This is my resting place, Kanzan knows the best retreats; The breeze blows through the pines, Sounding better the nearer it is. Under a tree I'm reading Lao-tzu, quietly perusing. Ten years not returning, I forgot the way I had come.
A monk asked, "What did all the ancient holy ones do?" Shouchu said, "Enter the mud. Enter the water." (Zen's Chinese Heritage)
‘A non-Buddhist philosopher said to the Buddha, “I do not ask for words; I do not ask for non-words.” The Buddha just sat there. The philospher said admiringly, “The World-honored One, with his great mercy, has blown away the clouds of my illusion and enabled me to enter the Way.” And after making bows, he took his leave.
Then Ananda asked the Buddha, “What did he realize, to admire you so much?” The World-honored One replied, “A fine horse runs at the shadow of the whip.” (Mumonkan, case 32)
Of course, when the Buddha tries the not-speaking trick, it works much better…
‘Emperor Wu of Liang asked Fu Daishi to give a lecture on the Diamond Sutra. Fu Daishi mounted the platform, struck the reading desk with his staff, and descended from the platform. The emperor was dumbfounded. Shiko said to him, “Your Majesty, have you understood?” The emperor said, “No, I do not understand.” Shiko said, “Daishi has concluded his lecture.’ (Blue Cliff Record, Case 67)
Poor Emperor Wu – not only did he not get his head around what Bodhidharma was trying to tell him, but he gets outfoxed by another teacher trying the old ‘silence is better than speech’ trick.
‘In the zazen of patch-robed monks, first you should sit correctly with upright postture. Then regulate your breath and settle your mind…
In the Mahayana there is… a method for regulating breath, which is knowing that one breath is long, another breath is short. The breath reaches the tanden and comes up from the tanden. Although exhale and inhale differ, both of them occur depending on the tanden. Impermanence is easy to clarify, and regulating the mind is easy to accomplish.
My late teacher Tiantong said, “Breath enters and reaches the tanden, and yet there is no place from which it comes. Therefore is is neither long nor short. Breath emerges from the tanden, and yet there is nowhere it goes. Therefore it is neither short nor long.”
My late teacher said it like that. Suppose someone were to ask Eihei, “Master, how do you regulate your breath?”
I would simply say to him: Although it is not the great vehicle [Mahayana], it differs from the lesser vehicle. Although it is not the lesser vehicle, it differs from the great vehicle.
Suppose that person inquired again, “Ultimately, what is it?
I would say to him: Exhale and inhale are neither long nor short.’ (Extensive Record, 390)
‘Illusion and awakening do not have different natures. We must grasp the origin of that which so completely blinds our self that we see dualism where none exists. We must become conscious within our most profound depths that our body, as it is, is one with our mind and that it is identical with the essence of the universe.’ (Commentary on the Song of Awakening)
I was starting to get embarrassed that I have not finished a book of any kind since the pandemic started, so I resolved to put my laptop away yesterday afternoon and pick up this book again. While I find some of Sawaki Roshi’s idiosyncracies a little grating, there are many gems as he illuminates the wonderful Shodoka.
Right now in San Francisco, we are between a heatwave and an atmospheric river – between one of those warm, sunny spells in the middle of winter that make me glad I live in California, and storms which will bring much needed rain to the area for the rest of the week. It also feels like we are between the optimism of the new administration taking its place, and the sinking realisation that the vaccination rollout is not necessarily going to mean the end of our dealings with the pandemic.
Since I moved in September, I have been glad to have a sweet and cosy apartment to hunker down in, and also especially grateful to be co-habiting with my partner, to be able to devote energy to building our lives together, and to have that intimate human connection that many have been suffering the lack of this past year. I feel very lucky in this regard. And since the turn of the year I have been glad to be able to offer a dharma talk at Zen Center, and to be able to start a new class for Within Meditation (each of the three Wednesdays so far has seen history being made, with insurrection followed by impeachment followed by inauguration). At the same time, the precarity of livelihood and health means that I don’t take any of this for granted.
In the middle of all these aspects of my life, one of my new routines is taking Collin the dog out for a walk several times a day, with my partner, or by myself. He is elderly, so we don’t usually cover more than half-a-dozen blocks. There are several variations of route around where we live, obviously, and I enjoy seeing the various houses, the distant city landmarks, the sky and the clouds, the different sidewalk plantings, which offer blossoms even in the middle of winter. And I enjoy watching Colling navigate in his way; he seems used to his new city life, and like any dog, relishes following his nose for traces of the other dogs we see and meet around the neighbourhood. I am not running so many errands on my bike these days, so the walk often serves as a valuable screen break during a day of working from home, gentle exercise, and the opportunity to pay close attention to my surroundings each time, however familiar and mundane they may appear to be.
Watching the moon
I knew myself completely:
no part left out.
‘I once heard a roshi give an ‘as-if’ explanation of Rinzai Zen methods. He said that when one becomes completely discontented with being in the suffering world of Samsara and doing things that seem worthless – what we might call ‘the divine discontent’ – it feels as though the whole structure of relativity surrounds one; and there arises a longing to break completely out of the whole thing and see reality for ourselves. The structure surrounds and traps us as though we were living in a prison. It is like being in a greenhouse made of frosted glass, and in meditation we attack it. Some people start breathing and rubbing at the frosting until they can see through a large patch, but it is dim and smeared. Others start scratching away with a fingernail until they get a bright peep-hole; but although sharply clear, it is very tiny. We must try to shatter the whole thing and find that “Nothing exists except pure radiant mind.”‘ (from the Middle Way)
A comment from Jerry, a long-time Zen Center acquaintance, about having sat a sesshin in London in 1972 sent me on a search for more details. One of the fruits of the search was finding a publication from the Buddhist Society – the source spring for most of Buddhist activity in the UK – and reading a fascinating account of Muriel Daw undertaking traditional monastic training with Soen Nakagawa. Look out for other excerpts coming along.
‘Even though we say “just sit,” to understand what does it mean is rather difficult, maybe. So that is why Dogen Zenji left us so many teachings to explain what is just to sit. But it does not mean his teaching is so difficult. When you sit, you know, without thinking or without expecting anything, and when you accept yourself as a buddha or as a tools of buddha or ornament of buddha, or if you understand everything is the unfolding of the absolute teaching or truth, or if you understand everything is a part of the great being–one whole being, when you reach this understanding, whatever we say, whatever we think, or whatever we see, that is the actual teaching of Buddha. And whatever we do, that is actual practice of the Buddha himself.’ (from the Suzuki Roshi Archives)
Another gem from an early sesshin at Tassajara.