Wednesday, December 31, 2008 at 7:59 am (buddhism)
Tags: class, course, education, study
I signed up for a graduate class about Buddhism. It’s not an introduction; students are expected to be familiar with the basic teachings and history of Buddhism. I knew that a university course in Buddhism would be a lot different from listening to a Dharma talk or reading a book about Zen practice, and I’m okay with that. (It’s been a while since I was in grad school, but my cognitive skills are still functioning.)
I’ve started reading one of the textbooks, a newly updated book titled Mahayana Buddhism: The Doctrinal Foundations, 2nd edition. The writing style is surprisingly clear and even somewhat informal — especially welcome when you realize there are 121 pages of end notes!
The biggest difference between this book and most of the others I’ve encountered (so far) is the historical approach. Sutras are mentioned and summarized when they contribute to our understanding of, say, the difference between the Madhyamika and Yogacara schools. I have to confess that I’m pretty much a practitioner, not a scholar, and my whole knowledge of “schools” up to this point was Mahayana, Theravada, and an assortment of Zen traditions. Nothing more than that.
Now and then the book gets challenging because I don’t have much background in philosophy, and it’s a bit tough for me to stay with a long argument about, for example, existence and nonexistence and emptiness. But I’ve been pleased to see a few little illuminations on what I already know. (Also, I’ve learned more about Arhats in the past week than I’d ever heard in four years of Zen practice.)
This reading has me thinking about some Buddhist discussion forums such as E-Sangha. I don’t spend much time in forums because it seems like so many people there are debating points of scholarship. I realize such debate has a long, happy history in Buddhism, but to me it seems quite separate from the practice.
I’m just becoming aware — now — of a more purely philosophical approach to Buddhism. It’s thinking and not doing. Nothing wrong with that, but the two are very, very different! I’ve heard people refer to “bookstore Buddhists,” meaning folks who’ve read lots of books but rarely applied backside to cushion. I can see now that you could spend many years doing the former.
As for me, I feel sure I’ll continue doing the latter.
Breathe.
7 Comments
Tuesday, December 30, 2008 at 8:03 am (buddhism, zen)
Tags: dharma, John Daido Loori, teachers, video
This video is very good, straightforward Dharma — from John Daido Loori, Roshi, and abbott of the Zen Mountain Monastery in upstate New York. The beginning intro is super cheesy, but don’t be dissuaded by that. As soon as the roshi starts to speak, I think you’ll see that this is good stuff (introductory Zen; “eight gates”).
Video: Entering the Mountain Gate: Essentials of Zen (2001; 57 min.)
This comes via Dharma TV, and as you might guess, you’ll find other teaching videos there as well. (I know I found a link to this on another Buddhist blog, but I forget which one. If it was yours, let me know, and I’ll add a link here.)
Breathe.
1 Comment
Monday, December 29, 2008 at 8:06 am (buddhism, practice, zen)
Tags: daily life, dharma, heaven, hell, kayak
Erik Boomer, a whitewater kayaker, wrote this:
The first time I tipped over in my kayak when I was just starting out, you could say I was experiencing hell. It was dark, I couldn’t breathe, I was upside-down and strapped into this boat without any ideas about how to right myself. At the time I thought that was hell. After learning to roll I found heaven and hell were actually in the same place at the same time, it was just my fear and then my elation that defined them. Heaven was just as present when I was out of air, in the dark and afraid, as was hell. I get to choose heaven and hell every time I paddle …
What’s really awesome here is: “Heaven was just as present when I was out of air, in the dark and afraid …” And hell is just as present when we are elated and happy.
This is the lesson of non-dualism. No good without bad, no bad without good. In Zen we go so far as to say good is bad, and bad is good. It does not mean that it doesn’t matter — that there is no moral truth. It does not mean that at all.
“Good is bad, and bad is good” serves only as another example of cutting through our delusional view with skillful means. Don’t reject the paradox. Remember Erik Boomer, upside-down in the dark, gulping water, terrified. Where is heaven? Roll over, and gulp air.
Breathe.
5 Comments
Saturday, December 20, 2008 at 7:46 am (buddhism, practice, self)
Tags: dharma, Seung Sahn
In 2004, a dharma teacher told me to read about the Three Seals of Existence in The Compass of Zen. So I did. I was quite disappointed. I don’t know what I was hoping to get, but there was nothing for me (then) in that chapter. Impermanence. No-self. Nirvana. What could I do with these?
Well, of course I couldn’t do anything with what I didn’t have, or things I didn’t comprehend. What I’m finally starting (just starting) to understand is that reading and studying and thinking about these things doesn’t function the way reading and studying and thinking do for skills and knowledge in academic subjects. Zen really is more like a martial art, where you’ve got to just practice, practice, practice — and then one day, you’ve hit something without knowing you were going to hit it. You’ve got a broken board or whatever lying at your feet, and you look at your hand and wonder how that happened.
Impermanence. This concept gains meaning as we begin to comprehend letting go. The more I sit with a willingness to be open-handed and empty-handed, to carry nothing, to make no name and no form, the more I understand that it’s only the beginning to accept that all things change, that nothing remains constant.
No-self. My glimpses of this are no more than nanoseconds, but the effect is humbling and profound. Zen Master Seung Sahn said: “Realizing that all things are without self-nature, you are not taken in by names and forms. You do not follow the mistaken view that things and their myriad appearances actually exist” (p. 106). Right now I have no real comprehension of this at all, and yet there’s more than there used to be — like music from very far away, carried on a breeze. One moment you hear it, and the next, you’re not even sure you did.
Nirvana. Zen Master Seung Sahn said: “Nirvana is perfect stillness.” Now I have a sense that these three seals are one, the one in many and the many in one. That moment or nanosecond when there is no thinking and no self — that moment is the only thing that does not change. Yet it is gone, and gone, and gone again. Each moment is impossible to hold on to. Each moment is infinitely precious and yet completely uncontainable.
Breathe.
Note: “Breathe” will take a short “breather” and will return on December 29. Be well and do good.
2 Comments
Friday, December 19, 2008 at 7:42 am (buddhism, meditation, practice)
Tags: concentration, Right Effort
The first time I tried to sit, I thought the book’s instructions were unreasonable. Clear my mind of thoughts? When a thought arises, let it go? Was that author crazy?
My mind was like a carnival. There must have been a thousand noisy things completing all at once for my attention. Chaos ruled in there. I’ve heard people say they counted their breaths at first, to try to get a grip on all that cacophony — I couldn’t even focus on my breath long enough to count past two.
There was a period of time when I felt enormously frustrated with my lack of progress. I’d been sitting daily for about a year, and my mind would still escape from me, go off to plan my breakfast, or to replay some TV show from the previous night. Irritation came often. I would get up and feel grumpy. Not doing this right, damn it, I would think.
But I kept on sitting. And I read, in my eclectic way, and somehow a lot of things I read at that time seemed to be pinpointing exactly what I was feeling. One text in particular (I forget which one) said something like — if you are frustrated, you’re making a mistake. If you’re dissatisfied with your practice, then that means you want something. You can’t want something. There is no goal. There is only the practice, moment by moment.
So I sat with that. I sat with wanting nothing. I sat with no goal. I stopped reading about techniques and just sat down with one direction. Right Effort, I told myself. Or, “What am I? Only don’t know.” Or, “Save all beings.” (That one is a bit more challenging.) But no counting, no special breathing, no rules. Ah, a thought. It can go. Another thought. Okay. It can go too. Ah, heck, I was away for a bit, wasn’t I? I’m here now. Here. Now. Then no thinking. And no thinking.
Breathe.
6 Comments
Thursday, December 18, 2008 at 7:11 am (buddhism, meditation, practice, zen)
Tags: zazen
In the beginning, many obstacles appeared. My legs hurt. My legs went to sleep. My lower back hurt. I was bored. The boredom tormented me. Dragging myself to the cushion seemed a chore. A burden.
Many people say they cannot sit. Some undoubtedly have a physical disability. But perhaps some of them are exactly as I was.
What happens now? My legs seldom hurt and almost never fall asleep. Boredom no longer plagues me. My back does not hurt. Going to the cushion is a pleasant event (not exactly joyful, but certainly nice).
I will tell you there are two great assets that have helped me: our sangha and our teacher. They have inspired me and encouraged me, not so much with words but by their strong practice. I sat as they sat. My bones and muscles adapted, gradually. I tried different sitting positions. I learned to keep my back very straight. I learned to release tension, to let go, to notice the tightness and open it. No one taught me these things. My own body taught me, right there, on the cushion.
The physical discomfort lessened gradually, very gradually. But finally, someone who could not sit for 20 minutes can easily sit for 45 minutes. It is nothing special. Maybe you can also learn. Be patient with yourself. Don’t be angry. Be still, and listen carefully to what your body tells you.
Breathe.
See also How to sit zazen (sitting meditation).
11 Comments
Wednesday, December 17, 2008 at 7:50 am (buddhism, practice, quotations)
Tags: Henepola Gunaratana, mindfulness
I encountered the “14 mindfulness trainings” in a short version on a blog called IDEA–LIST:
- Openness
- Non-attachment to Views
- Freedom of Thought
- Awareness of Suffering
- Simple, Healthy Living
- Dealing with Anger
- Dwelling Happily in the Present Moment
- Community and Communication
- Truthful and Loving Speech
- Protecting the Sangha
- Right Livelihood
- Reverence for Life
- Generosity
- Right Conduct
Then I did some Google searching and found them also (in a longer version) at Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh’s site, Plum Village. It’s interesting that these 14 incorporate many elements of the Eightfold Path and the Four Noble Truths, as well as one of the Three Jewels (sangha) and the first precept (take no life).
Then I found a book chapter about mindfulness at DharmaWeb:
Mindfulness provides the needed foundation for the subsequent development of deeper concentration. Most blunders in this area of balance will correct themselves in time. Right concentration develops naturally in the wake of strong mindfulness. The more you develop the noticing factor, the quicker you will notice the distraction and the quicker you will pull out of it and return to the formal object of attention. The natural result is increased concentration. And as concentration develops, it assists the development of mindfulness. The more concentration power you have, the less chance there is of launching off on a long chain of analysis about the distraction.
(Venerable Henepola Gunaratana, Mindfulness in Plain English, Chapter 14.)
Breathe.
2 Comments
Tuesday, December 16, 2008 at 7:01 am (buddhism, quotations, zen)
Tags: Daio Kokushi, dharma, James H. Austin, tao
This verse is titled “On Zen.” I found it on page 464 of James H. Austin’s 2006 book, Zen-Brain Reflections.
A reality exists, even before heaven and earth;
It has no form, much less a name.
Eyes fail to see it. No voice has it for ears to hear.
To call it ‘‘Mind’’ or ‘‘Buddha’’ violates its nature.
For then it becomes like some visionary
flower in the air.
It is not ‘‘Mind’’ nor ‘‘Buddha.’’
It is absolute quiet, yet illuminating in
a mysterious way.
It allows itself to be perceived only
by the clear-eyed.
It is Dharma, truly beyond form and sound.
It is Tao, having nothing to do with words.
Once, wishing to entice the blind,
the Buddha playfully let words escape his golden
mouth. Ever since, heaven and earth have become full
of entangling briars. Oh my good worthy friends
gathered here, if you wish to hear the thunderous
voice of the Dharma, exhaust all your words,
empty all your thoughts.
For only then may you come to realize, at last,
this one essence.
(By Daio Kokushi, 1235–1309, tr. D. T. Suzuki, in Manual of Zen Buddhism.)
Breathe.
7 Comments
Monday, December 15, 2008 at 7:12 am (buddhism, practice, quotations, zen)
Tags: dharma, Seung Sahn
A few years ago, I bought this book: The Compass of Zen, by Zen Master Seung Sahn. I read it from beginning to end once. Then I read it from beginning to end again, with some long breaks in between. Then I dipped into it in random order, many times, over a period of a year or two. Now I’ve decided to read it from beginning to end another time.
Attaining my true self simply means that from moment to moment I keep a correct situation, correct relationship, and correct function in this world. I function clearly in this universe to save all beings. So getting enlightenment and teaching other beings are not two things, because when you return to your mind before thinking arises, at that point, everything completely becomes one (p. 18).
It’s rather amazing how different the book seems each time I re-read it. It’s like that old story about the flag blowing in the wind. Is the flag moving, or is the wind moving? Ah, it’s your mind that is moving.
Breathe.
2 Comments
Sunday, December 14, 2008 at 8:05 am (buddhism, practice)
Tags: Right Speech, teachers, wisdom
I learn a lot about Right Speech from our dharma teacher. In conversation with him, it feels just like a conversation with anyone. I mean, it’s not an official interview, and I don’t feel like I am a student seated at my teacher’s feet. We’re just talking. Later, though, I often realize what gifts he has given in that conversation. Here’s an example:
I said I was considering doing a one- or two-week retreat. He said I should think about doing a one-month retreat. A month seems very long, I said. Very, very long!
A week is not long at all, he said. A week goes past very quickly.
The idea of sitting for 30 days scares me, I said.
The first time I tried a three-week retreat, I left on the next-to-last day, he said.
That made me forget all about myself. I became interested in his experience and what had happened. He didn’t offer any details. He just said he couldn’t take it anymore. Not even one more day. He just had to get out of there. He wrote a note to the folks in charge and said he had to leave immediately. They asked no questions, just let him go.
A year later, he went back to the same place and sat a full three-week retreat, he added.
That was all. We started talking about something else then.
It’s almost as if he handed me the ingredients to make a cake. I was asking for a cake, I guess, even if I didn’t realize it. Please tell me what I should do. Well, here’s some flour, sugar, eggs. Now let’s talk about a bakery I know … Later I realize I’m holding these ingredients. I still don’t know how to make a cake, but I have everything I need.
Breathe.
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