Today

With respect to all,

So, this was Memorial Day, a day of remembrance and gratitude. This day means different things to different people. And for some, different things within the same person. I know I am conflicted about it. As I am sure many combat veterans are, as well. Many of us are caught in flashbacks, terrible memories, great anxiety, and in this, who really wants to remember? And am I to be grateful for surviving when others did not? 

On the other hand I cannot help but feel obligated to assist on this day. I tear up with the raising of the flag, the pledge, and the myriad prayers people offer. It is a good thing to remember: when we forget, bad things are free to happen again. History repeats itself only if we choose to repeat it. 

To paraphrase what I said to a friend recently who admonished us to remember, "remembering is not a problem" war is with me in each and every breath. My struggle, if you will, is to open my heart to peace, a place I find difficult to trust. In this I wish we would approach peace-making with the same fervency that we approach war. I would like us to memorialize peace, celebrate love, and invest in ways of making the world a better place; all without armies. Is that too much to ask?

Be well,

Daiho

The Zen of Nothing

The Zen of Nothing

There are a ton of books on Zen: Zen philosophy, Zen poetry, Zen art, Zen practice, Zen this, and Zen that.  What I want to see is a Zen of Nothing.  This would be the Zen of nothing important, a Zen without words, robes, bells, or whistles.  A Zen without those in the know, those higher up, or those down below, those approved of and those not approved of: this would be a true Zen, a pure Zen, a Zen that cannot be taught or written about.  

The Zen of Nothing is not even Zen.  The Zen of Nothing is just the wind through the leaves, the sound of tap water in the sink or the feel of cool sheets on a summer's eve.

What do we do to receive this Zen?  Listen.

The Zen of Nothing is within you, around you, over you and under you.  There is not a place or time where the Zen of Nothing does not exist.  Stop thinking.  Stop ruminating.  Sit down. Be quiet.  Rest easy in the world.  The Zen of Nothing contains no evil, nor good, nor blessings, nor curses.  It is not hot or cold, far or near.

Let your body feel it.  Let your mind open in it.  Let your heart dance to the sound of one hand.

The Zen of Nothing arrives when we stop singing the songs of the Zen of Something.

Be well.

Unintentional Teaching

There once was a Zen teacher, we won’t say Master as that would be inappropriate, who prepared himself everyday for death.  This teacher was quite old and everyone had no trouble telling him so.  Eventually he believed them. 

“I’m old,” he would say, not paying particular attention to who might be around him, but verifying what the whole town knew. So, one day the teacher said, “Enough!” and with that, retired.

As he sat in deep meditation, small sparks would capture his attention.  They would  quickly spark and just as quickly disappear.  The teacher opened his eye, then jumped up shouting, “That’s the answer!” But no one knew what the question was. 

A studied life is nearly always filled with insightful flashes with private meanings flashing across our everyday mind. One insight: being a Zen teacher is an exercise in futility; being a priest, not so.  One can no more “teach” Zen than one can “teach” bicycle riding.  The newbie must just ride, sometimes falling down, yet always getting up and doing it again and again until, “presto,” there she is, flying along with the wind. The teacher has taught nothing.

Being a priest, on the other hand, is not being a teacher, per se, but in the example of his or her being the priest is teaching Zen. How one walks and talks, sits or lays down; how one eats, goes to the bathroom, and attends to relationships; each are teachings in and of themselves, but not intentionally so. This is the best kind of teaching.

Because a truly mindful life can be an unintentional teaching and is just life as it is lived, we students of such a teacher too often fail to appreciate what is right in front of us.  I often say I learned more about Zen from studying my reactions to my teacher than anything he ever said. I learned from his woodworking, his tinkering with race cars, his closely held values, as well as his form as a priest leading a service. But most of all I learned from our kitchen table talks. 

We fought a lot, mostly about politics (he was such a conservative) and the fact that he had a hard time with my desire to practice what I called “Street Zen.” At the invasion of Iraq my teacher supported President Bush! What sort of priest supports an invasion of another country?  Answer: my teacher.

My biases became so evident in our talks that they lived on my sleeve.  My job, he insisted, was to process them, deconstruct them, and let them float away…empty artifacts of mind. In this, he pointed out, my resistance was my teacher.  

If we are not paying attention to our internal dialogue and if that dialogue takes us away from the moment right before us, we are lost, slipping more deeply than ever into the mud that traps us. Robert Bly, the American poet, said something like, “If you don’t like the mud you are standing in, change it!” 

My mud has been like concrete: war, divorce, loss, all resting heavy on my shoulders.  At 68 years old I have retired and live in a body punished by time and a myriad experiences.  It is a challenge at times just to stand up. With each breath some pain or other arises, whether it be physical, emotional, or spiritual.  Yet, I stand, but I do not stand alone.  There with me are my students and my student’s students. Teachers all.  This is how it is in Zen.   What I ask of myself now is simple:  As I live out my life what is my unintentional teaching? When this question is in front of our eyes we can see our karma in action. 

Bataan

With palms together,

Good Morning All,

In preparation for doing the 2015 Honorary Bataan Memorial Death March (14.2 miles), yesterday two members of Team Zen (myself and Joel Shoaku) hiked ten miles through a variety of terrains and surfaces.  From wilderness trails, to crushed rock roads, to pavement we put one foot in front of another and concluded our ten mile training hike for the Honorary Bataan Memorial Death March to be held March 22.  Let me tell you, the last three miles were a brutal ascent up a mountain side to end at trail's head only to discover we needed an additional 3/4 mile to make our ten mile goal. 

As we hiked this rather rugged and often challenging ten miles my thoughts turned to previous races I have had the honor and pleasure to run.  From the Las Vegas Marathon in 2003 to the Honorary Bataan in 2011 my mantra was "One foot in front of the other."  In the end your race time does not matter much, especially for Penguin runners like myself.  What matters is finishing.  

Some time ago I wrote a small piece I called "The Zen of Running."  (Not to be confused with an online book with the same title.)  Long distance racing is a challenge to mind and body. It takes a lot from the runner: time, energy, and peace of mind.  I say peace of mind because in training all that seems to enter the runner's head is the race.  

Anyway,  there is clearly a "Zen" to running, hiking or walking distances (I define "distances" as anything over a 10 k race (6.2 miles).  The Zen is in the presence on each footfall: the presence on each breath, on each ache and pain that arises between start and finish and all of the thoughts that come and go in that vast expanse. For me it's,  breathe in - two steps - breathe out - two steps. All the while attention on the road/body fit.  The Zen is in dealing with all the little, sometimes big, messages our brains send us while enduring the race itself.  

Distance racing is one dharma gate among many, but is most certainly one that will test you.  

I don't know how I will do in this up-coming race, but I will do my best to finish.  In the great scheme of things follow through is all that really matters.  

Be well y'all,

Daiho

Revamping Website

Hi All, Just a quick note letting you know I am revamping my website.  To quote someone famous, "Why don'cha come up and see me sometime!" Address: http://daihoroshi.org

Readers

With palms together,
Dear Readers,

Recently I retired from my leadership role at the Order of Clear Mind Zen.  A new abbot has taken my place and the three local Zen sanghas have come together under one roof to be now referred to as Daibutsuji Zen Temple with its headquarters at the Zen Center of Las Cruces.  I am pleased at these developments.  The new abbot, Rev. Shukke Shin-sensei, has tons of new ideas and brings a younger, fresher face to the Sangha.

The Order of Clear Mind Zen will continue but not as a formal corporate entity.  We are a religious Order upon which our priests and lay precept holders are trained and ordained.  I will continue to be its head teacher and will continue my work with my students.  While initially I thought I would no longer accept students, I believe I am changing my mind and will, indeed,  begin to accept new students and teach.  It's what I do.

If you should wish to become my student please email me at daihoroshi@gmail.com telling me something of your background and interests. We will then schedule an initial interview.  I accept students from all over the world and offer interviews through Skype or FaceTime.

I will be using this blog site in conjunction with Facebook and my website (daihoroshi.org) as primary venues for my written work and notes regarding my activities and so forth.  If you should wish to friend me on Facebook, please send me a friend request. My Facebook name is "Sodaiho."


Enough,
Take time to practice Zazen today even if its just five minutes.,
Yours,

Daiho

Liberation, Part One

Liberation 

From Rev. Senzaki’s correspondence in “Eloquent Silence,” (p 386) a few noteworthy notes: 

“… present day Japanese Buddhists do not understand true Buddhism, but are clinging to sectarian ideas instead.”  

And of Priest emissaries here to teach Zen:

“With few exceptions they are not accomplishing anything here but propaganda and the advertisement of their titles and cathedrals, like sandwich men peddling their wares.”

…”They may think they can do things here in America just as they do in Japan, but they are badly mistaken.”

_______________

Yet, today, years later, some of us cling to the Japanese as final arbiters of what is and is not Zen.  Authenticity from mind-to-mind transmission, practice, and up-right living are not as important, it would seem, as what lineage we are from and whether that lineage is officially recognized by Soto Shu in Japan.  

Senzaki-roshi, like Matsuoka-roshi, wished to build an authentic Zen practice here in the United States, a practice not dependent on Cathedrals, titles, and brocade robes. Theirs was a simple practice, one Rinzai, the other Soto, but each engaged in a simple, straightforward practice of Zen.  As we so often say, it was “nothing special.” 

The quotes above remind me of Dogen Zenji’s travels to China and his desire to bring “True Buddhism” to Japan.  His True Buddhism was in the daily practice of Zazen.  As Dogen Zenji attempted to find an authentic teacher, he went through a lot of “advertisements” and those closely affiliated with governing bodies first.  His true teacher, like another Zen radical, Uchiyama-roshi, simply practiced Zazen.     

Many have written and spoken about Zen in America.  There have been retreats dedicated to discovering, or perhaps creating and directing, what Zen in America is or will become. I fear these are essentially a wasted effort, as Zen cannot be directed, especially from the top down, or by groups of well meaning priests.

My Dharma grandfather was a pioneer in Zen here in the United States. He had a fresh vision developed Zen from its true roots, practice.  When he initially taught, Zen Centers were rare.  He did what Senzaki did, he practiced living room Zen.  His centers often, if not always, began from establishing sitting groups in living rooms. Nothing fancy and no trained assistants. He made do, training an Ino when necessary.  Training a Tenzo when meals were needed. As was pointed out (as if a criticism of Matsuoka), by James Ford and Michael Elliston, he often ordained people before they were ready and trained them into their positions. Today we call that OJT.  It is not a bad way to teach.  Its hands on. In fact, we might say, “it's the American way.”

In truth, living room Zen is good, practice in parks and on the streets is good, and practice in our offices or on our motorcycles is good.  Each of these require nothing but the willingness to sit down and shut up.  Pandering to benefactors, holding out one’s lineage as something special, or making idols of dead teachers: these are our jailers, dear friends, not our advocates.