Podcasts about rinzai

In this Teisho, given on February 29th, 2025, the second day of No-Rank Zen Temple's Spring Odayaka Sesshin, Rinzan Osho examines Lingzhao's Shining Grasses. To open to Dharma practice and the deep spiritual life, one has to be willing to do hard things with an everyday mind.        

Genjo Marinello Osho gave this Teisho during the third day of Spring Sesshin 2025, at Chobo-Ji. This talk explores the qualities one should find in a senior Zen monk and the fact that none of us will always be in the groove of excellence. 

Genjo Marinello Osho gave this Teisho during the first day of Spring Sesshin 2025, at Chobo-Ji. This talk explores THIS reality prior to heaven and earth; it has no form, let alone a name.

In this Teisho, given on February 28th, 2025, the first day of No-Rank Zen Temple's Spring Odayaka Sesshin, Rinzan Osho examines case 59 of the Hekiganroku: Joshu's "Why Not Quote to the End?" The Real Way is not difficult. It only abhors choice and attachment. So how can we be free to flow in a world of like and dislike?

In this Teisho, given on January 26th, 2025, Rinzan Osho examines The Hidden Lamp: Kakuzan Shido's Dagger. Zen training initiates us into a new way of being. How do we respond to the world with authenticity, depth and presence?

In this Teisho, given on January 21st, 2025, the fourth full day of No-Rank Zen Temple's January Rohatsu Sesshin, Rinzan Osho examines the Hidden Lamp: Ling's Question. "To be a human being is to live in calamity." How is it that we live a caring spiritual  life amidst this?

Host Michael Taft speaks with Stephen Snyder Sensei about practicing the Pa Auk jhanas, the importance of vulnerability in finding authentic strength, his two paths for awakening: the Theravada cessation path and the Zen shikantaza path, how to balance psychological work with awakening, seeing the enlightened qualities of anger (and other difficult emotions), what are “protective” meditations, the three levels of shikantaza practice, koan practice, aloneness as a spiritual path, and the three factors he feels must be present for a true awakening.Stephen Mugen Snyder, Sensei began practicing daily meditation in 1976. Since then, he has studied Buddhism extensively—investigating and engaging in Zen, Tibetan, Theravada, and Western non-dual traditions. He was authorized to teach in the Theravada Buddhist tradition in 2007 and the Zen Buddhist schools of Soto and Rinzai in 2022. Stephen is a senior student of Roshi Mark Sando Mininberg and a transmitted teacher in the White Plum Asanga—the body of teachers in the Maezumi-roshi lineage. Stephen is the author of many books, including Trust in Awakening, Demystifying Awakening and Buddha's Heart. Stephen Snyder's website: https://awakeningdharma.org/You can support the creation of future episodes of this podcast by contributing through Patreon.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

In this Teisho, given on January 20th, 2025, the third full day of No-Rank Zen Temple's January Rohatsu Sesshin, Rinzan Osho examines case 54 of the Hekiganroku: Ummon Stretches Out His Hands. Who are we when we greet the world that is beckoning us forward? How do we respond to its open armed invitiation.

In the new Thursday Workshop I have initiated for 2025, I am attempting to lay out in great detail what I believe to be the most natural way to meditate: zazen before Zen, so to speak. It may not be your daddy's meditation, but it is that of our ancient forefathers. Meditation, after all, was not the exclusive discovery of the historical Buddha, and his realization could not have been the first in the long presence of humankind on the planet, just the first recorded in history. What he discovered represents a return to something more primordial than Buddhism; Buddha was not a Buddhist, after all. Traditional teachings emphasize the perfecting of the Six Paramitas, which enumerate both personal and social dimensions of the place of Zen philosophy and practice in the cultures of India, China, Korea, Japan, and the far East. They are variously translated as charity, ethics, patience, effort, meditation, and wisdom. But in Zen practice, the perfecting of the paramitas in our daily lives is not merely a matter of remembering and agreeing with them in principle. It is, instead, recommended that we observe them in everything we do, within each dimension of the Eightfold Path; most especially including meditation, the eighth in the usual order, and the first place we begin to make effort. As Master Dogen is quoted as saying, In zazen what precept or ethical principle, is not fulfilled? The main method of Zen cannot be detached from the Eightfold Path, nor can it be left out of the process of perfecting the other five paramitas. Posture ParamitaIn fact, in zazen we begin by taking up another process of perfecting — perfecting the posture. Matsuoka-roshi would often say that you have to work your way through every bone in your body, and suggested that we develop an attitude of continually aiming at the perfect posture, never imagining that we have achieved it. This amounts to a practical application of Dogen's cryptic phrase, "making effort without aiming at it." This is what I refer to as "posture paramita": an exploratory search for the natural posture. Much like the proposition that we are already enlightened but we don't yet know it, this approach suggests that our posture is already perfect, but we keep interfering with it. Much of our training in zazen method is about how to stop doing that. The Natural Way to MeditateOne of the misconceptions I would like to address up-front is that we can do zazen the "right" way — and its corollary, the "wrong" way. While the ancient teachings mention "right meditation" along with all the other "rights" in the Eightfold Path, this translators' choice is not meant to indicate that there is an absolutely right way to meditate, as opposed to wrong ways. The "right" in this construction is more like a verb than an adjective — as in righting a capsized boat, in order to continue sailing. Or righting a wheel that is out of round, so that it rolls smoothly. In Zen, we continually correct as we go, when we detect that we are off-course. The vacillation is built into our conscious mind, continually swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other. For example, most practitioners interpret the instructions for zazen as strictly indicating that we are to sit stock still. Don't move. And empty the mind of thoughts. The former command to sit still may comprise a more pedantic obiter dictum in Rinzai praxis than in Soto Zen; the latter notion of the empty mind, a Western misconstruing of Master Dogen's "non-thinking." But most Americans, when first approaching Zen meditation, probably harbor these two ideas as a preconception. To which I say "good luck" with either of these notions, especially in combination. Unless you give yourself permission to move, you will never discover why it is that we sit still. Unless you give yourself permission to think, you may never realize what Dogen meant by "non-thinking." This was Master Dogen's expression of the natural state of attention in zazen. It is neither thinking, nor not thinking, which are opposite sides of the same coin. We sit without relying on thinking, our default go-to in most other areas of endeavor. Feeling GravityTake an example from early childhood. Gravity is said to be the "constant teacher." As a toddler just beginning to transition from crawling to walking, we stand up, we fall down. We stand up again, we fall down again. This natural process may be the origin of the old saying that Dogen adapted, "Fall down seven times, get up eight." I always wonder why he didn't say "get up seven." We don't learn to stand and walk by thinking it through. At that age it is not likely that there is much thinking going on at all, in the ordinary sense of the word. We might better regard it as a process of adaptation. We are learning to navigate and negotiate the causes and conditions of our world, in which gravity is a major player, by trial and error. Which involves intuition and observation rather than intellectual analysis. Similarly, the very act of sitting and facing a blank wall for extended periods of time is a counter-intuitive and counter-cultural act. That is, its simplicity sets aside the usual resort to thinking and analysis, bringing forth the intuitive, instinctual side of awareness. Taken for GrantedOnce we can successfully balance, standing and walking in the field of gravity, it becomes less and less of a concern, and eventually goes subliminal. We are less and less aware of its influence. Until we take up athletics, dancing, or some other activity that challenges our security in the face of gravitational attraction, such as mountain climbing or walking tightropes. Maybe bungie-jumping. As Master Dogen was wont to say, after laying out an analogy to help us grasp the principles of Zen, "All things are like this." That is, we adapt to all sensations over time, becoming less acutely aware of all the multiple stimuli that are acting upon us at any given time. In doing so physically and sensorially, we take more and more of our world for granted, until some natural or manmade disaster comes along as a wakeup call. Stepping BackAnother natural way to de-condition ourselves and recover our awareness of the fundamentals of our existence — like gravity — is to practice zazen. Finding and engaging the most natural posture — upright seated meditation — combined with the most natural breathing pattern, we afford ourselves the best opportunity for discovering, or recovering, our most natural, original mind. As our attention withdraws from our usual ruminations over the ongoing conditions of our lives that we find unsatisfactory (dukkha) — in what Master Dogen referred to as the "backward step" — we naturally return to a more primordial state of awareness, sometimes referred to as "bare awareness," becoming aware of, or remembering, what it is to exist as a sentient being. This "returning to" is the root meaning of "refuge" — refugo, refugare from the Latin — rather than escaping or hiding out, we are returning to familiar territory, our true home. I would say, remembering what it means to be a "fully conscious human being," but Zen's teachings caution us to accept that we are not necessarily fully conscious — in fact that we are largely asleep. The Zen Buddhist proposition regarding consciousness is relatively simple in concept, but difficult in execution, as we say of certain problems and processes in design thinking. That is, we were all asleep last night, and we all woke up this morning, and we all know the difference between the two. Although lucid dreaming sometimes calls the difference into question. One key tenet of Buddhism, that I do not believe is characteristic of any other religious or spiritual practice, is that — as wide awake as we may seem to be at the moment — we are still asleep, to a certain degree. And that we can wake up — fully — as Buddha did. The honorific means, literally, the "fully awakened one." And that we will know the difference. This suggests that we can do this on our own recognizance. We don't need no stinking teachers, as the threefold Lotus Sutra reminds us. Zen is pointing at something natural, primordial, that comes with the territory of being a human being. We look to teachings for guidance, but we cannot depend upon them, nor upon our teachers, for our own insight. In this matter, Zen is truly the ultimate in do-it-yourself, which helps to explain its appeal to the Western mindset of independent thinking, the cult of the individual. As we turn our attention away from the pressing concerns of the social sphere, shining the bright light of Zen meditation upon the personal sphere, the natural process of sensory adaptation will set in. By stressing stillness and sameness over motion and change, we begin to experience motion in the stillness, on deeper and more subtle levels. As Matsuoka-roshi would often say, "Zen goes deeper." At bottom, we embrace the reality that these apparent differences are really not separate, that nothing has really changed from the beginning. It is what it is, what it has always been, and what it will always be: everchanging. Please plan to join our new online and onsite practice opportunities for 2025. My new Thursday evening Advanced Workshop, in particular, is designed to take a deep dive into the more subtle secrets of zazen and Zen.

Dr. Ginny Whitelaw is an 86th Generation Rinzai Zen master, Chosei, Zen priest, and founder of the Institute for Zen Leadership. With 30 years developing whole leaders, she is the author of award-winning Resonate and The Zen Leader, and co-developer of FEBI, a personality assessment that links mind, body and behaviors. Formerly, Deputy Manager for integrating NASA's Space Station, she has a doctorate in biophysics, degrees in physics and philosophy, and a 5th degree black belt in Aikido. She is a regular contributor to Forbes.com on leadership strategy.Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/mission-evolution-with-gwilda-wiyaka--2888020/support.

In this Dharma talk, given on December 15, 2024, Rinzan Osho talks about the importance of taking responsibility in our work in developing spiritual maturity.

In this Teisho, given on December 2, 2024, the second full day of Chobo-ji's Rohatsu Sesshin, Rinzan Osho examines case 50 of the Hekiganroku: Ummon's "Particle After Particle Samadhi." When we see beyond concepts, we can be open, free and responsive to the great reality, a place where words meet words and spirit meets spirit.

In this Teisho, given on November 24th, 2024, Rinzan Osho examines The Hidden Lamp: Satsujo Sits on the Lotus Sutra. When we free our mind, we see that we are intimate with all things . 

»Ein Tag ohne Arbeit - ein Tag ohne Essen«, lautet Hyakujō Ekais berühmter Ausspruch in Koan 125 des Kattōshū. Hyakujō lebte von 720 bis 814 und führte entgegen der damaligen Tradition die Selbstversorgung der Mönche ein. Praktiziert wurde eine naturnahe Lebensweise, die sorgfältig umgeht mit dem, was Mutter Erde bietet. Darüber hinaus hat er die ersten Anweisungen für die Zen-Übung in einem Regelwerk zusammengefasst sowie Pläne für Zen-Tempel und -Gärten entwickelt. Als Dharma-Großvater von Rinzai ist Hyakujō auch ein Urahne der Choka Sangha, die als Ort der Zen-Praxis und Lehrhof für Permakultur sich besonders bemüht, mit der Natur zu kooperieren und lebensförderliche Bedingungen zu schaffen. Um für junge Erwachsene den Aufenthalt im ToGenJi zu ermöglichen, bitten wir um eine Spende: Sie finden die Kontodaten/Paypal auf unserer Website https://choka-sangha.de/spenden/ Herzlichen Dank

Der Geist ist ohne Form und durchdringt die zehn Richtungen heißt es in Meister Linjis Unterweisungen des Rinzai Roku. Obwohl der Geist also auch in uns wirkt und wir uns entspannt den Herausforderungen des Alltags stellen könnten, versuchen wir ihn ständig zu fassen und geraten dadurch oftmals an die Grenzen des für uns Machbaren. In diesem Teisho widmet sich Christoph Rei Ho Hatlapa insbesondere den Anforderungen, die wir als Eltern meinen, erfüllen zu müssen. Nicht selten münden diese jedoch in einen permanenten inneren Aktionismus, der im Eltern-Burnout enden kann. Dabei vergessen wir dann ganz und gar, was genügt. Der amerikanische Psychologe Ron Smothermon betrachtet es als die zentrale Aufgabe der Eltern, ihre Kinder zu erhalten und durchzubringen, bis sie sich selbst ernähren können. Rinzai fordert uns auf: Hängt euch weder an Eltern noch Kinder oder vermeidlich große Geister. Eurer Leben wurde euch geschenkt, damit ihr euer eigenes Licht erwecken könnt. Nutzt eure Zeit gut und macht euch auf den Weg, dann führt er mit etwas Glück zum großen Erwachen. Um für junge Erwachsene den Aufenthalt im ToGenJi zu ermöglichen, bitten wir um eine Spende: Sie finden die Kontodaten/Paypal auf unserer Website https://choka-sangha.de/spenden/ Herzlichen Dank

In this Teisho, given on Novembwer 10, 2024, Rinzan Osho examines case 49 of the Hekiganroku: Sansho's "The Gold Carp Out of the Net." What is it when we have dropped the bonds of ego and are truly free? 

DOGEN ON ZAZENUpon returning to Japan from China in 1227, at the age of 27, Master Dogen composed the first draft of Fukanzazengi, the tract in which he outlines the principles of seated meditation, or zazen, that he had learned under the tutelage of Master Rujing. In one of the English translations, about two-thirds of the way through the text, he asks a question of the reader: 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. At this point in the piece, he has said many things about the physical method of meditation, interwoven with suggestions of the philosophy, attitude adjustments and correctives to conventional wisdom that accompany the practice. So what he means to indicate as the most important thing is subject to speculation. This may reflect a translator's choice anomaly, a known issue in the art of interpreting ancient teachings. To home in on this most important thing more closely, let's look at a brief, pointed poem, “Zazenshin,” that Dogen paraphrased from a Chinese version. It means something like “Acupuncture Needle” or “Lancet” – a very sharp instrument – for or about zazen: Zazen-shin - Shohaku Okumura, trans. The essential-function of each buddha and the functioning-essence of each ancestor.
Being actualized within not-thinking.Being manifested within non-interacting.Being actualized within not-thinking, the actualization is by nature intimate.Being manifested within non-interacting, the manifestation is itself verification.The actualization that is by nature intimate never has defilement.
The manifestation that is by nature verification never has distinction between Absolute and Relative.The intimacy without defilement is dropping off without relying on anything.The verification beyond distinction between Absolute and Relative is making effort without aiming at it.The water is clear to the earth; a fish is swimming like a fish.
The sky is vast, extending to the heavens; a bird is flying like a bird. So from this we may take it that the most important thing has something to do with not thinking and non-interacting, and not distinguishing between the absolute and relative. It is pointing at something intimate, undefiled by conventional wisdom, and that has nothing to do with our reliance on common understanding, and goal-oriented efforts. To which we can only respond, “Hmmm. Thank you Dogen, for clearing that up.” MATSUOKA ON DOGENClearly, this message is about something beyond words, that language can only point at, if it is beyond thinking itself. Let's explore some more contemporary quotes from Matsuoka-roshi to see if we can zoom in on the meaning of these passages. O-Sensei simplified Dogen Zenji's instructions for his American students, condensing them into three discrete areas: posture, breath, and attention. The following are three expressions he would use frequently, addressing questions about zazen: Keep aiming at the perfect posture never imagining that you've achieved it You have to work your way through every bone in your body When your posture is approaching the stage of perfection, it will feel as if you are shoving your head against the ceiling The first, about aiming without achieving, makes Dogen's “making effort without aiming at it” a bit more concrete by narrowly defining “it” as the upright posture. This is in keeping with the Zen premise that the zazen posture is the full expression of enlightenment, not merely a means to the end of enlightenment. It also reminds us that there can be no separation of body and mind in Zen, nor, indeed, in reality. And that the natural process of Zen is open-ended, based on aspiration as opposed to expectation. The second indicates that this is going to be a steady, slow process on a visceral level, sitting “with muscle and bone,” as my senior dharma brother in Chicago, Kongo-roshi, titled one of his talks. There are a lot of bones in your body. And the bones, of course, are not separate from the skin, flesh, and marrow, the connective tissue, as Master Bodhidharma taught. “Working your way through” recalls the famous dictum from the poet Robert Frost, paraphrasing, “the only way out is through.” The third seems to contradict the first, when Sensei describes what he frequently referred to as the “sitting-mountain feeling” that eventually comes from zazen. We are to aim at it without concluding that we've achieved it, because “Zen goes deeper,” as he would often say. No matter how seemingly complete and transcendent our immediate experience, it is not the end of the process, an attitude adjustment first articulated by Buddha himself in the “Fifty False States” section of the Surangama Sutra. The main admonition is that, no matter what happens in your meditation, not to imagine that you are now completely enlightened. Even Buddha returned to meditation for the fifty years of his life following his profound insight. But this “shoving your head against the ceiling” sensation is something that I can personally attest to from my modest experience on the cushion. I suspect that when we pull back on the chin, stretching the back of our neck with strength, a specific detail of the posture emphasized by Matsuoka-roshi, it has the effect of shoving our skull against the scalp, which would then feel like the resistance of a solid, external surface like a ceiling. The entire body is a tension-compression structure, much like a camping tent, where the bones of the skeleton are the compression members under stress from the surrounding membrane of musculature, tendons and ligaments, like the canvas and ropes of the tent. HAKUIN'S GAS PEDALThe other end of the “tentpole” is the base of the spine, connecting to the coccyx, or tailbone. Hakuin Zenji, a famous Rinzai priest whose life span bridged the 17th and 18th centuries, from 1686 to1769, recommended that we push forward and down on the lower spine until we feel a bit of pain there. That sensation derives from stretching the hard tissue of the discs between the large lower vertebrae. Even more today than in his time, our posture tends to be c-shaped, sometimes referred to as a “cashew,” when we sit in the driver's seat of our vehicles on the expressway, or the chair at our desk. The natural position of the spine is an “S-shape” curve, bending the lower back in the opposite direction, like a cobra rising from the floor, dancing to the tune of the snake-charmer's flute. I call this Hakuin's gas pedal. Like the accelerator of your car or truck, if you keep your foot on it, pressing forward and down, the vehicle moves. If you let up on it, it slows to a stop. On the other hand, if you go pedal to the metal, it speeds out of control. The Middle Way again, in all its manifestations. So the most important thing, as regards the posture, at least, may be keeping these two pressure points in play while sitting. If you do so, you can't go far wrong in terms of sitting upright. Breathing and attention also come into the picture, but that may be a subject for another UnMind. Let me close this segment with a couple of aphorisms that have come to me in my practice. ME ON ZAZEN I do not claim to have the depth of insight and understanding of our ancestors, and recognize that context, while not determinative of Zen experience, certainly counts. What Buddha, Bodhidharma, the great ancestors in China, and Dogen himself managed to accomplish under relatively primitive conditions in no way compares to what we may expect to realize under relatively cushy but geometrically more complex circumstances. But as they did in their times we must do in ours — namely use what we know to inform our efforts in exploring what we do not know, and cannot know, in any ordinary sense. So, here, I want to introduce two terms that may have no counterpart in their language. PROPRIOCEPTION MEETS VERTIGOProprioception is a term from modern physiology, defined as: Perception or awareness of the position and movement of the body Vertigo is defined as: A sensation of whirling and loss of balance, associated particularly with looking down from a great height, or caused by disease affecting the inner ear or the vestibular nerve; giddiness. In terms of our experience in zazen, then, proprioception would be akin to samadhi, or at least its early stages, when, as Matsuoka-roshi said: When posture, breath, and attention all come together in a unified way, that is the real zazen. Now, if there is “real” zazen, it implies that there must be “unreal” or “fake” zazen, or the false impression that we are doing zazen when we are not, really. Samadhi is a jargon term that I hesitate to use, as it implies that I know what it means while suggesting that you probably do not. Which sets up the false dichotomy of “you and I,” “us and them,” the in-group cognoscenti versus the great unwashed. Sensei also pointed out, at the Zen Buddhist Temple of Chicago, paraphrasing, “When you become dizzy, concentrate on your knees.” And “When you get nauseous, concentrate on your forehead.” Or it may have been the other way around. The main point is that you probably will get dizzy, and you probably will get nauseous, in zazen. This brings up another coinage, for which I claim authorship: Let not the spiritual be the enemy of the practical I detect a vestigial strain of puritanism in the American culture that can infect our understanding and presentation of Zen, as a kind of belief system, a set of doctrines that one must subscribe to, in order to penetrate the inner sanctum of Zen's purported spiritual secrets. This is anathema to the real Zen, as I understand it. All of Master Dogen's instructions in Fukanzazengi are physical, not mental, as Carl Bielefeldt points out in his “Dogen's Manuals of Zen Meditation,” a wonderful, incisive line-by-line analysis of Dogen's two extant revisions compared to the Chinese original. So let's stay focused on the physical, and not get distracted by any woo-woo “spiritual.” If we continue sitting without expectation, implementing the two pressure points until we feel tMatsuoka-roshi's “sitting mountain feeling” of great stability — our head “pressed against the ceiling” — the body and mind will take us where we need to go. We trust our teachers' intent and wisdom, and we trust our Original Mind, as indicated in the title of Hsinhsinming, the earliest Ch'an poem chanted in Soto liturgy. If we sustain this posture — sitting still enough and straight enough for long enough — it will work its magic. Equilibrium will set in in the tension-compression system of muscle and bone of the body, leading to equipoise of the mind. Sustained for some time, the constancy of our proprioception will inevitably lead to vertigo — the flip side of solidity. “Mountains are always walking” — the planet is falling through space. There is “not even a toehold.” Emptiness is innately form, form innately emptiness. In the next segment of UnMind, we will put a cap on “Election Year Zen,” my tenth and final concluding commentary on the 2024 campaign, now that we know how it all turned out. But like a centipede, or millipede, there are surely many more shoes to drop.

In this Teisho, given on October 17, 2024, Rinzan Osho examines case 47 of the Hekiganroku: Ummon's "Beyond the Six."  Taking up our practice on the cushion, stilling the mind, we feel into something beyond, but here. We relax and immerse ourselves in it, so we can rise up in service of that which is beyond the beyond.

In this Teisho, given on August 25, 2024, Rinzan Osho examines case 40 of the Hekiganroku: Nansen's "This Flower." Believing thoughts are substantive, we get confused about what is most intimate. Setting aside descriptions and categories of like and dislike, can we be open to the great reality presenting itself to us directly?

In this Teisho, given on July 28, 2024, Rinzan Osho examines case 38 of the Hekiganroku: Fuketsu and the Dharma Seal of the Patriarch." In practicing music, we train to become musicians, learning from those before us and taking the guidance of a teacher. In Zen, we apply these same principles, training to become a human being.

Genjo Marinello Osho gave this Teisho during the first day of Autumn 2024 Sesshin at Chobo-Ji. This talk explores the leaf, tree and root perspectives.

Genjo Marinello Roshi gave Teisho on the Hekiganroku case 69, "Nansen Draws A Circle," at No-Rank Zen Temple's Sept. 1st Zazenkai. Sadly the recording of this talk was lost. He repirsed it during the Sept. 8, 2024 Zazenkai at Chobo-Ji. It explores the Zen enso and its meaning.  How do we sit in the middle of the circle of form and non-form? 

In this Teisho, given on July 15th, 2024, the sixth day of No-Rank Zen Temple's Summer Sesshin, Rinzan Osho examines case 36 of the Hekiganroku: Chosha Went for a Walk." How do we touch everything with the greatest appreciation, even while allowing for preferences?

Tenshin Fletcher Roshi talks about case 95 of the Book of Equanimity, "Rinzai's One Stroke."

Genjo Marinello Osho gave this Teisho during the Aug. 11, 2024 Zazenkai at Chobo-Ji. This talk explores how to cultivate deep mindfulness, presence and gravitas, which leads to more care and compassion for ourselves and this world.

In this Teisho, given on July 15th, 2024, the third day of No-Rank Zen Temple's Summer Sesshin, Rinzan Osho examines case 34 of the Hekiganroku: Kyozan's "You Have Not Visited Rozan." There are different ways to investigate the question "Where are you from?" Zen training teaches us to delve beyond the relative into the depths of our ineffible origins. Then, we spring back up, encapsulating it all, all at once. 

In this Teisho, given on June 9th, 2024, Rinzan Osho examines The Hidden Lamp: Ziyong's Earth. We reach out to the world in an effort to connect. To do this, we must open up to the mystery and wonder of all thing.

07/13/2024, Kogen Jamie Howell, dharma talk at City Center. This talk was given by Kogen Jamie Howell at one of Beginner's Mind Temple's pop-up events at Unity Church, San Francisco. Jamie discusses his lay (i.e., not ordained clergy) Zen life in both the Rinzai and Soto traditions in the west, highlighting similarities and differences in their approaches to Buddhist practice. Jamie spent most of his 45-year practice at the San Francisco Zen Center but also studied with teachers at the Mount Baldy Zen Center, Zendo Brasil and City Zen (Santa Rosa).

Learn Time Travel Online: https://www.udemy.com/course/time-travel/?referralCode=75A0CD67A06929D40550   Purchase Acid Quote Tees on Etsy: https://acidquotetees.etsy.com/   Related terms: Meditation. Awareness. Developmental Psychology. Philosophy of Mind. Psychedelics. Active Meditation. World Religion. Comparative Religion Studies. Archetypal Psychology. Eric Berne Psychology. Ken Wilber. Greek Philosophy. Speaking with God. The Dosta Method. Terrence Mckenna. Christianity. Islam. Buddhism. Taoism. Social Sciences. Sociology. Anthropology. Noosphere. Theosphere. Theology. Monotheism. New Atheism. Sam Harris. Richard Dawkins. Christopher Hitchens. Therapy. Family Therapy. Family Constellations. Counselling. Motivational Psychology. Self-help. Personal Power. The Power of Now. Ram Dass. Osho. Rupert Spira. Adyashanti. Krishnamurti. Personal Transformation. Transcendental Meditation. Socrates. Plato. Aristotle. Kant. Hagle. Bertrand Russel. Dostoevsky. Jordan Peterson. Tony Robins. Zen Mastery. Spirituality. Oriental Philosophy. Eastern Mysticism. Kabir. Zarathustra. Rinzai. Sadhguru. Enlightenment. Be here now. Home School. Autodidactic.

Learn Time Travel Online: https://www.udemy.com/course/time-travel/?referralCode=75A0CD67A06929D40550   Purchase Acid Quote Tees on Etsy: https://acidquotetees.etsy.com/   Related terms: Meditation. Awareness. Developmental Psychology. Philosophy of Mind. Psychedelics. Active Meditation. World Religion. Comparative Religion Studies. Archetypal Psychology. Eric Berne Psychology. Ken Wilber. Greek Philosophy. Speaking with God. The Dosta Method. Terrence Mckenna. Christianity. Islam. Buddhism. Taoism. Social Sciences. Sociology. Anthropology. Noosphere. Theosphere. Theology. Monotheism. New Atheism. Sam Harris. Richard Dawkins. Christopher Hitchens. Therapy. Family Therapy. Family Constellations. Counselling. Motivational Psychology. Self-help. Personal Power. The Power of Now. Ram Dass. Osho. Rupert Spira. Adyashanti. Krishnamurti. Personal Transformation. Transcendental Meditation. Socrates. Plato. Aristotle. Kant. Hagle. Bertrand Russel. Dostoevsky. Jordan Peterson. Tony Robins. Zen Mastery. Spirituality. Oriental Philosophy. Eastern Mysticism. Kabir. Zarathustra. Rinzai. Sadhguru. Enlightenment. Be here now. Home School. Autodidactic.

Learn Time Travel Online: https://www.udemy.com/course/time-travel/?referralCode=75A0CD67A06929D40550   Purchase Acid Quote Tees on Etsy: https://acidquotetees.etsy.com/   Related terms: Meditation. Awareness. Developmental Psychology. Philosophy of Mind. Psychedelics. Active Meditation. World Religion. Comparative Religion Studies. Archetypal Psychology. Eric Berne Psychology. Ken Wilber. Greek Philosophy. Speaking with God. The Dosta Method. Terrence Mckenna. Christianity. Islam. Buddhism. Taoism. Social Sciences. Sociology. Anthropology. Noosphere. Theosphere. Theology. Monotheism. New Atheism. Sam Harris. Richard Dawkins. Christopher Hitchens. Therapy. Family Therapy. Family Constellations. Counselling. Motivational Psychology. Self-help. Personal Power. The Power of Now. Ram Dass. Osho. Rupert Spira. Adyashanti. Krishnamurti. Personal Transformation. Transcendental Meditation. Socrates. Plato. Aristotle. Kant. Hagle. Bertrand Russel. Dostoevsky. Jordan Peterson. Tony Robins. Zen Mastery. Spirituality. Oriental Philosophy. Eastern Mysticism. Kabir. Zarathustra. Rinzai. Sadhguru. Enlightenment. Be here now. Home School. Autodidactic.

In this Teisho, given on April 21st, 2024, Rinzan Osho examines case 26 of the Hekiganroku: Hyakujo Sits on the Great Sublimne Peak. Zen often seems like a practice of quietude, but the peak is abustle with life. What is it to be alone on it?        

Learn Time Travel Online: https://www.udemy.com/course/time-travel/?referralCode=75A0CD67A06929D40550   Purchase Acid Quote Tees on Etsy: https://acidquotetees.etsy.com/   Related terms: Meditation. Awareness. Developmental Psychology. Philosophy of Mind. Psychedelics. Active Meditation. World Religion. Comparative Religion Studies. Archetypal Psychology. Eric Berne Psychology. Ken Wilber. Greek Philosophy. Speaking with God. The Dosta Method. Terrence Mckenna. Christianity. Islam. Buddhism. Taoism. Social Sciences. Sociology. Anthropology. Noosphere. Theosphere. Theology. Monotheism. New Atheism. Sam Harris. Richard Dawkins. Christopher Hitchens. Therapy. Family Therapy. Family Constellations. Counselling. Motivational Psychology. Self-help. Personal Power. The Power of Now. Ram Dass. Osho. Rupert Spira. Adyashanti. Krishnamurti. Personal Transformation. Transcendental Meditation. Socrates. Plato. Aristotle. Kant. Hagle. Bertrand Russel. Dostoevsky. Jordan Peterson. Tony Robins. Zen Mastery. Spirituality. Oriental Philosophy. Eastern Mysticism. Kabir. Zarathustra. Rinzai. Sadhguru. Enlightenment. Be here now. Home School. Autodidactic.

In looking forward and anticipating the future of Zen in America, once again it may behoove us to take a look in the rearview mirror. According to research reported by one of my future lineage successors – in a years-long series of talks he gave on the history of the transmission of Zen – things did not always go swimmingly when the big cheese finally kicked the proverbial bucket, to mix a metaphor or two. The resultant chaos was not quite as bad as that brought on by the “To the strongest!” gambit attributed to Alexander the Great, settling the question through violence rather than voting, an approach that has gained fresh meaning in recent political campaigns. In fact, one might reasonably question the validity of any aging, declining leader naming their own successor in the first place, in the face of diminishing mental acuity and physical vigor. What part of “declining” do we not understand? How many political leaders have we witnessed who hang onto power way beyond what the dictates of the natural process of aging-out would suggest? Matsuoka -roshi was born in November of 1912 and died in November of 1997. He was and is my “root” teacher, in the common parlance of Zen. It is his legacy and lineage that we celebrate during Founder's Month each November, and which I have done all in my power to preserve, protect, and to propagate. Kongo-roshi, or Richard Langlois as I knew him in the 1960s, was O-Sensei's immediate successor at the Zen Buddhist Temple of Chicago (ZBTC). He was born in 1935, but died unexpectedly in 1999, only two years after O-Sensei's parinirvana. This unfortunate turn of events brings to mind the oft-misquoted but always pertinent couplet: The best-laid schemes ‘of mice and men' gang aft a-gley,and lea'e us naught but grief and pain, for promised joy Thank you, Robert Bobby Burns, from his poem “To a Mouse.” This is not to suggest that planning, as such, is totally useless, or generally ineffective, but any succession planning is clearly a special case. In Zen's historical record, the cohort left to pick up the pieces and carry on were comprised of more than one individual, in many cases. It appears there is a common pattern of two or more Zen successors stepping in and divvying up the role previously played by the retiring guiding teacher. They were often of very different personality types, bringing different sets of skills and attitudes to the table, not necessarily the same as their mentor's. This is also common in the business world, when the CEO is replaced by less-experienced executives. It took me a few decades to realize that I am not Matsuoka-roshi, and that my students are certainly not me. I could not simply continue doing my best imitation of Sensei, oblivious to the fact that my students were approaching Zen practice very differently from my own early days. I had to have flexibility of mind to innovate, not just to imitate. Nor can I compare myself to Okumura-roshi – who officiated my formal transmission –with his historical roots in traditional Zen training in Japan. His successor Hoko Karnegis was recently chosen – how and why, I have no idea, and do not need to know. But I do know that she, who generously wrote the foreword to my second book, “The Razorblade of Zen,” is definitely not a Shohaku clone. The character of the community changes with any change in leadership. But its mission and reason for being need not. I recognize that as founder and guiding teacher of ASZC and STO, I am a “transitional figure.” As are we all – in the ultimate, biological sense – given the inevitability of “aging, sickness and death.” Matsuoka-roshi was certainly a transitional figure, becoming a living example of the “man without a country.” He was no longer fully Japanese, nor was he completely American. It should be noted that all truly transitional figures necessarily appear as somewhat ridiculous, in the eyes of their contemporaries. It becomes necessary to embrace certain contradictions, many that are counter-intuitive and counter-cultural. If you don't quite get the point, just picture myself, or yourself, fully enrobed, walking into a Starbuck's. These transitional aspects of grafting a living tradition onto a new host culture can be considered a necessary and temporary period of adjustment. It is going to entail, and even require, independent thinking, as well as Interdependent action. Perhaps more than anything, it will require focus and perseverance, keeping the eye on the prize, or at least on the ball, in light of the many diversions and apparent obstructions in the path. The Ch'an poem Sandokai–Harmony of Sameness and Difference puts it succinctly: Not understanding the Way before your eyes how do you know the path you walk? Buddha himself is said to have recognized the many blind alleys and dead ends that can get in the way of the simple pursuit of the only truth that matters. In “The Teaching of Buddha,” chapter two, “The Way of Practical Attainment” we find the following: 1. in the search for truth there are certain questions that are unimportant. Of what material is the universe constructed? Is the universe eternal? Are there limits or not to the universe? In what way is this human society put together? What is the ideal form of organization for human society? If a man were to postpone his searching and practicing for Enlightenment until such questions were solved, he would die before he found the path. Like his successors in India, as well as those in China, Japan, and the Far East, the clarity of focus comes through loud and clear, in the context of the seductions of the universal, natural and social spheres. The ancestors of Zen are all speaking with one voice, as far as to where we are to direct our personal attention is concerned. Perhaps this singular emphasis – on avoiding the pitfalls and temptations of following cultural memes and tropes as to what is truly important in life – is even more critical in modern times. When we finally join a fully functioning Zen community, we naturally become possessive and protective of it. We worry about its stability, from both fiscal and psychological perspectives. If its leadership appears unstable, we hesitate to invest too much time and effort into participating in it, both from personal practice and social administrative perspectives. These are natural impulses, and rational as well. We have all witnessed too many betrayals of our trust and confidence by misguided leaders of supposed religious and educational institutions, in America and elsewhere. This is why harmony is the main watchword for the Zen community. And the main reason its members are encouraged to be circumspect in discussing the supposed faults of others. But I want to impress upon you a deeper confidence in Zen. Not to worry — Zen will survive. It was here before you were, and it will be here after we are all long gone. Zen has survived, and even thrived, for over two and a half millennia, and that is only the recorded history of it. It surely began long before Buddha's life, and will survive as far into the future as the human species, which, admittedly, is looking a little iffy just now. Zen will survive because it is not “Zen.” Zen is just a name, a label that we throw at something that has no name. This discovery of Buddha, even in our times, is primordial. It is nothing more than “waking up,” in the most universal, deepest and broadest sense of the word. It is awakening to reality. That simple fact may need our protection, from the vicissitudes of current cultural ignorance. But it comes with the territory of being a fully conscious human being. It will not go away with time, as long as humans survive. This is why the definitive dimension of sangha is “harmony.” Fostering disharmony in the Zen community is a cardinal sin. As Master Elvis reminds us, “We can't go on together, with suspicious minds.” The sangha itself is like a cloud – after my dharma name, “Great Cloud” – constantly evaporating and recondensing. If you do not think so, stick around for a while. We have had literally thousands of people come and go over the decades, and sometimes return after decades. That they come and go is no fault of our own, or of theirs. It is merely the manifestation of their life stories, the cloud endlessly evaporating and recondensing. In Matsuoka Roshi's collected talks, “The Kyoksaku” and “Mokurai,” he shares his perspective on the future of Zen, including the meaning of a Zen temple. We are carrying forward his mission of propagating Zen in America, on the premise that he expressed, that Zen is relatively “dead” in Japan; and would find its rebirth in America: A Zen temple is not a debating place — especially about Zen. Zen was never meant to be debated. It was meant to come into your lives to quiet them and for you to live as a Buddha. If you know Zen, your voice will be quiet and your words will be few. Great wisdom does not need many words to express itself. “Those who speak do not necessarily know.” Master Dogen also mentioned of the tendency of individuals to want to express their understanding of Zen to all who will listen, including the local guiding teacher. It is a known issue in history, and one of many such attitudes that have persisted down to today. But if we see it for what it is – the natural desire of a person to have their own understanding of Zen recognized, and their efforts in support of the temple appreciated – this, too, can be accommodated in our ongoing program of propagation, as a teaching or learning moment. Buddha himself was said to have been assailed by an earnest young seeker, who prevailed upon him to answer the “Ten Cosmic Questions” from what passed for the philosophy of the times: how it all began, how it will all end, et cetera. Which Buddha considered hopelessly speculative, somewhat specious, and not at all to the point of addressing the real problem at hand, that of dukkha. The young man insisted that unless Buddha answered, he, the young man, could not accept him as his teacher. Shakyamuni is said to have pointed out to this sincere but presumptive aspirant that he – Buddha, was under no obligation to be his – the young man's, teacher. And he – the young man, was under no obligation to be his – Buddha's, student. We have adopted a similar motto for our practice centers, which was initiated by an early Rinzai pioneer to America, Sokeian-roshi: “Those who come here are welcome; those who leave are not pursued.” We have a similar middle-way approach to donations, first expressed by our initial practice leader of Southwind Sangha, our Wichita affiliate: “No donation required; no donation refused.” All of the above represent variations on the theme of thinking independently and acting interdependently. Sitting in zazen with the Zen community, we are still sitting alone. Any time we sit alone in zazen, we are joining the larger community of Zen practitioners. Somewhere in the world – at any time, day or night – someone is sitting in Zen meditation. We need flexibility of mind to approach Zen practice in this nondual sense, outside of time and space. In the first UnMind segment in June, we will return briefly to our exploration of “election year Zen,” with whatever challenges appear in the campaign in the interim. Until then... just keep sitting.

In this Teisho, given on April 7th, 2024, the third day of Chobo-ji's Spring Sesshin, Rinzan Osho examines case 20 of the Hekiganroku: Ryuge asks Suibi and Rinzai. What is the meaning of life. From one perspective, we can find no meaning ... yet what is it that speaks to us of the profound meaning-fullness of life.

In the last segment of UnMind, we took up the most social of the Three Treasures: Sangha, or community. In this segment, we will continue with our analysis of the design of Dharma study; and in the next, that of Buddha practice, Zen's unique meditation, or zazen. These three constitute the highest values and manifestations of Buddhism in the real world, and the simplest model for the comprehensive nature of living a Zen life. They are regarded as three legs, without any one of which the stool of Zen is unstable. Design intent is reflected in their modus operandi, message, and method, respectively. Dharma study consists in reviewing and contemplating the “compassionate teachings,” the message transmitted by Shakyamuni and the ancestors down to the present day. While they were all, in effect, “speaking with one voice,” nonetheless Dharma ranks second in importance and emphasis, as an adjunct to meditation, just as Sangha comes in third, in providing the harmonious community and conducive environment for Zen. As referenced in Dogen's Jijuyu Zammai – Self-fulfilling Samadhi: Grass, trees and walls bring forth the teaching for all beingsCommon people as well as sages The “walls” are the infrastructure that was built around personal and communal practice in the form of our sitting space at home, grass hut hermitages, and meditation halls of temples, centers, or monasteries. This is the millennia-old design-build activity of the ancestors attested to by the stupas of India and the monasteries of China, Tibet, Japan, and the Far East, the legacy inherited by modern proponents of Zen in the West. Dharma likewise has been codified, collected, and contained in tangible documents, originally in the form of rice paper scrolls, now in books distributed worldwide in hardbound and paperback format. My own two current volumes in print ‑ “The Original Frontier” and “The Razorblade of Zen” ‑ were actually printed and bound in India, the home country of Buddhism They are also, or will soon be, available in electronic form, as eBooks and audiobooks accessible to virtually anyone, anywhere, anytime. It is as if Avalokiteshvara, the Bodhisattva of Compassion – s/he of the innumerable eyes and ears needed to see and hear the sights and sounds of dukkha in the world, with innumerable arms and hands bringing the tools necessary to help ‑ has come to be manifested globally, in the form of the worldwide network of mobile media. By means of which her ongoing witness to the suffering of the world is also recorded for posterity. Thus, the potential for Dharma to have an effect on the world at large has expanded exponentially, as in the vow: “I take refuge in Dharma, the compassionate teachings.” Taking refuge in the Dharma means returning ‑ or “fleeing back” ‑ to the original truths or laws of existence, and our place in it. Consider what the first teachings of Buddha really had to say, and what was their intended effect upon the audience. The First Sermon lays out the essential logic of the Middle Way, and its avoidance of extremes of attitudes and approaches to the fundamental problem of existence as a sentient, human being. The design intent of the Dharma as expounded by Shakyamuni Buddha, was, as far as we can determine from the written record, to correct the conventional wisdom of the time, which I take to have been primarily based on beliefs and doctrines of Hinduism. One well-known example is his teaching of anatta or anatman, a refutation of the Hindu belief in a self-existent soul, or atman. Not being a scholar, I am basing this on my scant study of the canon and the opinion of others more learned than I. Considering how the Dharma was first shared gives us an insight more technically oriented to the intent of its design. In the beginning was the spoken word of Siddhartha Gautama, similar to the Bible's creation story. Buddha never committed a single word to paper, or so we are told. It is also said that he “never spoke a word,” a comment I take to mean that while language can point at the truths of Buddhism, it cannot capture them. Buddhist truth is uniquely experiential. It has to go through a kind of translation into language that is beyond language itself, as in the last stanza of Hsinhsinming‑Trust in Mind: Words! The Way is beyond language for in itthere is no yesterday, no tomorrow, no today Later given the honorifics of “Buddha, ‑ fully awakened one” and “Shakyamuni ‑ sage of the Shakya clan,” and others, ten in total, Siddhartha's First Sermon to the five ascetics with whom he had been practicing, begins with: O monks, these two extremes ought not be followed by one going forth from the household life. What are the two?There is devotion to the indulgence of self-gratificationWhich is low, common, the way of ordinary peopleUnworthy and unprofitableThere is devotion to the indulgence of self-mortificationWhich is painful unworthy and unprofitableAvoiding both these extremes the Tathagata has realized the Middle WayIt gives vision it gives knowledge and it leads to calm to insight to awakening to Nirvana The intent of the content was to dissuade these monks from continuing to follow the dictates of their method of asceticism, which Buddha had found to be ineffective, to say the least. And to hold out the hope that if they were able to relinquish their own opinions of the truth they were seeking, and the method for apprehending it, they would be able to accede to the insight that he had experienced directly in meditation, the “middle way.” “Tathagata,” by the way, is also one of the ten honorifics accorded to Buddha later in the course of his teaching career, meaning something like the “thus-come one.” It was most likely appended to this narrative when finally committed to written form, some four centuries after-the-fact. But our point is that the spoken language was the medium in which the teaching was first shared. Buddha was said to have spoken Pali, which is similar to, and perhaps a dialect of, Sanskrit. The theory I have heard explaining why they were not recorded in written form is that they were considered sacred, and writing them down would have made them vulnerable to accidental or intentional change. The oral tradition was more dependable in terms of preserving them with their original intent intact. So the “design intent” of Buddha's use of kind or loving speech was not the usual intent of language in general. It was intended to encourage others to apprehend the “Great Matter” of life-and-death in the most direct way, the only way, possible. Buddha recognized that there was no way of sharing his experience with others in the ordinary sense, so he resorted to parables and analogies, to allow his audience to see themselves in the pictures he painted, and to transcend ordinary understanding in words and phrases, or the pursuit of information, the usual application of language. The later codifying and organization of the original spoken teachings into the Tripitaka or “three baskets” was designed to allow teachers and students to study the voluminous canon in an orderly way, and to prioritize their approach to it in digestible bites. It was most likely understood that the existing literature of the time ‑ which had to be scarce, compared to today's glut of publications – was to be absorbed in concert with practicing the meditation that had led to Buddha's insight to begin with. As Master Dogen reminds: Now all ancestors and all buddhas who uphold buddha-dharma have made it the true path of enlightenment to sit upright practicing in the midst of self-fulfilling samadhiThose who attained enlightenment in India and China followed this wayIt was done so because teachers and disciples personally transmitted this excellent method as the essence of the teaching In the authentic tradition of our teaching it is said that this directly transmitted straightforward buddha- dharma is the unsurpassable of the unsurpassable The design intent of the teachings has been, from the very beginning, the direct transmission of the buddha-dharma, what Matsuoka-roshi referred to as “living Zen.” In the daily lives of monks and nuns, frequent repetition of chanting selected teachings enabled the monastics to deeply assimilate them. Master Dogen was known for connecting each and every regular daily routine with brief recitations, such as the Meal Verse, in order to bridge the gap between the sacred and the profane, the physical and the spiritual. Codification of the koan collections of Rinzai Zen ‑ some 1700 strong according to tradition, later organized into five sets by Hakuin Ekaku Zenji, the 18th Century Rinzai master ‑ represent design efforts to structure the lore and legacy of Zen's anecdotal history of exchanges between masters and students available in progressive levels of difficulty, enabling accessibility of the apparent dichotomies of Dharma. Soto Zen simplifies the approach even further by regarding zazen itself as representing the living koan, requiring nothing further to complement, or complicate, the process of insight. All the various models of buddha-dharma developed by the ancients qualify as efforts in information design ‑ visualizing images and what is called “pattern-thinking” ‑ that allow us to grasp the form of the Dharma beyond what mere words can convey. The Four Noble Truths comprise the first historical example of these descriptive models, including the prescriptive Noble Eightfold Path. Tozan's “Five Ranks” and Rinzai's “Host and Guest” come later, but have the same design intent – to help their students get beyond the limitation of the linear nature of language. My semantic models of the teachings, published in “The Razorblade of Zen,” represent more contemporary cases in point. Nowadays ‑ as testimonial evidence indicates, from one-on-one encounters in online and in-person dharma dialogs with modern students of the Way ‑ people are no longer studying buddha-dharma as they may have throughout history, when documents were rare. More often than not, they are reading more than one book at a time, in a nonlinear process I refer to as “cross-coupling”: simultaneously absorbing commentaries from one author or translator along with others; or perhaps comparing the teachings of more than one ancestor of Zen to those of a different ancestor. This may be an artifact or anomaly of the ubiquitous presence and availability of Zen material in print form, as well as the encyclopedic scope of online resources on offer today. It seems that in every category, and every language, we have at our fingertips a greater textual resource than ever conceivable in history, dwarfing the great libraries of legend. We can “google” virtually anything – no pun - with a few strokes of a keyboard. In addition, Artificial Intelligence threatens to bring together summaries and concoctions of content at the whim of any researcher; documents are readily searchable for those who wish to quantify uses of words and phrases at any point in history, teasing out trends and making judgments as to the hidden patterns in historical evolution of ideas. In this context it is difficult to ascertain the design intent of dharma as articulated today. It is not easy to discern the intent of the publish-or-perish, rush-into-print crowd, or to judge whether a given piece of contemporary writing is worth our effort and time to read. Fortunately, Zen offers a wormhole out of this literary catch-22. Zazen provides recourse to an even greater inventory of databases, built into our immediate sensorium. We can always return to upright sitting, facing the wall. This is where we will find the nonverbal answers we are seeking so feverishly, and somewhat futilely, in “words and letters” as Master Dogen reminds us in his seminal tract on meditation, Fukanzazengi: You should stop pursuing words and lettersand learn to withdraw and turn the light on yourselfwhen you do so your body and mind will naturally fall awayand your original buddha-nature will appear This stanza is sometimes interpreted as a slam on the nature of contemporaneous Rinzai practice predominant in the Japan of Dogen's time. But I think we should take a broader view of the great master's intent. He is merely cluing us in to the fact of the futility of pursuing literal, linear understanding of the Dharma in its manifestation as verbal expression. We are to turn our attention, instead, to the immediate and intimate presence of the self of body-and-mind ‑ beyond, or before, words can interfere. Here is where, and now is when, we will witness the full force of the design intent of the Dharma.* * * 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

Monday, March 11, was my birthday, as I mentioned in the last segment of UnMind. Wednesday, March 27th, happens to be my late brother's birthday. So in his honor, let us continue exploring the theme of Time — its seeming passage and constant presence. He was a professional jazz pianist and teacher of music, and so was fully immersed in time. Once upon a time, while discussing time signatures in music, such as four-four time, three-four time — the familiar waltz tempo — and so on, he leaned toward me, a mischievous smile on his face, saying that, “You know, there is also ‘one-one' time” – counting off with his forefinger: “One-one-one-one.” He and I had many such dialogs at the intersection of music theory and Zen thinking. He has since passed on, sitting in with that great jazz combo in the sky. I bet he draws a crowd. (Some of the material in what follows originally appeared as my Dharma Byte of the month, titled “Swords into Plowshares,” in 2020, when the pandemic was in full swing.) In that message, and at that time, I made the point that privileging the survival of the oldest is not Nature's way; it is usually the survival of the fittest. It is not natural to put younger members of the species at unreasonable risk, in order to protect the older members. This goes against the natural order, as we witness in survival strategies of wildlife, as well as in social structures of the earliest human tribes. The survival of the species dictates age-related triage, in favor of those most likely to survive, to live longer, and to reproduce. Exceptions always arise to prove the rule; Nature is not simple. Yet humans reverse this natural logic, in wartime as in the example of the military draft, as well as in recruiting methods for police officers and firefighters. People in their late teens and early twenties often enter into dangerous occupations, in service to the larger community. Those who study such things tell us that neurological networks, including the brain, are not yet fully formed at that age, recognition and fear of mortality typically arising about the mid-twenties, when the brain finishes wiring, as we say. We were doing it again in the face of the pandemic, sending younger first responders into the fray, while protecting elderly and senior members by isolating and quarantining them. I have reported on my own encounter with COVID 19, which dragged out for the better part of a year, beginning with a three-month up-and-down sickbed recuperation from congestion and other flu-like symptoms, followed by slow recovery of lost strength, flexibility, balance, energy, and the kind of “brain fog” associated with “long covid,” the lingering effects on the nervous system. As part of that recovery, I developed an aggressive approach to the sitting posture and its relationship to the breathing process of Zen meditation, as well as to walking meditation, with its focus on physical balance. At about the time I began returning to morning meditation sessions, the new era of private billionaire space exploration was heating up, with more frequent launches than ever seen in the history of NASA. Perhaps this was a subliminal prompt to my beginning to count my breaths down to zero, in contrast to the usual counting up from one to four or more, and avoid counting beyond ten, as are common recommendations in Zen. With an initial, deep inhalation, I would hold the breath for a count of eight or so, while doing a full-body crunch, tensing the core muscle groups, as well as my newly stiffened legs, and weakened arms and shoulders. With the exhalation, I would intone “nine,” then “eight” for the next cycle, and so on, down to “one,” and finally, “zero.” After repeating this pattern for a half-dozen times or so, I would settle more quickly and deeply into the period, while the counting and muscular effort naturally subsided. A curious thing began to happen each time I would reach zero in the count. By then, my breath would have slowed to five or so cycles per minute, and I could feel my heartbeat. So I found myself counting my heartbeat, instead of my breath. Or rather, noticing how many heartbeats accompanied each cycle of breath. The heartbeat is clearly the metronome of our instrument, the body. And number, or counting, is clearly fundamental to our worldview, intrinsic to all design thinking and measurement, and basic to Zen's nondualism: “leaping aside from the one and the many,” as Master Dogen reminds us. As my breath slowed to a lower, slower tempo, my pulse also slowed, synchronizing with the breath. This resulted in a profound degree of stillness in both posture and breath, as well as fixed gaze, affecting my overall sphere of attention, reminding me of Matsuoka-roshi's comment that the “real zazen” is manifested when the posture, breath and attention all come together in a “unified way.” And that it feels as if you are “pushing the crown of your head against the ceiling” — “mountain-still” stability. I began to feel that unification viscerally, encompassing the apparent “outside” and “inside” dimensions of awareness. Familiar, but more intense than ever before. I call this “returning to zero.” There are many phrases in the lexicon of Zen that seem to be pointing to this same kind of experiential phenomenon, such as Master Dogen's “backward step”; the ancient phrase “Shi-kan” meaning something like “stopping and seeing”; the “shamatha-vippasana” pairing of insight meditation; et cetera. The process of letting go — primarily of our own preconceptions, interpretations, and opinions of direct, sensory experience; and by extension, of our concepts and constructions of the world, trying to explain this reality to ourselves — seems inherent in all major systems of cultivating realization. That the method is so quintessentially physical, is what is striking about the Zen approach to just sitting still enough, straight enough, for long enough. The idea, or concept, of “zero” has philosophical and psychological implications as well. The common trope of the “zero-sum game” is a case in point. The definition online: A zero-sum game is one in which no wealth is created or destroyed. So, in a two-player zero-sum game, whatever one player wins, the other loses. Therefore, the players share no common interests. There are two general types of zero-sum games: those with perfect information and those without. This amounts to another version of the meme: that if there are winners, there must be losers, so there can be no actual win-win. This ignorant assumption unfortunately informs much of what passes for political discourse, and socially conservative ideology.I refer you to the lectures of R. Buckminster Fuller for a fuller exposition of the limitations of the view that there is not enough to go around, and the survival of the fittest means that we must, above all, ensure that we get ours, to hell with the losers. Such innovations as the guaranteed minimum income are beginning to crack the facade of this fundamental error. The last line, concerning the dual nature of the zero-sum game being dependent upon “perfect information,” may provide a clue as to how the notion of winning and losing connects — or doesn't — to the personal practice-experience of Zen. Beyond a direct “return to zero” — the personal dimension of awareness on the cushion — there is a returning to zero on the social level, as well as within the natural and universal spheres. In his rephrase of a Ch'an poem, Zazenshin, meaning something like “lancet” or “needle” of zazen, Master Dogen wraps up the penultimate stanza with: The intimacy without defilement is dropping off without relying on anything.
The verification beyond distinction between Absolute and Relative is making effort without aiming at it. This experience of “intimacy without defilement” is the zero sum point of zazen: nothing to be gained and nothing lost; nothing excluded and nothing extraneous, nothing to share with others – it is too intimate, too close in time and space. The fact that at this point we cannot rely on anything, is another aspect of Zen's “zero” sum. We sit “without relying on anything” as Master Dogen reminds us, including all the tricks and trinkets we have painstakingly assembled in our toolkit. Our toolkit is exhausted, the tools we usually rely on, relatively or absolutely useless. “Absolute and Relative” constitute one of the last resorts of dualistic thinking; the fundamental bifurcation of “truth” in Buddhism is usually stated as absolute truth versus relative truth. So this “verification” must be of a different order altogether, one that is immeasurable. So far beyond any measurement, is this realization — though there is continuing effort, it is no longer aiming at anything. This means that there is ultimately nothing of significance to gain or lose in relationships in the social sphere, nor do we have to distort our relationship to biology, our connection to the resources of Natural ecology. In terms of resolving the Great Matter of life and death, we can embrace the inevitability of aging, sickness and death as the central koan — one that comes bundled with birth — the illogical riddle of existence itself. We no longer have to rely on life, itself. Here and now, we arrive at the final zero-sum game. Whether or not we believe in an eternal soul, and its resurrection, as do modern Christians; or in reincarnation, as did the ancient Egyptians, Greeks and Hindus; or rebirth as taught by Buddha, as a corrective to reincarnation; we finally come to face our mortality close-up and personal. It is natural, and universal, whatever its interpretation by the social milieu in which we find ourselves. According to an old Zen metaphor, the only “mate” who will accompany us to the grave, is our deeds. Whatever wealth, honor, power, or powers of reasoning we may have accumulated in managing and manipulating the vagaries of fate and vicissitudes of fortune encountered in life, they serve us little in the face of death. Try as we might to think our way to enlightenment, or to reason ourselves into insight, we find ourselves failing again and again. Finally, we must surrender to the chaos of not knowing, and abandon our reliance on reason itself — spawn of philosophy and that other kind of Enlightenment, the triumph of reasoning over belief. Instead, we find verification of our Zen practice in “making effort without aiming at it.” Needless to say, this is a very uncomfortable place to find oneself, at a pass that is not really negotiable, in any ordinary sense. Paraphrasing Seikan Hasegawa, a Rinzai master, from The Cave of Poison Grass, he reminds us that putting off confrontation with this particular koan of aging, until we find ourselves on the death-bed, is futile: “like eating soup with a fork.” We need to confront this koan when we are young and vigorous — “Stamp life and death on your forehead, never letting it out of your mind” — another Zen pearl of wisdom long lost to attribution. Life takes its meaning in the context of death. If you find that too morbid, just imagine what life would be like if we did not die: Its meaning would be entirely different, and not entirely positive. When the grim reaper arrives, we may want to embrace her relentless, unforgiving and unsympathetic scythe, as being no different from the sword of Manjusri, cutting through our final delusion. Preferable to die on the cushion, of course. As Kosho Uchiyama reminds us, our whole world is born, and dies, with us. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” In contemplating our inevitable demise as a loss of something, we have to remember that it amounts to returning to where we came from, a kind of null hypothesis that the effect we are dreading is not measurable, or sums to zero: In scientific research, the null hypothesis is the claim that the effect being studied does not exist. Note that the term "effect" here is not meant to imply a causative relationship. That last caveat calls to mind the famous Zen koan concerning Baizhang, or Hyakujo, and the fox. The point goes to the question of whether or not an enlightened person would be subject to, or free from, the law of causality. The ancient master responds: “Free from,” and is condemned to be reborn as a fox for five hundred (fox) lifetimes. Baizhang kindly corrects his confusion with something like: “One with causality” or “We do notignore causality,” which liberates the old man. If we fear death — or, conversely, seek it out; fearing life, instead — we have made an assumption that we know what life is, but do not know what death is; or, conversely, that we prefer death over life; or vice-versa. Either side of this formula ignores the fact that the overall equation inevitably sums to zero. I came across a pamphlet titled “The 11th Hour,” in my brother's hospice care clinic, wherein its Christian, female author clarified: Birth is the death of whatever precedes it; death is the birth of whatever follows” — refreshingly without bothering to define the “whatever.” In the next segment — speaking of zero-sum games — we will return to pick up the monthly thread of “Election Year Zen,” now that we have surpassed Super Tuesday, in this year's endless campaign cycle. This, too, is the Dharma.* * * 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

In this Teisho, given on March 3rd, 2024, Rinzan Osho examines case 16 of the Hekiganroku: Kyosei's Instruction on Pecking and Tapping. Being present and leaning into the direct experience of life is pecking. The whole universe taps back, inviting us to wake up. If we stay vigilant and attentive, in the ripeness of time, the ego barrier will break open.  

In this Teisho, given on February 11th, 2024, Rinzan Osho examines case 13 of the Hekiganroku: Haryo's "Snow in a Sliver Bowl." Koan introspection invites into a way of being that is always available but that we don't normally access. This way of being opens us up to a more meaningful relationship with the deep nature of things.

In the last segment of UnMind, the second installment discussing the sameness and differences I have noted in teaching Zen or design as a profession, I wrapped up the essay by mentioning the concept of “control,” as it might apply to either or both: In meditation circles, we often hear phrases such as “controlling the breath” or “emptying your mind of thoughts.” These represent attitudes 180-degrees from that in Zen meditation, which is not one of exerting control, but rather relinquishing any real or imagined level of control. Using that as a springboard for this segment, let's examine our approach to Zen meditation, in the context of the well-known adage from minimalist design, “Less is more.” According to Google: Minimalism is exemplified by the idea of “less is more” as first coined by architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. The idea that less may be more, in applying the method of zazen, is implicit in many dimensions of the character of Zen training, from Buddha's Middle Way of moderation to the “chop wood, carry water” practicality of the Chinese history, the seven items a monk was allowed to own, and the sparse serenity of the zendo interiors of Japan, with their starkly minimalist sand and rock gardens. The Institute of Design, during my years there in undergraduate and graduate studies, was housed in the basement of Crown Hall, while the Mies school of architecture was on the upper floor. His contribution to minimalist architecture lay in the combination of glass and steel to construct high-efficiency buildings, of which Crown Hall was an early archetype.Another aphorism from design thinking that I mentioned: ...there are many design ideas that are simple in concept, but difficult in execution. Zen may be the poster boy for this truism. Zazen is irreducibly simple in design, but Zen can be maddeningly difficult in daily execution. This is where I would like to begin this segment. Thinking about meditation, particularly Zen's zazen — as I understand this “excellent method,” as Master Dogen repeatedly referred to it — it occurred to me that during zazen, as a process of “unlearning,” or “subtracting” the preconceptions we harbor as to our conventional take on reality, we might usefully question a variety of such attitudes and concepts, as to whether we are unintentionally, perhaps even unconsciously, striving to attain something as a presumed goal of our practice. Only if we recognize that we are doing so, can we then consciously relinquish that particular problematic attitude or opinion, and see what it is like to sit without it getting in our way. A number of these came up for me, which we can consider one at a time, perhaps extending into the next segment. They are expressed herein with the suffix of “-less,” which implies “the absence of.” Let's begin with the very idea of goals in general, embracing the approach of “letting go” of our predilections. GOALLESS MEDITATIONOf course, we all sit in meditation with some kind of goal, whether simply to calm the mind under stress; to get back to normal; or more deeply, to “wake up” to reality, which might be said to be the principle goal of Buddhism. But Master Dogen cautions us, in “Principles of Seated Meditation—Fukanzazengi,” to avoid taking goal-setting too far: ...think neither good nor evil, right or wrong thus stopping the functions of your mind give up even the idea of becoming a Buddha In other words, resist setting up what seems a more lofty goal, in place of the pedestrian objectives we might associate with meditation. Which begs the question, can we do away with all goals and objectives, at least while we are sitting? We might say that it is not that Zen meditation has no goal, but it is just that the actual goal is too deep and too broad to be expressed in words, especially a priori. We meditate to discover the goal. TIMELESS MEDITATIONMost instructions for meditation include imposing time constraints on it, for example by setting a timer, using an app with a built-in alarm, burning a stick of incense, or following the schedule of timed sessions on retreat, or during daily practice at a Zen center. When we experience the latter, sitting with somebody else tracking the time, we feel somewhat liberated from the necessity of thinking about the time, or paying attention to the clock; someone else is doing that for us. When we take a turn as time-keeper (“doan” in Soto Zen), we experience the discipline of being responsible for others' time on the cushion. Both are highly recommended. But someone once said that in zazen, “the barriers of time and space fall away.” When I see someone restively glancing at their watch in the zendo, I will often ask to borrow it. Then, they are unable to indulge their fidgeting obsession with time, at least while sitting. This goes to the larger question of all the measurables associated with our meditation — such as how long we sit, how often, how regularly, et cetera — which are not as important as the immeasurable aspects: that we simply never give up. We keep returning to zazen, in good times or bad, for whatever time we have available for it. I recommend that occasionally, perhaps the next time you sit in meditation, that you forego your tendency to time the period. Sit without any stopping time in mind. Then you may finally reenter real time, which is not measured; indeed, it is not even measurable. You may find that time is all you really have; that in fact, you have all the time there is. This reality of real time versus measured time is captured in the sardonic expression — “The man who has one watch always knows what time it is; the man who has two never knows for sure” — attributed, as many such wisecracks are, to Chinese origin. EFFORTLESS MEDITATIONIn his paraphrase of a brief Ch'an poem about meditation, titled “Zazenshin,” meaning something like an “acupuncture needle” or “lancet” for zazen — something exceedingly sharp or pointed — Master Dogen points to the true meaning of “right effort” toward the end of the poem: Intimacy without defilement is dropping off without relying on anythingVerification beyond absolute and relative is making effort without aiming at it “Making effort” includes assuming the posture, which is not always easy, especially when we overdo it; and breathing, which can be labored, especially when we catch a cold, or during flu season. I have heard that the posture should feel more like a stretching sensation than physical effort, and that the breath should be more like a sigh than belabored breathing. My root teacher, Matsuoka Roshi, said “the breath should be like a gate swinging in the breeze, first this way, and then the other way,” a rather pleasant, languid, relaxed image. And, he would say, “Zazen is the comfortable way.” This should give us pause, in our pursuit of overweening effort, characterized as “macho Zen,” which we get from our impression of Rinzai's more driven practice of externally-imposed discipline. I suspect that this meme is more a social dimension of the culture, than having anything to do with the reality of Zen practice — other than inculcating a sense of urgency: that we have no time to waste, in getting after this most important and central “great matter.” In the next segment of UnMind we will continue with this exploration of the “less” side of the practice. As a semantic curio, the English meaning of the prefix “un” — which in my dharma name means “cloud” — connotes the “opposite” of something, or something very different, as in the “un-cola” campaign promoting the soft drink Seven Up, which I know dates me. It is similar in effect to the suffix “-less,” which connotes the “absence” of something. If you have any suggestions along these lines for me to entertain in the next segment, let me know. My list is quite long, but there is always room for one more consideration to eliminate, from distracting us from our 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: Shinjin Larry Little

In this Teisho, given during No-Rank's Rohatsu sesshin on January 17th, 2024, Rinzan Osho examines case 10 of the Hekiganroku: Bokushus's "Empty Headed Fool." Our modern mind has lost much of its capactiy to feel into and relate to the world in ways that are deep and intimate. Koan study allows us to enter a different way of being and relating if only we are willing to step out of the shallows.

Yoshin David Radin is the abbot and founder of the Ithaca Zen Center in upstate New York and he also taught regularly at the Rinzai-ji Zen Center in Los Angeles. He began Zen practice in 1976, was ordained a monk in 1983, and an Oshō in 1989. He has been published in Tricycle Magazine and some of his writings have been turned into songs or spoken poems that were released in four collections, including "Love Songs of a Zen Monk." He also edited two books by his teacher, Joshu Sasaki, and is the author of his own book, "A Temporary Affair: Talks on Awakening and Zen." It is a collection of talks he gave at a time when his health was severely compromised and could have died. We talked about his long and interesting path, his somewhat untraditional teaching, and what it was like to experience serious illness and look at the face of death.  Find out more about Ithaca Zen Center and Yoshin David Radin https://ithacazencenter.org/teacher/ https://ithacazencenter.org/books/ Meet Philip Goldberg here Author, Speaker, Spiritual Counselor, Writing Coach Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Genjo Marinello Osho gave this Teisho during the Feb. 11, 2024 Zazenkai at Chobo-Ji. This talk examines what real maturity looks like.

In this Teisho, given on January 14th, 2024, Rinzan Osho examines The Hidden Lamp: Soma Rebukes Mara. In this first Teisho given at the new No-Rank Zen Temple, Rinzan Osho examiens the way the judging mindf, caught by right and wrong, like and dislike, limites the full blossoming of our lives.

Genjo Marinello Osho gave this Teisho during the Jan. 14, 2024 Zazenkai at Chobo-Ji. This talk examines how to meet criticisms and mistakes or well or poorly.

In this Teisho, given on December 13th, 2023, Rinzan Osho examines The Hidden Lamp: The Goddess' Transformations. When we look deeply, there is no foundation for our differences. At the same time, as we become intimate with the deep nature of things, we are more and more amazed and appreciative of the profundity of our living, breathing, uniqueness.

In this Teisho, given on November 1st, 2023, Rinzan Osho examines The Hidden Lamp: Asan's Dewdrop. In the face of impermanence and the passing of our own lives, we are confronted with the imparative to let the light inside us shine forth, to give back to a world awaiting our full participation. 

In this teisho, given on October 11th, 2023, Rinzan Osho examines the Mumonkan Case 44: Bashio and a Stick. When we get caught in notions such as having and not having, we lose the fundamental vitality of life. What is it to live without such concerns, seemingly separating us from ourselves?

In this Teisho, given on September 6th, 2023, Rinzan Osho examines The Hidden Lamp: Get on and Go. Self-help, psychotherapy and spiritual practice all help us live happier lives, but how do we distinquigh the spiritual call from the normal pursuits of well-being. Allowing ourselves to die to the moment, when the bus comes, we get on and go. 

Tenshin Roshi continues talking on the Record of Rinzai.