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.

Veterans Day

With palms together,

Veterans Day.  What can I say?  Millions of American men and women have left the relative safety of home in order to serve in the Armed Forces. Sworn to protect the United States against all enemies foreign and domestic, these citizen soldiers learn the skills necessary to close with, kill or capture the enemy. Its a scary thought on the one hand,  to turn a citizen into a human being that can, if need be, hunt fellow human beings. On the other hand, defense of our nation and way of life is crucial in a world gone mad with zealots, dictators, and insurgents willing to kill themselves in order to kill others.

This said, as a Zen Buddhist priest, I am ambivalent about this whole thing. We vow not to kill, but make exceptions for self defense.  We vow not to slander others, but easily refer to those who would harm us in dehumanizing ways, ways in which it makes it easier to kill. and if any of us believe we would not —-or could not—- kill, let me say this: you are deluding yourself.

For me, Veterans Day is a reminder to be grateful for those citizens willing to take up arms and move into harm’s way to defend us. These are people willing to offer their lives to defend us and, perhaps more importantly, they are willing to set aside their civilian and religious values in order to do so. But, at what cost?  

As a therapist I have treated a huge number of traumatized veterans: ordinary people like you and me, who have endured something extraordinarily dangerous and lived to tell about it.  Yet, here’s the rub: combat trauma changes us in unimaginable ways. No longer able to forget it and move on, these veterans suffer from intrusive thoughts, exaggerated startle response, feelings of anger, feelings of deep guilt, and a desire to be “normal.”  Yet, they are not able to do so, hence they see themselves trapped in nightmares that, for them, are as real as the sting of my kyosaku if I were to smack you with it.

Much of the hoopla around this national holiday is downright offensive to me and many veterans, veterans who see the use of the emotionally charged remembrances as methods to increase sales.  The sentiment is touching and embracing: we veterans are “heroes” simply because we put on a uniform.  Really?  For me, this sort of thing diminishes true heroism and true patriotism.  Moreover using patriotism, American flags, and so on to profit is a cheep trick done on the backs of those who have sacrificed so much. Its disgusting.

Many of us who survived combat do not feel as though we are heroes and are uncomfortable being referred to in that way.  There are true heroes in war, people who risked their lives to protect or care for their brothers and sisters under hostile fire.  True patriotism requires us to engage in serious dialogue about the nature of war, its use value in protecting us, and our nation’s motivations in entering into hostile relations with others.  

For me, I prefer a quiet period of Zazen, perhaps at our Veteran’s park, to honor my fellow veterans.  Or perhaps a visit to a Veteran’s home or VA hospital. To me, this is an engaged practice.  No words need be said, just a compassionate smile and hug will do.

 

 

Some Days

With palms together,

Good Morning Everyone,

Again it has been awhile since I posted any Zen-related musings. I'm not sure what's happening, but as I've said in earlier posts, I feel I have little to contribute that hasn't been said before. As it says in Ecclesiastes, there is nothing new under the sun.  That being said, perhaps I might make a few comments on the state of Zen today.  

Frankly, I feel Zen is suffering from a sickness which is pervading our world.  It is a sickness that causes a perversion of Zen and assaults its very nature.  There is no name for this sickness, at least not yet, but its symptoms include: a desire for power and recognition by its priests, a desire for money to support bigger and "better" Temples and Zen Centers, an all too willing effort to kow-tow to those interested in "self-improvement," an unwillingness to take on politically dangerous or incorrect stances in a public way, and an interest in playing the part rather than being the part of a Zen practitioner.

I admit, this list exposes my own biases.  I am not interested in fancy robes, public recognition, recognition by other Zen teachers, or any of that ego-driven crap.  I am interested in piercing the veil, uncovering the truth of our reality, living an honest and morally upright life, and being in service to others (sometimes at a cost to myself and my relationships). 

When I look at the ads in Buddhist magazines I cringe.  They expose the sad truth that Zen as practiced in some centers is more about profit than anything else. The costs all but prohibit ordinary, blue collar people from participating and seem directed at the more "privileged" classes of our society.  Ads that promote self, as opposed to renunciation of self seem so common as to be the norm. 

I really don't know what the "cure" might be for this sickness, but I believe it is our responsibility as Zen practitioners to do a fearless moral inventory of our practice and our relationship to power, authority, and wealth. Zen, in my humble opinion is, at root, iconoclastic, yet I rarely see the shards of our society's icons on the floor. While money is necessary to operate a Center and/or Temple, it is important, it seems to me, that we examine our needs to see if they are actual needs or, rather, "wants."  I would be careful of any Zen Teacher who values his or her robes above his or her relationship to the Dharma which teaches renunciation.  Personally, I think those who dress in fancy robes, carry whisks and/or teaching sticks about with them, should be carefully scrutinized.  This includes those priests who seem to pride themselves in who they know or whether they are members of the newly forming organizations that hold themselves out to be gatekeepers.

A true Zen teacher in my opinion is one who renounces such things and simply goes about his or her business teaching the Dharma in everyday life in an everyday way: nothing special.

Gassho,

Daiho