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Dogen’s Dotoku “Expression”- Vancouver 2016

Norman gives his first talk to the Mountain Rain Zen Community on Dogen’s “Dotoku” “Expression”.

Dogen’s Dotoku “Expression”

Zoketsu Norman Fischer

April 30, 2016

Transcribed and edited by Anne Johnson, Barbara Byrum and Cynthia Schrager

This morning I would like to read with you an essay by Dogen called Dotoku, which is translated here as “Expression” or “Expressions.” This translation is by Kaz Tanahashi, with Peter Levitt from Salt Spring. The fascicle is chapter 40 in the Shobogenzo.

All Buddhas and ancestors are expressions. Thus when buddha ancestors intend to select buddha ancestors they always ask: “Do you have your expression?”

“Buddha ancestors” is actually a special term in Zen practice. In Buddhism, in general, buddhas and bodhisattvas are beyond being ordinary human beings; they are special enlightened beings. But in Zen, “buddha ancestors” are ordinary human beings with various flaws and quirks and problems. So this is the specialty of Zen: ordinary human beings with quirks and issues and problems are buddha ancestors and bodhisattvas.

When someone who is a Zen buddha ancestor meets another person who is going to be a Zen buddha ancestor, they say to each other, “Do you have your expression?” As it says here, buddhas and ancestors are expressions. Other translations say, “Buddhas and ancestors speak the dharma.” The word dotoku can mean being an expression. One’s life, one’s appearance in this life, is an expression. When someone comes to see me, before they say anything, they have already expressed themselves. Right? You are expressing yourself by appearing in this world. It is an eloquent expression, isn’t it? A tree or a cloud is an eloquent expressions of dharma.

These opening sentences of Dotoku tell you that to be an expression of the dharma is something essential and highly valued.

Dogen goes on: “This question is asked with the mind and with the body. It is asked with a walking stick or a whisk. It’s asked with a pillar or a lantern.” These words refer to Zen stories in which dharma is expressed with a pillar or a lantern or a whisk.

“Those who are not buddha ancestors do not ask this and do not answer this, since they are not in a position to do so.” Dogen is saying that this is a particular value and style of our tradition: to express dharma using one’s body, one’s mind and everything that there is at hand.

“Such expression is not obtained by following others, or by the power of oneself. Where there is a thorough inquiry of a buddha ancestor, there is an expression of a buddha ancestor.” In our practice we do not try to hear what teachers have said in the past and follow their teachings. Our practice has to be our own unique life. But on the other hand, if it’s our own unique life, that’s not it either.

What do we mean by our own life? We mean, My life. I’m unique! Our life is unique, but also it’s not unique. We are just who we are, but we are also beyond who we are. If we really want to appreciate who we are as unique expressions of dharma, then we have to appreciate we are beyond who we are. Who we think we are is a very small person, from this family, with these limitations, with these habits. But we are an expression of something much more. So we can’t follow others, nor can we just make up our lives out of our own heads. Buddha expression is beyond both those possibilities.

“When there is a thorough inquiry of a buddha ancestor, there is an expression of a buddha ancestor.” The way we express our practice is by following the practice with a spirit of investigation. This is one of Dogen’s favorite phrases, “investigate this!” Don’t take anything for granted. Pay attention and question. What is this? What is this moment? What is this life? Who is this person? Let’s not just assume something.

Dogen says:

Within the expression, those in the past practiced and became thoroughly realized; you in the present pursue and endeavor in the way. When you pursue a buddha ancestor as a buddha ancestor, and understand the buddha ancestor’s expression, this expression spontaneously becomes the practice of three years, eight, or forty years. It makes an utmost effort, creates an expression.

So we continue the practice, without thinking we know what it is, without following teachings as if they made sense. We do our practice with our whole heart, with an attitude of inquiry and openness. Then practice spontaneously erupts into living in time, being in time. Our life becomes our expression of practice and the expression of all the buddha ancestors in the past. Before you know it, three, five, eight or forty years go by in a flash. And I can tell you that this does happen!

Usually Dogen sets his main theme in the opening of the text. He is telling us that expression of dharma is our particular path. It is not a path of enlightenment or perfection or improvement. It is a path of simply expressing our lives. Expressing ourselves. An expression, as we will see as the text unfolds, implies expressing to, expressing with. You don’t make an expression in the sky. Expression is received by another. An expression is made in concert with another. So as we’ll see, Dogen says this is a unique aspect of our particular practice. We practice expression of dharma, and that expression of dharma is always occurring in concert with each other. It is communication; it is interaction.

Dogen continues:

Then, even for decades, there is not a single gap in expression. Thus, the understanding at the moment of thorough realization should be authentic. As this understanding is recognized as authentic, what is expressed now is beyond doubt.

We live fully aligned with our lives; fully aligned with ourselves; fully aligned with one another in time. That is what he means by authentic. When we live in that way, there is no doubt about our life—life just is life.

I think we all experience being doubtful. Is this really supposed to be my life? Should I have another life? Should I have her life? Maybe her life is the one I should be having? Did I make a mistake somewhere back there and now here I am twenty years later in this pickle? We really are doubtful about our life. But what he is saying is that when we practice in this way, we know in this moment that this is the only life. There is no other life. There is no doubt about it. This moment is absolutely true. How could it be otherwise? But we don’t know that until we practice the way Dogen is suggesting, authentically giving ourselves to each moment. Then there is no gap whatsoever in expression.

This being so, there is an expression right now, an understanding right now. An expression right now and an understanding in the past are a single track, myriad miles.

This is an old Zen saying that says thatthe truth is a single track going on forever. I imagine a railroad track, even though I don’t know if they had railroads in ancient China. But in my mind you see a railroad track going on forever and ever. What the metaphor stands for is that there’s one track, just one track. But that one track goes on through different landscapes, different places, different cities. In the same way, we human beings are living one single human truth that is the same for each one of us; and yet, each one of us is completely different from each other. And each one of us is different every moment.

This one truth, this one expression, has a million different expressions that express the one expression. We in the present are expressing the whole of the past. It’s beautiful. Each person is expressing the whole of our human past. We think that our lives are only expressing the time we were born until the present, but every human being is expressing the whole of human life – which is full of terrible tragedies and ecstatic joys. So if you think your life is a little boring and not much is going on, think again.

The grip of this practice accumulates in months and years and lets go of the practice from the months and years in the past.

Even though all of the past is here now, we let go of the past. We don’t just repeat the past. We often have in our lives all kinds of screwy, neurotic patterns that are so compelling that we repeat them over and over again. Dogen is saying that the whole of the past is there, and yet, in that same moment we are letting go of our past.

“When it is about to drop away[dropping away is Dogen’s phrase, meaning to be free in our lives] the skin, flesh, bones and marrow also affirm the dropping away.” All the depths and superficialities of our lives affirm our freedom.

We often think of our practice as being about our inner life. But there is no inner life without an outer life. There couldn’t be an inner life without the mountains and the landscape and the skies. They are in our heads; are heads are in them. When we look at the mountains, we are literally seeing ourselves. When we see ourselves, we see the mountains. That’s why it is such an immense tragedy that we have trashed the planet. It’s worse than we think because the planet is ourselves. When we don’t take care of the planet, it means we don’t respect ourselves.

“When you intend to get to the dropping away as an ultimate treasure place, this intention is a manifestation of expression.” Whatever you think the intention is for sitting in retreat, the real intention is very radical. You want to awaken to your true human self. That is what we all want. That’s why we are here, whatever we think our reason is. When you have that intention, and when you follow it through by showing up to practice, this is a manifestation of the Buddha expression.

“So at this very moment an expression is actualized without being waited for.” You have to practice without expectation. Even though we all have many expectations, the real practice is beyond expectations. When we realize that, we’re happy because we are free. What does freedom mean? Freedom from expectations.

“Although this is not an effort of the mind or the body, a spontaneous expression arises.” Our life is literally beyond our life. If you understand your life, you realize that it is not what it looks like. It’s not what it seems to be. There is something beyond my life that is being expressed in my life. When you feel that, you feel really happy and free to be able to live this precious life as long as it lasts.

“When it is expressed, you won’t feel unfamiliar or suspicious.” I think that is a weird translation. The plain meaning is that even though you are living this immense, unknowable life, it just feels normal. It just feels like an ordinary life. It’s not exotic. It’s not special.

“And yet, when you express such an expression, you beyond-express a beyond-expression.”Dogen now reminds us that expression is also non-expression. There is nothing to it. There is no substance to it. There’s nothing to grasp; there’s nothing to get.

Even if you recognize that you express within an expression, if you do not thoroughly realize beyond-expression [non-expression] as beyond-expression [non-expression], it is not the face of a buddha ancestor, nor is it a buddha ancestor’s bones and marrow of the buddha ancestors.

As soon as you have an idea or a concept of what it is you are trying to do, or what practice accomplishes in your life, it’s going eventually to lead to suffering. You think, I got it! Everything is fine. And then later something happens, and you are twice as unhappy as you were before. Those kinds of concepts always lead to suffering. The Heart Sutra says all dharmas are empty,so let’s not grasp anything. That’s the whole point isn’t it? Just being our life without grasping.

In this way, how can the expression of bowing three times and standing in the original position [by Huike] be the same as an expression of those who view the skin, flesh, bones and marrow? The expression of those who view the skin, flesh, bones, and marrow [as separate from on another] cannot touch or include the expression of bowing three times and standing in the original position. An encounter of you with other as an encounter of separate beings remains an encounter of others with you as an encounter of separate beings.

There is a famous story in Zen about the skin, flesh, bones and marrow, and I will share this story with you to give some idea of what Dogen is saying. Bodhidharma was the first Zen ancestor in China, and he had a disciple named Huike. Dotoku is about sharing expression together. It’s about communication. This is the story of the perfect communication between Bodhidharma and Huike.

Bodhidharma says to his four disciples, I am going to pass on my dharma to you. What is your expression?

Bodhidharma asked, “Can each of you say something to demonstrate your understanding?”

Dao Fu stepped forward and said, “It is not bound by words and phrases, nor is it separate from words and phrases. This is the function of the Tao.”

Bodhidharma: “You have attained my skin.”

The nun Zong Chistepped up and said, “It is like a glorious glimpse of the realm of Akshobhya Buddha. Seen once, it need not be seen again.” [It is interesting to note that there is a woman Zen ancestor.]

Bodhidharma; “You have attained my flesh.”

Dao Yu said, “The four elements are all empty. The five skandhas are without actual existence. Not a single dharma can be grasped.”

Bodhidharma: “You have attained my bones.”

Finally, Huike came forth, bowed deeply in silence and stood up straight.

Bodhidharma said, “You have attained my marrow.

This bowing and standing without saying anything is Huike’s expression. Throughout Zen history this story is read as if Huike were the winner of the contest, that his expression is the best and the others are somehow lesser. But Dogen is saying, No! That’s not right. Every expression of dharma is the true and full expression of dharma. Every expression is different. Everyone is true and full. We all take our position wherever it happens to be, and there is nothing lacking in any expression.

We all have our expression. It may look like there is a hierarchy of expression. Somebody coming to this talk might think: Oh, he’s talking; he’s the teacher. He’s expressing the dharma. Everyone else is listening. But that actually wouldn’t be the case. We’re all sitting here expressing the dharma together. Some of us are priests or lay people, with many years of experience. Some of us brand new. Each one of us in our various positions fully expresses the dharma. That is what happens when we practice. And even if we don’t practice we are still doing it.

You have expression beyond expression.

Dogen then tells a story about Zhaouzhou:

Zhaouzhou said, if you sit steadfastly without leaving the monastery for a lifetime, and do not speak for five or ten years, no one can call you speechless. After that, even buddhas will not equal you [will never be able to understand the power of your expression].

When Dogen says, “not leaving the monastery for a whole lifetime” he is talking about zazen, about sitting in silence. When we are sitting in silence, we might think we are not expressing ourselves. We might think, How can I express myself? But when we are sitting in silence, abandoning any expression, we are perhaps most eloquently expressing ourselves.

Dogen says, “What kind of invisible path is there between the lifetime and the monastery?”Our lives are invisible paths. When you sit down long enough in zazen, you sense the awesomeness of being alive. We take being alive for granted, right? We have all these problems and issues and things to solve and longings to be realized, but we don’t think to ourselves: If I weren’t alive I wouldn’t have any of these problems. So when we sit in zazen, we are casting off all our problems. Even though they come into our mind, they don’t apply. We are just sitting there in our life, feeling the invisible path that is human life.

“Just investigate steadfast sitting,” Just sit, with this spirit of looking. Dogen says:

What Zhauzhou meant is that the expression of beyond-expression in steadfast sitting is why buddhas cannot call the person speechless or beyond speechless.

This being so, what is expressed by buddha ancestors is not leaving the monastery for a lifetime. Even if you are speechless, you have expression. Do not assume that a speechless person cannot express.

It is not that one who can express is not speechless. A speechless person can also express. The speechless word is heard. Listen to the speechless voice.

Do not avoid non-expression (beyond-expression), because non-expression is expression from beginning to end. It’s not that the one who can express is not speechless. A speechless person is expressing herself.

The “speechless voice” is heard in zazen. You could say that’s a description of our practice in zazen. We’re sitting here listening to the speechless voice with the spirit of listening and investigation and really paying attention to the eloquent expression of the speechless voice.

Without being a speechless person how can you encounter a speechless person? How can you speak with someone who is speechless? When you are already a speechless person, how do you encounter with one? Investigate in this way and thoroughly study someone who is a speechless.

This means a Zen teacher is a speechless person, talking and not saying anything. Study that speechless person. Of course, that person is not somebody else right? Ultimately that person is one’s self, sitting on the cushion.

We study Buddhism and we practice meditation, but really it’s not about that. It’s about much more than that. It’s about living beyond living. It’s about connecting with one another beyond any sense of separation from one another. It’s about living in this world with one another and all the rocks and trees of this world with complete trust and complete faith that in every moment we will express ourselves and will receive the expression needed for this moment. Just be a regular person and understand that that regular person that you are expresses something beyond Buddhas.

Dogen is expressing what he considers to be the most fundamental truth about our practice. It’s the reason why we bow and we chant and we offer incense and we sit and we study the dharma and we rub shoulders with one other in sangha life. We have such a strong concept of the individual life and the individual consciousness – me and my life and what I need and my expression and my self-realization. It’s a very powerful thought in our world. Iam coming to practice because Ineed this. And, of course, thank goodness for that. That’s what brings us. That’s what gives us the incentive for a really long time to continue to practice.

But there is no such thing as enlightenment. There’s no such thing as realization, but you can let go of your separation. You can trustingly join together with everything and every moment of your life, and then you are free. Then you can have a real happiness, and the only thing you care about is meeting. Getting acquainted with every thought in your own mind, every sensation in your own body, every act of perception, every communication and meeting with another person.

It’s such a profound thing to be in the presence of another human being. You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t need anything from one another. None of us could exist without the presence of other human beings in this world and the whole rest of the world. Our deeply felt and trusting connection to one another is our liberation. It’s our joy. And I think at some stage in our practice we recognize it’s also our obligation to take our place and do what we can do uniquely in loving benefit for each other.

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Loving Kindness (Metta) – Four Immeasurables – Moutain Rain Zen

Norman speaks on Loving Kindness (Metta) – the first of the Four Immeasurables. Norman refers to the book “The Four Immeasurables: Cultivating a Boundless Heart by Alan Wallace. This talk was given at the Moutain Rain Zen Center in Vancouver and is the same talk as that was given at the Dharma Seminar May 6 (a poor recording).

Loving-Kindness (Metta) – Four Immeasurables

By Zoketsu Norman Fischer | May 15, 2010
Location: Mountain Rain Zendo / Vancouver

Transcribed and edited by Ryusen Barbara Byrum.

Editor's note: This talk contains guided meditations on loving-kindness. You might consider pausing during the reading of the talk to do this practice. The pauses and bells that end certain stages are indicated in the text.

 

May all beings be happy.

May they be joyous and live in safety.

All living beings, whether weak or strong,

In high or middle or low realms of existence,

May all beings be happy.

It's always inspiring to chant these words of the Metta Sutta. This wish for happiness for all beings – which includes oneself, one's own happiness – is basic to the nature of our human mind. It's basic to how reality is, this wish.

Now with all the greed and violence and confusion in the world, and one can sometimes even notice these things in oneself, it's hard to believe that this is true. It's hard to believe. And yet, it really, really is true. I think we are all in the process of discovering for ourselves how true this is. You could say that that is what practice is. Practice is the process of discovering for ourselves, little by little, over our lifetime, how true this is. At the center of our minds, at the center of our hearts, is this wish to be happy, and the understanding that this wish for oneself to be happy is the same as the wish for everyone to be happy. When you think about Dogen's understanding of zazen, this is what he's talking about when he talks about resuming your original nature, resuming your buddha-nature. This wish to be happy and the wish for everyone to be happy are the contents of buddha-nature. They're what buddha-nature actually means.

Selfishness is painful. It actually hurts to be selfish. To do violence, to be mean-spirited, is literally painful. We know that it harms others and – little by little, by observing our own hearts – we come to realize that it hurts us as well when we behave in that way. We feel how the pain of those negative states and behaviors comes back to ourselves. And this is true for everyone, even if that pain is sometimes experienced only as closed-heartedness or narrowness of heart.

That's really the truth. We observe that. And yet, isn't it an incredible thing how much those behaviors still go on, and how common they are in this world? Why is that so? We all understand how painful these things are. Why is there so much confusion and injustice and violence in this world? I think the root of it is that we all share this wish to be happy, to be safe, to be protected, but sometimes we think that in order to be happy, we've got to be more powerful than everybody else, so we can frighten them into giving us what we need. Or we think that to be happy, we have to be safe and secure, and so we need a lot of money and property to make sure we are safe and secure, and if we have to grab that money and property at somebody else's expense – well, that's what it takes to be happy. We think like that.

In other words, when you analyze it in the end, the reason why there is so much negative emotion and so much negative action in the world is because of our wish to be happy. But then we begin to see this wish and this need to be happy in too narrow a scope, and then the essentially wholesome desire to be happy gets mixed in with a lot of fear, and it becomes distorted. That's what causes all this bad behavior. We begin to think and act in a fear-based, distorted way. We then begin to become twisted by our own habit of stupid thinking and stupid action, and that becomes our fixed position and our fixed way of living in the world. And then when you multiply that by billions of people, you have the world that we live in.

It's astonishing to think that the real root of all of this confusion is our own very natural, innocent wish to be happy, to be safe, to preserve our life. Everybody wants this – even the worst crook; even the biggest rip-off financier; even the most corrupt politician. In their heart of hearts, everyone simply wants to be happy, wants to be safe, and wants to preserve his or her life. So it is no wonder that when we sit down on our cushions for awhile, sometimes we experience a lot of this fear and a lot of this narrowness and a lot of this suffering, negativity, and trouble. Since it is there all around us, in our world, and in our own hearts, it's the most natural thing that when we stop and look within, a certain amount of it will well up. We might think that it is us – that there is something wrong with us, or we have these things in us. But really these things are not our fault, and whatever negativity and pain and suffering that we feel inside are not really our true characteristics.

Since most of the discussion that we have about loving-kindness is from the Pali tradition, we commonly use the word metta. In Sanskrit the word is maitri, which could be translated as loving-kindness, but it could also be translated as friendliness – to be friendly with oneself and to be friendly with everyone.

In the era in which we're living, this eon of time in Buddhist cosmology, the buddha is Shakyamuni Buddha. He is muni, the sage, of the Shakya tribe. So, in this era a person emerges from a particular group of people as a sage and teaches for this aeon. In the next aeon, the Buddha is going to be called Maitreya Buddha. Not a buddha who emerges from a particular people and takes the name of that people, but a buddha whose name means "friendliness". The buddha of the next eon is the buddha of universal friendliness. I think this is a wise insight of our Buddhist ancestors, because I think it really is true that friendliness is an evolutionary trend for humanity.

So, let's practice loving-kindness meditation together. If you would be so kind as to come back to your body, to your breath, let's just practice for about ten minutes, in a more direct way, these things that I have been speaking about.

So begin with your breathing and your body, returning to your heart, to your life in the present moment – to buddha-nature, the peaceful, empty, boundless nature of mind. I'll go through various stages of this practice. I'll ring one bell at the end of each stage, and at the very end, I will ring two bells.

Traditionally the practice of maitri begins with oneself. Think of yourself as a friend to yourself. As you exhale, repeat these phrases: "May I be happy. May I be safe and content. May my heart be open." If you find it difficult, or if there is resistance in your heart to practicing like that, just notice that. It's not necessary to make it go away, or to reject the practice if you feel that way. Just be patient with it and continue.

[Pause]

Now, letting go of the words, just feel, as you breathe, as if the breath itself were the love and the friendliness. Breathe in this friendly, loving feeling, and breathe out this friendly, loving feeling. Feel it circulating in your body as you breathe.

[Bell]

Now, think of someone dear to you. Someone whom you love and who loves you in an uncomplicated way. Maybe it is a family member, or a close friend, or a teacher, or a benefactor of some sort. Again, as we breathe out, we will practice these phrases. Imagining this person, may he or she be happy. May he or she be content and safe. May his or her heart be open.

[Pause]

Now, letting go of the words, just feel the friendliness and the love in your breathing. Feel it flowing out from you toward the person. Feel it flowing back from the person toward you. Feel it in the very breath as a direct experience without words.

[Bell]

Now we'll think of a more neutral person, maybe someone we know – or a group of people we know – at work, or we do business with somehow. Or, it might be better right now to think of everyone here in the room. People that we know to some degree, but maybe not as well as someone very close to us. Feel the presence of all of us in the room. "May all of us be happy. May all of us be safe and content. May our hearts be open."

[Pause]

Now, letting go of those words, without any words, as you breathe in, as you breathe out, feel the love and friendliness flowing out of you and back into you, as love and friendliness circulate throughout this room. Feel it right there in the breath. And that is what the breath is, after all.

[Bell]

Now let's imagine the walls of this room fall away; the outside walls of the building fall away; and the ceiling and the floor. We are open to the space around without limit – as far as the consciousness could reach, in all directions, above, below, and all around. May all the beings in this limitless realm – high and low, human and non-human alike – be happy. May all beings be safe and content. May all hearts be open.

[Pause]

And letting go of the words, feel this. As you breathe out, feel the love pouring out of you – filling space in infinite directions. Feel the love circulating through you as you breathe in, from limitless space, all around.

[Bell]

The next one is more difficult, and we'll all do the best we can, and study our resistance if it arises. Think of someone who is a pretty difficult person. Someone you know in your life now, or maybe someone long ago, who was mean to you, or hurt you, or someone toward whom you have strong antipathy. Bring that person to mind. May he or she be happy. May he or she be content and safe. May his heart, may her heart, be open.

[Bell]

Now, letting go of that, for the last moment, let's just return to sitting with the breath, with the body, with awareness. Empty, open awareness in the present.

[Bell]

Thank you very much for being willing to practice together like that. I hope that it was enjoyable. That's partly the point. It's so nice, isn't it? To feel love, loving-kindness – this is not an unpleasant experience. It's actually a wonderful experience. But perhaps also you could see that's it's not necessarily always so easy to generate a feeling of love, especially for someone who is not so lovable. When on our cushions, maybe, in this special environment, we could do it. It's not so hard to have that feeling when you are sitting on your cushion, as opposed to daily life when people, in general, seem not to be so lovable.

In the classical texts on metta or maitri, they talk about, "What is the proximate cause of this emotion?" The proximate cause of love is lovability – an object that is inherently lovable. So, for instance, it's not that hard to love a cute child or baby. Babies are designed to be loveable. It's a very pragmatic thing. It takes so much to take care of a baby. Imagine if babies were ugly and nasty creatures. The species would have long ago died out! So it's very practical that babies be loveable, so that we love them and want to take care of them.

So loveable creatures easily inspire love, but there are others who are not as loveable, right? Much more difficult to love the less loveable, and almost impossible to love the absolutely unlovable. You usually have to be very good at this, to love the unlovable one. Therefore, the practice of loving-kindness cannot be practiced without an honest encounter with the barriers to loving-kindness within ourselves. Just to think about generating loving-kindness, and not to consider the barriers – the natural barriers – to loving-kindness within ourselves, is not really going far enough.

So considering those barriers is a necessary part of the practice of loving-kindness, and that is a whole other conversation. But for today, I would just say one word, and that word is "patience." When you were sitting and practicing a moment ago, maybe you found it difficult at times to generate a feeling of loving-kindness. Maybe you thought, "This is stupid," or, "I can't do this," or, "I don't want to do it," or, "I don't feel anything." When that happens, you practice patience. You just turn toward that feeling, whatever it is, and know it's there; and you just breathe with it there and continue making the effort – but honestly noticing what is really happening. That is called the practice of patience.

Patience means at least two things. First of all, no matter how angry or upset or neutral or negative we may be feeling, no matter how impossible it may be at this moment to generate a feeling of love or friendliness, we have to be clear in our minds that that is what we would like to do. Because I think what happens if sometimes we don't feel love or friendliness, we think, "Well, that guy doesn't deserve it anyway. Why would I want to have any kind of love for that person? He doesn't deserve it." And then we start justifying our feelings. So the idea here is that even though we can't feel that right now, we know that we want to some time be able to feel it. That's our goal.

And secondly, patience means that we recognize that there is a great virtue and a great strength and a great dignity in simply being able to bear what we have to bear. To be able to bear our anger, our frustration, our rage, our pain, our hurt – all that stands in the way of our love. Just to be able to bear that is a strong and dignified practice.

In this great effort to practice the Way, patience may be the most important of all virtues. When we think about it, it's very obvious. Even though I would like to, at this moment I might not be able to prevent the feelings of frustration or rage – "I am angry, I am frustrated!" I understand that I can't prevent these feelings. And I also know that these feelings are not helping me. "This is not what I want, and this is not beneficial. If I indulge these feelings and make them into a theme for my life, what's going to happen to me? I'm going to become a very bitter person. I'm going to become a despairing person. I'm going to be a person who sees no goodness in humanity, and, therefore, in myself. And if I act on those emotions and those habits of mind, I'm not going to make the world better for myself or others. I'm going to make it worse."

In some ways you could say that rage is good. Maybe it is better than passivity. Passivity is also a kind of affliction – perhaps a worse affliction than rage. Sometimes rage can rouse our compassion and our action to do something good. So that could be a positive thing. But if we are just enraged, and we act and lash out, this is not good. We have to take the energy of the rage and transmute it with patience, and – as much as possible – temper it with kind thoughts, before we are able to act with this energy in some effective way.

The classical teachings say there are three aspects to the practice of patience: First, a kind of warrior spirit. Patience is not passivity. Patience is a warrior spirit that says, "Okay, something tough is coming, inside or outside. All right, I am ready. I like tough things. I am ready for it. I want that to happen. I'm okay with it. I'm eating difficulty for breakfast. That's what gives me strength for the day."

Resignation is not patience. When we feel resigned – "Oh, no, this is terrible. There is nothing I can do about it," – we can feel ourselves losing energy and losing strength. Patience is the opposite of that. Patience arouses our strength and our energy. It's a strong, positive step in overcoming adversity and generating loving-kindness when the time for that opens up. Patience is enduring with honesty and strength what's actually present, inside or outside, even if it's not good.

The second aspect of patience is something that we don't really like in our culture, because we always think – this so naí»ve to me – that something truly can be done. "Let's do something! Something can be done!" But sometimes nothing can be done. Nothing, sometimes, can be done, and that makes us feel impotent and confused. But, actually, we should have patience. "Yes, that is exactly what I am going to do right now: Nothing." That's a strong thing. This seems ridiculous, but it's not so ridiculous. When I work with caregivers for the dying, we learn that there are times in the dying process when there is absolutely nothing that can be done. Absolutely nothing. If, when absolutely nothing can be done, if you are freaking out, running around, trying to figure out what to do, this is not a good thing. But if you can come forth and say, "That is what I am going to do right now – absolutely nothing," that is a huge strength and a huge advantage. And that is a strong thing to do. I think that mostly we don't understand this.

That is the second aspect of patience. The third one is the one we are all familiar with, because we all have been kids going on long car trips – across the Canadian prairies, going to Calgary, or something like that. Mile after mile after mile, we are sitting in the back seat, saying, "Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" And our parents said, "Be patient! Be patient!" What they really meant was, "Shut up, and leave me alone."

So when we hear the word "patience", that's what we think: "Shut up, and leave me alone." Waiting is not that. The capacity to wait – "Now is not the time; I'm waiting for the right time," – is a huge skill that we don't even know is a skill, let alone are we interested in developing it. I wrote about this a lot in Sailing Home. There is a whole part in there about just waiting. The path requires waiting. Sometimes you just suffer for a long time, and you wait for the right time.

The point here is that we cultivate loving-kindness as an intentional practice on our cushions, and also in our hearts. As we go through our day, we cultivate loving-kindness in our actions, words, and thoughts. And when we find that – because of strong afflictive emotions, created often by bad external circumstances – we can't do that, we practice patience. The practice of patience is the gateway to the practice of loving-kindness.

The traditional teachings also say that each of these four brahmaviharas – loving-kindness, maitri, being the first – each one has a near enemy and a far enemy. The far enemy, of course, is the opposite. So the opposite of loving-kindness is hatred or antipathy. So now when we are practicing and have an intentional practice of maitri, when we see antipathy or hatred arising in us, we know, "This is the far enemy of loving-kindness, and I have to be careful now. This reminds me of my commitment to be kind." And then we practice patience.

The near enemy is sneaky, because it looks like the thing itself, the quality we are trying to develop, but it's not. It's obvious that when we hate somebody, that this is not loving-kindness. We know that. Everybody knows that. But the near enemy might look like loving-kindness and feel like loving-kindness. We might wish the person well, and so on, but it's not loving-kindness. It's not love. The near enemy of maitri is attachment, which can sometimes look a lot like love. Almost all human love has within it – appropriately and necessarily – a degree of attachment; but when it is more attachment than love, it's actually about us. Love has to do with other people. We love ourselves so that we can love other people. But when our emotion is all about ourselves, it is called attachment. When I want someone to be well and to be happy and content so that they can be there for me, when that's actually what I am after, this is not called love; this is called attachment. Even if I want them to be happy and I want them to be well so that I can make a big fuss over them, and I could buy them presents, and I could do things for them, and I could send them flowers on their birthday – even so, that is for me, because I like doing those things for her or for him.

We have to be able to see within our hearts the near enemy of love and true love. The trouble with attachment, of course, is that it is one small step away from hatred and antipathy. Love with a lot of attachment is very shaky, and it easily turns into hatred. I know this because among the people I work with in conflict resolution, many of them are divorce lawyers. They are very familiar with love that in a twenty-four-hour period turns into raging hatred that persists, sometimes, for the rest of one's life.

So, please, in our time together in the next couple days, if you want to, please do practice these loving-kindness meditations on your cushions. But, also, remember that simply doing zazen is the practice of returning to kindness – the kindness that is already present in the nature of each moment of time. That is the fundamental meditation that Dogen teaches. When he says in Fukanzazengi that we should let go of everything, of every wish to become a buddha, or anything else, that we should take the backward step, that we should practice non-thinking, and that we should illuminate the self, he is saying that just to do zazen is to re-enter the house of being. That house of being is inherently, by its nature – whether we say these words or not – a house of kindness and love. That's its nature. That's what Dogen is teaching us, even if he doesn't use the word "love."

So, with that spirit of love and support and friendship, let's continue to practice in this weekend. Thanks for your attention.

edz

Emptiness and Love

Talk on Emptiness and Love given at Mountain Rain Zendo in Vancouver.

Emptiness and Love

By Zoketsu Norman Fischer | January 24, 2009

Abridged and edited by Ryusen Barbara Byrum

Good morning everybody. It's so nice to see so many of you here. Very exciting. Lots of new faces. This is a good thing, because I think practicing dharma makes you happier and clearer about your living. And if it's good for you, it's good for your family. They're going to feel better and be happy to have a wise person in their midst, and then they're going to spread that goodness to their associates and friends. The world really needs this little extra measure of light right now. So I feel very encouraged to see all of you here.

Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva when practicing deeply the Prajna Paramita perceived thatall five skandas in their own being are empty and was saved from all suffering.

Doesn't that sound like good news, that we are saved from all suffering? In the fall of last year we chanted the Heart Sutra at the Upaya Zen Center in Santa Fe. All the Zen and dharma centers have different translations of the Heart Sutra, and there they were using the translation of Kaz Tanahashi. In Kaz's translation the word shunyata, which is almost always translated as "emptiness," is translated as "boundlessness." Boundlessness. Avalokiteshvara perceived that all five skandhas are boundless and was saved from all suffering.

The Diamond Sutra, which also speaks about emptiness, refers to phenomena as being empty; and therefore, because empty, they are dreamlike, phantom-like, like a bubble, like dew, like a flash of lightning, like a wave on the ocean. And according to the Diamond Sutra, that's how you should view conditioned things.

The Heart Sutra is telling us that Avalokiteshvara has both a faith and an unshakable confidence in this experience of emptiness. The faith is that this dream-like quality is not a hallucinatory trick of the mind or an illusion. This really is the way things are; only we don't see them that way. We seem to persist in thinking of ourselves, of our problems, of our world, of everything, as being fixed and substantial – each thing separate from one another.

I think if we were honest with ourselves, we would have to admit that this is the way we see the world. We do see it that way – separate, out there, problematic, difficult. And also, we see ourselves on the inside in the same way. It seems as if we are not alone in this. At least as far back as the Buddha's time, and probably further back than that, this is how human beings have seen themselves and the world. So we come by it honestly. We should not blame ourselves for our confusion and our problems, because this is the human birthright. We're made to have these problems.

Even though we see and feel the world this way, and our ancestors have seen and felt it this way, the Heart Sutra tells us that it is not that way. It never has been that way. Things are not really as painful in the way that we are convinced that they are. Things are actually like a dream – like a phantom, boundless and empty. They are not fixed, substantial, and separate. Instead, they are mixed up all together – flowing in and out of each other. Things shift and melt and merge, as in a dream. Now something seems to be one way, but in the next moment it can be completely different. That's actually how things are in this world. That's why we all understand that compassion and love make so much sense.

How do you not love the world that is yourself and that you are? How do you not love others that are yourself – that are what you are? And how not love yourself for being all of this? To practice as Avalokiteshvara practices the Prajna Paramita – the Perfection of Wisdom, the wisdom that sees emptiness – is to see deeply in our hearts that things are this way. And then love arises, and we have compassion and concern for others. We have a sense of ease in our living, even when things are tough. That's why, even though the Heart Sutra teaches emptiness, the speaker of the text is not the one that we would imagine – Manjushri Bodhisattva, the bodhisattva of emptiness and Prajna wisdom. The speaker of the text is Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva of love and compassion – the one who hears the cries of the world and loves all beings. She's the one who is speaking the truth of emptiness, because the consequence of understanding the empty, boundless nature of emptiness is always love.

The Buddha, as his life story shows, and as his teachings illustrate, had a passion and a concern for one thing, and one thing only: human suffering. He felt suffering himself, and he felt our suffering. He wanted to address, in a fundamental way, this most pressing of all human concerns. He asked, "What is the cause of suffering?" He saw, more or less, that the cause of suffering is ourselves – our sense of being separate, atomized, distanced individuals, standing over and against the powerful world. That's actually the cause of suffering, because without that feeling that we have, there isn't any suffering; there are just things that happen. When we hate the things that happen or feel that they impact us in a bad way, we suffer. If I don't feel that way, then when something happens, it just happens. It's not suffering. And further, he realized that this viewpoint that we have about ourselves is not something that can be easily overcome, because it is so embedded in the way we think and the way we perceive. It's even embedded in the whole operation of our sense organs and the way we put together a world. To overcome it takes some serious doing.

So he thought, "How can I help people to overcome this deeply ingrained viewpoint that causes so much pain and suffering?" One of the strategies he devised, among an incredible array of brilliant strategies, was a way of looking at our experience – a kind of organized way of analyzing and viewing our experience, so that we could see through this deeply ingrained habit of self and separation. In other words, to investigate not what we think is going on, but what is actually going on. Cutting through our concepts and our conceptualizations. What is really going on? And he found, through this practice of investigation, that the five skandhas are a very useful framework for viewing our experience – five categories of experience that would pretty much contain all that goes on in a human lifetime.

So what are these five skandhas? The first one is called rupa – matter or physicality. Matter is important to us, because we all depend on it. We have bodies. No body – no you and no me. There is some stuff here on which everything is based, but we don't actually know or experience this stuff directly. Our mind, that interprets this data of the senses, is the only access we have to whatever rupa really is.

The second skandha is vedanā – or feeling. This is our somatic, deeply conditioned reactivity to anything that we perceive. We always have some reactivity. Before we know what we are experiencing, we have a gut reaction to it – a primitive reaction to it. Even a paramecium is reacting to stimulation, one way or the other. We either have a positive reaction – wanting to incorporate it, or have it, or make it stay. Or we have a negative reaction – wanting to escape from it, get away from it, or make it disappear. Maybe we have a mixture of both. Or maybe we are out to lunch and don't even notice what our reaction is. So it's a very primitive, basic reactivity.

It is based on that reactivity that we have the third skandha, saññā, which is perception. The whole bundle of experiences that constitute our lives – the things that we see, and notice, and think about – are based in perception. We identify things of the world. They may or may not be there in some way, but we really don't know. We think that they're there in a particular way, because of vedanā, and saññā. This, of course, involves the sense organs and the mind, and also, probably, some kind of language, or proto-language that allows us to separate and identify.

So, the Buddha understood that perception is not a primary experience. It is a concoction, a conceptual process. In other words, the Buddha recognized that we are actively making the world we live in, and that the world that we take for granted is not necessarily the world that is there. It's a world that we are creating. Our life is a life that we are creating through our reactivity and our perception.

The fourth skandha, samskara, is based on the world that we have created. This is a very important one. This is the field of practice. This is where we work in our practice. Just as saññā is based on vedana, so samskara is based on saññā. The word "samskara" is usually translated as "impulses" or "formations" or "confections." It refers to the whole set of volitions and volitional impulses that arise in us whenever we have any experience – the impulses that lead to choice and action and all sorts of directed thinking. They are also the emotions that arise based on those actions and volitions. This whole realm of experience can either lead us into a lot of suffering, or the opposite. If we take volitional actions that are wise, they can lead to a reduction in suffering. This is why the samskara field of the fourth skandha is so important for our practice.

And finally, the last skandha, the fifth, is called vijnana, which is consciousness. In Buddhist psychology there are six distinct kinds of consciousness: five that go with the sense organs and the sixth that goes with what is considered to be the sixth sense organ – the mind. The mind cognizes thought and emotion as an object, and cognizes in the same way as an eye cognizes a visible object. There are six kinds of consciousnesses that go with those six organs.

I described the five skandhas as if they were psychological categories to be thought about and analyzed, but I think they were designed to be a distinct spiritual practice. We would begin to pay attention to our experience, not only in terms of me – "Do I like this? Is this good for me?" – but to see how we make our lives up as we go. Through mindfulness techniques we could see how we create our lives. We could develop these techniques in the context of monastic living, which is a very simplified living, like this retreat. In this way of living, we can observe what goes on in the mind and the heart a lot more easily than when we have complicated tasks to do. Through looking at our lives in terms of the five skandhas, we see, "Oh, that's an impulse, that's perception, that's vedanā, that's feeling, that's rupa." Through that way of looking at our lives, moment by moment, we would eventually get over ourselves, and being so stuck on ourselves, and so concerned about ourselves. We would begin to enter the flow of our actual experience.

So all of that is what Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva is referring to when she is deeply practicing the Prajna Paramita and seeing that this whole way of practice is empty. Maybe the early monks who were practicing this way were beginning to get a little stuck on the five skandhas. Maybe they were beginning to make them a little too substantial and take pride in their capacity to discern their experience in terms of the skandhas. Maybe Avalokiteshvara was trying to point that out when she said, in effect, "Don't get so excited about the five skandhas. They're actually empty. You don't really need to be so obsessed with categorizing and analyzing all of your experience. After all, the Buddha intended that in the beginning they be used as a device, as a convenience. The whole point was never to be an expert on the five skandhas and the analysis of your experience. The point was to let go – to recognize that self has always been empty, groundless, and boundless. So the skandhas are empty too." So says the Heart Sutra.

So how do we suffer? Isn't suffering exactly losing what we want and love, fearing the loss of it, or possessing it with such fear and anxiety? Wishing for something we don't have, or wishing for the absence of something in our lives that we don't like? So when we see the emptiness of everything, when we see that we never really had the things we thought we had, or lacked the things we thought we lacked, things get very simple and much easier. We are free. We can be happy. And then the practice of love and compassion become foremost in our minds, because we don't have to worry about ourselves anymore.

I have always been a great fan of the emptiness teachings. I always loved them a lot and studied them over many, many years, over and over, going back to them. I'm especially grateful to them now because they helped me cope with my great loss. You know that I lost my friend, Rabbi Alan Lew, just a little while ago. On Monday, January 12th he got up in the morning and meditated and went to the prayer service and had breakfast. It was beautiful weather out – crisp, cool, but sunny. He was walking on a country road, and I guess he fell down and died instantly.

His passing is a great and terrible thing for his family, who really, really loved him. It was a great tragedy for the many people in the Jewish world and beyond, who depended on him. And it is also very sad for me, possibly the worst loss for me, even though I lost both my parents. It might be that losing my friend of more than forty years has been more difficult than that.

So I have devoted myself to grieving. I stayed with the family. I was surprised that I had as many tears as I did have. I didn't think I would, and it was good to have tears. It is still difficult to believe that I won't see my friend again. Forty years of sharing spiritual practice and friendship and going through every conceivable life change that can happen in forty years. Gone in a flash. In one phone call on a Monday morning.

You all know the famous poem of Issa, that I am fond of quoting. It's a haiku that he wrote at the burial of his two year old daughter, which was the fourth or fifth child that he lost. He wrote:

The world of dew

is the world of dew,

and yet.

All things really are empty of own-being. All things are really like a dream, like a phantom. This is actually the truth. Even if most of the time we do not experience things directly in this way, it's a feeling that we have about life that comes through our practice over many years. We know it's true. And it makes us appreciate the gifts and the beauty. But we really understand that it is evanescent, not only because later it's gone, but because even now it's not really here. Still, due to love, due to our humanity, due to our compassion, we feel grief, and we shed tears. At the same time, we know better than this. We are not regretful or bereft, because we know better; but there are tears, and there ought to be tears. And we don't wish for it to be any other way. These are beautiful tears.

I often worry that maybe our practice is too easy. It's too peaceful. Maybe we have too much dew and not enough tears. Maybe there should be more tears and more desperation in our efforts to help one another. And I guess I am not talking about our practice, I am just talking about my practice and myself. Maybe it hasn't been such a great idea that I have studied the emptiness teachings so much, and maybe even though I had more tears than I thought I would have, these last ten days or so, maybe it wasn't enough.

Anyway, I really appreciate the emptiness teachings. These teachings really do help in the times of suffering and loss. I know that many of you here have also suffered losses recently. Many of you here also have a lot of suffering, because the world is hard right now, and a lot of people are having a hard time, if not you yourself, no doubt friends of yours – people you know and love. And it seems to be a moment like that in our world. I guess that happens sometimes, when we are so much aware.

When someone takes away our toys and our distractions, we look around, and we become aware of how much suffering there is. When there's suffering, we have to be able to feel it, and feel the discomfort of it and shed tears. But we also have to be able to have some confidence and some joy and ease within it, even though we know that the suffering will end, and it will begin again. I really think that our practice and these teachings make a big difference. A big difference. Hard to imagine how people bear these things without some practice to keep them going.

So I suppose these things won't stop happening, but they do have a way of reminding us of how important love is. And I know that I'm going to try to do better with my concern for others. And I think that is going to make me happier. Still, unlike money or material goods, which are limited, love is unlimited. No matter how loving you already are, and I know you are, you can be more loving. So I recommend that as a path.

edz

Dogen’s Bendowa (Part 3 of 3)

Drawing on Dogen’s teaching, Zoketsu describes zazen as the essence of Zen practice, beyond just the practice of sitting, discussing Dogen’s promise of zazen as the manifestation of the ultimate reality.

Dogen's Bendowa (Part 3 of 3)

Zazen as the essence of Zen practice

By Zoketsu Norman Fischer | May 6, 2001

Abridged and edited by Ryusen Barbara Byrum

So I would like to continue and finish reading through the Bendowa with you. The tenth question is an involved and complicated question, but what it amounts to is that the questioner is quoting an old Zen master, who says that the body is temporary but the mind is permanent. "Isn't that the teaching of Buddha? Isn't that the way we should understand?" he asks. But Dogen says that is not the way you should understand. He says,

You should know that in buddha-dharma it is always being said that body and mind are not separate, nature and characteristics are not two. [Like some essential nature, and then characteristics on top of that. There is only one reality: mind/body, birth/death.] In fact, the teaching about permanence says that all things are permanent, without dividing body and mind. The teaching about cessation says that all things cease, without separating nature and characteristics.

So, actually, there is a teaching in Buddhism about permanence – it's just that there is nothing outside of that permanence. In other words, permanence and impermanence are seen to be two sides of the same coin. When we think of something that is permanent, we might also think of something that is changing and not permanent. For example, God is permanent, soul is permanent, but body is impermanent, and world is impermanent. The permanence of impermanence – the permanence that leaves nothing out – exists in dharma.

How can you say body perishes but mind is permanent? Is it not against the authentic principle? Nirvana is not explained outside of birth and death.

If you think that something is permanent and something is not permanent, then you think nirvana is something beyond birth and death. Nirvana is right here and now, within the impermanent suffering.

Even if you understand that mind is permanent apart from the body, and mistakenly assume that the Buddha's wisdom is separate from birth-and-death, this mind of understanding or recognizing still arises and perishes and is not permanent. Is it not ephemeral?

You should know that the so-called "dharma gate of the whole realityof mind-nature" in buddha-dharma includes the entire phenomenal world without dividing nature from characteristics or birth and death.

It's a mistake to think that that birth and life is something, and death is something else. It's odd to say, but that's the way we look at it: life is temporary, but death is permanent. Death is an eternal condition, but life is something ephemeral. That's not the way to look at it. Death and life are completely bound up together. There isn't any separating them. It is one reality.

All things and all phenomena are just one mind – nothing is excluded or unrelated.

I thought that was an interesting point. Body-mind is one thing. Actually, when we sit, we sit with the body. We're mostly paying attention to the body, right? The breath and the posture of the body are actually the best way to work on the mind. That's the best way to soften and evoke the power and potential of the mind, because the mind and body are not two different things. There is no mind floating in the sky, without body.

What is the body? We think the body as this discrete package in which we are somehow contained. But if you sit closely enough, paying attention to the body, you see that you can't find the body anywhere. There's a sensation, a feeling, a pain, pleasure; yes, it's coming and going, but where is that? That's taking place in the mind. So actually there isn't any body without the mind, and there isn't any mind without the body. There isn't any body that is discrete and separate from phenomena arising. The world is one reality. Life and death – one reality. If we want to live, we have to be ready to die. If we want to face death, we have to know how to live.

Moving on to other subjects. I thought this would be an interesting question for us. It is a very important passage to our practice.

Should zazen be practiced by lay men and women? Or should it be practiced by home-leavers alone?

Home-leavers means monks. And then Dogen replies:

The ancestors say, "In understanding buddha-dharma, men and women, noble and common people, are not to be distinguished."

And then the questioner follows up and says:

Home-leavers are free from various involvements and do not have hindrances in zazen in pursuit of the way. How can the laity, who are variously occupied, practice single-mindedly and accord with buddha-dharma which is unconstructed?

Surely this is not possible. We often think, "I am so busy, and so much is going on. I'm struggling to practice a little bit, but compared to these other guys, they're really doing it. They are really able to do it, but we, because of the difficulties of our situation, can't seem to get out of here, so we're stuck. We're doing our best here, but can we really do it?" Dogen answers,

Buddha ancestors, out of their kindness, have opened the wide gate of compassion in order to let all sentient beings enter into realization. Who among humans and heavenly beings cannot enter? If you investigate olden times, the examples are many.

And then he lists a number of examples – emperors and ministers, who carried out their duties faithfully in the world and also realized the way of the buddha ancestors.

This just depends on whether you have the willingness or not. It does not matter whether you are a lay person or home-leaver.

He says it does not matter one bit whether you are a home-leaver or a lay person. It's just those who come to this practice and do it, regardless of their station. And this is the beautiful part:

Those who regard worldly affairs as a hindrance to buddha-dharma only think that there is no buddha-dharma in the secular world, and do not understand that there is no secular world in the buddha-dharma.

Did you get that? It's a little hard to understand. I had to read this several times this weekend. That's how Dogen writes – switching phrases around, always reversing like that in a funny way. "Those who regard worldly affairs as a hindrance to buddha-dharma only think that there is no buddha-dharma in the secular world." So the world is a mess. There's no holiness in the world. Everybody's going too fast. We say, "I have to go over here to the faraway place to practice where it's peaceful, because there's no place to practice in the world, because it's hopeless. That's why I am running to this far away place, where it's peaceful, and I can practice."

Those who think that way don't "understand that there is no secular world in the buddha-dharma." In other words, there's only buddha-dharma. The secular world that we think is something other than buddha-dharma doesn't actually exist. So we're all living in a monastery. We're all practicing thoroughly as monks, whether we know it or not. Maybe most of the people in the world, of course, don't feel that way at all. Nevertheless, it is also true for them. Because, think about it. Could the truth only be in certain corners of the world? Only over here? The truth of existence is only in Thailand? It makes no sense to think like that. "In Thailand there's the truth, but over here the truth is absent, because of the stock market or something." [Laughter]

The truth of existence – that dharma is always arising in existence – is the dharma. So we have to recognize that when we think we're caught in the midst of the world and the dharma is elsewhere, that what we're really caught in is our own thinking, our own concepts. In reality, whatever you are or think you are doing, is just your cover story. It's just your particular story, your particular description of dharma. It's your particular way of explaining how you practice dharma. In the end, and I think that we have to look at it that way, everything in our lives is the stuff of the way. It's the stuff we need to practice the way. Our problems, our difficulties, our limitations – all the things that we think are preventing us from practicing sufficiently – are actually the stuff that we need. Those are our bells and gongs and robes and whistles for practice. Because there is no world. There is only dharma. There is only the truth of existence – arising, abiding, and passing away – equally manifesting in each one of us, in every place and time, without exception. That's the dharma, the pattern of life. Arising and passing away, everywhere. So whatever our situation is, we have to realize that's what it is. And it really is that. We get caught, knotted up on the surface of things, forgetting that everything is just a manifestation of that one source.

So it really doesn't matter. According to karma, one is a monastic or a home person, according to the situation, according to the circumstances. So there are differences in circumstances, but whatever your circumstances are, you use those circumstances as your world of buddha-dharma.

Recently, there was a high official of Great Song [dynasty in China], Minister Feng, who was advanced in the ancestors' way. He once wrote a poem concerning himself: "I enjoy zazen between my official duties, and seldom sleep lying on a bed. [Staying up all night doing zazen.] Although I appear to be a minister, I'm known as a Buddhist elder throughout the country."

See, cover story. "I look like a minister, I know, but I'm not. I'm not a minister. I'm really a Buddhist elder. I take care of my official duties, but I'm always doing zazen." Now, I think it's okay to sleep a little bit too. But that's what he said. Maybe he was exaggerating. I don't know.

Although he was busy in his official duties, he attained the way because he had a deep intention towards the buddha way. Considering someone like him, you should reflect on yourself and illuminate the present with the past. [Be inspired by his example and let it shine into your life.]

Then someone asks,

In buddha-dharma, if you comprehend the meaning of "Mind itself is buddha" [which is true], that will be sufficient without chanting of sutras or practicing the buddha way. To know that buddha-dharma originally lies in the self is the completion of attaining the way. Other than this, you need not seek from anyone else. Why should you be troubled with practicing zazen and pursuing the way?

Good question! Dogen says,

This statement is entirely groundless. If what you say is true, then everyone who has a mind would immediately understand the meaning of buddha-dharma. You should know that buddha-dharma is to be studied by giving up the view of self and other.

Now let me illuminate this explanation with an excellent case of an old master:

Once a monk called director Xuanze was in the assembly of Zen master Fayan.

Fayan asked him,"DirectorXuanze, howlong have you been in my community?"

Xuanze said, "I have been studying with you for three years."

The master said, "You are a latecomer. Why don't you ask me about buddha-dharma?"

Xuanze said, "I cannot deceive you, sir. When I was studying with Zen master Qingfeng, I mastered the place of ease and joy in buddha-dharma."

In other words, "The reason I haven't asked you anything, teacher, is that I already figured it out, and I didn't mention this to you, but I actually studied for awhile with Zen master so-and-so over there. I'm here, but I really don't need any teaching from you, so thank you very much."

Fayan said, "With what words did you enter this understanding?"

And this is kind of interesting, implying that you enter the understanding with words, which is actually very common in the stories and phrases. Dharma phrases or dharma words are actually used as devices to reach understanding. So this is interesting. You could say there are three things here. One is "no words." The other is "ordinary words" – discursive words based on thinking and logical, accumulated knowledge. And the third is "dharma words" – words that are not words of accumulation of knowledge, but are words that through contemplation we come to understanding. Believe me; some of you have such words in your heart. Maybe you heard once a word in a dharma talk, or maybe you once read a word in a Zen book, or maybe another book that had nothing to do with Zen. The word went deep inside of you and became revolutionary in your life. So he asked, "What words did you experience that you are reporting to me?"

Xuanze said, "When I asked Qingfeng, ‘What is the self of a Zen student?' he said, ‘The fire god is here to look for fire.'" [That's the phrase that awakened him.]

Fayan said, "That is a good statement. But I'm afraid you did not understand it."

Xuanze said, "The fire god belongs to fire. [And is fire.] So I understood that the fire looks for fire and self looks for self."

In other words, the fire god is searching for fire. It's like the story in the Lotus Sutra, where a man has a jewel sewn inside his clothing, and he is running around everywhere looking for the jewel, but it is inside his clothing, and he doesn't know that. Or like saying, that which we seek in our practice is causing us to look in the first place. We wouldn't be looking for awakening, if it wasn't awakening pushing us to look for it. Right? That's why we're all here. We're here because it's dharma that's got us. That's why we're sitting in our seat here. It's dharma that arose up in us and made us – whether or not we knew that was what it was – it was dharma that brought us here. So, therefore, the fire god, who is already fire, is looking for fire. The self is already the buddha, so it pushes us here.

"So that's what I understood. I had my doubts, but what's wrong with that?" Xuanze is saying. "That's what I understood. Do you have a problem with that?"

The master said, "Indeed you did not understand. If buddha-dharma were like that, it would not have been transmitted untilnow."

In other words, no, no. That explanation is not right. Well, Xuanze was distressed and he left. "I'm getting out of here." This often happens in the stories, you know. It's a very typical thing. He left, and on his way out, going some miles away, hiking on a trail, he thinks to himself:

The master is a renowned teacher in this country, a great leader of five hundred monks. His criticism of my fault might have some point." He went back to Fayan, apologized, and he said, "What is the self of the Zen student?"

Fayan said, "The fire god is here to look for fire." [In other words, the same answer. He tells him exactly the same thing, word for word.]

Upon hearing this statement, Xuanze had a great realization of buddha-dharma.

So, what can we understand from that? Is it a trick? Does he just want to humiliate him or something? I don't think so, and you'll see in a minute, when I read Dogen's short comment on this. Xuanze's understanding in the beginning was fine. He did understand, but the problem was that he thought it was about understanding. He thought it was about understanding something.

Most of what we think is so stupid that we don't think about what we think, because if we do think about what we thought, we would realize how stupid it was, and we would stop thinking it. But mostly we think, "Somewhere, elsewhere, or later, or over there, or within someone else, or just outside my reach – there it is. It's all going to be perfect. It's all going to be right." We think some understanding will dawn on us, but no matter where we are, it is always that far away. When we get to "there," it will also be just that far away. So it's kind of a crazy thought, but we persist in that thought, because it's our habit to feel as if we are looking for something, but something is never sufficient. So what we need to be looking for is nothing.

So understanding is perfectly good. We have to have understanding. It's not that understanding is irrelevant; it's just that understanding is not sufficient. What we really need is nothing. We need letting go of all understanding, and just practice. Just be willing to practice.

Sometimes you find, practically speaking, people in the dharma who have a really good understanding. They pretty much understand everything that you want to understand, and I don't mean just intellectually. But their body and soul and bones haven't settled into the practice. They haven't made the practice the pattern of their lives. So even though they understand perfectly well, it doesn't make that much difference. So what if they understand? Big deal! A lot of people understand a lot of things. Right? You should understand, but that's not enough. You really have to become the practice.

Somebody once said to me, "I've been doing this for so many years, and I think I'll quit. So I'm quitting. But then I realized that I can't quit." And I said, "Why not? You can quit. Why don't you quit?" And they said, "I can't quit. It's become me. I can't quit being myself." Well, that's how it goes.

So this is what we mean. Somebody can have a beautiful understanding of the dharma, and somebody else could have no understanding at all, but that person whose body and mind are immersed in the way is closer to Buddha's heart than the person who understands very well. He can give brilliant lectures, but so what? So what? Dogen says,

In this way, we know that mere understanding of "Self itself is buddha," [Which is a true thing; which is a profound thing. It's not a trivial thing. It is profound.] is not knowing buddha-dharma. If the understanding of "Self itself is buddha" were buddha-dharma, Fayan would not have given such criticism or guidance. You should just inquire about the rules of practice as soon as you meet a master, single-mindedly practice zazen, and pursue the way, without leaving a half understanding in your mind. [In other words, just forget about understanding, and just practice the way with a teacher. Find out how to do it, and just do it.] Then the excellent art of buddha-dharma will not be in vain.

So, I think that's good for us too. Not to worry about something we are going to get – whether it is understanding or illumination or experience. All those things are important. I don't mean to denigrate them. It's just that those are not the things that fundamentally settle us in the buddha-dharma. Those are helps and aids and watersheds on the way. But they are not the way. The way is to practice whole-heartedly – with love, with openness. And to put into practice in everyday life what we find on our cushion, so that our zazen is not just on the cushion, but extends everywhere and all the time – in all our relationships and in all our activities. The way to practice is to feel that there is nothing else but continually doing that, all the way up to the last moment of life.

That's the way that Dogen is speaking about in Bendowa.

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Dogen’s Bendowa (Part 2 of 3)

Drawing on Dogen’s teaching, Zoketsu describes zazen as the essence of Zen practice, beyond just the practice of sitting, discussing Dogen’s promise of zazen as the manifestation of the ultimate reality.

Dogen’s Bendowa (Part 2 of 3)

Zazen as the essence of Zen practice

By Zoketsu Norman Fischer | May 5, 2001

Abridged and edited by Ryusen Barbara Byrum

I will continue to ruminate with you on Dogen Zenji’s Bendowa. As you remember, he is giving you a theoretical or metaphysical vision of how he understands zazen – a very lofty, almost inconceivable idea of zazen.

When even for a moment you express the buddha’s seal in the three actions by sitting upright in samadhi, the whole phenomenal world becomes the buddha’s seal and the entire sky turns into enlightenment.

That’s nice, isn’t it? So when you sit in zazen, the whole phenomenal world becomes transformed into the authentic Buddha’s teaching. Every bird that flies by is not just a bird flying by; it’s the ultimate teaching of Buddha. Every breath you take, every thought that arises in your mind, becomes transformed into the Buddha’s seal, and the entire sky turns into enlightenment.

Because of this all buddha tathagatas as the original source increase their dharma bliss and renew their magnificence in the awakening of the way.

Your zazen does this. Your zazen transforms the phenomenal world and also increases the joy and wisdom of all the buddhas of the past. So I think that we feel this, and we can cultivate the feeling for the power and the grace of zazen. When we sit in zazen, according to Dogen’s conception of zazen, we’re not just thinking, “I’m going to meditate. It cools me out. It’s good for me. It’s my zazen. I’m going to do zazen now.” Instead, we’re actually slipping into the role of the Buddha, because we have that in us. That’s our birthright as human beings. All human beings have within them the dignified enlightenment of Buddha.

So, in a way, to sit in zazen is to let ourselves go. When we sit in zazen, we leave our self, our phenomenal self, our problems, outside. And even if you really do bring it all in, you’re really not bringing it all in. When I walk into zendos, I don’t see ordinary people. I see lofty buddhas manifesting enlightenment throughout the whole sky. And that does happens. That actually does happen.

Because such broad awakening resonates back to you and helps you inconceivably, you will in zazenunmistakably drop away body and mind.

In other words, you sit in zazen, and the power of your zazen, whether you know it or not, whether you intend it or not, does this. The whole world wakes up, and all the buddhas are increased in their magnificence, and then they bounce that back to you. They bounce that back to you, and it helps you, so you can do zazen. You can do zazen and surpass yourself in zazen because of the help that you are getting from them. The idea is that we’re sitting in zazen to be inconceivably helped by the buddhas. We’re not doing anything. We’re just sitting here and allowing the Buddha to work through us.

That’s also why our practice is really not, I feel, incompatible with theistic understanding, because self and Buddha-hood, self and other, are non-different. So, there’s no problem about God, or something like that. When we sit in zazen, it is just the same as somebody praying. You could say that zazen is a form of faith practice, a form of prayer. This is how Dogen saw it, because zazen is non-dual. Zazen is not something – this and not that. It’s all-inclusive. Zazen, he’s saying, is inconceivable existence itself, and when we sit in zazen, we are manifesting that.

Because earth, grass, trees, walls, tiles, and pebbles all engage in buddha activity, those who receive thebenefit of wind and water caused by them are inconceivably helped by the buddha’s guidance, splendid and unthinkable, and awaken intimately to themselves. All this, however, does not appear within perception.

Perception, according to the Buddhist analysis of mind, is already confused. The minute we see, hear, taste, touch, or think something, there is already some confusion. In order to have that experience, we already have to reduce the world to an object; therefore, when we reduce the world to an object, we reduce ourselves to a subject, standing over against the object – looking at it, or hearing it, or smelling it, or thinking it. And so, there is already a feeling of loneliness and exile in the very act of perception, in the very beginning. So, therefore, the inconceivable zazen that Dogen is talking about here can’t really be an experience, or something that we could perceive. It’s something that surrounds or illuminates our perceptions. It’s not elsewhere – like a distant God that we can never know.

All this, however, does not appear within perception, because it is unconstructedness in stillness – it is immediate realization.

It is radically unconstructed. It is not put together. It’s free and open, without any boundaries. And it’s still – like space, or like silence. Space and silence can be entered into, but not really objectively perceived. Although without space, there’s nothing, right? Thanks to space, everything exists. Everything that exists is in space and also has space inside of it. We’re in space. We’re taking up space. Thanks to space, we’re in this room. The room is in space, but also, space is in us. If there weren’t space in between the particles of the atoms of our body, there would be no us. And silence is the same way. You can’t hear silence, but without silence, there is no sound.

And then he says, and this is really an important part:

If practice and realization were two things [the practicing toward the goal of realization and achieving realization], as it appears to an ordinary person [like us], then you could recognize practice and realization separately. But what can be met with recognition [in other words, what you can perceive] is not realization itself, because realization is not reached by a deluded mind [a mind that perceives]. In stillness, mind and object merge in realization and go beyond enlightenment; nevertheless, because you are in the state of self-fulfilling samadhi, without disturbing its quality or moving a particle you extend the buddha’s great activity, the incomparably profound and subtle teaching.

Then he says this very famous line:

This being so, the zazen of even one person at one moment imperceptibly accords with all things and fully resonates through all time.

The zazen of even one person, in one moment, accords through all space and time. This is very reasonable, actually, because thanks to the endless, boundless consciousness of the world, we appear. And it’s only because each one of us taps into that, that we see and hear and experience. All experiences are conscious. It is as if the big, limitless consciousness is squeezed through a little straw, and it pops out, and “Look, what a blue sky!” But what’s really going on is that there is this big consciousness. So when we sit in zazen, what we are really doing is acknowledging that our active life is nothing more than this big consciousness, appearing right here. And so it is literally true. Since there are no boundaries or dimensions to consciousness, when consciousness is right here, and I release myself to it, then I’m beyond space and time.

Sometimes you really feel it, and I think that this feeling, however you call it, or whatever words you put on it, is really religious experience, the religious life. This is why human beings throughout history always had some sensibility around this – some feeling for returning to boundlessness. We are manifestations of that boundlessness, and we forget about that when we are busily running around doing our chores. So we take time and just sit and enter into that. Even though most of the time we can’t really think about it or appreciate it, it is always the case.

Know that even if all the buddhas of the ten directions, as innumerable as the sands of the Ganges, exert their strength and with the buddhas’ wisdom try to measure the merit of one person’s zazen, they will not be able to fully comprehend it.

So you’re sitting in zazen, and even the congregation of all the buddhas in every atom of space and time can’t figure out your zazen. You get all these buddhas together, thinking really hard, trying to figure out your zazen – they can’t do it. They would never be able to exhaust the dimensions of your zazen. So that is the kind of zazen Dogen is advocating.

That’s the end of his explanation of zazen. Those of you who looked at the text know that the rest of the Bendowa takes the form of about twenty questions. I don’t know if these are real questions. I don’t know if he delivered this as a talk, and people took notes, and these were real questions, or whether he made them up. I’ll discuss some of the questions that I think are interesting.

The first question says, in effect, “Well, yeah, we heard what you said, but how could it all be reducible to zazen? Why just zazen? Why is zazen the best practice? You seem to be advocating this one practice. There are many practices. Buddhism is full of practices, actually. Myriad practices. So why only zazen?” And Dogen says, “Because this is the front gate for the buddha-dharma.” So then the question, “Why do you think it is the front gate of buddha-dharma?” Dogen says,

The great master Shakyamuni correctly transmitted this splendid method of attaining the way, and tathagatas of the past, future, and present all attain the way by doing zazen. For this reason it has been transmitted as the front gate. Not only that, but also all the ancestors in India and China have attained the way by doing zazen. Thus I now teach this front gate to human beings and devas.

Zazen is a kind of symbolic re-enactment and re-creation of the Buddha at the moment of enlightenment. So when we sit in zazen, we are that. Because the real meaning of the Buddha sitting under the tree of enlightenment is not its historical dimension. There was a historical dimension to it, but more fundamentally, the meaning of the act of the Buddha sitting under the Bodhi tree is that it is the shape of time. It’s the pattern of existence – the awakening of suffering; the awakening of consciousness of suffering, not only for oneself, but also for others; the awakening of the human heart to see that there is suffering; the taking on the burden of that suffering as a responsibility. With that awakening comes the vision that it’s possible to turn that suffering around in a moment. That is actually the shape of time and space – always. So this image of the Buddha seated and our entering that as a symbolic re-creation, re-enactment, is why zazen is important.

However, reading sutras or chanting Buddha’s name of itself must be the cause of enlightenment. How can zazen, just sitting uselessly and doing nothing, be depended upon for attaining enlightenment?

This is very funny, because I have given many talks about the uselessness of zazen. And so Dogen says that if you think zazen is useless, you’re in trouble. You’re deluded deeply.

Then he says, and this is very important:

Now, the realm of all buddhas is inconceivable. It cannot be reached by consciousness. [In other words,by discriminative awareness. You can’t see it as an object.] Much less can those who have no trust, who lack wisdom, know it. Only those who have right trust and great capacity can enter this realm. … Even on the assembly at Vulture Peak, there were those who were told by Shakyamuni Buddha, “You may leave if youwish.” [They didn’t have trust.]

So you could see why trust and faith are so important in this conception of zazen that Dogen is describing. Without trust, you can’t really practice this practice. Now trust does not automatically appear. Trust is developed and nurtured and arises in us. It arises with persistence, I think, with returning to the cushion. My experience, seeing people practice over the years, is that people do develop trust over time. They develop trust in zazen. They might not use the extravagant language that Dogen is using here, but people do develop, over time, that kind of patient trust in zazen. It’s interesting that zazen both is and isn’t the literal practice of upright sitting. To trust the practice of zazen is to trust consciousness itself. It’s really to trust life – to have a feeling of trust in your life. So the important point that I am emphasizing here is the necessity of trust for our practice. And then it says:

When right trust arises, you can practice and study. If not, you may wait for awhile and regret that you have not received the benefaction of dharma from the past.

So if you don’t have trust, it doesn’t mean that you have to leave. You can continue to practice and wait until eventually the benefaction of the past will emerge in your life, and trust will arise. The essence of the practice is the entering into the right here, fully, with trust. It doesn’t need to be complicated. We don’t need to be experts or accumulate a lot of merit. So when he is talking about zazen, he is talking about that essential moment of the Buddha’s awakening, which is really enacted on every moment of time and space, and especially activated in this world by our doing practice.

Question seven asks whether somebody who realizes the dharma, do they still have to do the practice. Aren’t they beyond that now? Can’t they go on to other things?

To suppose that practice and realization are not one is nothing but a heretical view. [Because in buddha- dharma, practice and realization are absolutely inseparable. There is no such thing as having one without the other.] Therefore, when we give instructions for practicing, we say that you should not have any expectation of realization outside of practice.

In other words, don’t expect something to happen in the future. Just practice. That is the realization. The realization is doing the practice. It is the trust, the devotion, and the happiness that arise in your heart as a result of doing the practice. Not something extra that is going to happen afterward, because, as Dogen says, “This is the immediate, original realization. Because this is the realization of practice, there is no boundary in the realization.” Experiences are things that are always bound. Specific experiences. So there is no boundary like that. There is no limited experience and there is no limited person who realizes that experience. There is just the boundless moment of practice.