Moving Forward

With respect,

Hello All,

This morning I went on a training hike for the Bataan Memorial Death March to be held on March 20th at the Army base at White Sands, NM. I’m doing the short version at 14.2 miles.  It is a trail run with sand, hills, and (did I say) sand?  Anyway, I am training on desert trails out behind my house.  This morning I did nearly 3 miles in 29 degree weather.  I stayed on pace at 20 minutes per mile. It was a good effort over rough terrain.  

What does this have to do with Zen?  Well, biking, running and walking have a cadence.  As we are out there on a course eventually our body settles into a “zone” where breath, footfall, and attention seem to integrate into a seamless pattern…almost oneness itself.  We are aware of the scenery, looking forward enough to check our path but, most of all, mindfully moving along.  I call this, “Stillness in motion” and have this phrase on the back of our “Team Zen” tee shirts.

The “zone” I am talking about is not a “zoned-out” thing, rather its a mindfulness in motion sort of thing. Contrary to conventional thought we have not separated ourselves from our bodies as we are aware and mindful of both our internal world and our external world: we float like a duck and don’t hold on to anything. It is this that is what I call Zen in motion.  Once we begin, the flow will take us there whether we like it or not because its the inevitable ‘practice realization’ that Master Dogen referred to in his work.

In ‘Zen in motion,’ we simply put one foot in front of another and let our thoughts and feelings do what they do.  What we do not do is allow them the power to take us away from what’s in front of us to do: finish the race. This is, of course, easier said than done. Yet, we have each other, don’t we?  None of us are alone on the trail: I’ve had my teacher, my coach, my family, my sangha, and my friends each run every race I have run be with me as I put each foot down on the ground.  So, in the end, its not me who runs the race, its all of us together.  In truth this is true of all of life: we are not alone.

Be well,

Daiho  

The Zen of Knowledge,Part two

With respect,

We left Part one with the question, “So what?” In that piece I talked about ways we “know.” I covered this in a superficial way: epistemology and ontology, like existentialism and phenomenology are complex and sit at the core of philosophy. Philosophers have debated them for centuries. Such debate, possibly useful, but likely not, is sort of like mental masturbation. It feels good in the moment, but leaves us wanting the real thing. So, what is the real thing?

In the world of Zen practice our aim, should we actually have one, is to let mind and body fall away and in this process live in what Master Dogen thought of as “practice realization.” To get to a better understanding of what this means, we must break it down piece by piece.

In Master Dogen’s Fukanzazengi He gives us a clear sense that we each ought practice zazen, that ancient contemplative form once referred to as “Serene Reflection Meditation” or “Silent Illumination.” He put forth the unheard of notion that when we sit in this way, when mind and body fall away, we are in a state of realization. Why? What on earth? Is enlightenment that easy? Right, were it so. But he knew that there was something more to it than that. The rascal.

Here’s the thing, allowing mind and body to fall away essentially means that we let go, yes, let go. Let go of our thoughts. Let go of our feelings, our bodily sensations, in fact, we are to “let go” of everything we think we know and if we are successful? Well, then the keyboard I am typing on has an opportunity not to be a keyboard per se, but can present itself, as my teacher used to say, “As it will.” Right. when is a keyboard not a keyboard? when we stop thinking of it as a keyboard. Its ontological reality is then free.

Practice deep enough and “keyboard” ceases to exist as keyboard. We learn thru our practice that “keyboard” is not a keyboard, it is simply and completely only what we call it. But calling something something does it a serious disservice. Because calling it something disallows it to be itself. Poor keyboard, but even more poor is ourselves because we never get to know it for its original nature. We only believe we know it.

So, then, how do we know? An epistemological question, yes? Some, the empiricists among us, say we “know” through our senses. Yes, and the Buddha counted the mind as one of the senses and, from a Kantian perspective this might be so, then, as Kant believed we establish categories, like little boxes, in our mind within which we put our sensory data encoded as data with names and properties: this is round and thus if goes to “roundness,” this is square, and so forth. It discriminates in order to do the sorting.Once in a box with a name we think we “know it.” Yet, do we really? Or is what we know simply what our brain is doing,sorting and naming, etc.? Our epistemological “knowledge” in the end, is only what our brain says it is. It is not the ontological reality of the thing itself: its actual being. But we think it is!

It that thinking that robs the thing of its truth. I know you. I know you are So and so, you are this old, are this sort of person doing thst sort of job, wearing certain clothes with so much money in the back and so on. So, when I sctually meet you, this “knowledge” acts as a filter and it is through this filter that I interpret you in your presence before me. But is this interpretation that actual you?

The “so what” of Zen, then, is the fact that our practice exposes our filters. What’s left is pure perception. It’s in the “clear mind” that you may be seen for who and what you actually are.I believe it is this that is “practice realization.”

The Zen of Knowledge, Part one

From Outside the Margins

The Zen of Knowledge, Part One

by Daiho Hilbert

With respect,

We do not get to the truth of anything by believing it to be true. We get to the truth by questioning it to be true. Therein arises faith.

There is an observation common amongst Jews: Jews tend to answer questions with questions.  It is always interesting when a question is answered with a question. The person asking the question may feel threatened so answers the returning question with defensiveness or the questioner understands the nature of the discussion is one of seeking the truth in which case he/she considers the response and allows feelings of defensiveness to flow away thus allowing further exploration. 

When we are convinced of the truth of something the larger truth eludes us as our conviction becomes an untested declaration. 

Someone in the various threads of my Facebook page asked the question, "how do we know?" In philosophy, especially the philosophy of science, this query takes us to a branch of philosophy called epistemology. It is a necessary question in the area of theory building.  How do we know anything?  

Another, sometimes counter philosophical area, is ontology which is about "being."  We might say somethings are known through our direct experience of them. Existentialists and phenomenologists may fall into this category.

Theological issues often include epistemological questions related to a person's ontological or phenomenological knowledge.  How do we know God?  Is it even possible to know a proposed being who is believed to exist on an entirely different plane of existence as our own? I believe the Buddha argued it was both impossible to answer that question and that the question itself had no value because it did nothing to awaken us.

Contemporary Zen Masters have suggested that one of the ways we may discover the truth is to abide in a "don't know" mind. Masters like Seung Sahn and Bernie Glassman are proponents of this, as is the Order of Clear Mind Zen. To abide in a "Don't Know Mind" is to deliberately set aside what we think we know so that what is in front of us has an opportunity to be seen as it is, directly, and without the filter of presumption.  We develop such a mind through the practice of seated meditation and in the Rinzai school, koan work. 

At this point, we might be asking ourselves, “So what?”  In Part Two we will address that most important question of application. Be well Y’all

Our Snow in southern New Mexico

Real Practice

From the Margins: Real Zen Practice

by Harvey Daiho Hilbert

One day I was sitting on the street in front of the Federal Building in downtown Las Cruces.  It was fairly early in our war with Iraq.  I sat in robes on a zafu with a small block lettered sign.  The sign read, “PEACE.”   As I sat there a man approached.  He was quite angry and told me his son was fighting in Iraq.  I listened as he talked to me about his concerns for his son.  I barely said a word.  As he talked, he came closer and closer to questioning why his son was there. Even then, many of us did not believe there were WMDs in Iraq and that the invasion was some sort of Bush payback. At some point, he was silent and sat down beside me.  We sat there together quietly.  

On another occasion, I sat in front of the same building as a group gathered to protest the Supreme Court’s decision that ruled corporations were people.  The gathering grew and security, as well as police with K-9s, approached the large group.  I was sitting between the group and the building on the public sidewalk.  The group, also on the sidewalk, was asked to remove themselves.  The authorities argued that the group was impeding pedestrians.  After a lot of discussion and threats of detainment, the large group moved off the sidewalk.  I did not. at some point in my zazen I heard officers standing near me considering what to do with me as I continued to sit.  a K-9 dog approached and sniffed around me.  I just sat there. In the end, the authorities retreated to the Federal Building and I remained on my cushion.  I had not spoken a word nor shared a glance.

These events stick out in my mind.  At the time a number of thoughts came and went.  In the first case I wondered what the man was going to do, whether he would escalate and if the need arose to defend myself, what I might do.  In the second case, I was prepared to not respond, but to continue my practice on the public sidewalk. I imagined being dragged away.  Thankfully that did not happen.

We in the West compartmentalize everything.  Zen is done either at home or in Zendos. We meditate to open our eyes and, theoretically, free all beings.  The classical understanding of this is that by opening our eye, so too, all eyes, since you and I are one. However, eyes open or not, there is great suffering in this world.  The Buddha did not awaken to sit in temples or under trees.  He stood up and taught, wandered and healed, pacified criminals, and Kings.  He was selfless and lived for the sake of others. Unfortunately, we in the West, with our proclivity for self absorption, have either forgotten, never learned, or purposefully ignored the Buddha’s teaching in this regard.  

Zen practice is not only about Zen practice in the relative safety of a Zendo, it is also about manifesting our practice through the precepts in the real world.  True practitioners of the Buddha Way have an obligation to engage the world around them just as the Buddha did.  This obligation arises from the Three Pure Precepts: cease doing evil, do good, and bring about abundant good for all beings. Notice the attention is on “doing” not on “being.” 

So, the next time you ask yourself or your teacher if you have freed yourself while on the cushion, know that in the question is your answer. Like that old Zen story, we don’t make a mirror by polishing tiles and we don’t gain enlightenment by practicing Zazen.  Why? Unless we take our open mind up from the cushion and into the world we have not become practice-realization.  What we are instead is smug Teachers and Students sitting safely and invisibly in a Zendo.

Christmas et al

With Palms Together, Good Morning Everyone,
Some of us in the United States dislike using the phrase “Season’s Greetings” or “Happy Holidays.” They believe we should use the phrase “Merry Christmas” instead as they see that Jesus is the “reason for the season.” Some, then, see this as part of a so-called “War on Christmas.”
Let’s see, to put this politely, I might say, “If there is a war on Christmas its hard to tell when surrounded by Christmas carols, lights, displays, sales, parking problems, and traffic jams.” Yet, we might look at it a different way and suggest that all of these things are, in fact, the war on Christmas itself. Yes, these have little to nothing to do with “the reason for the season.” What does a Christmas sale, for example, have to do with the birth of the founder of a major religion, a person held up to be the son of God, if not God himself? To me, as an outsider (I am not a Christian), I view the commercialization of Christmas as a direct attack on the meaning of the day itself.
Christmas does not stand alone during this time of year, the time of the waning sun. Hanukkah (Festival of Lights), Rohatsu (Enlightenment of the Buddha), the High Holy Days (Days of Repentance), and in Islam, Mawlid (birth of the prophet Mohammed). We might note that each of these seasonal “holy”days involve birth and death and the hope that abides in between. These holy days did not just pop up, they evolved over time and matched our emotional and psychological needs as they symbolize a basic and common human need and, as such, have become a deeply held part of us.
As winter approaches, we witness a transformation of our environment, leaves falling from trees, plants withering, things move more slowly as temperatures drop and water freezes. Our sun is with us less and less and for those who pay attention to such things, appears to fall further and further down the horizon. In ancient times these events were closely watched and greatly feared. We were reminded of our mortality, our pain and suffering. The ancients crafted belief systems and ceremonies around such seasonal changes in the hope of staving off death and bringing forth birth. These holidays, then, were crucial to our sense of well-being and safety.
Today however, we have lost touch with our enchanted and natural world. We have light and heat at the touch of a button. Our food is not scarce and comes neatly packaged and often our children have no sense as to where these packages come from or how they were produced. Its as if we left nature behind as we pursued (almost as a stampede) the near magical possibilities at the dawn of the age of enlightenment.
Losing touch with the natural world enables us to view it as just matter, life without spirit. Our children’s eyes are drawn to video games, devices, websites, movies, videos,and so forth. As adults and parents we, too, have lost touch with the natural cycles of the earth. We prize our technological progress which, in itself is not a bad thing, but when paired with a marginalizing of the natural world, becomes very dangerous.

These days, these cold winter days, ought remind us of this spiritual rendering. They were designed to bring us back in touch with the world as it is. Let’s say, a re- enchantment of our lives and our relationship to the universe. When we light incense and offer it, as we buy or make a gift for others during these holidays, and as we sit facing a wall in Zazen, let us consider the real meaning of the seasonal cycles, let us bear witness to our species destruction of the environment. And on a personal, individual level, let us be aware of our lack of care and compassion for our own space and its conditioned relationship to the “larger” world.
If there is a “War on Christmas” that war is fed by our greed and enabled by our lack of understanding of our core reality. The Buddha woke up. He touched the ground with his finger tips and gave witness to the Earth itself. In this he saw the essential truth of each moment as gateways to liberation from life and death. May we each learn ways to re- enchant our world, bringing forth spirit and hope thru our practice.
Yours, Daiho 

Friends in the Dharma

With respect to all.,

I want to personally and publicly acknowledge my debt to two young monks who drove from Kansas City to Las Cruces in order to participate in our Rohatsu sesshin. Venerables Sunyananda Dharma and Thich Tam Bi were extremely helpful to me as I injured my back muscles just as sesshin began. Their kindness and generosity of spirit were immensely helpful. Our Zen world is in dire need of repair and these two young ones are part of the repair team. You know, there are those who would exclude certain lineages, includig my own, yet practitioners from such lineages seem to be the few who are actually manifesting the Dharma in everyday life. I am, frankly, humbled by their presence and sickened by those who claim authenticity thru their patriarchs but show little of the Dharma in their actions. 

My friend Rev. Kobutsu Malone, for example, has done Zen a great service but has been kicked in the teeth for it. Here is a man, alone in the wildsa of Maine, who suffers daily both in terms of his physical body, but also in terms of his heart and spirit. Admittedly, he is a challenge, but consider where is anger and disenchantment comes from: a heart, pure of spirit, and dedicated to victims of predatory monks. It seems to me we really dso want to kill the messenger. What Kobutsu Malone has is an excellent crap detector. when approaching be aware he will tolerate no bullshit and robes, shaved heads and credentials will not save you...which is as it should be. Zen is, and always will be, a personal journey from the inside out and if we are not willing to begin from the inside, relying instead on credentials and brocade robes as indicators of anything at all, we are doomed to be failures in our practice and our authenticity as a Zen practitioner and not the least a human being.