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ADZG 1228 ADZG Sunday Morning Dharma Talk by Eishin Nancy Easton The post Genjokoan first appeared on Ancient Dragon Zen Gate.
BRINGING ORDER OUT OF CHAOSIt might be said that the function of the discriminating mind (S. citta), in the most general sense, is to render what is perceived as chaos into what may be perceived as order. Of course, this is not an original idea, and has an associated idea that chaos, as we perceive it, may be thought of as a higher level of order, one that is not accessible to our perception. This idea resonates in both the world of Zen and that of art and design thinking. One would have to speak of a relative degree of order versus a notion of absolute order. However chaotic reality may appear, it is following physical laws that suggest an underlying order that is simply not a respecter of persons, or of the sensibilities of humans. We must come into compliance with reality, rather than expect reality to conform to our expectations or preferences. This, I think, is the fundamental basis of the concept of the “Way” in Taoism, and an underpinning of Zen as it developed in China. However, the Way in Buddhism, as I understand it, is not a hypothesis or theory of objectified reality outside the observer, but exists only in complementary balance with the person. Our observation of perceived order also exhibits relative degrees, or a spectrum from one extreme to another. For example, our house may be a mess inside, but look orderly on the outside, unless we get evicted and our possessions are dumped on the street. If you peer into parked cars on any city street, they will tell you a story about the person who drives them, or lives in them. Some definitely have that lived-in look, while others are pristine, even sterile-seeming, as are some homes. If you have ever seen the French movie, “Mon Oncle,” or “my uncle.” you may remember its satirical take on the super-white, stainless steel interior, and the housewife's gloved approach to maintaining its spotless state. My best friend in high school lived in a home where the floors of the living rooms were covered with shag carpet, which was newly popular in the 1950s, but theirs was brilliant white. We had to remove our shoes to enter the house, which was peculiar to me at the time, but later became second nature after being exposed to the Japanese culture, beginning with the Zen Buddhist Temple of Chicago, in the 1960s. Sensei had us stand at the door with a basket of clean socks to hand to the barefoot hippies coming in off of Halsted Street. In his eyes, they must have appeared as complete barbarians. If you are in someone's home as a guest, you might take a peek in the medicine cabinet. There you will see an indication of the sense of order of your host's mind. (I have never done this, of course; it is very rude.) What is on the shelves, and where, and whether the medicines are outdated, may paint a portrait of how obsessive-compulsive — or happy-go-lucky — your friends may be. Bear in mind that for a couple living together, these issues become instantly, and infinitely, more complicated. Who does what and when, and who is responsible for the resulting mess, becomes entangled in the relationship. Master Dogen, who transplanted what is now called Soto Zen to 13th century Japan from his sojourn in China, used the word katto to identify entanglements, using the analogy of twining vines, like wisteria. This applies not just to the tyranny of possessions and environments, but to the subtle entanglements of relationships themselves. Other examples of refined order, from the human perspective, include such storage-and-retrieval systems as fishing tackle totes and sewing boxes, where the necessity for “a place for everything and everything in its place” determines the efficiency and effectiveness of the endeavor of actually fishing or sewing. I inherited an antique sewing box, with its many spools of colored threads and implements of sewing wonderfully arranged in stunning order, formerly in the control of a friend's grandmother. Somehow my son and daughter, under 5 years old at the time, got into it and turned order into chaos, probably in about 5 minutes, when the array of organization had likely developed over five years or more of grandma's life. There was no way I could put it back in order. Workshops are another example, where attention to the organization and design of the environment can begin to overwhelm the prospect of actually getting anything done. The project of organizing the process can distract our attention from doing the project itself. In the course of organizing my various studio and shop environments over time, I have developed what I call the “Island of Sanity” approach. It took me 50 years or so to learn that table tops are not for storage. I strive to keep the tables clear of any clutter, including tools, even during the process of working. “Clear the decks” is the trope. The “work,” the piece under construction, or a painting, is the only item that is allowed to occupy the table top. I have found that laying tools on the table means that when I need to move the work, the tools often get in the way. So I keep a side table as home for the tools. On the tool table, I keep the various tools in play in a neat array, rather than mindlessly piling them on top of each other. In the hurly-burly of executing a project, the tool table often becomes disorderly. I occasionally reorganize it quickly, so that the tools are side-by-side in a scannable row, not overlapping. This way I can quickly recognize and seize the particular tool I need when I need it. Others have refined these approaches. Allowing a relative degree of perceived chaos in the work environment seems to be a necessary evil. Otherwise, we may be driven to distraction by trying to improve the process, and never finishing the project. What is sometimes called “completion anxiety” may set in. As long as we are working on a project, but have not brought it to conclusion, it can remain forever perfect in our mind's eye. When it is finished, it is just what it is, warts and all: imperfect. Everything is somewhat imperfect; or at best, relatively perfect. In my case, maintaining islands of sanity creates the proper balance for getting things done, with minimal stress on the mind and body. What the particular balance amounts to, and what works best for the individual, seems to be a personal trait. Some people can work efficiently in a virtual pile of clutter; others are highly dependent on a visually uncluttered workspace. Einstein's office — which is preserved intact even today, as a memorial, just as he left it — is said to be an exceptional example of “meaningful clutter.” Whether yours is meaningful, or not, is up to you to determine. Clutter control is a recognized discipline, a known issue in interior design of environments, whether working or living spaces, public or private. The “rising tide of clutter” can overwhelm any space. Just tune into one of the current spate of television shows on hoarding, to see some of the worst-case scenarios. Contrast becomes important in being able to see the shape of a tool, to state another obvious point. Vertical walls for storing tools often consist of white pegboard for this reason. I have learned that I lose my eyeglasses less often if I remember not to place them on a dark surface, into which the dark frames blend and disappear. The inverse is true when retrieving a light-colored object. Dark backgrounds are called for. Along with many of my contemporaries, In the 1960s I experimented with so-called psychedelic or psychotropic drugs. One memorable experience found me sitting in my basement shop, trying in vain to sort various items of hardware into appropriate category designations for storage and retrieval. All items share many characteristics in common with others, and it actually was not clear which were the priorities. For example, many fasteners (of which there are many kinds) may be made of metal, and so “go together,” but are designed to fasten many different materials, such as wood, as opposed to metal. In the case of fasteners, we end up with so many leftover screws, nuts and bolts, et cetera, from our projects, that it becomes a more-and-more time-consuming process just to keep what you may never use in some kind of order. I have seen everything from homemade systems utilizing salvaged glass jars, lids attached to the underside of shelves, allowing the jar to be unscrewed with one hand; to endless aisles suffering from over-choice, and designed systems for storing virtually endless categories, sizes and types of fasteners, in hardware and big-box stores. The world is really too much with us, in these categories. An example from retail, that might not be obvious to the customer, but is well known to the insiders, entails the arrays of shoes at your local shoe store. The stock is usually stored in back, where the various sizes of a given style can be efficiently stacked and retrieved in labeled shoe boxes. The storefront, by contrast, displays all the shoes in their best light, putting our best foot forward, literally. Usually the smaller sizes are displayed, not only because they take less room, but because they are usually more aesthetically pleasing than bigger sizes of the same style and color, vestiges of ancient foot-binding in the East. A little-known fact is that the array has the appearance of more styles and colors than are actually in stock, because the merchandisers display them by style, by color and other attributes: the same shoe will appear in two or more displays throughout the store. As a boy, I used to wonder why my father had so many pairs of shoes in his closet, when I had only one or two. Now I have more shoes than he did, accumulated over time, because the size of my feet stopped changing, and I found different needs, or lack of need, for different types and styles of footwear. Imelda Marcus is the poster girl for this category of disorder, with her 3,000 pairs of shoes. Produce in a grocery store is another example. People generally like to pick over produce, selecting the best ones, leaving the fruits or vegetables that are less appealing in looks, apparent freshness, et cetera. For this reason, pre-packaged produce is a harder sell. This is why we see monstrous stacks of open produce in brightly-lighted bins, in most modern food supermarkets. Which, by the way, are destabilized when 10% are removed. To see, a bit more clearly, how fundamental the process of sorting is to the basic function of perceived order — including storing and retrieving things — try to imagine a contrarian approach, such as displaying books by color, say, or clothing grouped by fabric, rather than size or style. I have witnessed the tendency to over-organize — or organize by inappropriate groupings — in my own efforts to achieve order, in striving to make sense of my environment. One example is that I tend to group and store like things together, such as putting any and all writing pens in the same place. Or I may do the same with my collection of eyeglasses, which has accumulated over time through misplacing, replacing, and rediscovering spectacles. Problem is, I need a writing pen at different places at different times, yet I do not want to have endless writing pens scattered all over the place. I know people who collect fine writing pens, and wonder if it amounts to a compulsion, or a stubborn resistance to the decline of handwriting, in favor of the word processor — with which, incidentally, I am writing this essay, from handwritten notes scrabbled on various sheets of notebook paper, noted when I was away from my desktop. We tend to blame linear thinking as the main culprit behind chaos, and all of this need for — and inability to find, or sustain — order. When we begin to consider that everything we regard as belonging to one category actually belongs to many others — perhaps an infinity of categories, if we parse it finely enough — a kind of insanity or cognitive dissonance, a lack of mental order — begins to come into play. This is, in Zen, or Taoism, the point at which we begin to “confront the mystery,” from the Tao te Ching: Caught by desire, we see only the manifestations;Free from desire, we confront the Mystery. “The one and the many” are indeed like the yen and yang of our discriminating mind. That phenomena and noumenon exist in complementary embrace, or the endless dance of becoming, is not immediately evident, when we are just trying to get through the day. This is why, and how, it becomes important to take a break, and to sit on it for a while. Hopefully, when we stop striving, the immanent order of emptiness underlying the alienating appearance of form will become manifest. But as Master Dogen mentions in Genjokoan, don't look for it to appear in your perception: Do not suppose that what you realize becomes your knowledge, or is grasped by your consciousness; although actualized immediately, the inconceivable may not be apparent. The inconceivable may appear as chaos; the underlying order may not be apparent. Chaos may be embraced as a higher form of order, or an elevated degree of complexity, in which any discernible pattern is elusive; while perceived patterns of order may be similarly interpreted as artificially lower levels of chaos, or higher degrees of superficial simplicity. Upon closer examination, perceived simplicity devolves into the complexity of chaos, e.g. on the subatomic or quantum level; whereas chaotic complexity gives way to serene simplicity. “All things are like this,” to borrow another vintage Dogen-ism; the vacillation is built-in, from duality to nonduality and back. Enjoy the ride.* * * Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Shinjin Larry Little
This dharma talk was given by the Reverend Jay Rinsen Weik Roshi at the Buddhist Temple of Toledo on March 5th, 2023. In this talk Rinsen Roshi discusses Dogen's Genjokoan--zen and the creative process (in tribute to Buddhist jazz musician Wayne Shorter). If you would like to learn more about the Buddhist Temple of Toledo or to make a donation in support of this podcast please visit buddhisttempleoftoledo.org.
This is the sixth (and last) in our monthly series based on the modernized translation of the Genjo Koan, from Jundo's book "The Zen Master's Dance" A Guide to Understanding Dōgen and Who You Are in the Universe. Today a message very appropriate for a good life in this New Year and every day ... Further reading and discussion for this talk are available on the Treeleaf forum: OUR MONTHLY 4-hour Treeleaf ZAZENKAI - A Happy New Year Genjo!!
Rev. Chikyo Ewan Magie's Fall 2023 class on Dogen's Genjokoan (class 6 of 6)
Rev. Chikyo Ewan Magie's Fall 2023 class on Dogen's Genjokoan (class 5 of 6)
A talk given at Berkeley Zen Center on Saturday, November 4th 2023 by Karen Sundheim.
Rev. Chikyo Ewan Magie's Fall 2023 class on Dogen's Genjokoan (class 4 of 6)
Rev. Chikyo Ewan Magie's Fall 2023 class on Dogen's Genjokoan (class 1 of 6)
A talk given at Berkeley Zen Center on Saturday, October 21st 2023 by Hannah Meara.
Rev. Chikyo Ewan Magie's Fall 2023 class on Dogen's Genjokoan (class 2 of 6)
Rev. Chikyo Ewan Magie's Fall 2023 class on Dogen's Genjokoan (class 1 of 6)
Continuing with our discussion of various turning points in living the Zen life, we will examine the Buddhist tradition of “leaving home” to become a mendicant, with its unexamined but intrinsic root question of what, exactly, we mean by “home.” The monastic ideal of “leaving home” is repeatedly praised by Master Dogen in the ordination ceremony known, in Japanese, as “Shukke Tokudo” — which translates as something like “leaving home, sharing the dharma.” In lay householder practice, we do not literally leave home, of course, other than for the occasional extended retreat, or sesshin. But we interpret the meaning as deeply significant, even to the householder. Our true home turns out to be unrelated to geography, or any of the other relative circumstances of existence.We might also question the reality of home-leaving in the life of monastics, as Master Dogen mentions regarding monks of his time (see Shobogenzo Zuimonki). He suggests that some cannot really relinquish their attachment to family, and all that it entails, for the sake of Zen. But it seems a near-prerequisite in order to “hear the true Dharma,” as he puts it in Dogen's Vow (Eiheikosohotsuganmon).Other monks, who are able to relinquish family and home, are not able to let go of their attachment to their body, and good health. They are not willing to put their life on the line, which is, after all, understandable. In this same poem, he quotes Ch'an Master Lungya: “In this life save the body; it is the fruit of many lives.” I take his point to be that an obsession with living a normal life as the scion of a family lineage, at the expense of Zen practice, is ultimately doomed to failure. As a famous analogy has it, family will not accompany you in death. Like other aspects of your life, including health and wellbeing, they will only go as far as the grave. Aging, sickness and death, the three major marks of existence, according to Buddhism, cannot be avoided in the long run. And Zen takes the long view.But the third and most difficult level of monastic non-attachment pointed out by Dogen Zenji, is clinging to our own ideas and opinions, especially regarding all the above. Even monks who can realize the first two levels have difficulty with this last, unable to relinquish, or even to recognize, their erroneous worldview. The monk who can do this most difficult thing has the best chance of waking up during this lifetime. Highest Level of PracticeThis brings up an interesting point, a seeming contradiction, that Dogen does not go into. Achieving this last bit of letting go — of the “ties that bind” — implies letting go of our viewpoints. Including, most notably, those regarding the prior two levels — forgoing a normal lay life of family and friends, marriage, social status, and so on; and further, forsaking our attachment to our own health and, ultimately, our very life. In other words, if we truly let go of all of our own opinions, this would necessarily include any preconceptions we harbor — such as that the most advanced monk or nun is necessarily detached from family and body. Not necessarily. In Zen, we give up our opinions of all such kinds of attachment. It is, after all, natural to be attached to both the body and our family; the distinction lies in the degree to which we are attached to them. This is the heart of the Middle Way.A clear example of this principle is found in pain. We experience some pain in meditation. But we do not immediately react, doing something to make it stop right now. We sink into it a bit more than we usually would, going beyond our comfort zone. In doing so, we have an opportunity to truly experience the “pain” for what it really is. Thus, we may discover that it is not so bad. Although even if we thought that the more extreme dictates of practice may turn out to be life-threatening, we should not shrink from it, according to Dogen. Nothing ventured, nothing gained on a scalable spectrum. Unless we are ale to set aside our preconception that pain = bad, we cannot learn from the experience. This principle then applies to all of our aversions to testy circumstances in life. Aversion is simply the flip side of attachment. Master Dogen's assessment of the levels of commitment of various monks ends with the rare case of one who is able to sunder ties to family, health and life; and, finally, to one's own worldview. This is the highest and truest form of liberation from the random, but seemingly determinative, causes and conditions of our present human birth. But since the last test entails relinquishment of our personal opinion of “all the above,” this should lead to the conclusion that the life of the lay householder is not all that distinct from that of the mendicant monk or nun, at least in any way that really matters in the context of the Great Matter. It is a case of the well-known “distinction without a difference.” If the circumstances of one's lifestyle are only that — circumstance — then by definition, they are not central to living the Zen life.Following on this reasoning, we might propose that the lay person — who is able to relinquish all such opinions, and “succeed to the wisdom of the buddhas” (see Fukanzazengi) — represents the highest possible level of realization. This may explain why it is, in the history of Buddhism and Zen, that such lay persons as Vimalakirti, Emperor Ashoka, Layman Pang, and countless others, are so admired. In spite of having their plates full, constrained by domestic and even governmental duties, they were able to gain profound insight into the Dharma, without renouncing their ordinary life. Not to mention certain monks who were known to flout the norms of monastic life. Of course, you cannot tell the Zen book by its cover, so it is best to appraise only your own practice, and not to judge others, from outward appearances. Contemporary Lay PracticeContemporary lay practice in America is surely vastly different from what it was, and is, in the countries of origin, today as well as in ancient times. My limited understanding suggests that most lay householders practiced dana — generosity — by supporting the monks and nuns of the local orders with offerings of food and material support, including currency and other forms of fungible goods such as metals and fabrics. The community was apparently engaged in other, interactive ways as well. Young children would be sent to the temples and monasteries for training, which probably amounted to finishing schools, including some study of Buddhism. The early monasteries of the East probably evolved into the institutions of higher learning, universities, as they did in the Middle East and in the West, in Europe, for example. But the actual practice of Zen meditation, specifically, was probably not widespread, even in China and Japan. It was, and is, primarily the purview of the monastics Today, however — I think perhaps especially in North and South America, as well as in Western Europe — lay practitioners generally equate Zen practice with meditation. Particularly in the USA, we tend to be do-it-yourselfers. We are not satisfied with second-hand information, and look to direct experience as having its own value, in most everything we do. Thus, Zen training is closely related to apprentice modes of professional training, as in a craft or guild. A novice becomes an apprentice to a master; and eventually a journeyman; finally certified as a master herself. But we must be careful about this idea of becoming a “Zen Master.” We do not master Zen — Zen master us. But only if we allow it. As Master Dogen reminds us in the Genjokoan excerpt from Bendowa, meaning “a talk about the Way,” the first fascicle from his master compilation, Shobogenzo: When buddhas are truly buddhas they do not necessarily notice that they are buddhas. If spiritual awakening is simply awakening to reality, it would not necessarily include taking on a new self-identity as a “buddha.” It might, however, include seeing oneself, as well as others, in a somewhat different light. “Your body and mind, as well as the body and mind of others, drop away” as Dogen assures us in the same teaching. Living the Zen Life TodayWhile we may admire, and hope to emulate, the life of a monk or nun, I believe we in America do not have enough grounding in the reality of that choice, nor in the cultures of the countries of origin, in which Buddhism and Zen originally arose. The choices we have today, in terms of maintaining Zen practice in the midst of life, are surely very different from those of ancient India, for example. Joining the Order meant leaving behind the conventional trappings of society, including family name and caste position, wealth, and so on, though some of Buddha's top disciples seem to have been his blood relatives. The original Order at first included men only, but even during Buddha's lifetime, it expanded to include women. From what I have gathered, any adult from any level of the caste system of the time could join, as long as they were willing to forego the privilege and provenance of their upbringing. This, it seems to me, had to do with renouncing the self, in the conventional sense.This tradition is what Master Dogen, some 1300 years later, referred to as “leaving home,” in laudatory language. Today, we join the community, or Sangha — and can even become ordained as a priest — without literally leaving home in the obvious, outer sense of the phrase. However, when we undergo Shukke Tokudo, lay ordination as a novice priest, the implication is that we leave our ostensible home, in order to find our true home, in universal homelessness.Our True Home: HomelessnessThis homelessness is considered the original, or natural, way of being, and has nothing to do with where we were born, or where we currently dwell, in the geographic sense. Circumstances of our birth, as well as our growing up, our livelihood, and our eventual death, are just that: circumstantial. They are not central to our being, though they may play an inordinate role in shaping our worldview; and, indeed, whether or not we are ever even exposed to the Dharma.This human birth is considered rare in Buddhism, though with nine billion and counting (when I originally wrote this, it was seven billion), it may appear to be so common as to threaten the very survival of the species. By comparison to other life forms, such as insects, we are not even close to predominance on the planet, as measured in biomass. But the disproportionate effect that we as human beings have on the environment amounts to a crisis. We may want to broaden our scope from considerations of our own, personal mortality, to embrace the possibility of extinction of the entire species. There is no greater form of homelessness than to become extinct. ASZC & STO as Collaborative Community Each month, during our Second Sunday Sangha lunch and dialog at ASZC, we discuss issues of how we as individuals can join in the efforts of promoting true community, without compromising our own personal lives as householders and lay Zen people. Matsuoka Roshi predicted, and I concur, that the rebirth of Zen would be seen in America, and that its propagation would be primarily in the form of lay householder practice. He would often remark that “Zen is always contemporary.” That is, we don't have to try too hard to make it contemporary.We have just passed the sixth year anniversary of what might be considered one of the all-time great failures of community, that seen in Charlottesville, Virginia. It recalled to mind the greatest international example of decline of community in Germany, Italy, and later, Japan, which led to WWII. But Charlottesville is only a blip on the screen of the ongoing series of catastrophes, both natural and human, that have plagued the human community since the beginning of recorded history. The latest being the hell on Earth that is Ukraine, courtesy of the Putin regime in Russia. Any serious student of history is not at all surprised by the daily atrocities that we witness on the news. This is human nature in full flower. It is why we aspire to buddha-nature, instead.Now we are in the throes of adolescence, in the growth of the Zen community in America. That there is a lot of confusion wreaked upon this process is to be expected, owing both to quirks of contemporary Western society, and the persistence of myths surrounding the origins of Zen practice in the seminal communities in India, China, Korea, Japan, and the far East. Most of the confusion arises, I think, from the supposed contrasts and apparent contradictions between traditional monastic, and contemporary lay householder, lifestyles. So, as if we need one more thing to worry about, we do not want to become attached to the propagation of Zen as yet another preconceived project in its own right. We are privileged to be exposed to the Dharma, in the most humble sense of the term, and not merely by dint of circumstances of our birth, the source of most social privilege. Let us not miss this opportunity to join with the Zen community, and to serve its members in true collaboration. It is well within our enlightened self-interest to do so.* * * Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Shinjin Larry Little
Rev. Chikyo Ewan Magie's introduction to his Fall 2023 class on Dogen's Genjokoan
In the last segment of UnMind, we touched on the typically fraught turning points in normal life of changing jobs, going through divorce, and becoming empty-nesters when and if the kids finally move out. And if they don't move back in again. They say you should write what you know, so I am living up to that dictum. In this installment we will touch on the traditional “marks” of dukkha: sickness, aging and death, and then turn to the subject of turning points in zazen itself. It is important that as we experience these pivot points in our practice, that we resist the temptation to interpret them negatively, as evidence of failure, and that we persist through thick and thin, assuming and accepting that we are no more in control of the progress of our meditation than we are in control of the pilgrim's progress of our lives. Zen, and zazen, work on subtle and subliminal levels, beyond our control. We should take the advice of the third patriarch in China, and “trust in Mind.” In closing the last passage, we mentioned that the various time-of-life changes that we all go through, if we live long enough, are generally exploited in the service of selling ever-more narrow-niche categories of products and services, including ever-increasing scams inflicted on the unwary. Sickness & DrugsIf you still watch the news on television, you belong to an ever-shrinking segment of the population, and can see this process in extreme. Commercials hawking every kind of cure for every imaginable disorder of body and mind, some truly unimaginable. The firehose of drugs coming out of Big Pharma's pipeline is overwhelming, ostensibly to treat an ever-expanding cascade of illnesses of the aged and infirm, who are typically shown in highly affluent situations, joyfully engaging in cool, strenuous activities in luxurious settings. Each new wonder drug comes with an endless list of side-effects that make the cure sound worse than the illness. It leaves me wondering what they are going to do, when they finally run out of names for the next generation of cure-alls. Expect to see companion drugs designed to treat the endless litany of side-effects. According to a Zen student who works in the industry, and who just happens to be a PhD neuroscientist, most of the new drugs are actually old drugs, in which a single atom of the molecule may have been tweaked, yielding the minimum legal requirement for calling it new. So much for claims of return on investment for multi-million dollar research. Aging & DeathSpeaking of aging, most of the turning-points that we associate with time-of-life — and other transitions in the normal process of “living la vida loca” — are basically attributable to aging. If we did not age, many of these passages would be impossible. Or at least, more of a choice on our part. Death may be the penultimate turning-point in aging. That's right, not the ultimate, but next to it. There is yet another, final turning point, even after death. It is called rebirth. Or its earlier version, reincarnation. In any case, something comes after death. As with divorce, it is tempting to say that if you are against death, don't get born in the first place. Birth is, after all, the leading cause of death. Birth is, we might say, an indeterminate turning-point. What comes after birth depends upon you. In one of the most startling developments regarding cultural coping strategies for these turning-points, I recently came across a news article entitled “Putting the fun in funerals.” I am not making this up. Because you can't make this stuff up. In his teaching titled Genjokoan, which translates something like, “actualizing the fundamental point,” and which seems to touch on nearly everything in life, Master Dogen weighs in on the nature of birth and death, in the process refuting reincarnation: Just as firewood does not return to firewood after it is ash you do not return to birth after deathThis being so, it is an established way in buddha-dharma to deny that birth turns into deathAccordingly birth is understood as no-birthIt is an unshakeable teaching in Buddha's discourse that death does not turn into birthAccordingly death is understood as no-deathBirth is an expression complete this momentDeath is an expression complete this moment Then, with his usual default to concrete examples from the world of Nature: They are like winter and spring You do not call winter the beginning of springNor summer the end of spring Thank you Dogen, for clearing that up. I don't pretend to understand this fully, but then Master Dogen himself does not claim to understand it. He merely lays it out as it is, take it or leave it. Interesting to contemplate that birth does not turn into death: Hallelujah! But wait a minute; death also does not turn into birth. What does that do to our aforementioned concept of rebirth? As usual for vintage Dogen, after he bludgeons us with an uncomfortable truth, he turns to Nature to soften the blow. Some of us, however, would petulantly argue that winter is, indeed, the beginning of spring, and summer its end. The monkey mind is stubborn in all seasons. I find it a particularly compelling expression of Dogen's understanding that he refers to both birth and death as “an expression complete this moment.” It begs the question, “An expression of what?” An expression of lifewould seem the logical answer, but Master Dogen's worldview does not depend upon simple logic. Turning Points in Zen MeditationSpeaking of Dogen, we owe him — big-time — for the point when each of us turned to Zen. If he had not made zazen his cause célébre, we would probably still be smudging ourselves with smoke, engaging in Shamanistic shenanigans, hoping for some kind of revelation. The turning points in zazen are too many to catalog. The Ox-herding Pictures touch on eight or ten of the main ones. I want to mention just a couple that come up frequently. I recognize that you, like me, are not 100% responsible for your short attention span, or your attenuated threshold of patience. Especially if you are in the midst of a turning-point of your own, at the moment. First is comfort-level. To those of you struggling with a critical turning-point in your life — or just the aches and pains, not to mention anxiety, confusion, and generalized angst that can sometimes accompany zazen, and not only at the beginning — it may be cold comfort, but zazen is supposed to be the “comfortable way.” I think the most reasonable rationale for this assertion is that any and every other way of meditation you may take up is at least as uncomfortable, in the long run, at least. It has been my experience, and is my testimony, that there is a turning-point in zazen that comes about, when the posture does actually become comfortable. I can also assure you that it becomes comfortable not only in the physical sense, but that the nattering nabob of the monkey mind finally wears itself out, like a kitten or a puppy dog, and lies down to take a nap. Mental and emotional comfort ensue. Of course, your results may vary, especially with any significant change in your circumstances. That pesky turning-point, again. Eventually, you may even become socially comfortable with zazen. That is, even though your spouse and other family members may not practice Zen, or even bother to understand it; and even though your in-laws insist on making a wedge issue of your devotion to Zen, this is okay with you. You no longer feel the need to explain, let alone to apologize, for doing zazen. Of course, this turning-point may precipitate a turning-point in your relations to the others mentioned. But you may find that you are comfortable with that, too. Another is the plateau effect. After practicing for some time, even over many years, it may begin to dawn on you that it seems that nothing is happening in your meditation any more. Curiouser and curiouser, interesting things that used to pop up from time to time — in the form of creative ideas; resolution of a nagging problem; or cool sensation, vision, or hearing experiences — just aren't happening. It seems clear that Zen isn't working, or else you are not doing it right. You have flat-lined, plateaued. Interestingly enough, Matsuoka Roshi mentioned this, and introduced me to a new Japanese word: cho-da. He said it means a “fall up.” You go along for some time, practicing your little heart out, but are getting nowhere. Nothing seems to be happening. Then, one day, if only you do not give up, you go through a cho-da. You fall up! It may be a small cho-da; it may be a large cho-da. But, you fall up — to the next plateau. A plateau is, by definition, flat. So, once again, just when you thought it was getting good, nothing happening. The good news is you never go back. The bad news is that the plateaus just keep coming. No one knows how many there are. Traditionally, there are said to be three major barriers in Zen. The first is physical, getting beyond your comfort zone to true comfort. The second is said to be sleep. Once you are cozy and comfortable in zazen, naturally, sleep would raise its ugly head. I have not heard what the third barrier is, but I suspect that it would involve some kind of plateau. Perhaps it is simply self-doubt. Matsuoka Roshi pointed out that by far the greatest cohort of Westerners who engage in Zen meditation are those who give up too soon. So if you see yourself in any of these pictures, welcome to the club. If you are uncomfortable in zazen, welcome to that club. If you are plateauing, welcome to the flatliners club. Zen is the most exclusive club in the world. But it is all-inclusive. The only dues it demands of you is everything you have. But the payback is huge. What else can you do that will give you your whole life back? as Matsuoka-Roshi would often ask.
In the last several series of the UnMind podcast, we have been exploring some ways of intentionally bringing Zen practice to bear on various situations and circumstances of daily life in America. By extension these might apply anywhere on the globe today, where revolutionary changes in technology and exploding population growth have taken hold. Again, as Matsuoka Roshi would often say, “Civilization conquers us.” In navigating the deeper waters of Buddhism, this world — including so-called “civilization” — is sometimes referred to as the “Ocean of Samsara.” Samsara is likewise referred to as the “Saha world of Patience,” in that it tries our patience — unrelentingly, and on a daily basis. Just when things seem to be going swimmingly, “Someone is always coming along to take the joy out of life,” as Grandma Nelly would often say. “Saha” is defined on Wikipedia as: It is the place where both good and evil manifests and where beings must exercise patience and endurance (kṣānti). Buddha likened his Dharma teachings to a raft, one that we ride — read: “cling to for dear life!” — sailing across the ocean of Samsara to the “other shore,” Nirvana. There are various turning points in the process of navigating the roiling waters — some positive, some negative — as with everything else in life. Whether they appear as positive or negative is largely a matter of interpretation, of course. The famous Ox-Herding Pictures illustrate various turning points on the Path, generalized to fit most anyone's journey into what I call “The Original Frontier,” the title of my first book on Zen. By the original frontier I mean to point to the frontier of mind, itself. This is the frontier that Shakyamuni Buddha discovered, and entered, some 2500 years ago. It beckons to us still, today. Perhaps the first turning-point in the process of spiritual awakening precedes discovering the hoof-prints of the ox, the first of the ten illustrations. These marks are sometimes interpreted as indicating one's first inkling of the existence of the teaching, or buddha-dharma. The hoofprints resemble brush strokes, the obvious analogy being to the written record, which consisted of scrolls of painted calligraphy in ink in those times. Translation into today's printed book format comprises the medium by which most of us first stumble across buddha-dharma. However, something else — a prior turning-point— has to precede this event. In order to begin the quest for enlightenment, one has to feel that something is missing in their life. Otherwise, why would you even be looking? Master Dogen touches on this in his tract called Genjokoan (“actualizing the fundamental point”): When you first seek dharma you imagine that you are far away from its environsBut dharma is already correctly transmitted you are immediately your original self We are blithely skipping along with our everyday life, fat and happy, when one day it occurs to us: Is that all there is? “What's it all about, Alfie?” However normal our circumstances may seem at the time, and however rich and full our life may appear, there seems to be something that is not quite right, something missing. Matsuoka Roshi emphasized this as the source of our anxiety, uncertainty, and the very unsatisfactoriness of Buddhism's definition of dukkha, or suffering. Everyone feels this dis-ease, and some eventually come to Zen, to find what is missing. Other turning points in life can precipitate a crisis of confidence, one which drives us to Zen in the first place, or makes us question whether Zen is really right for us. Or whether it works at all, for anyone. Let's take a brief look at a few of the more obvious turning-points that come up with some frequency in life. These are FAQs brought up in private interview (J. dokusan) or practice discussion, from time to time. Perhaps you may see yourself in one of these pictures. Changing JobsOne of the most stressful turning-points that many people face today, and with ever-increasing frequency, is the need to change jobs. This may come about through a personal decision, or one made by one's employer. Or one's partner may receive an offer they cannot refuse, but it requires moving to another part of the world. In any case, the resultant demand for engaging in a job search, interviewing, and starting the new job, can be fraught and disruptive. Some worry that they can not afford to continue their Zen practice during the transition, either from considerations of availability of time, or from a financial perspective, or both, as a supporting member of the Zen community. These judgments may not be true, or fully thought through, but the pressure feels very real at the time. Zen practice — at home, or in a community — should not really be considered as necessitating an expense of either time or money, certainly not an expensive proposition. Zen is about the middle way between extremes, all about finding and maintaining balance in all things. In this sense, Zen is free. And portable. When going through a job change, or any other stressful turning-point, you may need Zen meditation more than ever. It will help you to make the right choices and decisions, if you allow it. When you get back on your feet, and find yourself in a more stable position — financially and otherwise — there will be plenty of time and wherewithal to support your sangha, and your teacher. You really cannot afford not to continue practicing Zen, and even more so when you are in dire straits. “Zen will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no Zen.” (With apologies to the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers.) DivorceDivorce, along with its true antecedents — unrequited love, unfaithfulness, or irreconcilable differences — is an even bigger bugaboo in today's society than losing your job. Though you might not think so, based on the treatment of divorce in pop media. It is often the theme of comedy; the butt of alimony jokes; a target of shadenfreude; and, in some recently publicized cases, even celebrated — with ceremonies akin to a wedding. Divorce often accompanies, or triggers, a change in employment and residential status as well. They say “bad things come in threes.” It is tempting to suggest that, if you are against divorce, just don't get married in the first place. This may sound less crass, and may make more sense, in the context of the life of monastics. But we do not pretend to be Zen monks or nuns. They surely have their critical turning-points as well. Householders may just have a lot more of them on a daily basis, especially given the complex society of today. I have been divorced once in my short life, and it is no fun. But the situation that led to the divorce was no bed of roses, either. Whatever the circumstances, divorce is definitely a turning-point. Whether it is “for better or worse” (a resonance on the wedding vows), it is, again, your call. If both sides are better off afterwards — as Buddha is said to have said about a “just war” — it may be considered a just divorce. Of course, there are always more than two sides to the dispute. Children often end up as pawns in the game, suffering even more short-term pain and long-term consequences than their parents do. Zen meditation is not a panacea, but can help to adjust to the new reality, even in these dire straits. Empty NestersSpeaking of parenting, there comes a time-of-life phase called “empty-nester,” at which point the rugrats are finally, and permanently (or so we hope) kicked out of the nest. Sometimes divorce follows on the heels of this exodus, and not coincidentally. The parents may keep the failed marriage together long past its shelf life, “for the sake of the children.” They may have decided to have children to “save the marriage” in the first place. In the context of professional market research, based on sociology, I suppose, there are various such “time-of-life” categories, tracing the normal flow of maturation, through biological and culturally-determined changes, from womb to tomb. Like most other models from the soft sciences, these are employed mainly to structure the marketing of goods and services. In the next episode of UnMind we will continue looking at turning points in our life, and how our practice of Zen meditation may help ease the transitions, and mitigate the sense of loss, as we move through the inevitable phases of “time-of-life.” As we witness the evolution of our own life, the evidence of the centrality of the teachings of Buddhism and Zen becomes ever more apparent, and not at all as pessimistic as they may have first appeared to us. The inevitability of aging, sickness and death, interpreted as negative developments in life, is accompanied by an increasing appreciation of their meaning and significance, and the importance of what we do with the opportunity. The good fortune of having been exposed to the Dharma and thereby being enabled to practice Zen and zazen in the context of the passing of time, is the real treasure of the Three Treasures. Please continue in your pursuit of Zen, no matter what stage of life you may be in.
This time, we will be looking at passages of Genjokoan based on the modernized translation from 'THE ZEN MASTER'S DANCE A Guide to Understanding Dōgen and Who You Are in the Universe' in light of our Jukai (Undertaking the Precepts) and Ango (Peaceful Abiding) Season ... Further reading and discussion for this talk are available on the Treeleaf forum: OUR MONTHLY 4-hour Treeleaf ZAZENKAI - Commencing JUKAI & ANGO!
THE WORST-CASE SCENARIO In one of the recent segments of this podcast, titled “What if This is Hell?” I indulged a “what if” conjecture, speculating that this earthly life may not be some kind of test, as many religions conceive of it — wherein those who pass the test go to their reward in heaven, while those who fail are condemned to an eternity in hell — but that this level of existence, if there are levels, may actually be Hell itself, with a capital “H”. I then explored the implications of that supposition. In the last segment, titled “Change the World,” I carried the thread a bit further, issuing a challenge to consider: What would you actually do, if you had the power to change the world? Where would you begin? Unfortunately, these days, everything is subject to being politicized, and even classified as partisan, especially if we dare to be even mildly critical of the status quo. So I want you to indulge me in a huge caveat, here. Please set aside any knee-jerk reactions to read a partisan or political slant into my discussion of the world as I see it, and my fears of where it may be going in the near future. I don't have all the facts at my disposal, needless to say, which places me in the same class as all other current commentators and writers. Nobody has their arms around “the full catastrophe” — thank you, Zorba the Greek. These issues are not merely a matter of political opinion. They may turn out to be not only legal in their impact, but lethal in their unintended consequences. In an early piece, lost somewhere in my ever-expanding archive of prior writings, I made the somewhat specious point that it is not lost on me — that those who are (or have been) most resistant to recognizing the validity of concerns over global warming, or the less threatening label, “climate change”; and those who have been loudest in sounding the alarm about it — tend to be reflective of the two dominant political parties, as currently defined. I am also keenly aware of another correlation, that the former tend to populate the so-called “flyover,” rural areas of the country — let's call them the “Reds” — while the latter are more concentrated in coastal, urban locales — let's call them the “Blues,” in keeping with the tropes of the times, as well as Orwell's characterization of the permanent state of global warfare in 1984, if memory serves, reporting on the battles between “the reds” and “the blues,” with our side constantly winning, of course. Thus, my hopefully ironic point was, if worse comes to worst, and the coastal areas are flooded by rising ocean waters owing to the worst scenarios predicted by the “woke” faction coming true, some may welcome the idea that we will have a truly “red” country from coast to coast, though on a significantly smaller continent, as all of the “blue” coastal cities are now under water. A crude but compelling rendering of one potential consequence of our actions, or inactions, following from our inattention to Mother Nature's mandates. But seriously, folks. Let us assume for the sake of argument that the doomsday predictions — of what are, after all, the majority of scientists around the globe — are for real. The oceans are irreversibly warming, and the ice caps at both poles are melting. The South Pole being the most threatening, apparently being defrosted from underneath by warming Antarctic waters. When those ice cubes fall into the drink, that glass of tea is going to overflow, and quickly. To the tune of a ten-foot rise in the world-around oceans, according to those who do the math. Goodbye New York, LA, San Francisco, San Diego, Jacksonville, Miami, Savannah, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Well, you say, we will just all move inland; head for the hills, the high ground. The interior of the country is not exactly a paradisical refuge these days, what with natural-man-made disasters resulting in losses of crops, diminishing harvests, and resultant general mayhem disrupting country folks' formerly pastoral lifestyle. Any refugees from the coasts will encounter forest fires, drought, flash floods, and geometrically expanding tornados and hurricanes, along with air pollution on steroids. What have historically been labeled as “once-in-a-lifetime,” “500-“ or “1000-year” events may now be annual, seasonal, or monthly, while increasing in magnitude each year Further, in today's divisive political climate, it is anyone's guess whether the “blues” fleeing from the coastal deluge will find themselves welcomed, or confronted, by the “reds” — many of whom are armed to the teeth — as the scarcity of resources increases, and easy access to the necessities of life decreases. Another major concern: major coastal flooding will not only take out major cities, or major parts of them, but will also disrupt the seaports through which much of the commerce of the world flows, including imports of fresh food increasingly shopped and shipped from other countries. The most absurd example of this trend I have heard of had to do with a ship from China, a floating chicken factory, that regularly docks at a port in California to pick up a boatload of live chickens, then sails a wide circle in the ocean while “processing” them, only to return to the same dock and offload the meat. This is somehow more profitable than processing the chickens on the farm. And this is only one example of the international scale and scope of how the world “works” these days. Throw in the possibility of yet another pandemic, with supply lines permanently — not temporarily — disrupted, and you begin to see the dystopian possibilities. In this case, what's a Zen person to do? One suggestion would be to not sweat the small stuff. And its corollary: it's all small stuff. At least, our usual, trivial preoccupations are. Those of you who follow my podcast may recognize the following anecdote, from UnMind #111: “Analysis and Analogy.” Please forgive the redundancy — and the absurdity of quoting myself — but the story has relevancy to our current thread of Design Thinking and Zen, in the dystopian present. It bears repeating one more time. We once had a young man visit the Zen center who had trained with Tony Packer, the heir apparent to Roshi Philip Kapleau, who had famously turned down an offer to take up his mantle, the robe of a transmitted Zen priest. She had published a book on her approach to practicing Zen without calling it Zen, titled “The Work of This Moment” if memory serves, which I asked to borrow from him. One of her main points in the text was to avoid falling into “comparative thinking,” which was exactly what this young man had done. From the first time he joined the meditation sessions, he continually questioned and criticized each and every detail of the protocols we followed at that time. To address his concerns, I invited him to give a guest talk on his opinions, or hers, which was received with the sympathetic skepticism you would expect from a community of folks who had all had similar reservations, as to the protocols of a practice inherited from Japanese and Chinese traditions. I also made up a parable, or analogy, for him to consider. To wit: A monk is travelling through a remote mountain pass late at night, needing to get to the other side of the range. A sudden storm blows up, forcing him to seek shelter. Fortunately, he finds a cave nearby, and settles down to wait out the weather. But as his eyes adjust to the dark of the cave, and his sense of smell adapts to the stale air, he begins to notice the remains of carcasses strewn about the floor. Just as he realizes that he is ensconced in the lair of some kind of beast, and is preparing to make his escape, a large, furry silhouette appears in the entrance, blocking him from leaving. Standing there, shaking in fear, he asks himself: Now, what is the best way to confront this situation: standing flat on my feet, or up on my toes? In a situation like this, the details are clearly not all that relevant, and can even create a distraction from what is, starkly, relevant: the “clear and present danger.” Similarly, in the situation we are now confronting globally, details fall into insignificance. We are left with the question posed by Master Dogen, in Fukanzazengi—Principles of Seated Meditation, when he asks: Now that you know the most important thing in Buddhism, how can you be satisfied with the transient world? Our bodies are like dew on the grass and our lives like a flash of lightning — vanishing in a moment. If you have listened to UnMind #53: “Principles of Zazen,” this will sound familiar and, again, somewhat redundant, but if anything bears repetition, it is Dogen's teaching. What is “the most important thing” in all of Buddhism?; after he has rattled off several pages of things to consider. The same question gets to the point in our present dire straits: what is the most important thing to do about it? How to go about “actualizing the fundamental point,” another Dogenism from his classic Genjokoan. This is the koan of the present moment in history, which may mark the end of history as we know it. The end did not come in 1989, when Francis Fukuyama controversially and prematurely predicted that liberal democracy had triumphed, and in his 1992 book, “The End of History and the Last Man,” fulfilling the earlier vision of Hegel (see link in the post): Hegel had argued that history has a telos or goal – an end point – equivalent to the emergence of a perfectly rational and just state. That state would guarantee the liberty necessary for the full development of all human capacities. At the same time, it would exist in a state of perpetual peace with other – similarly configured – states. Would that it had come to pass, but like all visions of the future — utopian or dystopian — certain determinative factors were left out of the calculation. Just as legal trumps political, no pun intended; natural trumps legal and political. Mother Nature will not be denied, no matter how “evolved” we consider the machinations of humankind to be. We are all complicit, if not equally responsible, for the kettle of hot water in which we find ourselves. The problem of human survival on a global scale is too vast and variable to be amenable to discrete definition, so we are forced to resort to the old trope to “think globally but act locally.” In Buddha's time it was no different, the “act locally” part, that is, but in terms of thinking globally, they did not have the overwhelming glut of information that we “enjoy” today. But Buddha's prescription for addressing the problems of life and society still apply today. Take good care of yourself and those around you. Whatever comes to pass, and however our lives come to their conclusion, there was never any other ending to the story. What matters is what we do about it now. As Matsuoka Roshi would often say, demonstrating the zazen posture, “This is the most you can do.” Zen is a way of action. If you get straight with yourself on the cushion — your life, your death — you will more likely know what to do, and when to do it, off the cushion. Don't look to me, or anyone else, for specifics, but “Be a light unto yourself.” Spread the word. ZEN VERSUS DAILY LIFE 7Worst CaseWe have lived to seeThe worst-case scenarioLet us sit it out. THE WORST-CASE SCENARIO In one of the recent segments of this podcast, titled “What if This is Hell?” I indulged a “what if” conjecture, speculating that this earthly life may not be some kind of test, as many religions conceive of it — wherein those who pass the test go to their reward in heaven, while those who fail are condemned to an eternity in hell — but that this level of existence, if there are levels, may actually be Hell itself, with a capital “H”. I then explored the implications of that supposition. In the last segment, titled “Change the World,” I carried the thread a bit further, issuing a challenge to consider: What would you actually do, if you had the power to change the world? Where would you begin? Unfortunately, these days, everything is subject to being politicized, and even classified as partisan, especially if we dare to be even mildly critical of the status quo. So I want you to indulge me in a huge caveat, here. Please set aside any knee-jerk reactions to read a partisan or political slant into my discussion of the world as I see it, and my fears of where it may be going in the near future. I don't have all the facts at my disposal, needless to say, which places me in the same class as all other current commentators and writers. Nobody has their arms around “the full catastrophe” — thank you, Zorba the Greek. These issues are not merely a matter of political opinion. They may turn out to be not only legal in their impact, but lethal in their unintended consequences. In an early piece, lost somewhere in my ever-expanding archive of prior writings, I made the somewhat specious point that it is not lost on me — that those who are (or have been) most resistant to recognizing the validity of concerns over global warming, or the less threatening label, “climate change”; and those who have been loudest in sounding the alarm about it — tend to be reflective of the two dominant political parties, as currently defined. I am also keenly aware of another correlation, that the former tend to populate the so-called “flyover,” rural areas of the country — let's call them the “Reds” — while the latter are more concentrated in coastal, urban locales — let's call them the “Blues,” in keeping with the tropes of the times, as well as Orwell's characterization of the permanent state of global warfare in 1984, if memory serves, reporting on the battles between “the reds” and “the blues,” with our side constantly winning, of course. Thus, my hopefully ironic point was, if worse comes to worst, and the coastal areas are flooded by rising ocean waters owing to the worst scenarios predicted by the “woke” faction coming true, some may welcome the idea that we will have a truly “red” country from coast to coast, though on a significantly smaller continent, as all of the “blue” coastal cities are now under water. A crude but compelling rendering of one potential consequence of our actions, or inactions, following from our inattention to Mother Nature's mandates. But seriously, folks. Let us assume for the sake of argument that the doomsday predictions — of what are, after all, the majority of scientists around the globe — are for real. The oceans are irreversibly warming, and the ice caps at both poles are melting. The South Pole being the most threatening, apparently being defrosted from underneath by warming Antarctic waters. When those ice cubes fall into the drink, that glass of tea is going to overflow, and quickly. To the tune of a ten-foot rise in the world-around oceans, according to those who do the math. Goodbye New York, LA, San Francisco, San Diego, Jacksonville, Miami, Savannah, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Well, you say, we will just all move inland; head for the hills, the high ground. The interior of the country is not exactly a paradisical refuge these days, what with natural-man-made disasters resulting in losses of crops, diminishing harvests, and resultant general mayhem disrupting country folks' formerly pastoral lifestyle. Any refugees from the coasts will encounter forest fires, drought, flash floods, and geometrically expanding tornados and hurricanes, along with air pollution on steroids. What have historically been labeled as “once-in-a-lifetime,” “500-“ or “1000-year” events may now be annual, seasonal, or monthly, while increasing in magnitude each year Further, in today's divisive political climate, it is anyone's guess whether the “blues” fleeing from the coastal deluge will find themselves welcomed, or confronted, by the “reds” — many of whom are armed to the teeth — as the scarcity of resources increases, and easy access to the necessities of life decreases. Another major concern: major coastal flooding will not only take out major cities, or major parts of them, but will also disrupt the seaports through which much of the commerce of the world flows, including imports of fresh food increasingly shopped and shipped from other countries. The most absurd example of this trend I have heard of had to do with a ship from China, a floating chicken factory, that regularly docks at a port in California to pick up a boatload of live chickens, then sails a wide circle in the ocean while “processing” them, only to return to the same dock and offload the meat. This is somehow more profitable than processing the chickens on the farm. And this is only one example of the international scale and scope of how the world “works” these days. Throw in the possibility of yet another pandemic, with supply lines permanently — not temporarily — disrupted, and you begin to see the dystopian possibilities. In this case, what's a Zen person to do? One suggestion would be to not sweat the small stuff. And its corollary: it's all small stuff. At least, our usual, trivial preoccupations are. Those of you who follow my podcast may recognize the following anecdote, from UnMind #111: “Analysis and Analogy.” Please forgive the redundancy — and the absurdity of quoting myself — but the story has relevancy to our current thread of Design Thinking and Zen, in the dystopian present. It bears repeating one more time. We once had a young man visit the Zen center who had trained with Tony Packer, the heir apparent to Roshi Philip Kapleau, who had famously turned down an offer to take up his mantle, the robe of a transmitted Zen priest. She had published a book on her approach to practicing Zen without calling it Zen, titled “The Work of This Moment” if memory serves, which I asked to borrow from him. One of her main points in the text was to avoid falling into “comparative thinking,” which was exactly what this young man had done. From the first time he joined the meditation sessions, he continually questioned and criticized each and every detail of the protocols we followed at that time. To address his concerns, I invited him to give a guest talk on his opinions, or hers, which was received with the sympathetic skepticism you would expect from a community of folks who had all had similar reservations, as to the protocols of a practice inherited from Japanese and Chinese traditions. I also made up a parable, or analogy, for him to consider. To wit: A monk is travelling through a remote mountain pass late at night, needing to get to the other side of the range. A sudden storm blows up, forcing him to seek shelter. Fortunately, he finds a cave nearby, and settles down to wait out the weather. But as his eyes adjust to the dark of the cave, and his sense of smell adapts to the stale air, he begins to notice the remains of carcasses strewn about the floor. Just as he realizes that he is ensconced in the lair of some kind of beast, and is preparing to make his escape, a large, furry silhouette appears in the entrance, blocking him from leaving. Standing there, shaking in fear, he asks himself: Now, what is the best way to confront this situation: standing flat on my feet, or up on my toes? In a situation like this, the details are clearly not all that relevant, and can even create a distraction from what is, starkly, relevant: the “clear and present danger.” Similarly, in the situation we are now confronting globally, details fall into insignificance. We are left with the question posed by Master Dogen, in Fukanzazengi—Principles of Seated Meditation, when he asks: Now that you know the most important thing in Buddhism, how can you be satisfied with the transient world? Our bodies are like dew on the grass and our lives like a flash of lightning — vanishing in a moment. If you have listened to UnMind #53: “Principles of Zazen,” this will sound familiar and, again, somewhat redundant, but if anything bears repetition, it is Dogen's teaching. What is “the most important thing” in all of Buddhism?; after he has rattled off several pages of things to consider. The same question gets to the point in our present dire straits: what is the most important thing to do about it? How to go about “actualizing the fundamental point,” another Dogenism from his classic Genjokoan. This is the koan of the present moment in history, which may mark the end of history as we know it. The end did not come in 1989, when Francis Fukuyama controversially and prematurely predicted that liberal democracy had triumphed, and in his 1992 book, “The End of History and the Last Man,” fulfilling the earlier vision of Hegel (see link in the post): Hegel had argued that history has a telos or goal – an end point – equivalent to the emergence of a perfectly rational and just state. That state would guarantee the liberty necessary for the full development of all human capacities. At the same time, it would exist in a state of perpetual peace with other – similarly configured – states. Would that it had come to pass, but like all visions of the future — utopian or dystopian — certain determinative factors were left out of the calculation. Just as legal trumps political, no pun intended; natural trumps legal and political. Mother Nature will not be denied, no matter how “evolved” we consider the machinations of humankind to be. We are all complicit, if not equally responsible, for the kettle of hot water in which we find ourselves. The problem of human survival on a global scale is too vast and variable to be amenable to discrete definition, so we are forced to resort to the old trope to “think globally but act locally.” In Buddha's time it was no different, the “act locally” part, that is, but in terms of thinking globally, they did not have the overwhelming glut of information that we “enjoy” today. But Buddha's prescription for addressing the problems of life and society still apply today. Take good care of yourself and those around you. Whatever comes to pass, and however our lives come to their conclusion, there was never any other ending to the story. What matters is what we do about it now. As Matsuoka Roshi would often say, demonstrating the zazen posture, “This is the most you can do.” Zen is a way of action. If you get straight with yourself on the cushion — your life, your death — you will more likely know what to do, and when to do it, off the cushion. Don't look to me, or anyone else, for specifics, but “Be a light unto yourself.” Spread the word.
Occasionally, JF and Phil do a song swap. Each host chooses a song he loves and shares it with the other, and then they record an episode on it. This time, JF chose to discuss "Jesus, Etc." from Wilco's 2001 album, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, and Phil picked Judee Sill's ethereal "The Kiss," from Heart Food (1973). It was in the zone of Time, in all its strangeness, that the two songs began to resonate with one another. Sill's song is a fated grasping at the eternal that is present even when it eludes us, and "Jesus, Etc." is a leap across time that captures, in jagged shards and signal bursts, the events of the day on which Wilco's album was scheduled to drop: September 11, 2001. Support us on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/weirdstudies) and gain access to Phil's podcast on Wagner's Ring Cycle. Listen to Meredith Michael and Gabriel Lubell's podcast, Cosmophonia (https://cosmophonia.podbean.com/). Download Pierre-Yves Martel's new album, Mer Bleue (https://pierre-yvesmartel.bandcamp.com/album/mer-bleue). Visit the Weird Studies Bookshop (https://bookshop.org/shop/weirdstudies) Find us on Discord (https://discord.com/invite/Jw22CHfGwp) Get the T-shirt design from Cotton Bureau (https://cottonbureau.com/products/can-o-content#/13435958/tee-men-standard-tee-vintage-black-tri-blend-s)! REFERENCES Judee Sill, [“The Kiss”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0feFedDWiQ&abchannel=donmussell12) James Elkins, Pictures and Tears (https://bookshop.org/a/18799/9780415970532) Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys, “Surf's Up” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rur92ArNZKg&ab_channel=TheBeachBoys-Topic) Weird Studies, Episode 148 on “Twin Peaks” (https://www.weirdstudies.com/148) Wilco, “Jesus Etc.” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=efq95Pfqt5U&ab_channel=DaltonRay) Jeff Buckley (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jeff_Buckley), singer-songwriter William Gibson, Forward to Dhalgren (https://bookshop.org/a/18799/9780375706684) L. E. J. Brouwer, Concept of “two-ity” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Intuitionism) Dogen, Genjokoan (https://bookshop.org/a/18799/9780992112912) David Bowie, “Heroes” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXgkuM2NhYI) Philip K. Dick, Valis (https://bookshop.org/a/18799/9780547572413) Weird Studies, Episode 147 “You Must Change Your Life” (https://www.weirdstudies.com/147) Theodore Adorno, Aesthetic Theory (https://bookshop.org/a/18799/9780816618002) James Longley, Iraq in Fragments (https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0492466/) Sam Jones, I am Trying to Break your Heart (https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0327920/) Number Stations (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Numbers_station)
03/25/2023, Kyoshin Wendy Lewis, dharma talk at City Center. The theme of this practice period is Dogen's "To study the Buddha Way is to study the self." This is followed in Genjokoan by "When actualized by myriad things, your body and mind as well as the bodies and minds of others drop away." ... In one sense, women's history is a history of gender definitions.
Rev. Choro Antonaccio, Dharma Talk, Sunday 13 November 2022, Austin Zen Center
Rev. Choro Antonaccio, Dharma Talk, Saturday 12 November 2022, Austin Zen Center
“Showing their backs then their fronts – falling maple leafs.” ~ Ryokan “Resolving the matter of Life and death is of prime importance.” To explore this phrase which is recited
08/20/2022, Kyoshin Wendy Lewis, dharma talk at City Center. In Genjokoan, Dogen further investigates the teaching of The Heart Sutra, especially the dialectical relationship between the relative and the absolute in the context of emptiness. This inquiry is related to how we live in practice-realization.
Danica Shoan Ankele, Senior Monastic and Dharma Holder - Zen Mountain Monastery, New York, Sunday 07/17/2022 - Shoan reflects on what it is that we're doing and why it matters. How does "looking inward", rather than just outward, help us navigate our life? Shoan brings in three "boat parables" to illustrate. From Master Dogen's Genjokoan, Charlotte Joko Beck's "Everyday Zen", and a poem by 17th century Chinese nun Jingnou in "Daughters of Emptiness".
Each Monday, priests from the Dragonfly Sangha lead an evening meditation and offer a brief dharma talk. --- CONNECT --- Learn More: https://www.asksenseitony.com Order Sensei Tony's New Book, The Three Principles of Oneness: How Embodying the Cosmic Perspective Can Liberate Your Life: http://bit.ly/senseitony Subscribe to the Ask Sensei Tony Podcast: https://asksenseitony.podbean.com/ Become a Lion's Gaze Member: http://bit.ly/lionsgaze Visit the Dragonfly Store: https://www.asksenseitony.com/store --- WHO IS SENSEI TONY? --- Anthony Stultz, aka ‘Sensei Tony', is a recognized expert on the practice of Mindfulness. He is the founder and Director of The Dragonfly Sangha (1996), and The Blue Lotus School of Mindfulness Arts (1999). A leader in contemporary spirituality, his works on mindful living have appeared in both popular journals and academic books like Mindful Magazine, Lion's Roar, Buddhadharma, and Engaged Buddhism in the West (2000). He is the author of the award-winning book, Free Your Mind: The Four Directions of an Awakened Life (2007), and his exciting new release, The Three Principles of Oneness: How Embodying The Cosmic Perspective Can Liberate Your Life (2019).
Julie Nelson reflects on Ehei Dogen's distinction between fish and birds (in Genjokoan). (April 14, 2022)
Sunday talk given February 6, 2022. Verse from Dogen Zenji's Genjokoan.
Dharma Talk By Dosho given in 2016 regarding The first fascicle in Dogen Zenji's Shobogenzo entitled Genjokoan
2021-12-05 Dharma Talk | Genjokoan | Ann Lipscomb by Appamada
Who you gonna call?Where you gonna look for it?Look in the mirror!* * *Stepping out of the Soto Zen lineage, we want to pay our respects to one of the great masters of the Rinzai lineage, Master Hakuin Ekaku. His life bridged the 17th and 18th centuries, so he was active during the colonial period, dying a few years before the Revolutionary War. A prolific teacher, calligrapher, and no-nonsense practitioner of Zen, he was a big advocate of zazen for his students, and is credited with reviving Rinzai Zen in Japan, established by Myoan Eisai some 600 years earlier, whose successor, Ryonen Myozen, traveled with Dogen Zenji to China, which culminated in Myozen's death in China, and Dogen's establishment of Soto Zen in Japan. Matsuoka Roshi dedicated a chapter of his collected talks to Hakuin's Zazen Wasan — Song of Zazen, his translation differing from the one we will review, which is available online at: Zen Buddhist Order of Hsu Yun.This also happens to be the version that I have set to music, so I am somewhat familiar with it.From the beginning all beings are Buddha.Like water and ice, without water no ice, outside us no Buddhas.That “all beings are Buddha” does not mean that they know it, however. As Master Dogen reminds us in Genjokoan, “When buddhas are truly buddhas, they do not necessarily notice that they are buddhas.” The reference to the differing states of the fundamental element of water — its liquid and solid form — is sometimes used as an analogy to the transformative and morphing quality of our buddha-nature. It can flow into and conform to any vessel, any set of causes and conditions.How near the truth, yet how far we seek.Like one in water crying, “I thirst!”Like the son of a rich man wand'ring poor on this earthwe endlessly circle the six worlds.That we do not know our buddha-nature is the fall from grace, and leads to our pursuit of satisfaction in all the wrong places, and for all the wrong reasons. Like the monk or nun who carries the wish-fulfilling mani jewel sewn into the hem of the robe, we run around like chickens with their heads off, when what we are looking for has been right here, right now, all along. What a pity. The “six worlds” are the Buddhist cosmological realms, from Tusita heaven as the highest, to Avici hell as the lowest. So this indicates that this mindless pursuit transcends any one lifetime.The cause of our sorrow is ego delusion.From dark path to dark path we've wandered in darkness,how can we be freed from the wheel of samsara?The primary delusion afflicting us, according to Buddhism, is that of the imputed or constructed self, which is not quite identical with the contemporary concept of ego, I think. The “self” questioned in Zen is not merely a psychological construction, but the physical body as well as the mind. Thus, in Master Dogen's shinjin datsuraku, dropping off of body-mind, the emptiness at the heart of corporeal existence is not just a concept, either, but the dynamic reality of ever-changing impermanence. The dark paths would include those based on superstitions, myth, and beliefs. They are dark, not because they are evil, but because ultimately they shed no light on reality. The version I am most familiar with translates the last line as “how can we be free of birth and death?” It begs the question, how would we even know that we want to be free of this cycle of life, “samsara.” Do we really know the alternative?The gateway to freedom is zazen Samadhi.Beyond exaltation, beyond all our praises the pure Mahayana.Here, Hakuin is talking about true freedom — including, I would suggest, freedom from the concept of getting free from birth and death. This would be contrary to the Bodhisattva vow to save all others, the operative dimension of Mahayana, the “greater vehicle.” Like the traditional American gospel song, “This train is bound for glory,” you are either on this bus or not. In Buddhism, we leave no one behind. We commit to returning to this battleground as long as necessary to bring our brothers and sisters home.Observing the Precepts, Repentance and Giving,the countless good deeds and the Way of Right Living, all come from zazen.As Master Dogen similarly reminds us, “What Precept is not fulfilled in zazen?” And “Without engaging in incense offering, bowing, chanting Buddha's name, repentance or reading scriptures, you should just wholeheartedly sit, and thus drop away body and mind.” All of the protocols and implications that are characteristic of the Buddhist worldview and lifestyle stem from this central practice, just sitting still enough, for long enough, and letting go of all attachments, including those to our body and mind.Thus one true Samadhi extinguishes evils.It purifies karma, dissolving obstructions.Then where are the dark paths to lead us astray?The Pure Lotus Land is not far away.This original self, discovered, or uncovered, in deep zazen, is the only true Samadhi — complete and natural balance within the physical, emotional, mental and social realms. We typically shy away from absolutist terms such as “evils,” substituting confusions or delusions, those frailties, follies and foibles to which we are generally vulnerable. Purifying our karma may seem indefensible as a claim, until we remember that purity in Zen has the connotation of nonduality. If we are resistant to the consequences of our actions, we defile our own karma, and create further obstructions. If we embrace it, we may see the light at the end of the tunnel. The “Pure Lotus Land” is, again, not “pure” in any absolute sense, or morally distinct from samsara, but is the other shore of nirvana coming to us, as Dogen promises. Our charge, our practice, is to see through the delusion of samsara, to the underlying reality of nirvana.Hearing this truth, heart humble and grateful.To praise and embrace it, to practice its Wisdom,brings unending blessings, bring mountains of merit.“Hearing this truth” does not naively imply that simply hearing words pointing to it will do the trick. We must vow to “hear the true Dharma,” as Master Dogen exhorts us to do in his famous vow. A natural state of humility and gratitude accompanies and informs this process. To put it into practice, fully embracing it and praising it, to oneself and others, entails the recognition of “unending blessings” and “mountains of merit” built into existence itself. Our practice, however worthy, does not create it.And if we turn inward and prove our True Nature, thatTrue Self is no-self, our own self is no-self, we go beyond ego and past clever words.Then the gate to the oneness of cause-and-effect is thrown open.Not two and not three, straight ahead runs the Way.Turning “inward” seemingly contradicts a saying attributed to Hakuin Zenji, whose writing is unusually descriptive for the Zen canon, where he asserted that there is no inside and/or outside, something like that. But we have to assume that the great master was perfectly capable of expressing himself on both relative and absolute levels. And zazen, it must be admitted, at least begins with a turning away from other distractions, and to that degree, turning “inward.” Wherein, of course, the rabbit hole we go down ends up coming out on the other side, or back where we started. Like a living Klein bottle.Here he affirms, and reconfirms, that our “True Self is no-self,” hyphenated, so as to indicate an innate state, rather than an outright denial of self. No-self would then capture the emptiness that is at the heart of our so-called own self, as it is for everything else. This is going past any self-identification, or ego, no matter how sophisticated or clever our attributions. Here, the “oneness” of cause-and-effect, again hyphenated, I think indicates his understanding that they are not-two, as we heard in the poem Hsinhsinming — Trust in Mind, of the third ancestor in China. “Straight ahead” is the “Moving forward is not a matter of far or near” of Master Kisen's Sandokai — Harmony of Difference and Sameness.Our form now being no-form, in going and returning we never leave home.Our thought now being no-thought, our dancing and songs are the Voice of the Dharma.Form is the first of the five skandhas, or aggregates, of sentient existence. It is the space in which we all begin practicing zazen. But eventually, the boundaries of our own form become fuzzy, to the point of joining us to — rather than separating us from — everything else. When sensation sets in, it overtakes form, much as energy trumps matter. Segueing through the skandha of thought, impulse, and even, eventually, consciousness itself, it becomes clear that the whole enchilada is nothing more than the Dharma. Whatever we say and do expounds the buddha-dharma, whether we know it or not.How vast is the heaven of boundless Samadhi!How bright and transparent the moonlight of wisdom!Here are Hakuin's descriptive powers in full flower. Elsewhere I have read that, walking without a lantern on a dark, moonless night (remembering that there were no city lights in those days), if the surrounding darkness suddenly is infused with what seems to be moonlight, enlightenment is near. Matsuoka Roshi made the startling declaration that, “The light by which you see things comes from you!” Buddha was said to have told his students, after praising them for their progress in meditation, “But your minds have not yet begun to shine.” The moonlight brightening the night earth has long symbolized enlightenment.What is there outside us? What is there we lack?Nirvana is openly shown to our eyes.Here is the inside-outside illusion again, expressed as the all-inclusive “don't know,” “not-two” Mind of Zen. “Nothing lacking, and nothing in excess.” That this is the much-vaunted Nirvana relieves us of any notion that we have to go elsewhere, somewhere special, to find it. This is how the other shore comes to us, as promised by Master Dogen. There is no secret anywhere, no trick up the Masters' sleeves.This earth where we stand is the pure lotus land!And this very body, the body of Buddha.The “pure lotus land,” here not capitalized, perhaps intentionally, is nothing more than this very planet, that is our contemporaneous, and temporary, home. Again, not an imaginary paradise in some other dimension, an afterlife. This life, and this body, if we are to believe the great master, is the only true life and body of Buddha. It is only that we have to wake up to this truth. That is, we have to die to the limited self, with its attachment to body and mind as conceived, in order to be reborn in our original body, which is our true life, and our true home. “Outside us, no Buddhas. Like water and ice, without water, no ice.” This is already true, according to Zen, so all we have to do is to realize it.* * *Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell
What is it, really —this so-called upright sitting?It's your everything.* * *Possibly the briefest of all of Master Dogen's written teachings, Zazenshin is his rewrite of a poem he found in China, as was his initial tract on the principles of seated meditation, Fukanzazengi. The title means something like “Acupuncture Needle for Zazen,” or the shorter “Lancet of Zazen” I have chosen. Something sharp, in other words, that can cut or penetrate to the heart of the matter. In this case, the “Great Matter,” as it is called. In Japan in 1987, I had the good fortune to have acupuncture — needles, electricity and all — performed upon my back. As our Japanese host promised, it made me feel “light.”The essential-function of buddhas, and the functioning-essence of ancestors; Being actualized within non-thinking; Being manifested within non-interacting.Here again, as in the last segment where we covered his Vow, Dogen never mentions it — zazen — even once. But we all know what he is talking about. It — zazen — is the essential function of all buddhas of past, future, and present. You might suggest that their function is to teach Buddhism, to transmit the dharma to the great unwashed masses. But the singular, effective, and only way to do so is through zazen. Not only do they need to impress upon others the central need for them to practice this “excellent method,” as Master Dogen refers to it, but they need to do it themselves, before they can have any idea of why others must be encouraged to sit, or to have any street cred for promoting the practice. It is what buddhas do. It is how buddhas become buddha, awakened. Otherwise, no buddhas.How this comes about is that it begins with “non-thinking.” We return to our natural state of non-thinking, that is. There is nothing automatic about thinking. It has to be learned, just like language. But long before we learn to think, we are already fully conscious. Consciousness does not rely on thinking. Thinking may come and go, but it is not fundamental to awareness. It doesn't hurt, but it can get in the way of direct intuition. We can think that something is real when it is not, for example, and that what is real, is not. We can tell when we are thinking, or when we have been, for a minute. And we can tell when we have not, just the moment before. As soon as we recognize this, of course, we are back to thinking. Non-thinking is neither thinking nor not-thinking. It is that awareness that can be aware of thinking, but is not dependent upon it. It can also be aware of non-thinking, without having to think about it. But simply returning to a childlike state of non-thinking awareness is not Zen's comprehensive insight.Insight into deeper levels of reality — the nondual side of things — is broadly considered the “effect” of meditation, one of many, but cannot be attributed to meditation as its cause, as in linear causality. It is difficult, but not impossible, for individuals to experience profound insight without the prerequisite of zazen. Sixth ancestor in China, Huineng, is the standout historical exemplar of this phenomenon. Most of us have to spend considerable time in zazen, just to cut through the clutter of our own opinions about it. It being zazen, and everything else we might think about reality.This insight is not manifested simply in non-thinking, however. According to Dogen, it manifests in “non-interacting.” A line from one of the Ch'an poems we have examined claims that “All the senses interact and do not interact; interacting they are linked together; non-interacting, each keeps its place.” We look at them as a Venn diagram, overlapping, as in synesthesia. If we come to experience non-thinking as our new normal, intellectual state of mind, we can begin to apprehend non-interacting as an even deeper, intuitive state of merging of the senses, and all that that entails for consciousness itself. If non-thinking, or the embrace of it, is a prerequisite, then non-interacting in general, i.e. in the sensory realm, can be conceived as the next level down the rabbit-hole. This investigation can be understood as a kind of deep and all-inclusive process of profound sensory adaptation. Sitting still enough for long enough, everything adapts, or neutralizes. This is non-interacting on a granular level, so to speak.Being actualized within non-thinking, the actualization is by nature intimate. Being manifested within non-interacting, the manifestation is itself verification.Master Dogen further unfolds the last two lines of the prior stanza, like flower petals opening to reveal the interior of the blossom. If we can accept that it — zazen and its effect — is most naturally actualized within this primordial state of non-thinking, then we can further embrace the idea that this revelation is by nature “intimate.” Here Dogen means, as usual for him, intimate in both temporal and spatial modes. That is, we are awakening to what we already are — nothing is changing — but it is so close in time and space, like the water to the fish, that we cannot really share it with anyone else. We cannot even separate our “self” from “it.” This is Uchiyama Roshi's “Self selfing self,” Okumura Roshi's translation.When we penetrate to the depths of consciousness itself, encountering the stillness that resides at the heart of motion there, the non-interacting manifested therein is itself the verification of our exploration. We have discovered the Original Frontier™ of mind that Buddha pioneered 2500 years ago. We have found the territory for which Dogen is laying out the map.The actualization that is by nature intimate never has defilement. The manifestation that is by nature verification never has distinction between Absolute and Relative.It becomes clear that this new landscape has never been defiled, and cannot be reduced to ordinary understanding, Zen's special meaning of defilement. In it, we verify that there has never been any distinction between absolute and relative, a hallmark of the world of linear logic we have left far behind.The Intimacy without defilement is dropping off without relying on anything. Verification beyond distinction between Absolute and Relative is making effort without aiming at it.Again unfolding the deeper meaning of the prior lines, Dogen reveals that this personal insight, one that cannot be shared with others, nor reduced to common understanding, is experienced as the “dropping off” of the imputed body-mind of one's self, as well as of that of others, as we first encountered in his Genjokoan. This cannot be done intentionally, and can happen only in a context of not “relying on anything,” i.e. not being able to rely upon the usual tricks and dodges we employ in confronting the various vagaries and vicissitudes of daily life. All such gimmicks must be left behind at this remove, on the cushion.This verification, in which absolute and relative truths find no foothold — and that, again, can occur, but we cannot force it — is reduced to simply making effort without aiming at it, again, on the cushion. We continue to make effort as in the beginning of our meditation, when as a novice, the physical world of form, the body and its resistance to sitting still for long, was the first barrier. Then, as the posture became comfortable, emotional and mental distress may have set in, perhaps accompanied by the social stressors of family and friends who do not meditate, and do not understand why we do. When we run out of explanations, even to ourselves, we still have no choice but to continue. We are no longer aiming at anything that we can articulate, but we are still making the effort. It is not rational at this point.The water is clear to the earth — a fish is swimming like a fish. The sky is vast and extends to the heavens — a bird is flying like a bird.But like a refreshing, cool breeze, or a summer rain on a hot day, Master Dogen assures us that all is well. Zazen should be the comfortable way, the posture more like a refreshing stretch, and the breath like a sigh of relief. This is perfectly natural, like a fish swimming like a fish, or a bird flying like a bird. We are just sitting, like a person sitting. The water becomes clear, and the sky vast, extending to the heavens. The “vast emptiness, nothing holy” of Bodhidharma's expression of spiritual truth to emperor Wu opens up before us. When we are asked why we do what we do, i.e. zazen — or even who it is answering the question — we can honestly say, with Bodhidharma and Dogen, and with a sense of putting our burden down, “Don't know.” Nobody really knows, not even Buddha.* * *Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell
Oh, self-fulfilling!What samadhi is that, now?It is the real one.* * *Master Dogen's written record is so extensive that it is difficult to select representative teachings, but also impossible to cover them all. The two we have reviewed so far, Fukanzazengi and Genjokoan, are recognized as basic to his message. I feel that this segment's focus, Jijuyuzammai (Self-fulfilling Samadhi), is as well. Both terms in the title, “self-fulfilling,” and “samadhi,” require some explanation. I interpret the “self-fulfilling” part not as meaning fulfilling the self as we usually conceive it — the false, or constructed self — but that the samadhi discovered in zazen is self-actuating and, therefore, self-fulfilling. In other words, we do not make this happen through our effort, but it is there, waiting for us to uncover it.Samadhi is interpreted in many ways in Zen literature. It is unfortunately sometimes wielded as mystical, in-group jargon, as if the author understands it, ostensibly from experience, while you, the reader, do not. This reinforces the kind of us-and-them-ism far too prevalent in our culture. We are called upon to de-mystify Zen, including such jargon. Samadhi is often rendered as “centered,” and/or “balanced.” That seems a sufficiently useful definition, if considered in multiple dimensions — physical, emotional, mental, and even social, balance — comes from Zen. Dogen begins by credentialing his thesis:Now all ancestors and all buddhas who uphold Buddhadharma have made it the true path of enlightenment to sit upright, practicing in the midst of self-fulfilling Samadhi. Those who attained enlightenment in India and China followed this way.In other words, we are not just making this stuff up as we go along. All the great masters you may have heard and read about, revered, and tried to understand, their teachings — including Buddha himself — did exactly as we are doing. They all sat in upright meditation as their central practice.It was done so because teachers and disciples personally transmitted this excellent method as the essence of the teaching.So all the many thousands of teachings in Buddhism that we may choose to study, also stem from this method of zazen. Verbal teachings, as such, do not transmit the essential matter, but simply point at it. Upright sitting — still enough, for long enough — eventually reveals the “essence of the teaching.”In the authentic tradition of our teaching, it is said that this directly transmitted, straightforward Buddhadharma is the unsurpassable of the unsurpassable.All other schools of teaching, bodies of knowledge, philosophical views and practical instructions, take second place, at best. Buddha's tongue is said to be long and broad. The “directly transmitted, straightforward” Buddhadharma is universal, and all-inclusive. The phrase “authentic tradition” implies that there must be traditions that are not authentic, such as competing approaches of other schools. As we heard from Master Tozan, “Whether teachings and approaches are mastered or not, reality constantly flows.” Zazen is the instrument we use to focus like a laser beam on our immediate reality.From the first time you meet a master — without engaging in incense offering, bowing, chanting Buddha's name, repentance, or reading scriptures — you should just wholeheartedly sit, and thus drop away body and mind.Likewise all other practices — usually considered intrinsic to Buddhism — are second in priority to practice-experience in zazen, under the supervision of a true teacher. Such rituals are not absolutely necessary for us as individuals, though helpful, especially within a community. Dogen himself followed these forms. But we do not need to be overly distracted by concerns regarding social forms. If you have not yet met a true teacher, repetition of ritual may support you in your practice, until you do. These routines are meant to be personally supportive psychologically, and to promote harmony in the community.Completely eliminating traditional so-called “Asian” protocols surrounding meditation — which some Americans have suggested — will only result in substituting new rituals in their place. The main point the master is making, of course, is his johnny-one-note insistence on sitting in zazen, with the emphasis on wholehearted effort. Dropping away body and mind, however, does not sound like a desirable goal, even if we could understand what Master Dogen means by it.When even for a moment you express the Buddha's seal in the three actions by sitting upright in Samadhi, the whole phenomenal world becomes the Buddha's seal, and the entire sky turns into enlightenment.Now we're talkin'. This is sounding a lot more attractive. There is nothing outside this realization, and nothing that can keep you from it, if only you do not give up on zazen. While not a causality, this is at least a correlation that we can draw, with confidence. The corollary would be that if you are not sitting upright in samadhi, chances are, such a transformation will elude you. And the bonus is that it does not take any time at all, actually. In Dogen's effusive description, our world is utterly transformed, in the blink of an eye. The “three actions,” incidentally, are those of body, mouth, and mind. Just so you know.Because of this all buddha tathagatas, as the original source, increase their Dharma bliss, and renew their magnificence in the awakening of the Way.Here Dogen claims an explicit causal connection, which suggests a kind of magical thinking. But when you realize that the “buddha tathagatas” are merely your and my original natures, it comes full circle. These indicate traditionally cosmic or celestial beings, as they are manifested in you and me.Furthermore, all beings in the ten directions and the six realms, including the three lower realms, at once obtain pure body and mind, realize the state of great emancipation, and manifest the original face.Next comes everybody else. The “ten directions” are the cosmological dimensions, eight horizontal and two vertical: the apex over your head, the nadir beneath your feet. The “six realms” indicate traditional categories of sentient beings, with human beings in the middle, the titans or angry gods next level “up,” and the denizens of Tusita heaven at the top. Just below us, the hell realms of the “lower” animals and insects, then the hungry ghosts, and at bottom, the Avici hells. These heavens and hells are not conceived as actual places, but realms of our own making.Our personal emancipation in Zen is all-inclusive, of all beings, as Buddha himself reported. We only imagine their bondage, of course, but our imaginations are powerful. “Pure body and mind” is not a reference to morality, and is not really obtainable, but describes our original, nondual state. Purity is a lack of confusion about the relationship of so-called duality to its nonidentical twin, nonduality. The “state of great emancipation” is the true state of our existence, but we bind ourselves to our own misguided opinions. Realizing that this is a kind of cosmic category error is the first step toward true liberation. The “original face” is the only face we can manifest, actually. But Dogen is talking about realizing this, not simply knowing it to be true.At this time, all things realize correct awakening; myriad objects partake of the buddha body; and sitting upright under the bodhi tree, you immediately leap beyond the boundary of awakening.Even the many seemingly inanimate and insentient objects, are not as they appear. They, too, are part of the whole buddha-body. You find yourself back in reality, for the first time in memory, crossing the boundary of the “Original Frontier™” along with all other beings, plus the ten thousand things. Returning to our original buddha-body, and re-entering real time and space, our true home. Yet, having never left.At this moment you turn the Dharma wheel, and expound the profound wisdom, ultimate and unconditioned.You yourself manifest and expound the true teaching without error, or ceasing; dwelling in the ultimate, “eternal moment,” beyond conditions.Because such broad awakening resonates back to you, and helps you inconceivably, you will, in zazen, unmistakably drop off body and mind, cutting off the various defiled thoughts from the past, and realize the essential Buddhadharma.Like an echo bouncing back from the distant valley, this awakening is a guaranteed slam-dunk, in which the apparent separation of self and other appears as it really is. You find yourself not at all alone, and not at all confused, in any negative sense. Clarity is not separate from confusion, and manifests as wonder, or awe. The “essential Buddhadharma” suggests that some Buddhadharma may not be as essential as this direct insight. Along with negative habitual thoughts, even your prior understanding of Dharma may constitute the “various defiled thoughts” that have bedeviled you in the past.Thus you will raise up buddha activity at innumerable practice places of buddha tathagatas everywhere, cause everyone to have the opportunity of ongoing buddhahood, and vigorously uplift the ongoing Buddhadharma.Buddha activity may be ongoing, but it is not raised up, unless and until we make the effort. This is effort without aiming at it, returning to the reality that precedes activity. In doing so, we benefit ourselves and others, a distinction without a difference. This is the bodhisattva vow.Because earth, grass, trees, walls, tiles and pebbles all engage in buddha activity, those who receive the benefit of wind and water caused by them, are inconceivably helped by the Buddha's guidance, splendid and unthinkable, and awaken intimately to themselves.The ten-thousand things are all manifesting this activity of awakening, moment by moment, the four elements and fundamental forces included, inherent in nature as well as our bodies. The buddha's guidance is innate, and not a mystical emanation from a separate spirit, or spooky action at a distance. Awakening intimately to ourselves is all-encompassing, and simultaneously intimate.Those who receive these water and fire benefits spread the Buddha's guidance, based on original awakening.Receiving the elemental benefits of this practice directly, recognized as compassion of the universe for allowing our very being, is the only real merit. It cannot be accumulated, but can be shared, once we awaken to it. This awakening is original to the individual, and simultaneously the Buddha's awakening.Because of this, all those who live with you and speak with you will obtain endless buddha virtue, and will unroll widely, inside and outside of the entire universe, the endless, unremitting, unthinkable, unnameable Buddhadharma.If you have original awakening, it will have a ripple effect on those around you. But only if you take the necessary action of sharing it with others. This means entering into the realm of skillful or expedient means, which are designed and intended to fit the recipient of the teaching. Communication is the message received, not the message sent. It all depends upon the sincerity of the aspiring student, as well as the genuineness of the teacher's insight. Correctly transmitted, it empowers others to accede to the same wisdom. As a force of nature, it is endless and unremitting, yet remains unthinkable and unnameable. Not your usual topic of discussion at cocktail parties.In the next segment we will continue with the second half of Jijuyuzammai, where Master Dogen continues his exposition of “buddha activity,” and goes into some of the caveats around misinterpreting his message so far. Please join when convenient for you. And do not hesitate to contact me with any questions or comments.* * *Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell
Is enlightenmentdewdrops reflecting the moon —or is it your mind?* * *Following upon Master Dogen's stunning simile of firewood and ash, and his pointed comments on birth and death, we turn to his famous “moon in a dewdrop” stanzas on enlightenment itself:Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water: the moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken.Although its light is wide and great, the moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide.The whole moon, and the entire sky, are reflected in dewdrops on the grass, or even in one drop of water.Enlightenment does not divide you, just as the moon does not break the water.You cannot hinder enlightenment, just as a drop of water does not hinder the moon in the sky.The depth of the drop is the height of the moon.Each reflection, however long or short its duration, manifests the vastness of the dewdrop, and realizes the limitlessness of the moonlight in the sky.Whether we are living in apocalyptic, or merely interesting, times, the promise of enlightenment still beckons. Like the moon on the water, nothing changes. Except everything, including the relative size and scale of the moon and the puddle, or the dewdrop. Like Indra's net, the knots collect the drops of water, which all reflect each other, like the cosmos viewed from any vantage point. Somehow the same though different, as Master Kisen reminds us; entirely harmonic. Nothing changes, no new division of the new you and the old you. Insight only reveals the preexistent truth. You cannot hinder this revelation, no matter how rabid your monkey-mind. If not in this lifetime, then in a future one (again, not reincarnation) this is your destiny. The meaning and culmination of life is to wake up fully, to our original and innate Buddha-nature. If any doubt arises, just repeat “the depth of the drop is the height of the moon” as your mantra. The duration of the reflection in time is analogous to the dimension in space, as well as to our lifetime. Remember, Dogen only lived to be 53 years of age. Realizing the limitlessness of the moonlight takes no time at all.When Dharma does not fill your whole body and mind, you think it is already sufficient.When Dharma fills your body and mind, you understand that something is missing.For example, when you sail out in a boat to the middle of an ocean, where no land is in sight, and view the four directions, the ocean looks circular, and does not look any other way.But the ocean is neither round nor square; its features are infinite in variety.It is like a palace. It is like a jewel.It only looks circular as far as you can see at that time.Back to the beginner's mind. Initially, we imagine that we are already “wandering about in the world of enlightenment” as one translation of Fukanzazengi describes it, but we have “almost lost the absolute Way, which is beyond enlightenment itself.” Testifying as one who has been there and done that, the great master asserts that when Dharma does fill you completely, something is obviously missing in this picture. Matsuoka Roshi said that “People go through life with something missing. They come to Zen to find it.” Just because it is missing, however, you do not necessarily know what it is. You only know that it is missing, for sure. You might think of it as “the rest of the story.” Okumura Roshi speaks of this as our “incompleteness.”Master Dogen conjures a lovely vision to help us picture this subtle reality, again derived from his direct experience, perhaps from his sailing to China, a hazardous journey in those times. The way the ocean looks from six feet off the surface is different than it looks to a fish, who lives there, or from 30,000 feet overhead. Then he goes on to make the obvious, seemingly unnecessary point:All things are like this.In other words, our perception and reconstruction of our world as we know it, is necessarily limited. We can see only what we can see, hear only what we can hear, and feel only what we can feel, think only what we can think. But then he introduces the idea of the “eye of practice”:Though there are many features in the dusty world and the world beyond conditions, you see and understand only what your eye of practice can reach.In order to learn the nature of the myriad things, you must know that although they may look round or square, the other features of oceans and mountains are infinite in variety: whole worlds are there.It is so not only around you, but also directly beneath your feet; or in a drop of water.The “dusty world” is everyday samsara, the “world beyond conditions” we assume to be the formless of the “three realms” traditional to Buddhism. In any case, “you see and understand only what your eye of practice can reach.”In 1987 I traveled to Japan, and incidentally underwent acupuncture with an aged medical sage, long white beard and all. He performed a cursory physical examination, and then proceeded to list, in Japanese, all the various conditions and potential health issues that I might have, with startling accuracy and comprehensiveness. This was by virtue of his eye of practice. He had seen so many thousands of individuals over his career that he could see things no one else, not similarly trained, could see.Dogen is encouraging us to go beyond the appearance, or form, of things to their true nature, where we find “whole worlds.” This is a much more prosaic statement in the age of electron microscopes, than it was in his time. He arrived at this insight by virtue of his own eye of practice, refined through the intensity of his training in zazen. But this is not something to be found in exotic places; it is directly beneath our feet. Then, with the poet's precision of language, he returns us to — wait for it — “or in a drop of water.” Which provides a neat segue to his next analogy:A fish swims in the ocean, and no matter how far it swims, there is no end to the water.A bird flies in the sky, and no matter how far it flies, there is no end to the air.However, the fish and the bird have never left their elements; when their activity is large, their field is large; when their need is small, their field is small.Thus, each of them totally covers its full range, and each of them totally experiences its realm.If the bird leaves the air, it will die at once. If the fish leaves the water, it will die at once.Know that the water is life, and air is life; the bird is life and the fish is life.Life must be the bird, and life must be the fish.Back to the ocean — for a fish who lives there, it is like an endless palace, as is the sky for a bird. They are in their respective elements. What is our element, as human beings? If we leave it, will we die? Not only the sentient beings, the bird and the fish, are life. Life also manifests as the very water and air we drink and breathe. Must life be us, as it must be the bird, and the fish?It is possible to illustrate this with more analogies:Practice-enlightenment and people are like this.Dogen makes explicit exactly what he is doing — illustrating the difficult to comprehend via analogy. We look forward to hearing how we and practice-enlightenment can be similarly analogized.Now if a bird or a fish tries to reach the end of its element before moving in it, this bird, or this fish, will not find its way or its place.When you find your place where you are practice occurs — actualizing the fundamental point.When you find your way at this moment practice occurs — actualizing the fundamental point.For the place, the way, is neither large nor small, neither yours nor others'.The place, the way, has not carried over from the past, and it is not merely arising now.Accordingly, in the practice-enlightenment of the Buddha way, meeting one thing is mastering it; doing one practice is practicing completely.Here is the place; here the way unfolds.Firstly, like the bird or the fish, if we are unwilling to explore our element, we cannot hope to find our way, or our place. If and when we do, “practice occurs,” actualizing the fundamental point. We might elaborate, saying that practice is something that occurs naturally. It is not something that we do, or indeed, that we can do. “Place” — where you are; and “way” — at this moment; are placeholders, no pun, for spacetime. Your zero axis runs from the crown of your head down through your spinal cord. Mine runs through mine. Your world is yours, and mine is mine. As Matsuoka Roshi would say, “My enlightenment is mine, and yours is yours. I can't get yours, and your can't get mine.” It doesn't belong to anyone, and is not subject to linear time. Thus, whatever is in front of your face, is it. Meeting it is mastering it. This is the one practice, which is complete. Here and now is the unfolding of the Great Way. But then, as is often the case with Dogen, there comes a big “but”:The boundary of realization is not distinct, for the realization comes forth simultaneously with the mastery of Buddha-dharma.Do not suppose that what you realize becomes your knowledge, and is grasped by your consciousness.Although actualized immediately, the inconceivable may not be apparent.Its appearance is beyond your knowledge.So stop looking for it. That is, stop looking for something special to change. What already is, is all the special there is. Like a wet bar of soap, or like our concept of the momentary passing of time, it cannot be grasped. However, it is actualized immediately, but not as the result of something we do. We do not master Buddha-dharma; it masters us. But the resulting realization is simultaneous with that mastery. That the “inconceivable may not be apparent” has to be an all-time, world-class belaboring of the obvious. If inconceivable, how could it be apparent? To illustrate this existential catch-22, Dogen again turns to analogy, but one offered by another old buddha:Zen master Baoche of Mt. Mayu was fanning himself.A monk approached and said: “Master, the nature of wind is permanent, and there is no place it does not reach. Why, then, do you fan yourself?”“Although you understand that the nature of the wind is permanent,” Baoche replied, “you do not understand the meaning of its reaching everywhere.”“What is the meaning of its reaching everywhere?” asked the monk again.The master just kept fanning himself.The monk bowed deeply.Master Dogen exhibits a near-encyclopedic retention of these incidents, quoting them often in his extensive record (Eihei Koroku), spontaneous live teachings documented by his Dharma heirs. The “wind” here probably should be taken as both the literal winds of the atmosphere, but also the fundamental element of movement, which manifests both inside and outside the body, as well as in social and other dimensions, the natural and the universal. Thus the wind is present, whether or not there is any literal wind, and the monk is implying that fanning is, or should be, unnecessary. Mazu's reply, that he does not get the “reaching everywhere” part, is illustrated by continuing to fan himself. This is the nondual, nonseparation of our activities with natural and universal forces.The actualization of the Buddha-dharma, the vital path of its correct transmission, is like this.If you say that you do not need to fan yourself, because the nature of wind is permanent, and you can have wind without fanning, you will understand neither permanence, nor the nature of wind.The nature of wind is permanent; because of that, the wind of the Buddha's housebrings forth the gold of the earth, and makes fragrant the cream of the long river.Buddhadharma, as a force in the world, penetrates all four spheres of existence: the personal, the social, the natural, and the universal. The permanence of the wind seems to contradict the doctrine of impermanence, but impermanence is not a doctrine. Nor is it separable from permanence. The nature of the wind being permanent is analogous to the teaching of dukkha as change. Because there is never any absence of change, change is a permanent attribute of impermanence. No need to tie yourself up in knots over this. We are beset by all kinds of “winds” — as movement, or change, itself. Just as there is no movement without stillness, and vice-versa, the wind of Buddhism blows no one ill. It turns the dross of the natural earth to gold, the symbol of enlightenment, not material goods, as wealth. And makes even the Milky Way a source of fragrant, affirming cream, the nourishment of universal ambrosia.* * *Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell
All things do exist.On the other hand, they don't.Truth is in-between.* * *This is the fascicle Master Dogen reputedly designated as the first for his master work, Shobogenzo, which I understand is a common term, meaning something like “true eye of the Dharma treasury,” used in China for collections of Dharma teachings. Bendowa, which means something like a “talk concerning the Way,” from which this section recited in liturgy is excerpted, titled Genjokoan, roughly meaning the “actualization of the fundamental point,” i.e. of Zen. Scholars and historians can provide greater clarity on the provenance and historicity of these various teachings. Naturally, there is more dependable documentation, the closer we get to present times. But, owing to Zen's emphasis on direct experience, I think that these scholarly aspects of Zen teachings, while important, are not of primary concern for us. The main issue, as I see it, is whether they mean anything to you, in terms of your own practice of zazen. The whole point of Buddhism is to wake up, ourselves.As all things are buddha-dharma, there is delusion and realization, practice, and birth and death; and there are buddhas and sentient beings.As the myriad things are without an abiding self, there is no delusion, no realization, no buddha, no sentient being, no birth and death.The Buddha way is basically leaping clear of the many and the one; thus there are birth and death, delusion and realization, sentient beings and buddhas.Yet in attachment, blossoms fall; and in aversion, weeds spread.So there you have it. First, the relative: Yes, of course, all these things really do exist, in their own way. Then secondly, the absolute: On the other hand, and upon closer examination, they do not exactly exist, as there is no there, there; nothing that truly holds together, for long. But no worries, no need to get bogged down in either extreme, Zen's third way: things do exist in the relative sense, specifically by means of their absolute impermanence. Both things can be true at once. Fourthly, however — and this is akin to the fall from grace — the very things to which we foolish human beings attach continue falling; and the very things that drive us crazy flourish like mad, no matter how much we try to prevent either. Flowers, after all, are weeds we do want; while weeds are flowers we do not want.To carry yourself forward and experience [the] myriad things is delusion; that myriad things come forth and experience themselves is awakening.Those who have great realization of delusion are buddhas; those who are greatly deluded about realization are sentient beings.Further there are those who continue realizing beyond realization; [those] who are in delusion throughout delusionWhen buddhas are truly buddhas they do not necessarily notice that they are buddhas. However, they are actualized buddhas, who go on actualizing buddhas.The classic expression, “the myriad things” — meaning all things in existence, from the smallest particle to the largest astronomical cluster — is likely the way we should take Dogen's meaning. Making definitive statements about “myriad things” without the “the” does not necessarily include all things — there could be exceptions. That all the myriad things “come forth and experience themselves” is similar to Buddha's declaration that all things of the universe were enlightened simultaneously, including himself. What Buddhas realize is delusion; that is, they see the delusion built into awareness. Confusion about this is shared by all sentient beings. Anyone who recovers their buddha-nature is no longer a mere sentient being, but nonetheless, still a sentient being. Buddha means “awake,” so it must be possible to be more awake than usual. This seems pretty obvious. Awakeness, or awareness, like intelligence, must exist on a sliding scale, a spectrum, like everything else. We don't necessarily notice what we actually are, whether Buddha or not. We can have weird ideas about it, of course.When you see forms or hear sounds fully engaging body-and-mind, you grasp things directly; unlike things and their reflections in the mirror, and unlike the moon and its reflection in the water, when one side is illumined, the other side is dark.Seeing forms and hearing sounds represent the whole sensorium, feeling feelings, smelling scents, tasting flavors, thinking concepts all included. This direct grasping of things, however, is not the same as grasping buddhadharma. Both sides are illumined, like reflections, both the item and its reflection are equally illuminated; otherwise, we would not see them. When we see things reflected in the Zen mirror, however, the “other side,” the side we do not see, is dark. The tree that we see clearly in the daylight does not know that it is a tree. From inside the tree, all is dark, though it follows the sun.To study the Buddha way is to study the self;To study the self is to forget the self;To forget the self is to be actualized by [the] myriad things;When actualized by myriad things, your body and mind, as well as the bodies and minds of others, drop away.No trace of realization remains, and this no-trace continues endlessly.Here is the most-quoted stanza of the piece, which I refer to as Dogen's four transitions. Studying the Buddha way, ironically, begins with studying the self, which seems counter to Buddhism's emphasis on selflessness. Eventually we transition to forgetting the self, which necessarily involves engaging with the myriad things; they actually actualize us, not the other way ‘round. This reflects Master Tozan's follow-up to the precious mirror, in which form and reflection behold each other: “You are not it, but in truth it is you.” Curiouser and curiouser. So far so good. But turns out that this forgetting is total. The self, which most of us identify as body and mind, drops away. And as if that is not enough of a whiplash, the bodies and minds of others do so, as well. Twilight Zone. No trace of this realization is to be found anywhere, and that condition is permanent. So what would be the point, if it all gets lost in the ether?When you first seek Dharma,you imagine you are far away from its environs.But Dharma is already correctly transmitted: you are immediately your original self.We approach studying the Buddha Way much like we do any other subject, imagining that somewhere in the literature, or maybe in the foreign lands of origin, we will find the true source. Certainly not in the self, with which we are way too familiar. But Master Dogen assures us that your happiness lies right under your eyes, back in your own back yard. We are already Dharma-holders; we just do not know it. Dogen's use of the term “immediate” I think is special, meaning intimate in time and space.When you ride in a boat and watch the shore, you might assume that the shore is moving.But when you keep your eyes closely on the boat, you can see that the boat moves.Similarly, if you examine [the] myriad things with a confused body and mind, you might suppose that your mind and nature are permanent.[But] When you practice intimately and return to where you are, it will be clear that nothing at all has unchanging self.One of the things I most admire about Dogen is his ability to draw on everyday yet revealing experiences that we all have in common, to illustrate his point. I grew up on a farm near a lake, where we would go fishing and boating, so remember this disorienting event clearly, from many times in a moving boat. It is a matter of where we direct our attention. If you pay attention, you can detect this same, seeming contradiction, when moving from sitting to walking meditation. As you move through the room, it flows through you. The totality of movement sums to zero, one meaning of “mokurai.”A quick editorial note: all punctuation and bracketed insertions are mine, meant to enhance understanding of the text, for instance reinforcing the point about differentiating “myriad things” from “the myriad things.” I think this bears repetition. “Confusion” here means the kind of disorientation that may develop from our misinterpretation of sensory phenomena, amongst the most insidious of which is the impression that our mind and nature are permanent. This is the Atman of Hinduism, the “soul” of most theistic belief systems. It is non-threatening to recognize that the universe, with all its infinite beings may be impermanent, but when the pointing finger turns in our direction, we cringe. Again, if our practice becomes truly intimate, we will see that our “self” is included in this all-inclusive embrace.Firewood becomes ash, and it does not become firewood again.Yet do not suppose that the ash is future and the firewood past.You should understand that firewood abides in the phenomenal expression of firewood, which fully includes past and future, and is independent of past and future.Ash abides in the phenomenal expression of ash, which fully includes future and past.Just as firewood does not become firewood again, after it is ash, you do not return to birth after death.This being so, it is an established way in buddha-dharma to deny that birth turns into death.Accordingly, birth is understood as no-birth.It is an unshakable teaching in Buddha's discourse that death does not turn into birth.Accordingly, death is understood as no-death.Birth is an expression complete this moment.Death is an expression complete this moment.They are like winter and spring: You do not call winter the beginning of spring, nor summer the end of spring.Another poetic analogy derived from the familiar, day-in and day-out reality of living in a time before coal was discovered. When warmth, cooking, metallurgy, et cetera, depended upon the wood-fired hearth. We make a logical, linear connection between the firewood and the ash, with the primal element of fire being the agent of change. In modern times, some would argue that this demonstrates the “arrow of time”: You cannot unburn the firewood. Others would argue that it only demonstrates the irreversibility of natural processes, revealing nothing about the nature of time. Master Dogen points out that in all instances, exemplified by the firewood in one case, the ash in another, the Three Times of Buddhism — past, future and present — are always and only coexistent. Matsuoka Roshi referred to this as the “eternal moment.” Firewood has past, present and future, whether it is burned or not; as does ash.Suddenly, another vintage Dogen whiplash: just as ash does not revert to firewood, you do not revert to an earlier state, birth, after dying. That got real personal, real quick. Dogen's assertion lobbies against popular conceptions of reincarnation. Rebirth, as taught by Buddha, does not make this claim: the one that dies is not the one reborn. Note that both birth and death are “expressions,” but not attributed to anything or anyone. One may say expressions of life itself, I suppose. Death is not opposed to life, but to birth. And both are inflection-points in the continuum of life. Neither somehow magically turns into the other. Thus, and this may be a logical leap, birth is no-birth, or non-birth as another translation has it, and death is non-death. Just as there is thinking, not thinking, and non-thinking, Dogen's coinage. Each is complete in the moment, just like firewood, and ash. Or the seasons. Nowadays, of course, we refer to the annual fire season, hurricane season, or drought, flooding and virus seasons. Pump enough pollution into the atmosphere, and it's “so long” to seasonality. Or “hello” to the end-times.Next time we will continue with Master Dogen's comments upon the nature of enlightenment itself. Stay tuned.* * *Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell
Though not far away,you have to enter the gatefound on your cushion.* * *We have touched on some of the seminal teachings of Zen from the transmission of buddhadharma in India, its migration to China via the mission of Bodhidharma, and three of the teaching poems of Ch'an Buddhism selected for chanting in Soto Zen liturgy. No survey of Soto Zen would be complete without including Japan, and its foremost exponent and founder, Eihei Dogen, Zenji. In spite of his dying at the relatively young age of 53, Master Dogen's prodigious output is intimidating. After being ordained in the Rinzai tradition, and traveling to China in his mid-twenties, where he had great insight under his teacher, Tendo Nyojo, or Rujing, he returned to Japan to introduce this zazen-centered practice.His first written tract, Fukanzazengi — Principles of Seated Meditation, or Universal Guide to Zazen, as the translation below would have it, by Yokoi and Victoria — was apparently produced for the benefit of his students, and at their request. This is the version with which I am most familiar, having set it to music as part of my compendium of musical treatments I call SutraSuite™. In these guidelines, the great master seamlessly weaves practical instructions and profound philosophical teachings together. A sampling of this treatise will be the subject of this segment, with mercifully brief comment.But we should remember that, as with the other “monsters of Zen” in this series, the most we can expect is a peek in the tent, brushing the tip of the iceberg, of this great literary legacy. For those who seek more, the international library of sources available on the internet provides an embarrassment of riches, more material than any one person can probably read and absorb in a lifetime. Of particular interest is a downloadable PDF of six comparative translations arranged in a grid by our own Jiryu Frederic Lecut, which you can find online at terebess.hu.But we urge you to examine the true teaching on your cushion, in zazen, as Master Dogen would advise. Meanwhile, we can hope that this monologue will inspire greater effort in your endeavor.Dogen hits the ground running with the first stanza:Now when you trace the source of the Way you find that it is universal and absolute. It is unnecessary to distinguish between “practice” and “enlightenment.”Dogen assumes that whoever is listening is already tracing “the source of the Way.” We once produced a t-shirt with “practicenlightenment” — one word, no hyphen — emblazoned on it. The way is everywhere to be found, and practicing Zen is, itself, enlightened behavior. That is, we are enlightened to the fact of something missing in our lives, and have, in our enlightened self-interest, begun pursuing buddhadharma to find it. That is our prosaic understanding of the “no enlightenment school,” as Okumura Roshi has described it. Not yet Buddha's awakening, but the necessary prerequisite.The supreme teaching is free, so why study the means to attain it?The Way is, needless to say, very far from delusion.Why then be concerned about the means of eliminating the latter?The Way is completely present where you are, so of what use is practice or enlightenment?These three statements, with their accompanying questions, relate Dogen's correctives to prevailing memes regarding the Great Matter: studying to attain the supreme teaching, eliminating delusion, and practice that ignores the “Way before your eyes” are all futile endeavor. The last line is also translated as questioning the utility of pursuing enlightenment elsewhere, as on the traditional pilgrimage.However, if there is the slightest difference in the beginning between you and the Way,the result will be a greater separation than between heaven and earth.If the slightest dualistic thinking arises, you will lose your Buddha-mind.With Dogen, there is always a “but,” or a “however.” In spite of the fact that this is freely available to all, far from delusion, and completely present wherever you are in spacetime, if you see it as a separate, outer thing to be pursued, this is the Buddhist fall-from-grace. The Way is the “road to nonduality.”For example, some people are proud of their understanding, and think that they are richly endowed with the Buddha's wisdom.They think that they have attained the Way, illuminated their minds, and gained the power to touch the heavens.They imagine that they are wandering about in the realm of enlightenment.But in fact they have almost lost the absolute Way, which is beyond enlightenment itself.In what sounds like a criticism of others, but which is meant to be taken by the audience as one of those “if the shoe fits” or “if you see yourself in this picture” cautionary tales, Dogen warns against getting the big head, owing to some small peek-in-the-tent of buddhadharma that you may have encountered. Note that he asserts with Okumura Roshi that the Buddha Way is beyond, not about, enlightenment.You should pay attention to the fact that even the Buddha Shakyamuni had to practice zazen for six years.It is also said that Bodhidharma had to do zazen at Shao-lin temple for nine years in order to transmit the Buddha-mind.Since these ancient sages were so diligent, how can present-day trainees do without the practice of zazen?Even the founders of Zen Buddhism in India and China themselves not only were proponents of zazen, but had to practice it themselves. This “had to” must be understood in the context of “in order to.” No one has to practice zazen, unless they want to penetrate to the depths of buddhadharma, to wake up. Or to transmit the Buddha-mind, which does not imply transmission to others. This transmission is from mind — lower-case “m” — to Mind, upper-case. If this transpires, then one may be enabled to help others effectuate the same transmission. Dogen is encouraging his students to practice, practice, practice.You should stop pursuing words and letters and learn to withdraw and reflect on yourself.When you do so, your body and mind will naturally fall away, and your original Buddha-nature will appear.A bit of a knock on the Rinzai school, which was predominant in Japan in Dogen's time. Koan study was referred to as “kanna Zen,” wrapped up in intellectual word-games. But to study the Buddha Way is to study the self, as famously phrased in Genjokoan, from Master Dogen's first fascicle of his Shobogenzo collection. Body and mind falling away — shinjin datsuraku, from his transformational encounter with his Ch'an teacher, Rujing, is one of the most challenging phrases from Zen history. That your recovery of your original Buddha-nature is dependent upon this existential insight makes it even more necessary that we understand its implications. I like to think that if we simply sit still enough, for long enough, this will occur, as a natural process of profound sensory adaptation. This may be a modern definition of samadhi. The insight into our fundamental nature that accompanies this process may be the meaning of kensho. In any case, Dogen reminds us there is no time to waste:If you wish to realize the Buddha's Wisdom, you should begin training immediately.“Immediately” I take to mean both in time and space, and that training is not only zazen. So we should immediately begin directing our attention to the reality of our surrounding circumstances. As to zazen:Now, in doing zazen it is desirable to have a quiet room.You should be temperate in eating and drinking, forsaking all delusive relationships.Setting everything aside, think of neither good nor evil, right nor wrong.Thus, having stopped the various functions of your mind, give up even the idea of becoming a Buddha.This holds true not only for zazen but for all your daily actions.Sounds like you could do zazen anywhere, but a quiet room is optimal, especially in these noisy times. The Middle Way applies to physical aspects such as diet, but what is meant by delusive relationships? Are there any that are not, at base, delusive? The tendencies of the judgmental, monkey mind are to be set aside, at least while we are on the cushion. The natural tendency to conceive of an outcome, such as “becoming a Buddha,” must also be jettisoned. Even off the cushion, we are to beware such seductions. This is the territory where Buddha's enlightenment becomes “nothing special.”Usually a thick square mat is put on the floor where you sit and a round cushion on top of that… With your eyes kept continuously open, breathe quietly through your nostrils… Finally, having regulated your body and mind in this way, take a deep breath, sway your body to left and right, then sit firmly as a rock. These are the beginning, middle and end lines of a section in which Master Dogen outlines essentially the same instructions for zazen that we continue to use today, approaching a millennium later. The same simple equipment, the zabuton and zafu. Note the specific “continuously open” eyes, which we refer to as fixed gaze, which contemporary mindfulness meditation does not follow, urging meditators to keep their eyes closed. Which begs the question, How mindful can it be, if we exclude vision? Then:Think of nonthinking. How is this done? By thinking beyond thinking and [not] thinking.This is the very basis of zazen.Carl Bielefeldt, in his exemplary study of “Dogen's Manuals of Meditation,” a line-by-line comparison of the original Chinese Fukanzazengi with both of Dogen's extant versions, makes the point that the Master does not give us any mental techniques, but that all his instructions are oriented to the physical. Here, however, we may have the exception to the rule. Non-thinking, assumed to be Dogen's original coinage, points to a state of awareness that is not thinking, as such, but also not necessarily not thinking. Somewhere in-between, the Middle Way of mentality. As the “very basis of zazen,” it would compete with the posture, our usual association. But here, mind and body merge, in nonduality. The stillness of the posture, including the fixed gaze as a detail, manifests a one-to-one correlation with the stillness of the mind. “Mind and body cannot separate,” as Matsuoka Roshi often said.That's a wrap for this segment. Next week we will continue with and complete our exploration of Master Dogen's Fukanzazengi. If memory serves, it was written in ordinary Japanese, which was unusual.* * *Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell
In this Awake in the World Podcast Michael covers the ninth part of the Genjokoan that begins, “A fish swims in the ocean, and no matter how far it swims there is no end to the water.” He argues that realization comes with knowing what nourishes you—and then “you can do you.” Recorded on July 29, 2010.
In this Awake in the World podcast Michael muses about the section of the Genjokoan that starts, “Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water….” Along the way he weaves in Kannon, koans, zen poetry, and Bob Dylan. Recorded July 22, 2010.
In this Awake in the World podcast Michael focuses on emptiness or boundlessness as a way of talking about interdependence, and Dogen's views (from the Genjokoan) about enlightenment and delusion. The talk includes a reading of Robert Bringhurst's poem, “Dogen.” Recorded on July 9, 2010.
In this Awake in the World podcast Michael continues his exploration of Dogen's Genjokoan and ponders the question, “How do you know you're awake?” Recorded on July 8, 2010.
What is the Matrixof the so-called Thus-Come One?Just thus — this suchness.* * *Buckle up. If you thought the movie, The Matrix, was a mindbender, and just might be true, I will see you that and raise you “The Matrix of the Thus-Come One,” the third section of the Surangama Sutra. In many ways, Buddha's message is similar to the idea that we are all living in some virtual reality, a simulation inseparable in perception from a true existence. Only in Buddha's model, the VR goggles are your own, you alone can remove them, and there is no wizard or alien race pulling the levers behind the scenes.Buddha kicks off this third section with the Five Skandhas, declaring “The Five Aggregates Are the Matrix of the Thus-Come One.” He begins by again addressing his hapless cousin's delusional state:Ananda, you have not yet understood that the objects we perceive are unreal and illusory. They are subject to change, appearing here and there and disappearing here and there. Yet these illusions, each with its conventional designation, are in fact within the essential, wondrous enlightenment.He goes on to tell Ananda and the crowd what he's going to tell them, which may be an artifact of the later recording of these teachings, or an indication of Buddha's fiendishly razor-sharp intellect: “The same is true of the five aggregates, the six faculties, the twelve sites, and the eighteen constituent elements.” And, sure enough, he goes on to cover each of these in great detail, and in precisely that order. But he makes a general point here that will allow us to take a general overview of what follows:It is an illusion that they come into being when both their causes and their conditions are present, and it is an illusion that they cease to be when either their causes or their conditions are absent. You simply have not yet understood that, fundamentally, everything that comes and goes, that comes into being and ceases to be, is within the true nature of the Matrix of the Thus-Come One, which is the wondrous, everlasting understanding — the unmoving, all-pervading, wondrous suchness of reality.Thus begins the long descent into the rabbit-hole of ordinary perception, conception, and consciousness itself. Before moving on, however, he wants us to understand that if we fall into the trap of seeking proof of the constituents of our ordinary understanding, you are bound to be disappointed:But, though you may seek within the everlasting reality of the Matrix of the Thus-Come One for what comes and goes, for confusion and awakening, and for coming into being and ceasing to be, you will not find them there.Buddha proceeds to deconstruct, again with laser-like analysis, logic, and language, the conventional wisdom he has just asserted to be “topsy-turvy,” as expressed in the first English version of the Heart Sutra I ever learned. The subheadings include “The Aggregate of…: A…Form; B…Sense-Perception; C…Cognition; D…Mental Formations; and finally, E…Consciousness;” covering the Fab Five. We will look at the first, that of Form, to illustrate his process, then generalize to the remaining four.He continues by asking how it can be that the five aggregates are, fundamentally, the Matrix of the Thus-Come One, whose nature is the wondrous suchness of reality? In this example, “a clear-sighted person looks up at a clear sky, where nothing but empty space is to be seen,” and “for no particular reason, this person happens to stare, without moving his eyes, until they are stressed to the point that he sees in the empty air a disordered display of flowers, along with various other images that are disordered and chaotic and lack any real attributes. You should know that the aggregate of form can be described in similar terms.” This apparently is the origin of the Zen trope “flowers in the sky,” which indicates confusion or delusion, or at worst, hallucination. The Japanese Zen term for this phenomenon is makyo.Then Buddha introduces the idea that “this disordered display of flowers… does not come into being from space…” which is a bit weird considering our modern definition of space. But in those days, space was listed as one of the “seven primary elements,” along with the familiar four of earth, wind, fire and water, plus awareness and consciousness, rounding out the septet. Which, you can be sure, Buddha will delve into in depth, later on. This I think we can take as a kind of inchoate physics, or understanding of causality, in the epoch before the Enlightenment and modern science came to dominate our conceptual grip on reality. Here, things are much more on an intuitive basis.Buddha also maintains that this apparition does not “come into being from the person's eyes.” Then he expounds upon his claims with what passed for deductive or inductive reasoning, in that context:Suppose, Ānanda, that the display of flowers did come from space. But what has come into being from space would have to be subject to disappearing back into space; and space would not be empty if things came into being out of it and disappeared back into it. But if space were not empty, there would not be room in it for those displays of flowers to appear out of it or to disappear back into it, any more than there is room in your body, Ānanda, for another Ānanda.That last is a compelling, and convincing argument, if somewhat irrelevant to the case at hand. There is certainly no room in here for another me, I can vouch for that. Then after demonstrating that the same refutation would address the notion that the illusion comes from the eyes, Buddha mercifully concludes:Therefore you should know that the aggregate of forms is an illusion. It does not come into being from causes and conditions, nor does it come into being on its own.So this becomes the boilerplate formula for Buddha's argument against taking the rest of the skandhas for real, knocking them down one after the other, so that all five are revealed likewise to be illusion.Next, the Six Faculties take their turn on the chopping-block: the Eye-Faculty; the Ear-Faculty; the Nose-Faculty; the Tongue-Faculty; the Body-Faculty; and last, but by no means least, the Cognitive-Faculty. These are the familiar Six Senses that we chant about every time we recite the Great Heart of Wisdom Sutra, which, after all, is nothing more than a listing of the Buddha's teachings of Emptiness. We chant, “Given emptiness, no eye, no ear, no nose, no tongue, no body, no mind…” instead of “cognitive,” at the end of the line. But Buddha is differentiating true Mind from cognition only, here.The term “faculty” may also seem odd here. In each case, Buddha explains that though the sense faculty is interactive with a range of the electromagnetic spectrum — seeing, for example, with light and darkness — sight may be dependent upon them, but they do not cause seeing. With a similar argument including that the sense faculties do not arise from space, he concludes:In this way you should know that the eye-faculty is illusory. It does not come into being from causes and conditions, nor does it come into being on its own.Just so. As is so for the Aggregates, just so for the Faculties, it follows that the rest follow suit. The Twelve Sites combine the sense faculties and their objects. Taken under consideration as pairs: “Eye and sights, ear and sounds, nose and smells, tongue and tastes,” as the ancient Ch'an poem Sandokai would have it. They are “not-two”: not identical, but nonetheless inseparable. And, surprise, surprise:Fundamentally, they are not dependent on causes or conditions, and yet they do not come into being on their own.Buddha then makes quick work of the Eighteen Constituents, yet another compounding of the Twelve Sites, adding the third leg as “consciousness,” the field in which the sensory transaction takes place. The whole shebang is sometimes referred to as the Eighteen Realms (S. dhatu) of human sentience. Again, Buddha reduces the “coming into being” of these confections to their absurdist reality:Therefore, you should know that the cognitive faculty and objects of cognition cannot be the conditions that are necessary for the coming into being of the mind-consciousness, because none of these three constituents — cognitive faculty, objects of cognition, and mind-consciousness — has an independent existence. Fundamentally, they do not come into being from causes and conditions, nor do they come into being on their own.As if this is not enough to reduce us all to tears along with Ananda, Buddha then dissects the Seven Primary Elements with the same, merciless scalpel. Here, Buddha's characterization of Ananda's lack of insight is a medical analogy, remembering that the medicine of the time is not that of our time:You are very learned, but you are like someone who can discuss medicines yet cannot identify them when they are actually set before him.Buddha continues with an analysis of the primary elements as a whole, then proceeds to take them up one at a time, with analogies appropriate to each, to demonstrate the general principle:…according to what you have said, the merging or aggregating of four primary elements brings about the various phenomena that are found in the world and that are subject to change. Let us suppose… that the primary elements have separate essential natures that cannot aggregate or merge. In that case, their external attributes, too, could not aggregate or merge any more than space can aggregate or merge with perceived objects. Suppose, on the other hand, that the essential natures of the primary elements can aggregate and merge. Then their aggregating and merging would not differ from the various changes that take place in the world and that cause things to arise and perish through an unending process of coming into being and ceasing to be.Today, it is worth pointing out, we may take exception to the denial that space can merge with perceived objects. In fact, Einstein's Theory of Relativity made the point that matter, or objects, are essentially more space, or energy, than stuff — on the sub-molecular, atomic and subatomic levels. Nonetheless, you have to give it to Buddha for interpreting reality based on sheer intuition and analysis. Then he gets personal:Beings, too, are born and die, and having died they are born again, forever coming to life and perishing again, Ānanda, like a torch that is swung endlessly in a circle to form a wheel of flame, or like water that turns to ice and then becomes water again.Here Buddha shows his adeptness with a turn-of-a-phrase, capturing two of his more memorable analogies for life and death in concrete examples from two of the four primary elements. Later, when he digs into the element of earth more deeply, no pun, we come across this remarkable passage:Let us consider the nature of the primary element earth. It may take as large a form as a continent and as small a form as a mote of dust. In its most subtle aspect, the primary element earth appears as particles that are so fine that they can hardly be distinguished from space itself. If these minute particles were divided further into seven parts, they would then be as small as perceived objects can be. If they were divided yet further, nothing would be left but space.So this constitutes the limit, or boundary, of what was then known about the relationship of matter to energy. When you make that final cut, separating the ultimate particle into two, you are right on the edge of form and emptiness. But there is an intuitive grasp of the fact that “form is emptiness; emptiness is form,” as related in the Heart Sutra. We can see the limit of intuition as well in the next argument:Now if these most minute particles could be divided until they became space, Ānanda, then space would be capable of bringing perceived objects into being… You should see that space, in whatever amount, could never be accumulated in order to bring into being even a single one of these most minute particles. Nor can it be true that these most minute particles are created by the particles themselves.Nowadays of course, it is common knowledge that particles of the virtual sort do, indeed, arise from space. But we also know that these particles are not exactly particulate, in that they behave as waves. This is no longer considered a dichotomy, though I doubt that anyone would claim to understand it. Buddha is going for a nondual understanding that likewise is not understanding in any ordinary sense:You simply do not know that, in the Matrix of the Thus-Come One, the real nature of the primary element earth is identical to the real nature of emptiness. The real nature of the primary element earth is fundamentally pure and extends throughout the Dharma-Realm. The extent to which beings are aware of that real nature depends on the capacity of their understanding. The primary element earth appears to them in accord with their karma. Ordinary beings, in their ignorance, mistakenly suppose that the primary element earth comes into being from causes and conditions or that it comes into being on its own. These are distinctions and constructs made by the conscious mind. They are mere words, devoid of meaning.Buddha then quickly disposes of the other primary elements — fire, water, and wind — and wraps up his dissertation with three bonus discussions on space, awareness, and consciousness. We can forego the further discussion of space, with our more sophisticated physics of today, but what he has to say about awareness and consciousness may be instructive; they are often used interchangeably. Again he chastises Ananda for his lack of contemplative practice:Ānanda, your basic disposition has become so murky that you do not realize that, fundamentally, your visual awareness, your awareness of sounds, your tactile awareness, and your cognitive awareness are the Matrix of the Thus-Come One… You still do not know that the real nature of your visual awareness is inherent in the Matrix of the Thus-Come One and identical to your enlightened understanding, and that the essence of enlightenment is your illuminating awareness. Fundamentally pure, it extends throughout the Dharma-Realm. The extent to which beings are aware of its real nature depends on the capacity of their understanding.Echoes of master Dogen in Genjokoan; Bendowa: “Though there are many features in the dusty world and the world beyond conditions, you see and understand only what your eye of practice can reach.” Extending throughout the Dharma-Realm likewise depends upon practice, one presumes, and is not limited to vision:Just as the awareness of one sense-faculty, the eye, extends throughout the Dharma-Realm, so also do the wondrous, resplendent powers of hearing, smelling, tasting, tactile awareness, and cognitive awareness extend throughout the Dharma-Realm.Note that the ordinary powers of perception are considered wondrous and resplendent — the awakening to the eye of practice is not something separate and apart from the present miracle of awareness. But another caveat:They fill up the entirety of space throughout the ten directions. How could they be limited to one particular place? In fact, the primary element visual awareness becomes apparent to beings in accord with their karma. In their ignorance, ordinary beings mistakenly suppose that visual awareness comes into existence from causes and conditions or that it comes into being on its own. These are all distinctions and constructs made by the conscious mind. They are mere words, devoid of real meaning.And that's a wrap. The repeat refrain of “mere words, devoid of real meaning,” was surely Buddha's devastating and dismissive critique of the pundits of the day, who were peddling their visions of reality in the same marketplace of ideas. A final word on consciousness, which in this context is apparently the overlord of the consciousnesses of the six sense faculties. Buddha treats the term as he did awareness, with the possible distinction that awareness can be devoid of discernment, whereas:…the nature of consciousness is that it has no real basis. Its coming into existence in response to the six faculties and their objects is an illusion. Look around now at the sages assembled here. As you glance from one to another, your eyes see them as if in a mirror, which does not make distinctions. But your consciousness will identify each of the sages in turn as Mañjuśrī, Pūrṇamaitrāyaṇīputra, Maudgalyāyana, Subhūti, and Śāriputra. Now, does this distinction-making faculty, this primary element consciousness, arise from your eye-faculty? Does it arise from perceived objects? Does it arise from space? Or does it arise abruptly, without a cause?Same approach, same argument, finally causing all in the audience to have an epiphany, or mass hypnosis, and ultimately leading Ananda to make a vow to reach enlightenment:At that time, Ānanda and the rest of the great assembly, having received the subtle and wondrous instruction given by the Buddha, the Thus-Come One, felt that their bodies and minds were emptied and hardly seemed to exist. They were free of all concerns and impediments. All in the assembly became aware that their minds pervaded the ten directions and that they could see everything throughout space in all ten directions as clearly as one might see an object such as a leaf in the palm of one's hand.But wait, there's more. Next segment we will look into “The Coming into Being of the World of Illusion.” Stay tuned. Meanwhile check out the real matrix in meditation.* * *Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell
On day three of the Spring 2021 sesshin, Sensei Al Kaszniak presents his views on chapter 8 of the Bodhicaryavatara, the Perfection of Meditation. He brings in parallels from Dogen’s Fukanzazengi, Bendowa, and the Genjokoan, in the importance of stabilizing concentration and renunciation of discursive thought. The importance of a curious open-heartedness in inquiring, ‘is […]
January 31, 2021 Bokushu Hoshi weaves together elements of Dogen’s “Uji” and his “Genjokoan” to advocate for a life of vigorous practice. For audio only, please click below or use your favorite podcast app. The post Talk by Bokushu Hoshi “Time is Temporary” first appeared on The Village Zendo.
Zazen is the bomb,the essence of essential.Without it, no Zen.* * *You can’t spell “zazen” without “z-e-n, zen,” and you can’t practice Zen without zazen. Some who should know better may disagree, but Zen cannot be separated from Buddhism, and Zen is founded exclusively on the insights that come from zazen. Some might argue that they do not have to practice meditation in order to “get” Zen, to adopt its worldview, and enjoy the benefits thereof. I say good luck with that.While working on my graduate degree in design, I had a roommate sharing an apartment on the north side of Chicago, a jazz pianist who would come home from the gig, toss his hat at the hat rack, and declare “My Zen thing is working!” — or not — depending on whether he missed, or not. For some, Zen is just that simple. We are either in the flow, or not. In the moment, or not. When we are, that is Zen. When we are not, it is not.This particular stereotype may stem from Zen’s Taoist heritage in China. Taoism stresses being in harmony with the Great Way, and offers some parables on that theme, including a shaggy dog story about the Taoist’s sympathetic neighbor, who loudly laments when his only horse runs off, then celebrates its return, followed by a whole herd of horses. Next, he laments the Taoist’s son breaking his leg while taming one of the wild stallions, then celebrating the fact that the army does not conscript the son, and on and on, with the pendulum swinging wildly, day after day. Meanwhile the Taoist himself responds only, “I don’t know, could be good, could be bad…” with each reversal of fortune.This tale, which begins to sound like a standup routine from the Borscht Belt, certainly has a grain of truth in it, like any good stereotype. It offers a shortcut way of thinking, so that we don’t have to take its message too seriously.But seriously, folks… life gets tedious, as grandma used to say. There are endless, and unrelenting — and not only technical — circumstances beyond our control — beyond anyone’s control — that intrude at the most inconvenient moments. Like the current pandemic. Or the impending election. But no worries — we won’t go there.Where we will go is back to zazen. It is the “bomb” — or more accurately, “da bomb” — which the dictionary defines as “an outstandingly good person or thing.” That such a hipster colloquial expression would be given space in what used to be the pages, now the computer screen, of what used to be the somber, sober, primary authoritative tome on English vocabulary usage — the dictionary — is both refreshing, and disturbing. Purists lament such liberal laxity of language, while laissez-faire anarchists celebrate mocking what used to be “the king’s English.”Which brings us to the repeat references to language that you may stumble across, if you are not careful enough to avoid the Soto Zen liturgy, especially those gnarly missives from China, three major teachings that we chant, from the early Chinese transmission. The first, second and third hail from around the 600s, 700s, and 800s CE, respectively, almost exactly a century apart. I will read the Japanese version of the Masters’ names, the Chinese pronunciation being more challenging:Hsinhsinming / “Faith Mind”(Jianzhi Sengcan/Kanchi Sosan d. 606)Sandokai / “Harmony of Difference and Equality”(Shitou Xiqian/Sekito Kisen 700–790)andHokyo Zammai / “Precious Mirror Samadhi”(Dongshan Liangjie/Tozan Ryokai 807–869)The first is by the third Ch’an patriarch after Bodhidharma, usually referred to as Sengcan, and is the longest, at a bit fewer than 1,000 words in English translation. The second is the shortest, at just under 300 words, and the third is in-between, at just under 500. That translates roughly into three pages for the first, one for the second, and two pages for the third. A factoid that, 100 years apart, these three Masters felt moved to comment on Zen at radically different length. Do you suppose that they imagined that we would be reading these, over 1,000 years later?What they have to say about Zen, and our compulsion to translate experience into words and concepts, is instructive. The first, Hsinhsinming, starts out challenging our very preference for preferences:The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferencesShortly thereafter, he points out that this applies to all dimensions of practice and daily life, without mentioning meditation, including our preference for passivity over activity, for example trying to suppress the monkey mind, which in Zen is a losing proposition:When you try to stop activity to achieve passivityyour very effort fills you with activityAs long as you remain in one extreme or the otheryou will never know OnenessWe should note that while both extremes are to be avoided, the gist of the poem points to nonduality of reality, where even emphasizing “oneness” as a thing can be misleading:Although all dualities come from the Onedo not be attached even to this OneAnd later, toward the end,When such dualities cease to exist, Oneness itself cannot existNonetheless, we dance with the idea of duality versus nonduality as we work our way through the Master’s analysis:Those who do not live in the single Way fail in both activity and passivity — assertion and denialTo deny the reality of things is to miss their realityto assert the emptiness of things is to miss their realitySo even emptiness, the holy grail of Zen, can be a case of over-thinking. Further:The more you talk and think about itthe further astray you wander from the truthStop talking and thinking, and there is nothing you will not be able to knowThat is pretty brutal, but compassionately so. Talking and thinking do not necessarily help. They can even get in the way of knowing, in the deepest sense of the term. From the second poem, Sandokai, we hear more comments about language from Sekito Kisen:…revered and common, each has its speechHow many times have we heard, and recoiled from, that holy-holy sort of tone of voice, preaching in stentorian resonance, or hush-hush whisper — indicating that what is being said is really special, apart from the ordinary, so listen up — but which often comes off as somewhat strained, even phony? Attempted eloquence slides into artificial cadence.But according to Master Dogen, in his first manual on meditation, “By virtue of zazen, it is possible to transcend the difference between common and sacred.” It is said that there is no “stench of holiness” in Zen. The down-to-earth, earthy and pithy comments of great Zen masters of the past, such as Dogen — who recognized the importance and rarity of encountering and hearing the “true Dharma,” but considered it nothing out of the ordinary — are downright refreshing by contrast. Sandokai also includes comments on the nature of language itself:Darkness merges refined and common wordsbrightness distinguishes clear and murky phrasesHere the reference to darkness versus brightness may be Ch’an symbolism, but I think a simpler, more direct interpretation is in order. Refined or revered speech includes the vernacular, when considered from the standpoint that there is no daylight between the common and sacred in Zen. The brightness of Zen’s direct, experiential insight allows us to sort through the phrases of the ancients, no matter how clear or murky the syntax.Toward the end of Master Sekito’s poem, we find another zinger on language itself:Hearing the words, understand the meaningdo not establish standards of your ownWhile Zen is the ultimate in do-it-yourself as a practice, there is something to be said for listening to others who have been there and done that, and to not be fooled by the words themselves, or our preconceptions of their meaning. Perhaps the most famous phrase from Zen, one that everyone seems to think they know the meaning of, is “The finger pointing at the moon.” Do not be taken in by either the finger, or the moon. The standards that have been handed down from the ancients — who were no slackers, after all — are what Dogen was interested in finding out, in China. Which he demonstrated, when asked what souvenirs he had brought back, by holding out his empty hands.Master Tozan, the founder of Soto Zen in China, begins the third poem with the stunning assertion:The dharma of thusness is intimately transmitted by buddhas and ancestorsNow you have it; preserve it wellWe have to wonder who he thinks his audience is. Is he implying that we already have the Dharma? “Thusness” is a tricky word here, pointing to the “as-it-is-ness” of reality, the ineffable truth that is fully in front of our face, but totally beyond expression, like the moon that can only be pointed to. If we “have it,” it must have somehow already been transmitted to us, in this intimate fashion, so intimate that we may be totally unaware of when and how it happened. Again, Master Dogen has got you covered (Jijuyu Zammai “Self-fulfilling Samadhi”):When you first seek Dharmayou imagine that you are far away from its environsBut Dharma is already correctly transmittedyou are immediately your original selfSo we don’t have something else to worry about acquiring, this Dharma. It is innate, our birthright. Yet we are charged with preserving it, and doing that well. So we have to at least have some idea of what it is that we are preserving, and how. Not to mention who, exactly, we are preserving it for. We understand that it cannot be transmitted in words, so in what kind of language is it communicated? Master Tozan, the “To” in Soto, drops a clue in the next stanza:The meaning does not reside in the wordsbut a pivotal moment brings it forthThis “pivotal moment,” of which we have heard much, seems to be the ticket to what is missing. As Master Dogen reminds us some 400 years later, in the same tract:All this, however, does not appear within perception, because it is unconstructedness in stillness, it is immediate realizationIf the Dharma were an object of perception, in other words, it would by definition have to be a mental construction. He continues clarifying this point, the difference between appearance and essence, in the Genjokoan excerpt from Bendowa, the first chapter in Shobogenzo, his comprehensive collection:The boundary of realization is not distinct, for the realization itself comes forth with the mastery of Buddhadharma. Although actualized immediately, the inconceivable may not be apparent. Its appearance is beyond your knowledge.So we cross some sort of boundary on this journey, but we cannot be aware of crossing it. I have to add my usual caveat that, just as we do not master Zen, but it masters us, the same may be said for Buddhadharma. It is more a process of surrendering to this truth, the “compassionate teaching,” than mastering it, as if one had taken up the challenge of actually reading Tolstoy’s War and Peace or James Joyce’s Ulysses cover-to-cover, and actually assimilating its meaning. Dogen seems to belabor the obvious, that the inconceivable, being inconceivable, would necessarily not be in any way, shape or form, apparent. So within this realization, we must enter into a new dimension of reality, in which nothing is as it appears. Like Alice in Wonderland.Zen has been said to be about the pursuit of the understanding of meaning. But that particle of meaning that can be translated into language is regarded as just the tip of the iceberg. And the truism from communications design, that the message is not that which is sent, but that which is received, holds true for Zen. As the poem relates further:Just to portray it in literary form is to stain it with defilementThis defilement is the attempt to reduce the profound essence of Zen to words and concepts. Because we are human beings communicating with human beings about Zen, we find that there is no exit from this trap. But we do not have to be confused, regarding the efficacy and precision of language, whether written or spoken. It is the best we have to work with, in all its inadequacy. But Master Tozan goes on to assure us that the effort, nonetheless, is worthwhile:Although it is not constructed, it is not beyond wordsAnd then he follows with an attempt to put his dharma where his mouth is, with the title stanza:Like facing a precious mirrorform and reflection behold each otherThis conjures quite an image. The mirror is mentioned as a repeat trope, or theme, in Zen, so we should give it due consideration — but as an image, rather than a concept. Like Alice going right through the looking-glass to the other side, or Einstein, engaging in thought experiments beyond thinking, and at the speed of light, the dharma gate begins to open just a crack. We can just barely see the light leaking through. Master Dogen captures this same spirit in another visionary passage from the same Genjokoan:When you see forms and hear soundsfully engaging body and mindyou grasp things directlyUnlike things and their reflections in the mirrorand unlike the moon and its reflection in the waterWhen one side is illumined, the other side is darkTaking the analogy of the mirror to new heights, or new depths. What we are actually seeing — in lieu of an actual mirror — is like a mirror, but radically different. In order to see something reflected in a mirror, or on the smooth surface of a body of water, both sides have to be illuminated: that which is reflected, and its reflection. Otherwise, nothing can be seen on either side, like a mirror reflecting an unlit, underground vault under a pyramid.However, our usual condition of seeing reflects only one side of the totality. Behind the eyes, so to speak, and on the other side of the objects in our field of vision, lies the dark. This velvety dark extends throughout the universe. We even suspect that there is a preponderance of dark matter, and dark energy, throughout. But as the poem reminds us, grasping this truth can be taken as an example of personal, perceptual relativity, illuminating the limits of our “eye of practice” (Master Dogen’s coinage):In darkest night, it is perfectly clear; in the light of dawn, it is hiddenSomething there is that comes out at night, but recedes in daylight, recalling the phrase, “How bright and transparent, the moonlight of wisdom,” from Master Hakuin’s poem, Zazen Wasan, “Song of Zazen.” This begs the question: if this light in darkness is not coming from the sun, the moon, or the stars, then where does it come from?In Sandokai, this same point is touched upon some 100 years prior:The spiritual source shines clear in the lightthe branching streams flow on in the darkHere the reference to the single source becoming many streams may be a trope for the five houses of Zen carrying the light of enlightenment into the ubiquitous darkness of ignorance characteristic of civilization. Bringing it down to the personal level once again:In the light there is darkness, but do not take it as darknessIn the dark there is light, but do not see it as lightLight and dark oppose one anotherlike the front and back foot in walkingThe direct experience of light under the intense glare of zazen reveals a vacillation characteristic of all sensory stimulus and sense-data. There is no darkness without light, and no light without darkness. And there can be neither without the observer.Matsuoka Roshi once made the startling declaration, “The light by which you see things comes from you.” In zazen, we begin to witness the nonduality of our so-called internal, versus external, lighting. It seems to originate on both sides of the sensory interface. Further, there is something timeless about it, as reflected in the “Precious Mirror”:Within causes and conditions, time and season, it is serene and illuminatingAnd even further, it is not really dependent upon our understanding of it, or lack thereof:Now there are sudden and gradual, in which teachings an approaches ariseWhether teachings and approaches are mastered or not,reality constantly flowsThe reference here is to the so-called Northern and Southern schools in China after the advent of Huineng, the famous Sixth Patriarch of Ch’an Buddhism, also known as the “gradual” and “sudden” schools of enlightenment, respectively. Of course, sudden and gradual comprise another binary dyad, which dissolves in the nonduality of reality. If there is such thing as enlightenment, it must be both sudden and gradual, simultaneously. The main point is that the reality that Zen points to is constantly flowing, outside of and independent of our ideas about it. It doesn’t care what we think.The earliest poem, Hsinhsinming, seems to verify this same finding:All is empty — clear — self-illuminating, with no exertion of the mind's powerThat this level of insight is not really accessible through ordinary exertions is easy to understand. But that does not mean it is entirely out of reach. It is some comfort to know that whatever the truth — the Dharma — is, it already is true, and that no amount of mental effort will make that any plainer.Lastly, it should be mentioned that the ancient masters did not suffer fools gladly, but they were willing to appear foolish themselves, if need be. In the last line of the third poem, Master Tozan gives us some friendly advice:With practice hidden, function secretly, like a fool, like an idiotJust to continue in this way is called the host within the hostThe “host” reference is to a Zen teaching model using the “host and guest” analogy as a foil to examine the relationship of self to other, mind to body, subject to object, et cetera — all the binary pairs of seeming opposites the discriminating mind may conjure. The host within the host is the “inmost” reality, in which the apparent separation between inside and outside — a fundamental dyad — disappears. What is left is not one, exactly, but definitely not-two. In society, we can function in this reality without making a big deal of it to others. We can be in our milieu, but not of it, like a fool, like an idiot. And we can continue in this way with no regrets. Please just do your best, on the cushion and off. I bow in gassho to you.* * *Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell
Samu means working,mainly on the practice place —which is everywhere* * *Beyond practicing zazen there are ancillary practices that members are encouraged to join in maintenance and upkeep of the Zen center. This is in keeping with the notion of maintaining the Dharma itself, as pointed to in the Dharma Opening Verse:The unsurpassed profound and wond’rous DharmaIs rarely met with even in a hundred thousand million kalpasNow we can see and hear it, accept and maintain itMay we unfold the meaning of the Tathagata’s truthAt the Zen Buddhist Temple of Chicago, in the mid-1960s, Matsuoka Roshi decided the old sign needed to be replaced. I somehow volunteered to help, as I know something about graphic design, so I ended up painting the English, while he did the calligraphy. The building was a three-story brownstone walkup on Halsted Street a block or so south of Fullerton on the near north side.We went into the basement, where Sensei had the sign board he wanted to use, which turned out to be the porcelain top of an old-fashioned cook table, nearly identical to one which my mother had at the farm where I had lived as a child. The white plane of the top was bounded by a black edge, with rounded corners. While I was working on the sign, painstakingly masking off the top and bottom edges of the letters, a woman came into the basement, whom I learned later was a tenant of one of the upper-floor apartments. Sensei greeted her, but moved quickly to block what we were doing from her vision. He later explained that the table actually belonged to her. Apparently, he felt she would not miss it and had taken it from her storage area in the basement. I don’t remember how we got it hung on the building, or who helped with that, but I do have a photo of the front of the building after it was installed.We would often spend several hours engaged in such activities, mostly cleaning the interior of the temple, or in Japanese, soji.Some years later, at the Zen Center of San Francisco, in the year 2000, I was in residence for a week or so while attending a conference on Master Dogen in Palo Alto. When it came time for work period, I was assigned the task of sweeping the sidewalk in front of the building at Paige Street, one of the chores typically assigned to a rank newcomer, probably because it is difficult to screw up. When I looked at the sidewalk from the corner where the stairs led to the entrance, it went on forever in both directions. But I began sweeping where I was anyway. What seemed like no time at all later, the attendant clacked the sticks, ending the work period. I had barely gotten started on what looked like a Forrest Gump adventure, endlessly sweeping the endless sidewalk around the block. It was actually a bit frustrating — not that the task was daunting, but that I had to quit so soon. The next day, I was allowed to sweep the inner courtyard instead. A promotion.From this I learned the simple truth that the work is never really done. My grandma on my father’s side once said, “Don’t worry about that work; it will still be there when you come back.” Truer words, et cetera. It is important to learn to be willing to take up whatever task befalls you, but also to give it up when it is time to turn to something else. Wisdom is to know when, and what the next priority really is. We are not so important that we are the only ones who can do a given job, no matter the claims of politicians. We are also not likely to finish anything, in the complete sense of the term, in this lifetime.When I was in college working on my Master’s degree, we lived in a railroad apartment on the north side, much the same layout as the Zen temple on Halsted. The middle room, which usually is the dining room, I used as my painting studio. I imagine this called upon my wife at the time to practice a lot of patience, but we were pretty oblivious to social norms in those days, so I wouldn’t have noticed, in my zeal to realize my art.I had two easels set up with canvasses on each, diligently applying oil paint in an expressionistic, abstract, open-ended meditation on what I was trying to achieve as an image. I had no idea, really. At the end of about a year, I still had the two canvases. When I declared victory and set them aside to dry, there were probably fifty or more paintings on each canvas, but the only one you could see was what was left on top. I may be exaggerating a bit, but you get my point.“Painting,” in this mode, is a process, not an object. But, like slicing a loaf of bread, you have to learn to set aside one canvas and start again on another blank one, if you are to produce a body of work. It is all one painting, in a sense, but it cannot all go on one canvas. The salient question then becomes, How do you know when this particular slice is finished? I have heard of at least one artist who took his kit into the museum where his long-ago finished and sold painting was hanging, and did some further touchup on it, right then and there on the wall.Something similar happened in the history of Zen painting. A story I came across related that a Zen master was viewing an ancient painting hanging in the monastery, one that included comments in calligraphy from past masters. One day he pulled out his brushes and added his two cents worth to what must have been a priceless masterpiece. This is a startling example of the kind of confidence that is developed in Zen — confidence in what you have to say, as well as your ability to do so — on an antique work of art — without ruining the original, or destroying its value.This also brings up a well-worn debate in art circles: what exactly is the value of a work of art? The conventional view that art is valuable as an object is challenged by modern conceptual artists, in which the work is not really an object as such, but may be a room-sized installation, a dissected shark, or an event of temporary duration such as a piece that destroys itself. The boundary between art and not-art begins to fray.The practice place of Zen likewise has a similar lack of definition. At first, it is confined by one’s imagination to the sitting cushion, or the physical plant of the Zen center — from the smallest gathering in the basement of a home or church, to the largest monastic campus. But over time the place of our practice expands to include our home and work environments, and eventually all other such surrounds in space, including those neglected sites that are not specifically designed for and dedicated to the pursuit of Zen.In Japan, the monasteries and Zen centers include considerable grounds, including parts of forests in some cases, which are often immaculately groomed and composed, most famously the fabulously simple stone gardens. This dedication to “taking good care of the practice place” finds no natural barrier or boundary, much like my perception of the endless sidewalk in San Francisco.Just as the image of the community in Zen, the Sangha, expands to include all sentient beings in its embrace, likewise the place of practice does so also. Master Dogen reminds us of this in his long poem, Genjokoan, “Actualizing the Fundamental Point”:If you find your place where you are, practice occursActualizing the fundamental pointIf you find your way at this moment, practice occursActualizing the fundamental pointFor the place, the way, is neither large nor small, neither yours nor others’The place, the way, has not carried over from the pastAnd is not merely arising now…Here is the place, here the way unfolds.Much as the past, future and present merge into one eternal moment, all of space centers around this present place, and your place in it. Please take good care of it, and please take good care of yourself. Like donning the oxygen mask on an airplane in an emergency, before turning to help others, we cannot take care of anyone, if we do not take care of ourselves first. Same for zazen. Zazen is samu, the basic work of Zen.* * *Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell
Zazen for others:neither your concern nor mine —Just do it yourself.* * *Beyond practicing zazen there is the logical extension of sharing it with others, which enters into the territory of teaching that which cannot be taught, while assuming that it can be learned. After all, those doing the teaching learned it from their teachers.Like many other subjects, Zen, and its meditation, zazen, is not in essence a step-by-step process, as Master Dogen points out, but of course it must be broken down into steps in order to teach it, or even just to talk about it. Music and the performing arts, painting and the plastic arts, similarly are holistic endeavors, but in order to teach art and music to your students, you have to start somewhere. You have to decide what comes first, what comes next, and what follows. In all cases of one-on-one modes of training, we find the same kinds of patterns, from apprentice to journeyman to master, to name one familiar tripartite approach. Undergraduate and graduate programs posit a similar schema, from Bachelor to Master degrees to the PhD.As in these other areas of endeavor, including higher realms of math and science, teachers recognize that the part of Zen that can be taught is the how — the method. The what and the why have to be discovered, or intuited innately, by the student. We can teach classical versus improvisational methods of playing the piano, ballet versus modern choreography, i.e. how music or dance is traditionally structured, notated and performed. But we cannot teach music itself, nor dance. There comes a turning point at which the rehearsal transforms into the real thing. Same with Zen.Two broad, parallel tracks emerge from the history of Zen (as well as in the arts and sciences), known as experience versus expression. In Zen, the former is primary and takes precedence over the latter, which has distant second priority. Intellectual analysis, or scholarship, a distant third.Authority in Zen is a matter of authenticity of experience, more than facility of expression, or peer review. In the formal path to priesthood, the latter comes to the fore, in the tradition that transmitted priests are transmitted by other transmitted priests. We want to avoid the all-too-American proclivity toward self-anointed spiritual leaders.The worst-case scenario is a surfeit of expression in lieu of a modicum of experience — forever rushing into print, or these days, into podcast; while the most revered is the presence of deep experience, with a reticence toward casual expression. “Those who speak don’t know; those who know don’t speak,” as the saying goes. Notably Buddha’s “golden silence,” which he sometimes employed in response to certain inquiring minds. He would explain to his fellow monks that if he had responded in the affirmative, the seeker would have misunderstood in a certain way; whereas if he had answered in the negative, the listener would still have misunderstood, if in a different way. So his “middle way” was to remain silent, which conveyed the truth beyond language and concepts.These days we are justified in complaining that there is way too much expression going on in all fields, including Zen, often with woefully insufficient experience underpinning it. Our society is geared toward glitz, a convincing and forceful expression, where the underlying depth may be razor thin.Our default position in Zen is to continue our own practice, regardless of the success or failure of our attempt to share the dharma assets with others. Progressing to the PhD of Zen — transmission, in Japanese “Shiho,” the ceremony of entrusting the Dharma to a student — is recognized as entirely dependent — 100% plus — upon the sincerity and effort of the student, and not upon some magical ability or mystical power of the teacher. Of course, there has to be a pretty powerful affinity between the two, and the teacher has to have at least a rudimentary grasp of skillful means, in dealing with the different traits and personalities of his students. I have always maintained that I simply need a better class of student.Many of the ancestors in the official so-called “unbroken,” face-to-face transmission of the lineage of Zen, from master to student, Shakyamuni and Mahakasyapa down to the present day, actually did not “get” it; they failed to penetrate their first and perhaps most formative teacher’s message, and so were sent to practice under another. Whereafter, in some cases, they had a revelatory insight that clarified the Great Matter for them, simultaneously revealing their prior teacher’s “grandmotherly kindness.” Hindsight is sometimes 20/20, even in Zen.In continuing to follow the method of Zen, as Shakyamuni did after his great insight, we confirm the principle of “practice after enlightenment.” Not that any legitimate Dharma heir would claim to be enlightened. As Okumura Roshi once said, we are the “no enlightenment” school. We do not pursue any such chimera, but only look to our direct experience, both on and off the cushion, for any true understanding. In doing so, we encourage others to “do thou likewise,” but our practice does not depend on their accepting or acknowledging the admonition. Zen is stubborn in that way, like a donkey.In attempting to teach Zen to others, or to teach them how to access it, one has to have the flexibility of mind to imitate your teacher, as you did when first stepping onto the Zen path. But eventually you recognize that you are not your teacher, and your students are not you. Neither do the present circumstances align exactly with those of your early practice, any more than they do with those of the ancient masters. The basic issues, or problems of the existence, origin, the potential cessation, and prescribed Path of practice remain the same, of course, or at least very similar. But the surrounding causes and conditions evolve with time, and are affected by the developments of humankind’s situation on the planet. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were afoot in Buddha’s time, for instance, but nothing like the worldwide calamities we are witness to today.So the question of skillful or expedient means is still germane, perhaps more than ever. Matsuoka Roshi considered Soto Zen’s simplicity — and its emphasis upon the practice of “just sitting” upright in “Self-fulfilling Samadhi,” as Master Dogen instructed nearly a millennium ago — to be the most appropriate and applicable skillful means, or upaya, for this age. He develops a convincing argument for this assertion in the second collection of his recorded talks, Mokurai, laid out in the first chapter, “Dhyanayana,” or “Way Amongst the Ways.” For westerners, he felt the more laid-back, simple and direct method of “quiet illumination” — Soto Zen’s zazen — to be the best, compared to others such as the Rinzai approach, using meditation to contemplate koans. We are already driven to adopt an overly intense, intellectually driven method to wake up to reality. We don’t need no stinking koans. And we are already sitting in the koan of everyday life, the “Genjokoan.”In Soto Zen, as in most professional disciplines, we teach mostly by our own example. Sensei would often say, “I can tell more by the way you sweep the floor than what you have to say.” And, “You can talk all day and never make them understand.” So the way forward is very clear, whether you are a priest or a novice. Practice what you preach.* * *Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell
Craving is the thingthat gets you into trouble —body, mouth, and mind.* * *We would like to think that we can intentionally relinquish craving, give up our thirst, as an act of sheer willpower. Mind over matter. But desire for the pleasant, and aversion to the unpleasant, are built into our very body, mouth, and mind: the three arenas of action to be taken in the present moment.We can indeed change our body, within the limits of what is physiologically possible — through changes in diet, exercise regimens, and other supplemental behaviors that alter our body chemistry and other biological processes. But when it comes to aging — and to a lesser degree, sickness; and finally, ultimately, to death — the most we can do is our best. Eventually the doctor comes, and whatever degree of control we thought we had is grudgingly handed over to others, who hopefully have our best interests at heart.In the meantime, we can witness the truth of the Buddha’s teaching, that most of our woes come with the territory, born of body mouth and mind. We often conceive of the body as being at the beck and call of — and in indentured servitude to — the mind. This one-sided view undergoes a severe attitude adjustment in zazen. It becomes very clear that the body is much more in charge than the mind, and will have its way with us eventually. Just try ignoring or denying the inconvenient call of nature during meditation. You will lose that battle of wills, the hard way or the easy way. Same with sleep, breathing, or any other function of the body.By extension, this harsh reality encompasses the mind as well, as Master Dogen reminds us in the famous Genjokoan excerpt from the first fascicle of his masterwork Shobogenzo, Bendowa, which means something like “A talk about the Way.” After recalling the familiar perceptual example of mistaking the motion of a boat for the moving of the shore, he brings it home to where we live:Similarly, if you examine the myriad things with a confused body and mindYou might suppose that your mind and nature are permanentBut when you practice intimately and return to where you areIt will be clear that nothing at all has unchanging selfThat nothing at all has unchanging self seems like no big deal, as long as it applies to everything else. When the pointing finger makes its rounds, however, and ends up pointing directly at your nose, we can be forgiven for trying to dodge this particular bullet. Note that it is dependent upon practicing intimately.What is this intimacy? It is the intimacy of the water to the fish, of the air to the bird. So close in spacetime that it cannot be an object of perception. Intimacy is tied to craving, in that the more intimate we are with the flux and flow of the needs of body, mouth and mind, the less we are likely to be helplessly reactive to them. We have the opportunity, through our meditation, to get a leg up on our own desires, watching them arise before they are in full flower. Before we are overcome with thirst, hunger, lust, rage, or any one of a whole host of other urges, unfortunate or not, natural or unnatural, we can see them coming, and hopefully take appropriate, evasive action.* * *Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell
Dharma Talks – Ocean Gate Zen Center – Santa Cruz, Capitola, Aptos
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Dharma Talks – Ocean Gate Zen Center – Santa Cruz, Capitola, Aptos
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Dharma Talks – Ocean Gate Zen Center – Santa Cruz, Capitola, Aptos
https://www.oceangatezen.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/Genjo-koan-talk-11compressed.mp3 Genjokoan paragraph beginning, “A fish swims in the ocean, and no matter how far it swims there is no end to the water.” https://www.oceangatezen.org/2020/10/shobogenzo-genjokoan-talk-10-2/feed/ 0
Fan blades nod rapportBlown hard by the passing windthis cold spring morning* * *At the end of Genjokoan, Master Dogen’s tract excerpted from Bendowa, the first fascicle of his masterwork Shobogenzo chanted in the Soto Zen liturgy, comes the passage (punctuation mine):Zen master Baoche of Mt. Mayu was fanning himself.A monk approached and said, “Master the nature of wind is permanent, and there is no place it does not reach. Why, then, do you fan yourself?”“Although you understand that the nature of the wind is permanent,” Baoche replied, “you do not understand the meaning of its reaching everywhere.”“What is the meaning of its reaching everywhere?” asked the monk again.The master just kept fanning himself. The monk bowed deeply.The actualization of the buddha-dharma, the vital path of its correct transmission, is like this. If you say that you do not need to fan yourself because the nature of wind is permanent and you can have wind without fanning you will understand neither permanence nor the nature of wind.The nature of wind is permanent! Because of that the wind of the Buddha’s house brings forth the gold of the earth and makes fragrant the cream of the long river.Although the electric, oscillating fan in my bedroom is an insentient being, a mere mechanical device, it is not unresponsive to the causes and conditions surrounding it. The cold wind blowing in through the open window moves its blades, as well as the 40-foot tall stand of black bamboo in the back yard, all unaware of any distinction between the two. The proximate wind moved down from the arctic riding the jetstream or up from the south on the wings of the gulfstream. Before that it was moving sand dunes in a desert and skimming snow from mountaintops, roiling the surface of an ocean. This wind permeates everywhere, penetrating to the bottom of the Mariana Trench, and to the tip-top of Mount Everest. Though ever-changing it is permanent in nature.Even where there is no atmosphere, in the vastness of outer space, there is this wind. The long river is the Milky Way, long lost to us urbanites in the up-wash from city lights. During the pandemic shutdown, one of the more delightful side-effects was the dark and quiet night, taking me back to childhood on the farm.Human beings are also of the nature of this wind, our bodies blowing away to the horizon, the impermanent defining the permanent. But we cannot have the wind of Buddha’s house without doing the fanning ourselves. We alone can do the work to mine and smelt the gold of the earth, and smell the fragrance of the galaxy. Like smelting gold, each time we have to begin anew.The monk seems impertinent to challenge the master’s fanning himself. But a Zen master is in the same position as the most novice of all monks. No fanning, no wind. Nowadays we can rely on our ceiling fans, air conditioning and oil-fired furnaces to bring us the manufactured and thermostatic wind to enhance our southern or northern comfort. But no device, however sophisticated, can do the fundamental fanning for us.The wind is not separate from the other basic elements of earth, fire and water, space, and consciousness. We are all “in the wind,” whether we know it or not. This wind is like space, not only outside us but inside as well. The body will dependably do the breathing, as long as it is able, and as long as we do not interfere. But it will also stop breathing one day, and there is not a damn thing we can do about it. In the interim, keep fanning.* * *Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell
Denko-e Sesshin is part of a cycle of four traditional sesshins initiated by Kobun, Jikoji's founder, and s our traditional fall teaching sesshin, with a lighter zazen schedule and an emphasis on dharma study. Denko-e means "Gathering of Light."
Dharma Talks – Ocean Gate Zen Center – Santa Cruz, Capitola, Aptos
https://www.oceangatezen.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Genjo-Koan-Lecture-10-talk-11-on-website-Ocean-looks-circular-compressed.mp3 Talk 11 begins with Genjokoan “When the dharma does not fill your whole body and mind, you may assume it is already sufficient. When dharma fills your body and mind, you understand that something is missing.” Through the sentence, “It is not only around you, but also directly beneath your feet in a drop of water.” (trans. Tanahashi) https://www.oceangatezen.org/2020/09/shobogenzo-genjokoan-talk-11/feed/ 0
Spring: time to wake up!Step off the hundred-foot pole...(dive to the bottom)* * *Spring is the season when dormant life springs back. Notwithstanding Zen’s teachings on impermanence and change, periodic irritants — like daylight savings time — require us to “spring forward,” which really means that we lose an hour of sleep, assuming that we are still living on clock time. In Zen, waking up is equally relevant in any season, and at any time. One of the things we wake up to in zazen is real time, which is independent of any clock.Needless to say, to literally step off the top of a hundred-foot pole, you first have to shinny up from the ground, without benefit of climbing spurs and halter belt. You can expect to slip back from time to time when you hit a slick spot, or to have to hold on for dear life when your strength flags. Needless to say, this is an apt metaphor for Zen practice.While falling asleep, you may have felt the sensation of weightlessness, as if you have stumbled, and are freefalling through space, experiencing intense vertigo. This gives you an inkling of what stepping off the hundred-foot pole feels like. A telephone pole is about forty feet high, so we are talking precarious situation. Two and a half times that tall. Assuming the same thickness, that pole is going to be fairly unstable, especially with a heavy body perched on all fours on top. Lots of pendulum sway. Add in some wind, and you can just feel the queasiness.Matsuoka Roshi would illustrate this jumping-off point by raising his hand, four fingers and thumb clustered together, representing your arms and legs perched at the very top. Then he would say, “One more step!” and instantly open is hand wide.Sri Ramakrishna, a Hindu saint of the 1850s living in Calcutta, spoke of an “ocean of consciousness.” One of his students came in excitedly one day and said that he had seen the surface of the ocean, that he understood. The sage told him that he needed to dive in. But the young follower said he was afraid he would die. Ramakrishna encouraged him, saying he would not die, as this is the ocean of consciousness. But he had to dive in, because the “jewels” are at the bottom.There are many such poetic descriptions pointing to the nature of this transformative experience, from many different traditions. The Zen approach, at its core, is for you to “just do it.” But of course, it is beyond our doing. We have to allow it to happen.At this time, the truth and method of Buddhism become ever more relevant. What Zen prescribes when we “live in interesting times” is consistent: Just sit. This is not a flip or uncaring dismissal of the unusual conditions we face in a pandemic. But Zen argues that we are always in a pandemic of sorts. After all, birth is the leading cause of death. This truth does not change with circumstance. We are constantly faced with death from the moment we are born, and even in the womb. “Birth is an expression complete this moment. Death is an expression complete this moment. They are like winter and spring. You do not call winter the beginning of spring nor summer the end of spring” according to Master Dogen in “Genjokoan.” Welcome to spring.* * *Elliston Roshi is guiding teacher of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center and abbot of the Silent Thunder Order. He is also a gallery-represented fine artist expressing his Zen through visual poetry, or “music to the eyes.”UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell
In our final SESSHIN: Genjokoan dharma talk, Kigaku Noah Rossetter, and Matthew Kozan Palevsky offer teachings inspired by the following Genjokoan paragraph. “To study the way of enlightenment is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be actualized by myriad things. When actualized by myriad things, your […]
“To carry the self forward and illuminate myriad things is delusion. That myriad things come forth and illuminate the self is awakening.” – Dogen What would it be like to cease our desires? In this third talk of our SESSHIN: Genjokoan, Matthew Kozan Palevsky, and Kigaku Noah Rossetter talk about our desire for comfort and our propensity of trying […]
We aren’t here to study the Genjokoan, we are here to practice it. We are here to be it and not to be separate from it. In the second talk of our SESSHIN: Genjokoan, Roshi Joan Halifax talks about the loss and death that followed Dogen throughout his life. Roshi also talks about vows and the […]
It’s a Genjokoan life. In this talk, Mathew Kozan Palevsky opens up the door to Dogen’s Genjokoan fascicle. He breaks down the title, summarizes the text and demystifies some of it’s meaning. Kozan also invites us to think of our practice as art and of Dogen as an artist. This talk is a prelude to Upaya’s […]
Dharma Talks – Ocean Gate Zen Center – Santa Cruz, Capitola, Aptos
This lecture is also available as a video on YouTube: https://youtu.be/6yYBWfGngrc https://www.oceangatezen.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/Shobogenzo-Genjokoan-10-compressed.mp3 https://www.oceangatezen.org/2020/07/shobogenzo-genjokoan-talk-10/feed/ 0
Dharma Talks – Ocean Gate Zen Center – Santa Cruz, Capitola, Aptos
https://www.oceangatezen.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/Genjokoan-talk-8-compressed.mp3 https://www.oceangatezen.org/2020/06/shobogenzo-genjokoan-talk-8-2/feed/ 0
Dharma Talks – Ocean Gate Zen Center – Santa Cruz, Capitola, Aptos
https://www.oceangatezen.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/OG-Genjo-Koan-talk-8-2020-compressed.mp3 https://www.oceangatezen.org/2020/05/shobogenzo-genjokoan-talk-8/feed/ 0
Dharma Talks – Ocean Gate Zen Center – Santa Cruz, Capitola, Aptos
https://www.oceangatezen.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/Shobogenzo-Genjokoan-7-compressed.mp3 https://www.oceangatezen.org/2020/05/shobogenzo-genjokoan-talk-7/feed/ 0
Dharma Talks – Ocean Gate Zen Center – Santa Cruz, Capitola, Aptos
https://www.oceangatezen.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/Forgetting-the-Self-and-Mitigating-Covid-19-compressed.mp3 https://www.oceangatezen.org/2020/04/forgetting-the-self-during-pandemic-mitigation-genjokoan-talk-6/feed/ 0
Dharma Talks – Ocean Gate Zen Center – Santa Cruz, Capitola, Aptos
https://www.oceangatezen.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/Genjo-Koan-talk-5-to-know-the-self-compressed.mp3 https://www.oceangatezen.org/2020/04/shobogenzo-genjokoan-5/feed/ 0
ADZG 749 ADZG Sunday Morning Dharma Talk by Rev. Taigen Dan Leighton
Engetsu Lefevre speaking about the Genjokoan and creativity. The Genjokoan was written by Eihei Dogen, the founder of Soto Zen in Japan, and it addresses how true reality can be expressed in everyday life.
18 09 2019 - Nesta palestra Soho Sensei fala sobre o final do capítulo 3 do Shoboguenzo de Marcos Zenji.
18 09 2019 - Nesta instrução na quarta 18/09 de manhã, nosso professor Soho Eido ilustra aspectos do Genjokoan do Shoboguenzo, idealmente deve se escutar o primeiro áudio do shoboguenzo, depois sentar com este e aí passar para o segundo áudio.
11 09 2019 - Nesta sessão, nosso 501o. áudio postado no SoundCloud, nosso professor Eido Soho aborda novamente o Cap. 3 do Shoboguenzo, o Genjokoan, a Manifestação do Ser Aqui e Agora. Tivemos a visita de alunos de uma faculdade de psicologia e Soho Sensei faz alguns paralelos.
Neste áudio escutamos a abertura do Sesshin de Corpus Christi, que ocorreu entre 20 de junho de 2019 e 23 de junho de 2019, na Pousada Ecológica Itororó, coordenada por membros do Conselho Diretor de Eininji. Na sequência publicaremos os demais áudios do retiro, baseado em uma palestra da professora Vimala Thakar (de Vedanta) de 1971 e no Genjokoan de Dogen Zenji.
Jorge Luis Borges's story "Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius" is a metaphysical detective story, an armchair conspiracy thriller, and a masterpiece of weird fiction. In this tale penned by a true literary magician, Phil and JF see an opportunity to talk about magic, hyperstition, non-linear time, and the power of metaphysics to reshape the world. When Phil questions his co-host's animus against idealist doctrines, the discussion turns to dreams, cybernetics, and information theory, before reaching common ground with the dumbfound appreciation of radical mystery. Jorge Luis Borges, "Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius" in Ficciones (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ficciones) Weird Studies, Episode 29, "On Lovecraft" (https://www.weirdstudies.com/29) George Berkley, [A Treatise Concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ATreatiseConcerningthePrinciplesofHumanKnowledge)_ (1710) John Crowley, the Aegypt (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%86gypt) tetralogy Quentin Meillassoux, After Finitude: An Essay on the Necessity of Contingency (https://www.bloomsbury.com/us/after-finitude-9781441173836/) Sir Thomas Browne, [Hydriotaphia - Urn Burial](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hydriotaphia,UrnBurial) Richard Wagner, [Der Ring des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DerRingdesNibelungen)_ William James, A Pluralistic Universe (http://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674673915) Karl Schroeder, "Degrees of Freedom" (https://medium.com/@aviv/degrees-of-freedom-d883f1265e89) Weird Studies, Episode 26, "Living in a Glass Age" (https://www.weirdstudies.com/26) Henri Bergson, Creative Evolution (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/26163/26163-h/26163-h.htm) Dogen, [Genjokoan](http://www.thezensite.com/ZenTeachings/DogenTeachings/GenjoKoan8.htm)_
Sokuzan paraphrases a line of Genjokoan from Dogen’s Shobogenzo to inspire today’s dharma talk: Buddhas are enlightened about delusion; sentient beings are deluded about enlightenment. There isn’t anything other than this, this is sometimes called suchness, or actualizing the fundamental point. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vHo_qtwCek&t=161s
Study session on Okumura's "Realizing Genjokoan" at Eiryu-ji Zen Center on 7/818
Study session on Okumura's "Realizing Genjokoan" at Eiryu-ji Zen Center on 6/3/18
JF and Phil tackle Genjokoan, a profound and puzzling work of philosophy by Dogen Zenji. In it, the 13th-century Zen master ponders the question, "If everything is already enlightened, why practice Zen?" As a lapsed Zen practitioner ("a shit buddhist") with many hours of meditation under his belt, Phil draws on personal experience to dig into Dogen's strange and startling answers, while JF speaks from his perspective as a "decadent hedonist." "When one side is illumined," says Dogen, "the other is dark." For proof of this utterance, you could do worse than listen to this episode of Weird Studies. REFERENCES Dogen Zenji, [Genjokoan](http://www.thezensite.com/ZenTeachings/DogenTeachings/GenjoKoan8.htm)_ Shohaku Okumura (http://www.sanshinji.org/) and the Sanshin Zen Community in Bloomington, Indiana Peter Sloterdijk, [You Must Change Your Life](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/YouMustChangeYourLife) Weird Studies, Episode 8 (http://www.weirdstudies.com/8): "On Graham Harman's 'The Third Table'" Gilles Deleuze, [Cinema 1: The Movement Image](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cinema1:TheMovementImage) Jun'ichiro Tanizaki, [In Praise of Shadows](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/InPraiseofShadows)_ Thomas Aquinas, [Summa Theologica](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SummaTheologica)_ Henri Bergson, [Matter and Memory](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MatterandMemory) Søren Kierkegaard, [Fear and Trembling](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FearandTrembling) Joris-Karl Huysmans, À Rebours (Against Nature) (https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/35341/against-nature/) Chogyam Trungpa, Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism (https://www.shambhala.com/cutting-through-spiritual-materialism-458.html)
Heraclitus of Ephesus was one of the great pre-Socratic thinkers. Called the Obscure and the Weeping Philosopher, he left behind a collection of fragments so mysterious and pregnant with meaning that they continue to puzzle scholars to this day. In this episode, Phil and JF use a random number generator to select a number of fragments and speculate about their content. By the end, they will also have disclosed the bizarre contents of JF's tenth-grade "hippie bag," outed Oscar Wilde as a Zen Buddhist, and taken a walking tour of a city that exists only in Phil's dreams. REFERENCES Pierre Hadot, What is Ancient Philosophy? (https://www.amazon.com/What-Ancient-Philosophy-Pierre-Hadot/dp/0674013735) Northrop Frye, The Great Code (https://www.amazon.com/Great-Code-Bible-Literature/dp/0156027801) Northrop Frye, Words with Power (https://www.amazon.com/Words-Power-Literature-Collected-Northrop/dp/0802092934) I Ching: The Book of Changes (http://www.akirarabelais.com/i/i.html) Oxford World Classics, The First Philosophers: The Presocratics and Sophists (https://www.amazon.ca/First-Philosophers-Presocratics-Sophists/dp/019953909X) Wikisource page for Heraclitus (https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Fragments_of_Heraclitus) James Hillman, The Dream and the Underworld (https://www.amazon.com/Dream-Underworld-James-Hillman/dp/0060906820) Dogen Zenji, [Genjokoan](http://www.thezensite.com/ZenTeachings/DogenTeachings/GenjoKoan8.htm)_ Mark Johnson, The Meaning of the Body (http://press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/chicago/M/bo5417890.html) Gilles Deleuze on Spinoza (http://deleuzelectures.blogspot.com/2007/02/on-spinoza.html) Benedict de Spinoza, Ethics (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/3800/3800-h/3800-h.htm) Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Grey (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/174/174-h/174-h.htm) Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols (http://www.handprint.com/SC/NIE/GotDamer.html) Neil Gaiman, [Seasons of Mist](http://sandman.wikia.com/wiki/SeasonofMists) (the fourth arc of the Sandman series) Deleuze on Dreams (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Klhi6S6G-OY)
Study session on Okumura's "Realizing Genjokoan" at Eiryu-ji Zen Center on 5/6/18
Study session on Okumura's "Realizing Genjokoan" at Eiryu-ji Zen Center on 4/8/18
In this episode we finish up the Genjokoan, focusing first on the rather long passage comparing our path of practice to the way a fish swims in the water, or a bird flies in the sky. Then I’ll talk about the story at the end of the essay, where a monk asks a Zen master why he uses a fan when the nature of wind permeates everywhere, which is really a question about why we practice if reality ultimately lacks nothing.
In this 4th episode of 5 on Zen master Dogen's Genjokoan (written in 1233), I discuss the image of the moon reflected in a dewdrop (ultimate reality reflected/realized by a limited person), and the metaphor of different experiences of the ocean (the nature of relative and absolute truths).
In part 3 of my series on the famous Zen text called “Genjokoan,” written in 1233 by Japanese Zen master Eihei Dogen, I discuss the sections about seeking the Dharma, riding in a boat (recognizing self-nature is impermanent), and firewood and ash (the Great Matter of Life-and-Death).
My second episode focused on the famous Zen text “Genjokoan,” written by Japanese Zen master Eihei Dogen in 1233. In this episode I cover "the moon reflected in water" section, and the "to study Buddhism is to study the self" section. (I'm proceeding through the essay verse by verse over the course of a few episodes.)
Part of my Buddhist Texts series, this episode focuses on a famous Zen text called “Genjokoan,” written by Japanese Zen master Eihei Dogen in 1233. Genjokoan is one of the most popular and widely studied of Dogen’s essays. In the interest of unlocking it's profound teaching for you, I’ll proceed through the essay verse by verse over the course of a few episodes.
From Dogen’s Genjokoan (translation by Kazuaki Tanahashi): “To carry the self forward and illuminate myriad things is delusion. That myriad things come forth and express themselves is your awakening”. Here Sokuzan expands on this teaching of receiving. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KS-kZGqe7RI
“To carry the self forward and illuminate myriad things is delusion. That myriad things come forward and illuminate the self is awakening.” This talk is a commentary on these two lines from Dogen’s Genjokoan.
A Dharma Talk with Jay Rinsen Weik Sensei, Abbot of the Great Heartland Buddhist Temple of Toledo. The suggested donation for this podcast is only $1. Please consider what The Drinking Gourd podcasts mean to you! _/_
Graham Ross and Mako Voelkel, Dharma Talk, Saturday 4 October 2014, Austin Zen Center
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Talks given by Katagiri Roshi from the Zen Meditation Center on Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis, MN
Recording is "hissy"
Talks given by Katagiri Roshi from the Zen Meditation Center on Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis, MN