your head while they're there. By taking notice of your thought process during sitting you will learn to do the same thing while you're working, eating, and, actually, even sleeping (as weird as that seems). When you first sit, the thoughts in your head sound like the primary approach runway at O'Hare. As time passes, the cacophony lessens. After a while, you even learn how to push your own buttons, as in, "He always manages to push my buttons."
Well, then. Imagine having control of your own buttons! Guess what? If you can push your own buttons that means you can choose how you want to feel or not feel or suffer or not suffer or be attached or not be attached to anything. "Not attached. But still sad."
Sufferin' succotash! The irony of the Third Noble Truth is that it is the easiest and the most difficult of all the Four Noble Truths at the same time.
Suffering seems so endemic to who we are, and yet there's a way around it. We sense it, we know it, we just have to master it.
And that is why we practice . . .
The Fourth Noble Truth: Follow The Yellow Brick Road
The Fourth Noble Truth is not so much of a statement of fact than a statement of intention. In the midst of your perfectly ordinary day of living The First Noble Truth, you decide (as you do a hundred times a day) that you want this or you need that. You want to eat lunch. You need a Number Two pencil. You're plugged into The Second Noble Truth: "Gimme dat ding." It's a song by Dr. Hook, and boy, are you hooked. Having done, to this point in time, just a fraction of the Zazen you will do in your lifetime, you're still aware enough (just) to realize that you're doing the hamster on the wheel thing once again. Do you need this? Having decided you don't (as you do and have done ten thousand times in your life), and more importantly, having decided to do something about it for the five thousandth "once" in your life, what do you do?
The Buddha apparently spent a lot of time thinking about this. After all, he'd come up with this incredible insight into the place of suffering in human nature. Knowing what he knew, he had to figure out a way to actually make it all work. So he called his insights "The Four Noble Truths." The Fourth Noble Truth is really a road map up and away from suffering. He called it "The Eightfold Path." (I really don't know if Shakyamuni called it anything, but his followers codified it all.)
The Eightfold Path is a behavior plan. Think of it as an Eight Step Program to break your addiction to suffering:
To follow "The Eightfold Path" we are asked to always keep in mind our outlook on the world, our intentions, the way we speak and communicate with others, our behavior and actions, how we earn our daily bread, and our effort and attention to how we actually do keep these in mind. It's an endless circle of capability. It's also difficult to do. There are so many distractions in daily life, and never more than right now. Losing yourself to work, sex, drugs, the news, an argument with the neighbors, bills, and everything else is the norm. Attentiveness isn't.
Maybe Shakyamuni never kicked the dog, but you might. Practicing Zen doesn't suddenly turn a person into a vegetarian pacifist who haunts airport concourses. After a lot of Zazen practice and talks with your Zen teacher you might be able to do the old "Five-Four-Three-Two-One . . . Hold everything!" and catch yourself from having an habitual reaction to something. "Hmmm . . ."
And you might get to the point where you can make sensible decisions about how you're going to choose to react in a particular set of circumstances.
"The best way to control people is to encourage them to be mischievous." Suzuki said it. Not me.
And beyond that, at the moment, I'm not even going to pretend I know what I'd be talking about.
Enlightenment?
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1. Right View |
Wisdom |
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2. Right Intention |
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3. Right Speech |
Ethical Conduct |
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4. Right Action |
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5. Right Livelihood |
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6. Right Effort |
Mental Development |
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7. Right Mindfulness |
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8. Right Concentration |
adapted from www.thebigpath.com
The Essence of The Four Noble Truths:
"Life isn't what we want it to be; because it isn't, we're unhappy; when we decide it doesn't have to be, we become happy; and to help us make that decision, we should get plenty of sleep and eat a good breakfast every day."
THE HEART OF THE PERFECTION OF GREAT WISDOM SUTRA
Avalokiteshvara
Bodhisattva, doing deep Prajna Paramita *
MAKA HANNYA
HARAMITA SHINGYO
Kan
ji zai bo sa gyo jin han nya ha ra mi ta ji *
There are at least
as many translations of the Heart Sutra as there are Buddhists, and they
are all broadly similar but individually unique. This ancient Sutra
gained its name and central place in the teachings because it expresses
the 'heart' of Buddhist teachings, that all things are manifestations
of an "emptiness" of infinite active potentialities.
This version is by The Southern Palm Zen Group, and I have provided the Japanese phonetic
transliteration. In
this sutra, Avalokiteshvara the Bodhisattva of Infinite Compassion, is
practicing intensive meditation---"Prajna Paramita" can
roughly be translated as "the canon of wisdom"---when s/he
realizes that the "five conditions" of form, sensation,
perception, reaction and consciousness all are this emptiness, and no
different from it. "Supreme Perfect
Enlightenment" (anutarra samyaksambodhi) consists of discovering
this for oneself, in effect letting go of all our notions and
expectations of
existence. The Bodhisattva passes this knowledge on to Shariputra,
the Buddha's earliest disciple, and then sets forth the Prajna Paramita mantra, "Gate, gate, paragate, parasam gate, bodhi svaha!"
which translates (again imprecisely) as "Gone, gone, far beyond
enlightenment, to reach the other shore."
The
imprecision of the translation (from the original Pali to Sanskrit to
Chinese to Japanese and then to English) is due rather less to the
differing conceptual frameworks of the different languages than to the
fact that the sutra is addressing issues that are nearly impossible to
render into any language at all. Words like "emptiness" and "delusion"
have very negative connotations in English, and so Buddhism is often
considered nihilistic or negative (which it is not). The sutra is not
concerned with the reader's psychopathological delusions, but rather
with the overarching intuitive awareness that all ideas and thoughts are
constructs, and that reality is nothing more than a group of mutually
agreed-upon such constructs. Even the "I"s that create the constructs
are constructs themselves. The "non-being" and "non-doing" "empty" state
that underlies the construct of "I" is also a construct.
I have
found Dainin Katagiri Roshi's rendering of "Emptiness" as either
"Impermanence" or "Transience" to be more meaningful.
Reduced down to
its minimum, then, only the present exists.
This
teaching, of only 900 Chinese ideographs in length, is considered
central to Buddhism.
The
Sandokai (also known as the "Harmony of Difference and
Equality," "The Identity of Relative And Absolute," and
other similar titles) is an eighth century poem by Sekito Kisen,
addressing the apparent contradiction between the seeming diversity and
separateness of existence which we perceive with the senses (the
relative) and the underlying unified nature of all existence (the
absolute) we grasp
with our hearts.
Southern Palm Sangha: My Dharma Journey
I joined the Southern Palm Zen Group of Boca Raton in August of
2006.
On April 4, 2007, I (center) received Jukai flanked by my Dharma
brothers Jimyo (left) and Shonen (right). Receiving Jukai means that the
participant, having vowed to practice the Buddhist Precepts, is
permitted to wear the rakusu, a biblike garment symbolic of the Buddha's
patched robe. The cross-hatchings on the rakusu are meant to represent
the ordered fields and water channels of the rice fields, wherein frogs,
fish, earthworms and insects abide in natural harmony. It's said that
the rakusu was devised during a period of Buddhist persecution as an
easily-concealed substitute for the kesa, or full robe. At the time of
Jukai, the participant is given a Dharma name. Mine is Konrei, "The
Unyielding Spirit."
Here, Doshin Sensei leads us in a recitation of the
Heart Sutra.
My parents, Jack Minde (wearing the red sweater) and Sheila Minde
(in the striped blouse) were specifically honored during the ceremony.
Other guests included my aunt and uncle, Bea and Jerome Freedman
(audience left) and my beloved friends and colleagues, Ken Tucker and
Hope Kraas, who can be seen just behind my father, probably puzzling
over the unfamiliar Japanese transliterations provided.
The Southern Palm Zen Group in April
2007. Shonen, Jimyo and I flank Doshin Sensei.
In the Jukai Ceremony the Zen student affirms his or her commitment
to the Sixteen Bodhisattva Precepts.
These Precepts are traditionally divided into three sets, the
"Three Treasures, the "Three Pure Precepts," and the "Ten Grave
Precepts.".
The Three Treasures are enlightened living, knowledge, and
community.
The Three Pure Precepts are abstention from evil, doing good for
oneself, and doing good for others.
Many of The Ten Grave Precepts are similar in wording to the more
familiar Ten Commandments, though they are considered inspired
guidelines for living, not divine commands.
The jukai is encouraged not to kill, not to steal, not to covet,
not to bear false witness, not to be ignorant, not to gossip, not to
engage in self aggrandizement, to be generous, and to respect the Three
Treasures.
The head shaving
ceremony takes place the night before Tokudo. Here I am, dressed in
jubon and kimono.
Tokudo, my ordination as a Zen monk, took place as scheduled on
August 15, 2009, despite my having suffered a broken back as the result
of a serious car accident just three weeks before. Although I was in
significant pain and had to use
a walker to take the traditional steps, my Tokudo ceremony seemed all
the deeper for it. Having come face to face with my mortality and the
very tenuous hold I have on being a healthy human being, the state of
existence represented by being an "Unsui" or "Cloud Water Man" took on a
whole new importance. The term Unsui is usually translated into English
either as "monk" or "priest;" in a practical sense, there is no
difference between the two in Zen Buddhism. An Unsui is a fully ordained
clergyman who may give teisho or Dharma teachings, conduct services, and
officiate at life cycle rituals. Most Western Unsui generally see theirs
as a figurative rather than a literal status.
I
offer incense at the opening of the head shaving ceremony. I was unable
to stand or walk unaided as a result of my accident.
The term Tokudo itself is one of those wonderfully untranslatable
Japanese idioms which means, "Leaving home to take up the journey." In
the days of the Buddha and until quite recently, the Unsui literally did
leave home to become a mendicant or a monastic, dedicated to teaching
the Dharma. The Unsui did not abandon home and family so much as he (and
in those days monks were always males) exchanged one family for another,
the Sangha for parents, siblings, spouse and children (if any).
Although a modern Unsui can choose the monastic path, Western Zen has
effectively transformed the act of Tokudo into a deeply symbolic ritual
in which the Unsui "leaves home" by renewing his or her dedication to
the Precepts first adopted in Jukai, and by actively practicing renunciation of fixed concepts,
thoughtless habits, and the mindless existence of everyday life. An Unsui is supposed, like a cloud, to move comfortably from moment to
moment. Obviously, most Unsui must make an active practice of mindful
living; one does not become an Unsui because one has attained
anything---rather, Tokudo represents a dedication to an active life of
constant practice. It is probably more difficult for a modern,
non-cloistered Unsui to keep the Precepts than it was for the Zen
monastics of Dogen's day, the distractions of modern life being
all-pervasive. Thus, rededication must go on moment by moment, not just
during formal Zazen.
Just as Jukai, Tokudo is very much a service of affirmation
in which the Unsui again dedicates himself to the Buddhist Precepts after
being ritually purified. As part of the symbolism of purification
inherent in Tokudo, the Unsui has his or her head shaved, is given a set
of begging bowls, and is permitted to wear the garb of a monk: A long
shirtlike garment called a jubon, a belted wrap or kimono, a capacious
mantle called a koromo, and a large robe called a kesa. The kesa is a
patchy garment, traditionally sewn together from rags of shrouds found
at the charnel grounds. The Unsui thus symbolically wastes nothing. With
his robes and utensils, the Unsui is a free person: "Just this is
enough."
Doshin Sensei symbolically enacts Dharma
transmission from mind to mind as he brushes my head with pine needles
dipped in water taken from a Tibetan stream as my friends and relatives
look on.
The Sangha celebrates my ordination,
August 2009.
My family members all stand to the left of Doshin Sensei. My father,
suffering with Alzheimer's, was not able to attend.
Although Zen uses basic black and white garments, saffron is a
common color in other traditions, not for any reason other than that for
hundreds of years corpses in hotter climes were preserved with spices
(including saffron) which tended to stain their shrouds yellow-orange,
the colors which ultimately became identified with the Buddhist
communities of Southeast Asia. Whatever the color or the
style of the robes they are all physical representations of the same
Bodhisattva Precepts.
I have been asked to
describe the difference between Jukai and Tokudo. For me, Jukai
represents my personal commitment to the Precepts as practiced locally,
while Tokudo represents my personal commitment to the Precepts as
practiced globally.
"In going and returning we
never leave home." Zen traces
its earliest roots back to the intense sitting meditation practiced b Konrei's Dharma Bookshelf This is a short list of books
which I've found particularly helpful or enjoyable or both. The Snow Leopard by Peter
Matthiessen. In 1973, the newly-widowered
Peter Matthiessen, author, explorer and student of Zen, joined
naturalist George Schaller in a trek across the Himalayas to a remote
lamasery. Matthiessen's luminous account of his travels, read when I was
seventeen, inspired me to adopt an ongoing Zen practice. Just by chance
(if such things exist) the Southern Palm Sangha of which I am now a
member, was founded by my Dharma grandfather, Ishin Muryo Roshi---none
other than Peter Matthiessen. The Mind Of Clover by Robert
Aitken Roshi. Aitken Roshi was one of the
earliest ordained Occidental Zen Masters. This slim volume, in which he
discusses the Zen Precepts, builds on itself like a sonata, and is a
fine read both for the dedicated student or the curious layman. Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind by
Shunryu Suzuki. Suzuki was the founder of the
San Francisco Zen Center. This famous book is a collection of his teisho
(Zen talks) edited shortly after his death. The abridged audiobook
version, read by Peter Coyote, brings the Master's lectures back to
their original medium, the spoken word. Tansey's book is a splendid,
short reminiscence of how she found her way to Zen and to Shikantaza.
This is a particularly good book for a beginner, as it recounts, with
unvarnished honesty, the difficulties a new Zen student will face on the
cushion. Bankei Zen by
Bankei; edited by
Peter Haskel. Bankei (1622-1693) is
considered the third of the great Zen philosophers, along with Dogen and
Hakuin. Bankei reads at times like a 17th century Albert Ellis; at other
times Bankei sounds like a feudal Dr. Phil as he provides commonsensical
advice on a plethora of mundane subjects like the raising of children
and getting along with neighbors. Bankei's Zen has a curiously 21st
century feel. Peter Haskel has brought Bankei to life with a fine
appreciation for the depth of the man's mind and the expansiveness of
his spirit.
The Book of Tea by Kakuzo
Okakura. In its simplicity and its
elegance, the Tea Ceremony is a form of Zen practice. Every element,
from the atmosphere of the tearoom (called in Japanese "The Abode
of Fancy," a world unto itself), the selection of the flowers, the
artwork, the bamboo tea implements, the bright, sharp jade green macha
tea, and the specially made jangling teapot and ceramic cups, speaks to
an aesthetic foreign to the West. Okakura calls it "Teaism," a
play on Taoism, and its purpose is to delight the senses, touch the
heart, and place the participant fully in the present moment. I can
honestly say that this little book provided me with comprehension, a
deeper insight, and a first true appreciation for Japanese art forms, so
different than the European.
Ideals
of The Samurai by William Scott Wilson. This collection of essays,
letters, directives to subordinates, and poetry by Japanese liege-lords
and warriors focuses on the Bushido Code as it developed and was put
into practice in Japan in the 12th to 17th Centuries, and provides a
fascinating look at how the spirit of Zen inculcated itself into the
very fabric of Japanese existence even, and particularly, in the sphere
of arms.
The Tibetan Book of the Dead by
Padmasambhava; edited by Francesca Fremantle and Chogyam Trungpa,
Rinpoche. This classic text of Tibetan
Buddhism is traditionally read to the dying and the dead as they begin
their Bardo journey, the mysterious "in-between" state during which the
deceased confronts the consequences of his karma and either attains
Nirvana or reincarnates. This isn't a Zen text. Generations of young
Westerners have read it to explore the hallucinogenic environment
described as the Bardo, but more sedate readers can find this book an
interesting and insightful guide to living.
Where
Did Zen Come From? Zen
traces its putative beginnings back to the day the Buddha sat in
meditation under the Bodhi Tree all those years ago. In India, the
sitting practice was known as Dhyana. Dhyana was carried from India to
China by Bodhidharma two millennia later, and developed in China as
Ch'an, which was then brought to Japan as Zen by Master Eisai. Zen also
traveled to Korea, where it is known as Son, and to Vietnam, where it is
called Thien. Around 1500, Zen became a major influence on Japanese
culture, inspiring calligraphy, art, gardening, the Tea Ceremony, and
other traditional Japanese activities. Zen was adopted by the Imperial
Court, and became the prime philosophy of the Samurai. Zen
did not reach the West until after Japan was opened by Commodore Perry
in 1853, and it put down very shallow roots for the next century as the
esoteric practice of a very few Westerners. The first Japanese Zen
Master, Soyen Shaku, arrived in America in 1893. Zen only really began
to grow in the Occident in the Twentieth Century, when academics like
Christmas Humphreys, Reginald Blyth, Lafcadio Hearn, Ruth Fuller Sasaki,
Gary Snyder, and Alan Watts began writing about it in books and in the
popular press. The Platform Sutra was translated into English for the
first time in 1930, the same year that Sokei-an Sasaki established the
First Zen Institute of the United States. The end of the Second World
War, and the return of American soldiers from Occupied Japan, brought an
upsurge of interest in Zen. Eugen Herrigel wrote "Zen In The Art of
Archery" in 1953. Jack Kerouac published "The Dharma
Bums" in 1959, and Watts' prolific pen continued spawning new
writings until his death in 1973. In
1950, D.T. Suzuki, a transplanted Japanese Zen student of Soyen Shaku began writing incisive (though
intellectual) popular books on Zen. Despite his very linear Western
approach to Zen, "Big" Suzuki sowed fertile ground for
"Little" Suzuki, Shogaku Shunryu Suzuki, who arrived in
San Francisco in 1958, creating the San Francisco Zen Center, an
open-door Zendo, where anyone interested in Zen could come and sit,
listen to lectures, and immerse themselves in active, daily Zen practice.
In the experimental and freewheeling era of the 1960s, Zen grew rapidly. Shunryu Suzuki established the first U.S. Zen monastery in 1967, at
Tassajara. In 1970, his seminal "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind"
was published. Hakuyu
Taizan Maezumi arrived in Los Angeles in 1956, and established the Zen
Center of Los Angeles in 1967. His resulting lineage, The White Plum
Asanga, is one of the largest Zen groups in the West, and has branches
in Europe, the Americas, and Israel. Other
important Zen teachers in the West include Dainan Katagiri, whose Asanga
is primarily Midwestern; Yasutani Hakuun, who founded the Three
Treasures Association in Japan and ordained Western Zen Masters to teach
in America; and the Americans Bernie Tetsugen Glassman, Charlotte Joko
Beck, Tenshin Reb Anderson, Jakusho Kwong, Robert Aitken Roshi, Joan
Jiko Halifax Roshi, Robert Kennedy Roshi, S.J., Daigaku Rumme, and Gerry Shishin Wick.
Many of the teachers have founded organizations, like Glassman's Zen
Peacemakers Order, the Buddhist Peace Fellowship, and networks of
Settlement Houses in poorer areas. Although
most of these teachers can trace their lineages back to either Suzuki
Roshi or Maezumi Roshi, one of the hallmarks of American Zen is its
flexibility. Teachers from different lineages work together freely,
liturgy and practice are both shared and improvisational, and teachers
easily found their own schools and lineages. Thus, American Zen is a
colorfully tangled tapestry of creative thought, mindful living, and
social action.
Three examples of Zen gardens: Kyushu,
Japan; Ryoanji Temple, Japan, and an original home garden in a box by
Jacob Carmona Traditional Japanese culture, as
it is understood in the West, is very largely a Zen culture. In a
compressed and mountainous land with little open space and a high
population, the simple, spare forms of Zen allow for expression while,
very importantly, respecting the personal space of others. Unlike the
boisterous frontier-driven culture of the United States in which space
and place were never at a premium, Japan developed formal and highly
ritualized social structures. One of the seeming oddities of
Japanese culture was the joinder of evanescent Buddhism with the robust
Warrior Culture of the Samurai. This link dates back to Bodhidharma, who
devised Kung Fu as a method of self-defense (and physical activity) for
Zazen-sitting monks who would otherwise be at the mercy of
brigands. Zen has much in it that would be
attractive to a Warrior class. In focusing on living in the here and
now, it allows the Warrior to make the most of every moment and frees
him from the anxiety of facing death. Since "all things are
expressions of Emptiness" death is not to be feared, it is to be
easily accepted. This is one underpinning of bushido, the Samurai
Code. Fortunately, "living in the
here and now" was not a license to be boorish in traditional Japan.
The noble and warrior classes who studied Zen used its lessons to create
unique forms of expression such as Chanoyo, the Tea Ceremony, a
highly-abstract form of performance art in which the act of sharing tea
becomes a metaphor for life and death; the brief, dramatic forms of
Japanese poetry, haiku and waka, with their focus on
nature; Ikebana and Bonsai culture in which the arranging
of flowers and the pruning of trees is meant to represent both natural spontaneity
and manmade order; Zen Gardens, with their dramatic patternings, the
very creation of which is a form of Zazen; brush calligraphy; martial
arts prowess; and swordcraft itself. A Japanese man of the upper classes
who did not cultivate some form of artistic practice was considered
ill-bred. Many Zen students today continue
to practice these traditional arts as a further expression of
intention. Incense No one
really knows for how long incense has been used in religious and
spiritual ceremonies, but it's likely that these fragrant resins have
been propitiarily burned for as long as Man has perceived of things
greater than himself. Incense has medicinal and psychoactive
properties; extracts of various incenses have been used in tinctures,
elixirs, and patent medicines for thousands of years, and the burning of
incense calms and clears the mind. Traditional Chinese medicine holds
that the burning of incense increases chi, life energy.
Other traditions believe that incense has powerful effects on
vibrational energies in the body and environment. Incense appears in
virtually all spiritual cultures, and is always used as part of
meditation practice. Almost any
incense is appropriate for meditation, although such cheaply produced
products as the Tutti-Frutti and Wild Strawberry scents available in
gift shops probably aren't conducive to setting the proper relaxed state
of mind and body preferable for Zazen. Zen Masters would say that
a true practitioner could do Zazen in the New York subways in airs
redolent of sewage, but even so, that type of environment is not the
usual setting for meditation practice.
Incense
burners, whether clay, porcelain, ceramic, metal or wood, don't matter
very much. Neither does the choice of cone incense, powdered incense, or
stick incense, although better incense almost always comes in stick
form. Incense in whatever form can burn anywhere from two minutes to two
hours, usually the better quality the longer. A good
quality fragrant wood such as Sandalwood produces fine, inexpensive,
incense, and is readily available in specialty stores and online. Some
practitioners choose to use more costly incenses like Aloeswood (once
described as, "the essential smell of Buddhism"), but remember that you
will be burning incense every day for the rest of your practice life.
Spending a dollar per stick or more can become very expensive. Using a
daily "ordinary" good quality incense means having an "extraordinary"
better quality incense for occasional use. And if you are like me,
you'll find yourself lighting incense just to brighten up the atmosphere
of a room. In fact, "just" lighting incense can be a form of practice in
and of itself.
"In
gratitude we offer this incense to all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas
throughout space and time...May it be fragant as Earth herself,
reflecting our careful efforts, our wholehearted awareness, and the
fruit of understanding slowly ripening...May we and all beings be
companions of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas...May we awaken from
forgetfulness and realize our true home."
Mudras
Mudras are ritual hand
gestures. It is believed that these gestures were originally a form of
sign language. Although there are many Mudras, Zen uses only a few as a
regular part of practice. Gassho is the mudra
of acknowledgement and thanks, greeting and leavetaking. We are in
Gassho when we are pressing our palms firmly together, fingertip to
fingertip, with the elbows held at near right angles to the floor. It is
similar, if not identical to the Hindu namaste, which is used for the
same reasons. The "Cosmic"
or Dhyani Mudra is the position in which the hands are held during Zazen.
The fingers of one hand are cupped by the other, with the tips of the
thumbs lightly touching, forming an oval. Sasshu is the mudra
of mindful attentiveness, and is used during rituals by observing
participants, and during walking meditation (kinhin). Sasshu is
formed by balling one hand into a loose fist while embracing it with the
other hand. Choki is the mudra of
supplication, and is used during jukai, Tokudo, and other
investiture rituals by the persons being so honored. The fingers
are interlaced at chin level with the arms held at a 90 degree
angle to the body. Zen makes little use of
images, and does not venerate the various Buddhas in a religious sense.
Zen liturgy occasionally references the various Buddhas, but primarily
as symbolic embodiments of the virtues, not as deities. In fact, the Diamond
Sutra teaches that "There are no Buddhas and no Dharmas."
Still, appreciating
Buddhist iconography can be both interesting and, well, enlightening, in
helping a student to understand some of the underlying concepts of
practice. In Buddha images, the
hands are often shown in varying positions. All these variants have
differing meanings and in fact often identify these as different Buddhas.
This iconography serves the practitioner as a visual reminder of the
Dharma teachings, whether to be sensibly and calmly grounded, to not
submit to our fears, or to serve , teach and heal all sentient beings. Shakyamuni is most often
shown with his hands in the cosmic mudra, representing meditative
enlightenment. He is also often shown with his hands in the
vitarka, or teaching, mudra, formed by touching the thumb and forefinger
together with the other fingers raised. In American culture, this hand
gesture usually means "You got it!" Amida Buddha, another
venerated Japanese Buddha figure, and the principal Buddha of the Pure
Land sect of Buddhism, also frequently displays the Dhyani mudra. The Dharmachakra mudra
is formed when the thumb and forefingers of both hands are linked in a
circle over the heart, with three fingers of the right hand
elevated. The Buddha Vairochana , who is the legendary Buddha of
the Uncreated Potential of existence (Shunyata), the
"Emptiness" spoken of in the Heart Sutra, is usually
displaying this mudra, and this mudra is said to represent the turning
wheel of the Dharma, which is generally translated as
"existence" or "teaching." The Bumiparsha or
"Earth-Touching Mudra," is most closely related with the
Buddha Akshobya, "The Unshakable One," another legendary
Buddha who is said to turn uncertainty into wisdom. Akshobya is usually
shown with one hand in his lap with the other hand, fingers downward,
just touching the earth in a gesture of grounding. The Abhaya mudra, or
mudra of fearlessness, is a simple mudra in which one hand is raised---a
perfectly natural gesture, used by Shakyamuni to calm and reassure all
sentient beings. The Abhaya mudra is most common in standing images of
Shakyamuni. A Medicine Buddha is a
representation of the Buddha Shakyamuni in his role as healer of
the sick and spiritual physician to the ills of the world. In Tibetan
Buddhism, he is often represented in the color lapis lazuli, the ancient
blue stone of healing. In Japanese representations he is seen holding a
small cask of azure medicine, and often a plum sprig in the other hand.
Uniquely, a Medicine Buddha is never shown with his hands in a mudra
position. As a healer, he is said to be so powerful that the mere
thought of him can help bring recovery.
"The Laughing
Buddha" with his fat belly, broad smile, crowd of children around
him, and his never-empty sack full of presents, is sometimes called
"the Chinese Santa Claus." He is sometimes shown with his arms
raised, palms upward, supporting the sky. In reality, he was a Ch'an
(Zen) monk from China named Pu-Tai (or Budai); in Japan he is
known as Hotei. It is said that Hotei taught the Dharma through laughter
and generosity. Upon his deathbed, he revealed that he was a
preincarnation of Maitreya, the Buddha Yet To Come. who would fulfill
Shakyamuni's promise. His image is a popular good luck charm, often seen
in places as disparate as temples and Chinese restaurants.
Sutras
The
word "Sutra" comes from a Sanskrit root word for
"thread" (as in what holds things together). The word
'suture" comes from the same root, as do the words "sidrah"
(a weekly Torah portion) and "surah" (a Qur'anic chapter). Even
the word "chapter" comes from that root (say it soft, "shapter,"
and it is more obvious).
Sutras
are the teachings of the Buddha Shakyamuni, transcribed sometimes hundreds
of years after his death. They are generally not considered historical
documents. Some sutras have specific authors. Some recount the teachings
of other Masters.
There
are literally thousands of sutras in Buddhism, from one line invocations
to multivolume tomes. Exactly what constitutes a sutra is difficult to
say, as each Buddhist sect has it's traditional sutras, which may or may
not be used by another sect. A key writing in Siamese Buddhism may be a
curiosity, and little more, in Nepal.
Some
of the more important sutras in Zen Buddhism are the Diamond Sutra, the
Platform Sutra, the Lotus Sutra, and the Heart Sutra.
The
Diamond Sutra has the distinction of being the oldest printed book in the
world. It is a teaching of the Buddha regarding the nature of perception
and reality, which addresses the Shunyata, or Emptiness, of all creation.
It is a document of seeming paradoxes. The Buddha teaches us that he has
given us no definite teachings in the sutra, and that there are no Buddhas
and no Dharmas.
The
Platform Sutra of Hui-Neng the Sixth Patriarch is a discussion of the
Paramitas or wisdoms: Dana Paramita (generosity), Sila Paramita (virtuous
living), Kshanti Paramita (humility), Virya Paramita (diligence), Dhyana
Paramita (sitting meditation), and Prajna Paramita, or enlightened
living.
The
Lotus Sutra was a recitative given by the Buddha at the end of his life.
The teaching of the Lotus Sutra is that the Buddhas are innumerable and
timeless and that they choose to remain in the world to aid all sentient
beings rather than seeking Nirvana.
The
Heart Sutra, at 900 Chinese ideographs, is one of the shortest sutras, but
is considered the most important, as it contains the "heart" of
Buddhist teachings.
Koans
Used by both
the Soto and Rinzai schools of Zen, Koans (pronounced Ko-an) are actually remnants of Confucian legal decisions.
In the famous collections The Gateless Gate and The Blue Cliff Record
they are even referred to as "cases," complete with briefs and
casenotes.
The most famous
Koan is Master Hakuin's "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" but there
are thousands more of varying complexity. Koans cannot be understood by
using the linear mind---when viewed through the lens of logic they are
often pure gobbledygook. They must be puzzled out and solved
intuitively. The purpose of Koans is to free the student from the
linear, logical straitjacket of rational thought.
Another great Koan
is Master Eihei Dogen's admonition "that to study the self is
to forget the self, and to forget the self is to be enlightened."
What is all this talk of emptiness and of forgetting the self? Is it
nihilism?
No. Obviously,
an admonition to "forget the self" cannot be taken
literally.
Western culture
is particularly "I" oriented. All day long we talk to
ourselves internally: "I am hungry", "I am tired",
" I hope I get that promotion", "I can't believe she
won't go out with me", "I think, therefore I am", and so
on. This "I. Me, Mine" approach to life makes us fearful and
insecure in the face of loss, disappointment and death. When we're
clinging so hard to our identity, the idea of "forgetting the
self" can be downright terrifying.
Still,
scientists tell us that if we cannot study something objectively we are
bound to distort our discoveries.
Traditional
Western psychotherapy requires that we study the self, but only insofar
as such study allows us to manipulate the structures of our mind to
obtain better results for ourselves.
Zen, however,
looks at it differently. If we forget the "I," we change our
perspective on life to a much broader one that permits us to put aside
the structures of desire, clinging and ego. Not that they
disappear---they merely become less dominating. Thus, while we may still
be hungry, we don't focus on the hunger, we focus on getting something
to eat. When we're tired, we'll sleep. And though we may still want that
date or that promotion, we're not crushed if we don't get what we
want.
Obviously then,
Zen doesn't call for the eradication of the self. To the contrary. the
intense focus on the self seems almost egotistical. Again,
no. Zen recognizes the self as a construct, partially built up by
upbringing, partially by daily experience, but mostly by the illusion of
ourselves as separate, discrete beings. Western philosophy is largely
based on this idea. With
practice, the Zen student begins to understand that this separateness is
an illusion, that he or she is a temporary, permeable creature,
absorbing everything from the environment and giving back in equal
measure, and that therefore, every action has a consequence (Karma).
Whether fouling the environment or expressing anger, such action is not
simply "out there," but has a direct and immediate impact on
the world, of which we ourselves will partake.
This change of
perspective allows us to respect other beings, whether trees, dogs or
our neighbors, and to avoid satiating ourselves with booze, drugs,
cigarettes, and consumer goods in lieu of real satisfaction---and to
remember that satisfaction is fleeting: "Boy, that hamburger had no
taste," "I really need a new mattress," "All this
work!," "I can't believe she filed for divorce."
Nothing is
permanent. Everything is in flux. But if I am living this moment of my
life, whether it is good, bad, indifferent, terrifying, sad, or
ecstatic, it is this moment, unique and unlike any other moment,
anytime, anywhere, ever.
Our vision
expands commensurately.
The oxymoron
of "forgetting the self" means to open oneself to a new
order of
experience.
The
Zen of Tao or The Tao of Zen Zen
was born in China, not Japan. It was called "Ch'an," which is
a Chinese transliteration of the Sanskrit word "Dhyani" or
"Meditation" (just as "Zen" is the Japanese
transliteration of "Ch'an"). As a Chinese export, it
was, in it's earliest days, exposed to Chinese thought, such as
Confucianism and Taoism. Thus, Zen is an amalgam of various lines of
Eastern philosophies. Of
all the various lines of descent, "Ch'an" was most deeply
influenced by Taoism. "Tao" (usually pronounced
"Dow") is one of those philosophic words that has no specific
translation. It is generally interpreted as "The Way." The
philosopher Alan Watts calls it "The Watercourse Way," which
happens to be a simple, graphic, and poetical descriptor, which finely
describes the naturalism which the Tao embodies. Ch'an
adopted this "go with the flow" and "be in the
moment" outlook toward human life, and mindfulness and "momentness"
are the core principles of Zen. Most Zen sutras and poems try to embody
these concepts (I say "try" because it is impossible for human
beings to share this state of awareness between ourselves through words
alone). The
Hsin Hsin Ming (Faith-Mind Verses) were attributed to Seng-T'san, the
Third Chinese Patriarch, who lived around the year 600. They are, in
their very essence, Tao (and Zen): The
tao is not difficult for those who have no preferences. When love and
hate are both absent everything becomes clear and undisguised. Make the
smallest distinction, however, and heaven and earth are set infinitely
apart. If you wish to see the truth then hold no opinions for or against
anything. To set up what you like against what you dislike is the
disease of the mind. When the deep meaning of things is not understood
the mind's essential peace is disturbed to no avail. The
tao is perfect like vast space where nothing is lacking and nothing is
in excess. Indeed, it is due to our choosing to accept or reject that we
do not see the true nature of things. Live neither in the entanglements
of outer things, nor in inner feelings of emptiness. Be serene in the
oneness of things and such erroneous views will disappear by themselves.
When you try to stop activity to achieve passivity your very effort
fills you with activity. As long as you remain in one extreme or the
other you will never know oneness. Those
who do not live in the single tao fail in both activity and passivity,
assertion and denial. To deny the reality of things is to miss their
reality, to assert the emptiness of things is to miss their reality. The
more you talk and think about it, the further astray you wander from the
truth. Stop talking and thinking, and there is nothing you will not be
able to know. To return to the root is to find the meaning, but to
pursue appearances is to miss the source. At the moment of inner
enlightenment there is a going beyond appearance and emptiness. The
changes that appear to occur in the empty world, we call real only
because of our ignorance. Do not search for the truth; only cease to
cherish opinions. Do
not remain in the dualistic state, avoid such pursuits carefully. If
there is even a trace of this and that, of right and wrong, the
mind-essence will be lost in confusion. Although all dualities come from
the one, do not be attached even to this one. When
the mind exists undisturbed in the tao, nothing in the world can offend,
and when a thing can no longer offend, it ceases to exist in the old
way. When
no discriminating thoughts arise, the old mind ceases to exist. When
thought objects vanish, the thinking-subject vanishes, as when the mind
vanishes, objects vanish. Things are objects because of The subject
(mind); the mind (subject) is such because of things (object).
Understand the relativity of these two and the basic reality: the unity
of emptiness. In this Emptiness the two are indistinguishable and each
contains in itself the whole world. If you do not discriminate between
coarse and fine you will not be tempted to prejudice and opinion. To
live in the tao is neither easy nor difficult, but those with limited
views are fearful and irresolute: the faster they hurry, the slower they
go, and clinging (attachment) cannot be limited; even to be attached to
the idea of enlightenment is to go astray. Just let things be in their
own way and there will be neither coming nor going. Obey
the nature of things (your own nature), and you will walk freely and
undisturbed. When thought is in bondage the truth is hidden, for
everything is murky and unclear. and the burdensome practice of judging
brings annoyance and weariness. What benefit can be derived from
distinctions and separations? If
you wish to move in the tao do not dislike even the world of senses and
ideas. Indeed, to accept them fully is identical with true
enlightenment. The wise man strives to no goals but the foolish man
fetters himself. There is one Dharma, not many; distinctions arise from
the clinging needs of the ignorant. To seek Mind with the discriminating
mind is the greatest of all mistakes. Rest
and unrest derive from illusion, with enlightenment there is no liking
and disliking. All dualities come from ignorant inference. They are like
dreams or flowers in air: foolish to try to grasp them. Gain and loss,
right and wrong, such thoughts must finally be abolished at once. If
the eye never sleeps, all dreams will naturally cease: if the mind makes
no discriminations, the ten thousand things are as they are, of single
essence. To understand the mystery of this One-essence is to be released
from all entanglements. When all things are seen equally the timeless
Self-essence is reached. No comparisons or analogies are possible in
this causeless, relationless state. Consider
movement stationary and the stationary in motion, both movement and rest
disappear. When such dualities cease to exist Oneness itself cannot
exist. To this ultimate finality no law or description applies. For
the unified mind in accord with the tao all self-centered striving
ceases. Doubts and irresolutions vanish and life in true faith is
possible. With a single stroke we are freed from bondage; nothing clings
to us and we hold to nothing. All is empty, clear, self-illuminating,
with no exertion of the mind's power. Here thought, feeling, knowledge,
and imagination are of no value. In this world of suchness there is
neither seer nor other-than-self. To
come directly into harmony with this reality just simply say when doubt
arises, ‘Not two.’ In this ‘not two’ nothing is separate,
nothing is excluded. No matter when or where, enlightenment means
entering this truth. And this truth is beyond extension or diminution in
time or space; in it a single thought is ten thousand years. Emptiness
here, Emptiness there, but the infinite universe stands always before
your eyes. Infinitely large and infinitely small, no difference, for
definitions have vanished and no boundaries are seen. So too with Being
and non-Being. Don’t waste time in doubts and arguments that have
nothing to do with this. One
thing, all things: move among and intermingle, without distinction. To
live in this realization is to be without anxiety about non-perfection.
To live in this faith is the road to non-duality, because the non-dual
is one with the trusting mind. Words!
The tao is beyond language, for in it there is no yesterday, no
tomorrow, no today.
Bodhidharma, the "blue-eyed monk," was the 26th
Patriarch in direct line from Bodhisattvas
are beings (both legendary and real) who, it is said, choose to postpone
their entry into Nirvana in order to aid all sentient beings. The
All
human beings are considered incipient Avalokiteshvara
(also known variously as Kanzeon, Kannon and Kanjizai in Japan, Kuan Yin
in China, Quon Am in Southeast Asia, Tara and Chenresigs in Tibet, and
Padma Pani in India, represented as a man, a woman, an hermaphrodite, a
many-headed or a multiple armed being depending on the context) is one of
the most popular and important Bodhisattvas, called "The Lord Who
Looks Down In Compassion" or "She Who Hears The Cries Of The
World."
Avalokiteshvara's
appointed mission is to comfort the suffering and to aid
them
in times of trouble. During the suppression of Christianity by the
Japanese Shoguns, Japanese Catholics secretly took to portraying the
Virgin Mother as the female Bodhisattva, thus creating a syncretic figure,
the Jizo
(also called Manjusri
is almost always portrayed as a male riding a white tiger and brandishing
the sword of the dharma in one hand (meant to cut through delusions) and
the lotus of enlightened thought in the other (meant to represent wisdom
and knowledge). Manjusri is also called Wenshu in Chinese, Monju in Samantabhadra
(known as Pu-Hsien or Quontuzangpo in
Creations
are numberless. I vow to free them.
Delusions
are inexhaustible, I vow to transform them.
Reality
is boundless. I vow to perceive it.
The
Here I am
berobed and shaven-headed, sitting on the meditation cushion in a more
informal setting. The
robe was gifted to me by my Dharma friend
Zazen The Practice Of Selfless Living Zazen is the timeless practice of
realizing our selflessness so that we may be truly of service to others
and ourselves. Only in the narrowest sense is Zazen equivalent to
Shikantaza or "just sitting" as a form of meditation practice.
When Zazen becomes an integral part of your life Zazen is expressed in
every action you take. Here are the Southern Palm Zen Group's guidelines for
sitting Zazen 2.
Arrange your legs in a position you can maintain comfortably
My Thoughts on Zazen
Zazen is the central
practice of Zen and is the primary, but not exclusive, method for
meditation. Although Dogen Zenji recommends the lotus posture and the use
of a zafu and zabuton for Zazen, none of these three are mandatory. The
point is to sit, and whether you or I use the traditional postures and
implements or whether we sit on the throne of the British Empire (or any
other throne) is less important than just sitting.
It's impossible to stop
our thoughts. They're going to pop up and disappear about as ephemerally
as bubbles in a pot of boiling water. The point is not to stop this from
happening. Instead, just let them come and go---Pop pop pop! If you
want to, consider where your thoughts come from and go to, and then
consider just who is doing the considering. Before long, you'll be looking
at the back of your own head, so to speak.
Watching the breath is
a technique that's useful to allow the practitioner to minimize
distractions. Shunryu Suzuki calls these distractions "mind weeds" and
"mind waves" and actually credits them as a method of deepening our
practice. The more we sit, the less we'll be distracted by these random
thoughts. Don't expect that they'll ever stop forever. Breath counting
helps us to redirect our wandering attention, yes, but the point of Zazen
is not mastery of the ability to count to ten over and over without
interruption. Breath counting is only a technique---it is not Zazen.
Zazen isn't sleep or
sleepiness, either. At those times when I attain what I presume is
samadhi, my "monkey mind" stills, my random thoughts become few and
far between and less memorable, and I rest my tired and hyperactive
frontal lobe. But whenever I anticipate that this is going to be the
outcome of Zazen it isn't.
That tells me
something. Bowing Bowing,
like Zazen, is central to Zen practice. We bow when entering the Zendo. We
bow when donning our ritual garb. We bow when crossing in front of the
altar. We bow to our zafu. We bow to the person facing us when we sit. We
bow several times during the liturgy. We bow after we stand. We bow before
we speak. We bow when we are done speaking. We bow after another person
speaks. We bow before we eat. We bow after our meal. And so on. Bowing
is an unusual behavior in the modern world. Bowing is one of the elements
of Zen practice which students find hardest to adapt. In part, this is
because bowing has taken on a connotation of subjection in Western
culture. Some religious traditions frown strongly on bowing, especially
toward the altar. Suzuki-roshi
said it best, "The disciple may bow to the teacher . . . the teacher
to the disciple. Sometimes we may bow to cats and dogs." We are not
worshiping nor abasing ourselves before the person or object to whom we
bow. Rather, we are giving that person or object our acknowledgment and
respect. And they bow reciprocally, whether literally or metaphorically.
In a sense, we are bowing through that person or object to the
ultimate reality beyond.
Bonsai
"Let
me respectfully remind you---Birth and death are of supreme importance;
time swiftly passes, and opportunity is lost. We should all strive to
awaken. Awaken! Do not squander your life." Samu Zen
altar (Dharma Crafts) Dogen Dogen
Zenji (also known as Dogen Kigen, Eihei Dogen, or Koso Joyo Daishi)
brought Soto Zen practice to Japan. In the fifty three years of his life (1200
to 1253) he managed to have the most profound impact on Japanese Zen, an
impact which still being felt today in a dozen countries. He is, by most,
considered the greatest of Zen philosophers. Dōgen
was born into a noble family. Dōgen's parents both died before he was
nine years old, and these losses deeply affected the boy, who elected to
become a monk at the age of thirteen. As Dogen's practice matured, he found he
was driven by a single question: As
I study both the exoteric and the esoteric schools of Buddhism, they maintain
that human beings are endowed with Buddha Nature by birth. If this is the
case, why did the Buddhas of all ages—undoubtedly in possession of
enlightenment—find it necessary to seek enlightenment and engage in
spiritual practice? Although
Dogen studied under Zen Master Eisai and other leading lights of Zen for many
years, he was unable to find a coherent answer to the problem. As a result, he
was advised to travel to China to study with the great Ch'an Masters. He
arrived there in 1223. In
China, Dōgen first studied Gonqins (Koans), but was ultimately
dissatisfied with the training. In 1225, he became a student of Zen Master
Rujing (Nyojo in Japanese), leader of the Caodung (Soto in Japanese) school of
Zen. Under
Rujing, Dogen came to settle his
"life's quest of the great matter;" he was later to
write, To
study the Way is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self.
To forget the self is to be enlightened by all things of the universe. To be
enlightened by all things of the universe is to cast off the body and mind of
the self as well as those of others. Even the traces of enlightenment are
wiped out, and life with traceless enlightenment goes on forever and ever. This
assertion makes up the core of the Genjokoan, one of Dogen's greatest
writings, which makes up the first of the 95 fascicles of his
masterwork, Shōbōgenzō (The Treasury of
the True Dharma Eye). Among his other great works is Fukanzazengi
(Universal Instruction For The Practice of Zazen), a guide to proper
sitting practice. Throughout his
writings, Dōgen constantly emphasized the absolute primacy of Shikantaza
("just sitting"), and that practice and enlightenment are one and
the same.
In 1227, Dōgen
received Dharma Transmission and inka from Rujing, and
returned to Japan in 1228. He founded Eiheiji Monastery in 1246. Dogen wrote in
Japanese, not, as was then customary for Zen Masters, in Chinese, and he is
considered a master stylist, remarkable both for the conciseness of his
language and his subtlety. The
Enso is a common motif in Zen brush calligraphy SOYEN
SHAKU'S RULES FOR LIVING Soyen
Shaku was the first Japanese Zen Master to visit the United States (1893).
These are his rules of Zen practice: In
the morning before dressing, light incense and meditate. Retire
at a regular hour. Partake of food at regular intervals. Eat with moderation
and never to the point of satisfaction. Receive
a guest with the same attitude you have when alone. When alone, maintain the
same attitude you have in receiving guests. Watch
what you say, and whatever you say, practice it. When
an opportunity comes do not let it pass you by, yet always think twice before
acting. Do
not regret the past. Look to the future. Have
the fearless attitude of a hero and the loving heart of a child. Upon
retiring, sleep as if you had entered your last sleep. Upon awakening, leave
your bed behind you instantly as if you had cast away a pair of old shoes.
The Five Remembrances
Recited daily by
Buddhist monks of many sects (including some Zen communities) the five
Remembrances teach us to be aware of impermanence and to make the most of
our lives
I am sure to age.
J am sure to become ill.
I am sure to die.
I am sure to lose those nearest and
dearest to me.
My life's only
legacy will be my actions. Hakuin Hakuin
Zenji or as he is also known, Hakuin Ekaku (1685-1769) is to Rinzai Zen
what Dogen is to Soto Zen. Hakuin was born a commoner in the small village of Hara, at
the foot of Mount Fuji, and despite a life full of peregrinations, died there
as abbot of Shoin-ji Monastery. Raised
in the Nichiren sect of Buddhism, at an early age Hakuin became frightened of
going to hell. His fear was so all-encompassing that he entered a monastery at
age fifteen. It was at this time that he first read the Lotus Sutra, and found
it disappointing, saying "it consisted of nothing more than simple tales
about cause and effect." He despaired when he read the story of
Ch'an Master Yantou Quanhuo (Gānto Zenkatsu in Japanese) who met a brutal
end at the hands of brigands. How could such an enlightened Master suffer such
a terrible death? Troubled,
Hakuin left the monastic life, and wandered around Japan, writing poetry,
perfecting his calligraphy, and creating artworks. He was a man of much
talent, but his immersion in the arts did not quiet his soul. Finding himself
one day in a temple library, he commended his soul to the Dharma, and picked
out a book to read at random, a collection of Zen tales. He
returned to the study of Zen, and became a disciple of Shoju Ronin. Ronin
treated Hakuin contemptuously, insulting and belittling him constantly, all in an attempt to keep
Hakuin from becoming complacent. Hakuin was driven to distraction, even while
absorbing valuable lessons. Although their relationship lasted less than
a year, Hakuin always considered Shoju Ronin his primary teacher. After
another several years of travel, at age 31 Hakuin returned to Shoin-ji, where
he was appointed abbot. At age 41, Hakuin experienced enlightenment after
rereading the Lotus Sutra. Hakuin's
teaching style, like Shoju Ronin's, was rigorous, and he demanded that his
monks engage in active Samu, believing that Zen practice could be expressed in
daily activities. He systematized Koan study, and wrote many new Koans
himself, including "what is the sound of one hand clapping?" the
most famous Koan of all. Hakuin
believed that the way for a student to achieve enlightenment was through
extensive work on Koans. The psychological pressure and doubt that arises when
one struggles with a Koan is meant to create tension that leads to awakening.
Hakuin called this the "great doubt," writing, At
the bottom of great doubt lies great awakening. If you doubt fully, you will
awaken fully. Hakuin
was a man of strong opinions. He described the Soto Zen practice of Shikantaza
as "Do-Nothing Zen," and he derided Zen Master Bankei and his
followers as "undisciplined." Yet, like Dogen, he encouraged
meditative sitting and scholasticism, and like Bankei, he made Zen---the
practice of the nobility and the samurai---accessible to the common people. He
was beloved by the poor, the unknown, and the struggling, whom he freely
helped at need. Hakuin
named more than eighty Dharma heirs, and all Rinzai teachers today trace their
lineages back to him.
Is Zen Trendy? I found an unattributed
quote on a website criticizing Zen as "trendy," and then, quite
oddly, describing it as "less distracting" for Americans than the
colorful and dynamic ritualized practices of Tibetan Buddhism. I'm not really
sure what the point of the discussion was. My experience has been that once a
practitioner graduates beyond Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (which
has nothing to do with Zen), Zen is a tough practice that requires discipline,
patience, and dedication. Yes, it may be "less distracting" than
Tibetan Buddhism, but it also has less "entertainment value" for
those just passing through. Those who stay with Zen do so because the spare,
direct and unalloyed "voice" of Zen speaks to them profoundly.
So-called "Trendy Zen" is the province of marketing executives who
call every book The Zen of or Zen and the A Japanese Tearoom
Bankei
Bankei
Zenji or Bankei Eitaku, also known as Kokushi (1622-1693), abbot
of the Ryomon-ji and Nyoho-ji monasteries, is considered the third great
Zen Master after Dogen and Hakuin. Unlike either Dogen or Hakuin, Bankei
himself wrote little except poetry, and his teachings come down to us
through transcriptions made by his students. At the time of his death,
Bankei begged that these notes be destroyed as unworthy of attention;
some were, but others were saved from the fire. Bankei, whose Zen was
nominally Rinzai, did not found any formal practice lineage, and did not
name a Dharma successor. As a result, he is less well remembered than
either Dogen or Hakuin, though he is considered at least as
brilliant. Bankei's
father was a Samurai turned
physician. His father, a strict Confucian scholar, died when Bankei was young,
and so Bankei developed a morbid fascination with death. His mother, of whom
little is known, was later revered by the common folk as 'Maya who begat
three Buddhas' (the historic Maya was the mother of the Buddha
Shakyamuni). Bankei's mother was so honored because Bankei's eldest
brother was a skilled physician likened to Yakushi the Medicine Buddha,
and his second eldest brother was a gifted teacher of the Pure Land sect often compared to Amida Buddha. Bankei himself was compared to
Shakyamuni Buddha. As
a child, Bankei disliked
school. He often played hooky. Adults knew him as a troublemaker and a
gang leader. He frequently quarreled with his family, and once attempted
suicide by swallowing a large number of spiders. When nothing happened,
he decided not to try again. As
a young adolescent Bankei was sent to a teacher of Chinese. While
studying a Confucian classic he was forcibly struck by a passage stating
that the "Way of Great Learning was to make clear the Bright
Virtue." Puzzled and wishing to understand the meaning of the
Bright Virtue, he questioned a number of Confucian and Buddhist
scholars, but they admitted that they understood the idea as little as
he. Bankei was then advised to consult a Zen master, Umpo Zenjo, who
instructed him to practice Zazen in order to experience the Bright
Virtue. As
with everything else, Bankei sat Zazen with his typical all-or-nothing
hell-for-leather mentality. He sat in the full lotus posture in a cave
for hours on end and fasted for a week at a time. Despite the fact that he
developed agonizing and septic decubitus ulcers on his legs and rump,
Bankei refused to stop sitting. He went without sleep. He recited the Nembutsu (an invocation
of the names of the Buddha) incessantly. Nothing happened except that he
became very seriously ill. Tuberculosis was diagnosed. He accepted the
fact that he was going to die, his one regret being that the problem of
the Bright Virtue remained unsolved. On
his deathbed-apparent, Bankei expectorated a large black clot of mucous.
As he stared at this evidence of his mortality, he was suddenly
enlightened: "Just
at that moment . . . I realized what it was that had escaped me until
now: All things are perfectly resolved in the Unborn . . . It struck me
like a thunderbolt that I had never been born, and that my birthlessness
could settle any and every matter.” Shortly
thereafter, Bankei began to mend. He returned to Umpo, who sent him on
to Zen Master Dosha, who conferred Dharma Transmission upon him. Bankei
laughed and tore up the inka scroll, his certificate of teaching. Dosha thereupon
immediately offered him the position
of abbot. Instead of becoming the abbot of the monastery, Bankei elected
to become the tenzo (cook). Bankei
was itinerant. He often left the monastery, and went to live in
hermitage. Although he became the abbot of several different
institutions, he traveled extensively, teaching as he went. He
preached to large audiences composed of country folk as well as Zen
students, Samurai and nobles, some of whom objected to being among the
commoners. With them, Bankei was gentle but firm, and insisted that
there are no distinctions in Buddhahood. He angered many people by
inviting women to participate in Zen practice. Bankei's
teaching was individualistic, raw, and unpolished, though possessed of
great subtlety and insight. He was kindly, and had an impressive sense
of humor. He was fond of giving commonsense advice on topics such as
getting along with the neighbors and raising teenagers. As a result, he
was an immensely popular Master, with a surprising degree of celebrity.
After his death, he was declared a "National Teacher" by the
Tokugawa Shogunate. Despite his fame, Bankei was never swayed from his
simple and straight-ahead style and simple life. Once,
a priest of the Pure Land sect objected when many of his people decided
to meet with Bankei to hear about Zen. He attended the meeting intending to debate Bankei.
He told the Zen Master rather rudely, "A man like myself does not
respect you. Can you make me obey you?" At that point, Bankei asked
the priest to come to the front of the crowd, and the man pushed his
way to Bankei, who asked him to sit. The priest sat. "You see,
" observed Bankei, "you are obeying me and I think you are a
very gentle person." Bankei,
much like Shakyamuni himself, relied entirely on his own conviction,
exhorting his followers to experience reality directly. The
chief idea of Bankei's Zen
is that we are all created in the Unborn, but that life encrusts us with
experiences, opinions, and beliefs that cloud our perceptions of
reality. Bankei challenged his audiences to toss away these
encrustations and to live simply in the Unborn where all things are
forever renewing. Bankei's
emphasis on the Unborn Mind and as Zazen practice as all actions
taken in the course of living every day differs grandly from Dogen's
philosophic preoccupations, and Hakuin's regimented approach. It makes
up a third approach to enlightenment, possibly the most difficult, as
for the Zen student there is nothing to study and nothing to do except
to be. While this be-ing is the point all Zen Masters make, Dogen and
Hakuin both believed that the mind had to be trained to accept its own
enlightenment, and that a teacher had to confirm the process. In
Bankei's view, enlightenment is the natural state in which we
all live and we ourselves need merely acknowledge it to be enlightened.
As a result, Bankei's methods did not survive him, as there was no
succession of authority necessary to create a Zen lineage.
Bankei's dying
declaration to his students was to Awaken to the Unborn in the midst of
everyday life.
And
some Zen Masters teach only by example . . .
May
all beings be peaceful.
Konrei's Dharma Links "Indra's Net" is an
Indian concept in which all aspects of creation are linked as jewels in
a mutually reinforcing web of existence. While the Internet is only one
bright facet of Indra's Net, it contributes mightily to unifying our
world. Here are some sites which you may find helpful or enjoyable or,
perhaps, enlightening.
Ikebana
(Japanese Flower Arranging)
The Eight Awarenesses
According to the Parinirvana Sutra, the
Eight Awarenesses comprise the last teachings of the Buddha. They are
not just a restatement of the Eightfold Path which he had begun to teach
fifty years before. Rather, they represent the distillation of those
five decades of evolving wisdom. Even this Enlightened One had things to
learn.
۩
۩ Be Free
From Desire: This harks
back to the Four Noble Truths, "All life is suffering; the cause of
suffering is craving."
۩
Be Satisfied: If I don't crave or desire anything,
then, by definition, I am in this moment, satisfied.
۩
Be Tranquil and Serene: If I am satisfied in this moment then I am
untroubled, tranquil and serene.
۩
Be Diligent: This comes directly from the Eightfold
Path---"Right Effort." In order to maintain the Eight Awarenesses I must
make every effort to be Aware. There is no quick fix to maintain
Awareness other than to work to maintain Awareness by conscious ongoing
effort.
۩
Be Mindful: The Buddha knew that it is too easy to fall off the
wagon into a life of delusion and suffering. That is the chief challenge
of living mindfully. Out of Diligence arises Mindfulness.
۩
Samadhi: I translate this word as
"receptivity," which is a personal definition. Samadhi is a state
where distinctions between Self and Other dissipate. When I become truly
mindful, then I am open to anything and reject nothing. When I am open
to anything and reject nothing, that is Samadhi.
۩
Prajna:
When I am in Samadhi, totally open to life, then I can learn
whatever it is I need to learn and apply it. The application of my
life's lessons to my life is Prajna or Wisdom.
۩
Be Careful To Avoid Idle Talk:
When we blather on carelessly, we open the door to both craving and
karma---"You know, I'd like to taste that," and "Mary is so difficult to
make sense of. Did you hear what she did . . . ?"---Simple but profound,
this dictum is repeated in the Bodhisattva Precepts and as part of the
Eightfold Path. Since gossip and mindless chatter can be both
distracting and destructive regardless of how much fun they might be for
us as social beings, the Buddha clearly saw the misuse of the spoken
word as a force capable of undoing freedom from desire, satisfaction,
serenity, diligence, mindfulness, receptivity, and wisdom. By avoiding
idle talk we avoid creating a cycle of self-defeating behaviors.
۩
Thus, the Eight Awarenesses are not
linear rules to follow. They are a cycle of interdependent conditions
simultaneously co-arising in our lives, the sum total of which make up
our universe.
"Limitless undying love that shines around me like a million suns, it
calls me on and on across the universe..."---Lennon/McCartney
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Perceived the emptiness of all five conditions
And was freed of pain
Oh Shariputra, form is no other than emptiness
Emptiness no other than form
Form is precisely emptiness, emptiness precisely form
sensation, perception, reaction, and consciousness
Are also like this
Oh Shariputra, all things are expressions of emptiness
Not born, not destroyed, not stained, not pure
Neither waxing nor waning
Thus emptiness is not form
Not sensation nor perception nor reaction nor consciousness
No eye, ear, tongue, body, mind
No color, sound, smell, taste, touch, thing
No realm of sight, no realm of consciousness
No ignorance, no end to ignorance
No old age and death and cessation of old age and death
No suffering, no cause or end to suffering
No path, no wisdom, and no gain
No gain, thus Bodhisattvas live this Prajna Paramita
With no hindrance of mind
No hindrance therefore no fear
Far beyond all such delusion, Nirvana is already here
All past, present, and future Buddhas live this Prajna Paramita
And therefore attain Supreme Perfect Enlightenment
Therefore know Prajna Paramita is the holy mantra
The luminous mantra, the incomparable mantra
By which all suffering is cleared this is no other than truth
Therefore set forth the Prajna Paramita mantra
Set forth this mantra and proclaim,
"Gate! Gate! Paragate!
Parasamgate!
sho ken go on kai ku do is sai ku yaku.
Sha ri shi shiki fu I ku ku fu I shiki
shiki soku ze ku ku soku ze shiki.
Ju so gyo shiki yaku bu nyo ze.
Sha ri shi ze sho ho ku so
Fu sho fu metsu fu ku fu jo fu zo fu gen ze ko ku chu
Mu shiki mu ju so gyo shiki mu gen ni bi zes shin I
mu shiki sho ko mi soku ho mu gen kai nai shi mu I shiki kai
mu mu myo yaku mu mu myo jin.
Nai shi mu ro shi yaku mu ro shi jin
mu ku shu metsu do mu chi yaku mu toku I mu sho tok'ko.
Bo dai sat ta e han nya ha ra mi ta ko
shim-mu kei ge mu kei ge ko mu u ku fu
on ri is sai ten do mu so ku gyo ne han.
San ze sho butsu e han nya ha ra mi ta ko
Toku a noku ta ra sam myaku sam bo dai.
Ko chi han nya ha ra mi ta ze dai shin shu ze dai myo shu
ze mu jo shu ze mu to to shu no jo is sai ku shin jitsu fu ko.
Ko setsu han mya ha ra mi ta shu soku setsu shu watsu
Gya tei gya tei ha ra gya tei hara so gya tei.
Bodhi sva ha ka han-nya shin gyo.
SANDOKAI
The mind of the Great Sage of
India is intimately conveyed from West and East.
Among human beings are wise ones and fools
in the Way there is no
Ancestor of North or South.
The subtle source is clear and
bright;
the branching streams flow in the dark.
To be attached to things is primordial illusion;
to encounter the
absolute is not yet enlightenment.
Each sphere, every sense and
field intermingle even as they shine alone;
interacting even as they merge, yet keeping their places in expression
of their own. Forms differ primally in shape and character and sounds in sharp or
soothing tones. The dark makes all words one; the brightness distinguishes good and
bad phrases. The four elements return to
their true nature as a child to its mother.
Fire is hot, water is wet, wind moves and the earth is dense.
Eye and form, ear and sound, nose and smell, tongue and taste---the
sweet and sour. Each independent of the other like leaves that come from the same
root;
and though root and leaves must
go back to the Source both root and leaves have their own uses.
Light is also darkness, but
do not think of it as darkness.
Darkness is light; Do not
see it as light.
Light and darkness are not
one, not two,
like the foot before and
the foot behind in walking.
Each thing has its own
being which is not different from
its place and function.
The relative fits the
absolute As a box and its lid.
The absolute meets the
relative like two arrow points that touch in the air.
Hearing this,
simply perceive the Source.
Make no criterion.
If you do not see the
Way, You do not see it even as you walk upon it.
If you walk the
Way, you draw no nearer, progress no farther.
Who fails to see this is
Mountains and Rivers away.
Listen, those who would
pierce this subtle matter.
Do not waste your time by
night or day!
y
the Buddha which resulted in his enlightenment. "Zen" is a
Japanese word transcribed from the Chinese "Ch'an," which in
turn derives from the Sanskrit word "Dhyana." It is also known
as "Thien" in Vietnam and "Son" in Korea. Zen is
spare. It puts aside the iconography and ritual of other forms of
Buddhism, focusing on the practitioner's direct experience of this
present moment...
Zen
and Japanese Culture
1. Sit on the forward third of your chair or on a cushion on the floor.
3. Straighten and extend your spine, keeping it naturally upright,
centering your balance in the lower abdomen.
4. Keep your shoulders straight and chest open.
5. Tuck your chin in slightly, keeping your head upright, not leaning
forward, backwards, nor to the side.
6. Keep your eyes lowered to a 45 degree angle, neither fully opened
nor closed, "softly gazing" about 3 feet in front of you.
7. Keep your lips and teeth closed with the tip of the tongue touching
the back of the upper teeth.
8. Place your hands on your lap with the right palm up against the
abdomen, and your left hand (palm up) resting on your right hand,
thumbs touching lightly, forming an oval (the "cosmic mudra.")
9. Take a deep breath, exhale fully, and then take another deep breath.
Then let your breath settle into a natural rhythm.
10. Remain as still as possible, following your breath and return to it
whenever thoughts arise.
11. Practice daily at least 15 minutes or more.
Bankei's teaching was altogether different from Dogen's scholasticism or
the highly structured
Koan system later developed by Hakuin. Although Hakuin also ministered
to the general population of that same era, he considered Bankei's Zen to be
undisciplined and was highly dismissive of it, a position Hakuin's many
followers took. Thus, in memory Bankei became somewhat of a maverick and
an outcast among the Rinzai school, and is the least well-known of the
three great Zenji.
Bankei asked his listeners to forego the mortification of the flesh he
himself had suffered. "It isn't necessary. Just be in the
Unborn."
Some of Bankei's followers felt that Zazen was needed to focus the
attention. "Sit if you want to," the Master shrugged. An
intellectual understanding means nothing, he said. It is enough just to
sit on the floor and be a living Buddha.
Metta
May all beings be happy.
May all beings be safe.
May all beings awaken to the light of their true nature.
May all beings be free.
