Dizang asked Fayan, “Where are you going?” Fayan said, “Around on pilgrimage.” Dizang said, “What is the purpose of pilgrimage?” Fayan said, “I don’t know.” Dizang said, “Not knowing is most intimate.”
From the Book of Serenity, case 20
Shinshu’s Commentary: Like Suzuki Roshi, Fayan is probably wearing a monk’s traveling gear: a broad straw hat and staff. He is on his way somewhere. But where? He said it is a pilgrimage. How can Fayan say he is going on a pilgrimage and yet not know where he is going. And to top it off, Dizang says, “Yes, you’ve got it!”
Dizang is dressed for traveling as we all are. This very skin is a pilgrim’s hat and staff. Our robes are shorten for more easily walking the path. Our lives are a journey to the sacred sites of each moment lived. How can we know the purpose of each moment? How can we know the outcome of each interaction? Yet we crave certainty in this life of uncertainty. We hid in the notion that we can anticipate and make infallible plans.
In the Great Wisdom Beyond Wisdom Sutra one encounters the word “disport.” A bodhisattva disports him or herself in the Dharma. We have permission to play in the field of wisdom. This is the field of our life. Our pilgrimage is the act of disporting ourselves in not knowing. Our problems arise when we try to tie things down, etch them in stone.
Usually when we make a pilgrimage, we have a predetermined route. We plot our progress from one sacred space to another. We make a circle, we complete a journey and we expect transformation of some kind. In this koan the teaching is each moment, each interaction is a pilgrimage. Each encounter is a sacred moment. Where are we going exactly? Just this moment is a complete pilgrimage.
When we don’t know, we get closer to the truth of a thing – a person. Not knowing is being curious, truly meeting our life. It is not making up stories. It is: no story, no wall, no fixed agenda. Suddenly in not knowing we are finding out something most interesting – most intimate. We meet a person. We meet the self. It is both knowing and not know. Can we get any closer?
This is the same intimacy we embody in zazen. In zazen we don’t know what will happen and we let go of what we want to happen. We explore dropping the mind of “I don’t want to feel pain” or “I want to feel transformed.” We engage or disengage into a mind of “I don’t know” and “think-not-thinking”. Let go, meet each situation and meet your life. Walk the sacred path of the pilgrim as you enter the door of your work place. “I don’t know what this interaction will bring, but I will stay and listen.”
How can we understand this? Although I don’t know, I will be curious. I will disport myself in the Dharma. I might intimately see that this life is life making life. How can I be separate from life itself? I am always just this, meeting a person, a situation or thing. Letting go. Not knowing. How intimate!
His Holiness the Dalai Lama observed: “In Buddhism in general, a lot of attention is paid to our attitudes towards or rivals or enemies. This is because hatred can be the greatest stumbling block to the development of compassion and happiness. If you can learn to develop patience and tolerance toward your enemies, then everything else becomes much easier—your compassion towards all others begins to flow naturally.” (page 178) From The Art of Happiness, by His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Howard C. Cutler, M.D. Riverhead Books, 1998.
Shinshu’s commentary: This is also one of the hardest practices. First, rivals or enemies may be someone perceived outside of ourselves or the way we relate to our own self. Hatred is a hardening emotion and tends to reify our ideas about self and others. Letting go is a kind of generosity toward self and other. Think about it; when you let go and relax into a difficult situation you give yourself some ease, both physically and mentally. Don’t you feel better? Aren’t you happier? You also allow space for something different and productive to happen with your “enemy.” The problem is that we feel the need to be right and defend our self or our ideas. Letting go is the practice of no-inherently-existing-self. That means we are connected with each other…we can feel with, find empathy. What are we protecting? Why do we need to be “right”?
If you go to a restaurant and the waiter is rude to you or they don’t respond the way you expect, do they become the enemy? Or are they a person who might have their own problems, separate from you? Why does their response make us upset? Can we let go of our ideas about how others should behave toward us? Isn’t a little friction necessary for developing patience and compassion? Shouldn’t we give a little thanks to these small difficulties? If you find yourself resisting this teaching; take a closer look. What is the enemy here? What keeps us from responding with generosity, patience and compassion? Where is happiness?
Greetings to Everyone. As I write this I can hear the rain pattering from the drain pipe. It is a repetitive, insistent and yet cheerful sound. Yesterday I began reading a Buddhist sutra called the Nirvana Sutra. Here’s a line that struck me.
Dogen (the 13th century founder of Soto Zen in Japan) wrote many things about the true nature of our condition. One of his most compelling teachings is that every being and thing in this universe is teaching the Dharma. Since Dogen lived hundreds of years after the Nirvana Sutra was written, this teaching was already considered part of Buddhist doctrine and he was taught this truth as a young monk. It is a generous and optimistic teaching. If we look around; we can learn profound truths about our life and life in general without going anywhere. When I was a photography student, we would have the exercise of spending a week taking pictures of a small area, such as one’s backyard. This taught us to see our environment with new eyes, because we had to look deeper than the obvious. In Buddhism, we are taught over and over about impermanence, suffering, and no inherent existing self. But, what does it mean? A bee, frolics among the flowers. It is fragile, strong, mobile, and perceives the world as fragrance. It feels the pull of magnetic forces. This small creature, participates in making the world. Recently this has been forcefully brought home to us by the mysterious deaths of bees. Yet, seemingly unaware, the bee, goes on and makes its contribution. Impermanent, sometimes suffering, embodying the interconnected process of life enacted, this bee, all bees, all beings is brought forth. Furthermore, in the moment of the bee, is all moments enacted. Nothing is left out; all life, all time, and all being is present. Such a tiny moment, just one small thing. Please investigate and look closely at your life’s activity. Frolic among the flowers of your day. Consider the joy of just being in this full and overflowing cornucopia of living. Find the unfound sound of all being; enacted with and through all beings.
Best to you all this rainy spring morning.
There was a big boulder in the Tassajara creek that Suzuki Roshi said he wanted for his rock garden. Every day four or five of us went down to the creek during the silent work period and struggled to move the boulder…After a week the rock had not budged, but no one was about to break the silence or give up. One day Suzuki Roshi came down to the creek and struggled along with us. Some visitors called down from the bridge to ask what we were doing. Suzuki Roshi called up, ‘We don’t know!’
From To Shine One Corner of the World: moments with Shunryu Suzuki
Here’s a story of my own. Recently I went to a friend’s house to install her Roku streaming device. The installation was not easy and I kept at it for quite some time. Essentially I was doing the same activity over and over again (connecting again when it crashed and attempting to download the upgrade), with slight variations. Having worked with computers in the past this seemed to be a method that often worked. Finally, in this case, it did. My friend joked that it was like the person who kept doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result.
How do we apply our effort? When do we give up? What is the mind of “don’t know” and the mind of “knowing”? Suzuki Roshi’s effort is akin to zazen. There is something about the process, the team work: the totality of the situation that drove their effort. And love.
Here’s a poem Sita sent me last week.
Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.
-Mary Jean Iron in the essay, “Let Me Hold You While I May”, in the book, “Yes, World. A Mosaic of Meditation”, published in 1970 by Richard Baron Publishing.
Shinshu’s comment: This is part of a larger meditation on the end of a “normal day.” This sentiment could be, should be applied to every ephemeral thing: the birds, flowers, a conversation, our health. “A normal day” is all the things we take for granted. How often do we wish for a more exciting life and in this way miss the wonder that is right under our noses? The last line is that reminder or prescience of the inevitable difficulties that we cannot avoid. Deep wonder and appreciation for “just this” give us a foundation for the difficult days that inevitably will arise.
From a David Brooks column in the New York Times (reprinted in the Santa Cruz Sentinel). David Brooks describes the qualities of a leader. He writes:
“It begins with a warm gratitude toward that which you have inherited and a fervent wish to steward it well. It is propelled by an ardent moral imagination, a vision of a good society that can’t be realized in one lifetime. It is informed by seasoned affections, a love of the way certain people concretely are and a desire to give all a chance to live at their highest level.”
Shinshu’s comment: These qualities of inquiry can be applied to your workplace or home. They are applicable to our spiritual lives as well. We want to take what is wise and continue in the same vein. Having “warm gratitude” will soften and guide our endeavors. I like the phrase “moral imagination” because that is how we are able to see each situation as the totality of life, not just something that fits a “should.”
In Zen, lineage is very important. We are never far from those who went before us and illuminated our path. In this way, we know that our effort, although it seems only of this lifetime, will resonate throughout space and time. What will be the quality of that resonance?
What does he mean by “seasoned affections”? Affection can refer to the affect of one’s actions, how one is disposed toward something, having tender feelings or a state of being affected. I think he means that skillful actions are the result of our own mature experience and those whose actions precede our own.
I encourage you to sit with David Brooks’ words and think about how they might apply to your situation. This is also my intention. We cannot understand and absorb wise words without also making the effort to suss out how they are relevant to our particular situation.
Shinshu’s commentary: I hear this wisdom a lot at Ocean Gate Zen Center; I think we all understand the importance of stopping, creating space and gratitude. Unfortunately it is sometimes difficult to ‘find the time.’ Finding time and wasting time are sometimes lumped together as they are in this quotation. We want to find the time. As the time passes, we forget the time of taking time. This is unfortunate. If we just make time and stop our forward progress, we see what is right in front of us. When we are rushing to the car to get to work, we might stop, just for a second, and smell that cup of coffee we are carrying. Or we might feel the softness of our child’s hand. Or we may notice the beauty of a weed growing next to the driveway…or a flower. Just for a second. Just for a moment. In that moment, our heart becomes lighter; we are opened and more flexible. This is the sutra of Buddha, Dharma and Sangha ringing clearly in the morning air. Can we stop and hear it?
By Mary Oliver, called “The Summer Day”
Commentary: First we engage in deep inquiry. What is this? Then we look at this particular being and investigate further. We can only answer this question in relationship to our life, as it is. This is not abstract. What is this grasshopper? This grasshopper. Clearly she does know how to pay attention. How often we do not credit ourselves with our own wisdom. What do you plan to do? In this moment and the next. With this life, this grounded presencing of you and everything? Oh, what a wild and precious life! In this moment. In this email. Connection. How wild and precious. How precious. How wild.
Thank-you. Please have a good week, Shinshu
Here’s a quotation from a poem by Hakuin called The Song of Meditation. You can Google this and find the complete poem online.
This poem refers to our essential nature, which is always present. It cannot be otherwise because the “it” is just reality which includes everything. This is Buddha-nature. Buddha-nature is the simultaneous arising of everything which makes the world. When we are lost and seeking something called enlightenment, this is our true nature asking to be released from delusion or suffering. That true nature is, as Dogen said in Bussho (“Buddha-nature”), “all beings are Buddha-nature.” Since this is our true nature, how can we go looking for it outside of ourselves? Zen Master Jiju Kennett wrote a book called “Selling Water By the River: A Manual of Zen Training.” Her point was that the teachings were like selling a person what they already have. Yet, this is not the whole truth, because although we are looking for what we already are, we cannot find it without help. We are like the child who is already endowed with riches, who thinks themselves in poverty.
When this “thing” called enlightenment is attained, it is the realignment of our understanding about our place in this world. We go from thinking we are separate and fearful, to realizing that we are part of a large whole called “just this.” “Just this” is everyday life. Yet, knowing this does not necessarily mean that we will suddenly understand and actualize our situation. Morality, skillful means, wisdom, compassion, empathy and all the virtuous things we are, come from knowing our interconnected, interpenetrating state as Buddha-nature. Yet, when I tell you that, you will not necessarily respond with those qualities. So, how do we find or realize our true nature? That’s a tough question we’d all like an answer to. Buddhism answers that we rely on the teachings, the teacher, and our spiritual community. This also takes the form of meditation (zazen), service and community. We must engage with the teachings in order to enact the teaching. We have to find a teacher and a community to work with and even then it may take quite some time. So our effort has to be patient, yet steady. This is a very interactive process. It is also a personal process, because we are each different. It is a universal process because we are all one true nature.
I encourage you to find a teacher if you do not have one. Find a community and find a path. No matter what you decide to do, once you have found your place stick with it. Find your true home.
May you have a wonderful week, Shinshu
A member of our sangha is getting ready to hike the Pacific Crest Trail. At their suggestion I read a book called “I Promise Not to Suffer” by Gail D. Storey. She and her husband (a hospice and palliative care doctor) hiked the trail from the most southern boundary of California to Canada. The book is about their experience. Last week I quoted Dogen’s question “Is there anything missing or not?” On Tuesday we discussed how we can both have difficulties and feel a deep connection (nothing missing) with this life. In that spirit I offer this quotation from Gail Storey’s book.
“I have a hunger to hike the whole trail” , Porter (Gail’s husband asked her), “It’s been growing in me for years, intensified by the work with people living their dying. But what keeps you going?” [Gail writes] For once I was at a loss for words. What wanted me out here? Not my body, it was falling apart. Not my thoughts, alternately confident and doubtful. Certainly not my emotions, unreliable in their swings from high to low. I wanted to be with Porter, yes, but even more, I felt inseparable now from the vast green and blue and white of the wilderness. I looked out on the lake, shimmering under the moon. I was as sturdy as the trees. I flowed over obstacles like water over rocks. I was as solid as the mountains, as clear as the sky. The wind blew through my heart. I was what knew the wind. What knew the world was here in me, pulsing in the trees, water, rocks, mountains, moon.
Dogen’s experience and Gail Storey’s experience are the direct actualization of buddha nature. We and all beings make the world, are the world, are essentially the same. She knew the true of this, at the moment, of her saying it. It didn’t change her tired body, or her confused mind. But, it did completely change her experience as a life lived. It is her life, living her life, with all beings: trees, water, rocks, mountains, moon and that of her husband Porter, the reader and everything seen and unseen. She carried this awakening mind even after she left the trail because her body was not strong enough to continue. In the midst of her suffering; she carries a deep connection. This family tie with life shifts the paradigm of how we think about our problems. This is one of the things we are trying to understand in Buddhist practice.
Best wishes, Shinshu