Zen?

Gassho Y'all,

This morning over coffee Shukke and I talked about Zen, what it is exactly.  Many folks including renowned teachers answer the question talking about zazen and other forms. And while that is satisfactory, I find it leads many to believe the forms are the practice, but the forms, dear readers, are not Zen, they are practice to be Zen.  And in that practice, our eyes open. But do not mistake:  practice apart from life, seen as separate from lived experience, is a duality.

Life, with a mind that is present, is Zen: nothing special. As we sip our coffee, do our dishes, put one foot in front of another, and do so fully and completely, that is Zen.
Bowing practice, eating practice, walking and sitting practice, these are both Zen (when done with eyes open) and the practice that gets us there. How do we open our hearts if we fear touching it? How do wechange our response in situations if we are iunaware of the need?

Zen "practice," then,  is a gate and the field beyond when we
realize the dualities within us and begin to let them fall away.

is life meaningful?

With palms together,

The question arises what really matters? Does our life really matter or is it something about our life? Life itself is just a metabolic process:all living things do it, nothing special. Yet, we cling to it as if “our life depended on it!”

Freud talked about two drives, Thanatos and Eros, death and love (perhaps more directly life itself). All living things strive to continue to live, but with us, with a self-awareness that asks why, why do we hold on to living so tightly? We are set apart from other life.

We strive always to take that next breath, discover that next image taste or smell. And in the struggle we question.  Questions give rise to meaning—- or at least they send us down the path to discover meaning. Our journey however doesn’t end: it’s a perpetual journey where one step never suffices and one breath rarely stands alone. We continue to ask and we continue to breathe.

Perhaps one way to address the question is to simply assume there is no ultimate answer save the process of questioning. Or should we consider it living where it seems to me living is apart from life. Life is just life,  but living is doing something with that life and for us that something is to question, is to assign meaning to that which we perceive or think about.

Somethings just come and go, don’t they? Nothing but the passing of thought on the breath. Some other things stop us dead. What’s this? We ask. What’s this indeed.

It’s not the object of the question that’s actually meaningful, it seems to me, it’s the fact that it stops us in our tracks.

It turns out, ours is to reason why!

A Disciple visits Eiheiji...

From Sensei Shukke’s  Disciple Derek:


This past June, Oscar and I traveled to Japan where I was fortunate enough to participate in an International Zen Workshop Sesshin at Daihonzan Eiheiji. While these workshops are usually comprised of either all Japanese or non-Japanese participants, the monks decided to experiment with a mixed group of both during this particular sesshin.  There were eighteen participants total with nine women and nine men with a little more than half of the participants being Japanese.  The non-Japanese participants came from Chile, France, Singapore, Israel, Bulgaria, and the U.S.

Coming by train and then bus from Kanazawa, Oscar and I got to Eiheiji around noon.  After dropping me off at the monastery Oscar had the next three days to explore Kanazawa on his own.  Once all the participants checked in, we were divided into two lines by gender and shown our rooms on the fourth floor of the Kichijokaku (Guest Hall).  Each group shared a large tatami room complete with futons and storage for our belongings.  After dropping off our things we were ushered into an adjacent classroom that functioned as our general meeting space for orientation, dharma talks/lectures, instruction, and stretching.  Two rows of long tables were placed along each side of the room facing one another (women on one side, men on the other).  At each place setting was a name tag, large envelope, two small pieces of paper, and pens.  Once Rev. Yokoyama and Rev. Kojima finished introductions we were told to place all of our belonging into the envelope and mark the outside with our name and country of origin. These were going to be kept in a secure location to limit



ays or so I was excited to be at Eiheiji but was also extremely self-conscious about my every move.  I wanted to make sure I was "doing it right."  Luckily the majority of the forms and etiquette we were asked to follow were the same ones we practice in our sangha and in other sanghas in the U.S.  Zazen with the group was very strong.  All but one participant were dedicated Soto practitioners with much sitting experience.  Our collective focus was really quite harmonizing.  That is except for when we were trying to eat!  Oryoki is such a difficult practice even for Japanese practitioners.  During the first meal, after we had been served and began to eat, I tried eating as mindfully as possible.  Take a bite, put the chopsticks diagonally across the middle bowl to chew a large bit, sit with cosmic mudra, take another bit, chew, repeat.  Nearly halfway through my meal I looked around and notice the teachers were finished, all of the women were finished, and all the men except for me and the guy to my left (who had about two bites left) were finished.  My god. Sweat started pouring from everywhere and my chopsticks were shaking as I tried to finish eating as quickly and elegantly as possible.  Mindful eating is a bit different at Eiheiji than what I was used to.  From that meal on I was very strategic about how much food I took to make sure I wasn't last again.  Soup is easy to eat quickly–just gulp it down.  Rice and the pickled daikon radish they served with every meal takes awhile so only take a bit of that.  Eat the most difficult things first and take very large bites.  Be mindful of how fast others are eating to try and finish together as a group.  By the second day of eating all of our meals in the zendo I finally experience how oryoki really is a continuation of our zazen.  As soon as we moved from the classroom to the zendo and began eating after sitting the energy was so different.  Everyone, while still fumbling a bit and needing some gentle procedural reminders from the monks seemed much more grounded in the practice of oryoki.  Although I still don't enjoy oryoki I have a much deeper appreciation for it.  We should more consciously incorporate into our regular practice.

Dogen Zenji wrote in Fukanzazengi, "The way is originally perfect and all-pervading...It is never apart from this very place; what is the use of traveling around to practice?"  This line stood out to me during discussion.  Why was I here at Eiheiji?  Is there something that different that required me to travel so far?  Is Eiheiji, or even Japan for that matter, the only place to experience "authentic" zen practice?  Not really.  The impeccable robes, centuries old buildings, beautiful scenery, and history of Eiheiji is really something and if you can go then make sure to go.  But if you never make it, don't worry.  Dogen's teaching really have taken root in the West.  Sure, the packaging might look a little different in American zen centers or monasteries and we might not have all the fancy choreography or the same number of monks but the core teachings of the Way are here, they're everywhere.  As Dogen said, "The way is originally perfect and all-pervading."  The truth is beyond Japan or America.  It's beyond Buddhism or some other religion.  I'm so grateful to have had this experience at Eiheiji.  Again, seeing and doing things how they're practiced at Eiheiji was something else and make sure to go if you can.  Just be careful about getting caught up in the accoutrement of Japanese monasticism, you might miss something a bit deeper.

Getting to Know You

With palms together,

The world is such an interesting place. Over the last two days two close friends and I rode our Harley’s from Las Cruces to Salado, Texas, a distance of 672 miles.  Throughout the ride we were greeted warmly by interested locals at gas stations and restaurants.  Its always curious to me how that works.  We stop.  People turn their heads at the sounds of the bikes.  They see bikers with “cuts” and, while one might think they’d be intimidated, they often are just as likely, if not more likely, to ask us where we are going and where we are from.  A smile here goes a very long way.  Soon we are in a greart conversation about travel, motorcycles or veteran issues. American can be a great country.  We have great people.  All that seems necessary is a warm smile and willingness to talk and tell stories.

The ride, sometimes on the Interstate, sometimes on the back roads through the Texas hill country, is beautiful.  We see a nation on the move: business, vacation, or just “Sunday” drives, and all the while yielding a willingness to engage and get to know each other.  We stopped at a “parking spece” off I-10.  We were soon joined by a family we had seen together at a gas station a few miles back.  The children were fascinated by locusts that seemed to live there.  We talked about them. How hard is that?

Yet, in the cities, such things are much more private affairs.  Too bad it seems to me, as when we do talk with one another we find common ground and mutual interests.  All it talks is a warm smile and the courage to take the risk of introducing oneself to total strangers.

I look forward to getting back on the road again, but not before getting to know the fine folk in Salado.

May we each enjoy the company of one another!

Be well,

Daiho

Go here for six videos on The Zen of Trauma

Two Truths

With palms together, 

Buddhism teaches there are two truths: the relative and the absolute. One is particular the other relative. We live in both. 

When aware of the relative, we are each separate beings living on a particular planet in a particular solar system. When aware of the absolute, there is no us, no planet, no solar system: nothing is separate, all is one. Both “inter-are.” 

What does this have to do with anything at all? Everything. Derived from the absolute, our morality guides us. Our oneness teaches us to do no harm. Our relative enables us to live and survive. I am drinking a cup of coffee, and in doing so I am drinking the beans grown in Guatemala or Brazil; I am enabled to do this as a result of the many lives and many hands that brought this coffee into existence and to my table. 

When in the absolute all of this is clear and yet dissolves. When in the relative it is important to honor those hands and lives for they have provided us. 

One might say living in the absolute is living in awakening. One might further say that living in the relative is living in delusion. Both would be true, yet, these distinctions themselves are meaningless. Our teaching is to live without attaching to either, but instead accepting both as the true nature of our reality. 

This is what it means to “float like a duck.” The storm comes and we float. The storm resolves and we float. We know there is no storm and there is no calm. There is just this, what’s in your moment right now. 

So allow the storm, but don’t be guided by it; allow the calm, but don’t be deceived by it. This is the Great Way.

Gassho

Morning

with palms together,

Good morning all,

We teach “spring comes and the grass grows by itself.” Yet, the meaning of this phrase can elude us. One reading is the world to s what it is and it will be what it will be. We may gut inner from this a “hands off” approach, yet this is not so. The phrase is descriptive, not prescriptive.
As we confront the ills of the world, as we hear the cries of the world, we are obligated by our vows and more, our common decency and compassion, to act.

When we do, we are practicing engaged Zen.

What is that s thing we call “engaged Zen”?

Simply, it is the practice of healing a wound, correcting a wrong, or as Judaism refers to it, “tekun olam” repairing the world. We are partners in our creation . We share responsibility with all others to do what we can to make the world a better place.

So, while the grass may grow by itself, our world needs our assistance.

Be happy.