It's a thing

Dogen makes much of shikan-taza as being the whole of practice. "Although it is said that there are as many minds as there are persons, still they all negotiate the way solely in zazen." 

He's not wrong. Stillness is where you find true-ness. At the same time, his monks had to get up and go clean the zendo sometime, and there was also construction, maintenance, cooking, water carrying and farming going on. His explanation was that at the root of all this activity there is still that same stillness. Whether or not you fan yourself, air is air.

When we lived for eight years in the outskirts of one small city and I worked in the larger city across the river, I often biked to work along established bicycle routes and across the wide river on a bike bridge, a scenic round trip of some sixteen miles. In heavier weather, I took the bus.

Bodhidharma splits up practice in much the same way. If wall-gazing does it for you, he says, gaze away! It is, when you do it, the entirety of practice. On the other hand, everything else is waiting for you as practice: the whole of life's activity. One of my hardest-working spiritual teachers, a Hutterite, Barbara Maendel, put it drolly when handing out our farm chores from a seemingly endless list: "a change is as good as a rest."

Zazen is the bicycle. Just get on it and go. In heavier weather, a change is good too. Just get on the bus and go.

Life practice is the bus. If you're sitting in the doctor's waiting room, sure, you can work on your stillness, but also there's the check-in and the visit, which may provide vexations. The arriving and the departing may stress as well -- that near-miss in the parking lot, say. Everything seems to push and pull. To deal with these as Dharma practice, form Dharma life habits.

Bodhidharma breaks life practice into four parts: absence of resentment, acceptance of circumstances, absence of craving, and accord with Dharma. 

To form the habit of not resenting can be a big change in lifestyle for many of us. It means accepting circumstances just as they are, with no craving for them to be any different. That doesn't mean don't swim when you fall into the water, it just means don't spend your swimming energy on uselessly grieving the fall or being angry that you were bumped. Swim. 

Accord with Dharma means embodying Buddha's truth by living the six wisdoms (paramitas). Six tools are available to bring us to the place of non-resentment: giving, ethical discipline, patience, effort, meditation, wisdom.

"Giving" is practice in being kind, a way of cultivating a cooperative, productive and peaceful community.

"Ethical discipline" is self-regulation: holding anger, greed and delusion in check, we foster a cooperative, productive and peaceful community.

"Patience" is practice in accepting circumstances as they are; it's rooted in letting go of the past and especially the future, allowing the community's cooperation, productivity and peace to unfold unforced.

"Effort" here is not the willful struggle that might be envisioned by the ascetic, but the steady self-application to practice that leaves behind the constructed self composed of greed, anger and delusion. This too benefits the community.

"Meditation" in the midst of life practice is that stillness in the doctor's waiting room, increasingly expanding into the visit and the coming and going. You may call it equanimity. It is beneficial to the community.

"Wisdom" here is "prajna," an ongoing appreciation of the ontological truth of the Dharma: "thusness." An insight into thusness is provided by the idea of dependent origination: all things are what they are together, in the same nowness, and nothing exists separately. As our illusion of separateness fades, our actions spring from this realization, and we benefit the community.

shonin painted six rocks, each with a paramita, as mnemonic devices. What, she's 76.

To see Dogen's practical application of the principle of life practice, samu practice, read his "Instructions to the cook," Tenzo Kyokun.

If you only have wild grasses with which to make a broth, do not disdain them. If you have ingredients for a creamy soup do not be delighted. Where there is no attachment, there can be no aversion. Do not be careless with poor ingredients and do not depend on fine ingredients to do your work for you but work with everything with the same sincerity. If you do not do so then it is like changing your behaviour according to the status of the person you meet; this is not how a student of the Way is. (tr. Anzan Hoshin and Yasuda Joshu Dainen)

Hongzhi sums up. "You must purify, cure, grind down, or brush away all the ten­dencies you have fabricated into apparent habits. Then you can reside in the clear circle of brightness."

The bicycle in good weather carried me to the entrance of the building where I worked. I arrived exercised and healthy, ready to benefit the community.

The bus, in heavy weather, stopped right in front of the same building. I arrived rested, composed, ready to benefit the community.

Not saying I always rose to the occasion. But that clear circle of brightness -- it's a thing. We should all look into it.

 -- shonin 

Just walk

In a lovely manga I've been reading, the Solo Mountain Climbing Girl, near a three thousand meter summit making and having coffee, asks: "I wonder ... 'why is the mountain beautiful/no matter who lays their eyes upon it?'" (A haiku.)

In the next panel she replies to herself, "You are allowed to ask, but you are not allowed to answer ... to limit nature's splendors with words would be foolish." [sip, sigh]

The first three of Siddartha's Four Sights* are: an old person, a sick person, and a corpse. From these he drew the conclusion that drastic measures might have to be taken to avoid these unavoidables, so he took his hint from the fourth sight, that of a meditating sadhu, and left home. 

These sights and their significance stick with him over time:

I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape having ill health.

I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.

-- Upajjhatthana Sutta (“Subjects for Contemplation”) 

So far, so good. He's seen entropy and its inevitability. He also experienced the unsatisfactory path of the self-abnegating sramana.

He and I, raised in different cultures, may not have quite the same take on why one does whatever one does next. Buddha, or certainly nearly all his followers then and since, clearly thought there was some kind of afterlife with rewards and punishments, though he denied the unchanging soul depicted in his natal Brahmanic faith.

The legends do seem to show Buddha expecting his new monks to be able to keep to the path of non-harm as soon as they have accepted his positive instructions on how to live. On finding that they would need guide rails, he reluctantly provided them.

Bodhidharma mentions, almost in passing, that precepts are already implicit in awakened behavior:  "Bud­dhas don't keep precepts. And buddhas don't break precepts." But I think we will all agree the bar is high on that one. Perhaps something more alarming was required by a society already steeped in its own juices -- and still is.

The idea of hell is even enshrined in the Sotoshu's basic statement of faith, stated as applicable to all laypersons and priests (and made up of quotes cut and pasted from Dogen), the Shushogi:

When there is a spiritual communication of supplication and response, devas, humans, hell dwellers, hungry ghosts, and animals all take refuge.

I personally have no reliable data confirming an afterlife or multiple lives, and little if any basis for speculation on these matters. As such, I have no notion of extinction as a goal for escaping the wheel of karma. Per Occam's Razor, I try to ascertain if what I see and do in this life will fill the bill for what I might call the "yearning to do well."

Concerning teleology and eschatology, then, I am allowed to ask, but not allowed to answer ... to limit reality's splendors with words risks entangling myself further in the vines of delusion.

Even without the carrot and stick of heavens and hells, we notice how it feels to treat others well or badly, within our circumstances and cultural touchstones. For me, Buddha's admonition to ground my actions in wisdom resonates with my understanding that to assist in slowing inevitable entropy, while ultimately futile perhaps, is nevertheless exactly that which is ethical.

This entails attempting a drastic reduction in environmental and social harm (as perceived), as way opens. I have elsewhere compared Buddhism with Permaculture, to try to elucidate ways and means. 

Everything is "emptiness." But it may be that wise actions help empty out the emptiness of greed, anger and ignorance through a disciplined process of subtraction.

Simplify, simplify, simplify. Simply fail, again and again, to reach into the world with greedy hands.

Hence the various stories in which teachers and abbots say "when eating, just eat. When walking, just walk."

 -- shonin 

Kinhin. Ango, 2025

 

*Actually this story is originally told of an earlier Buddha, Vipassi, who is said to have lived long ago. It's not told of the young Siddhartha Gautama until centuries later, but, as Siddhartha himself is said to have said, Buddhas tend to follow similar timelines.

Little sips

A repost.

I take a lot of interest in "Occam's Razor," which to me is a base from which we can very fruitfully conduct our explorations. It comes from philosophy and is often used in science, but often also critiqued in science discourse.

Duns Scotus formulated it thus: Pluralitas non est ponenda sine necessitate. "Entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity." I guess "necessity" cuts both ways -- don't complexify but also don't simplify past the point where evidence can be replicated.

Aristotle sought to find the lowest common denominator in his search for first principles from which to build arguments: "We may assume the superiority ceteris paribus of the demonstration which derives from fewer postulates or hypotheses." Galileo found it so, as did Newton. 

"Necessity" does arise in physics from time to time, as when Einstein outperforms Newton on gravity calculations, something useful to know about when doing orbital mechanics. But the differences between their results are so small that as a rule of thumb we may continue to use Newton in daily life, even the daily life of construction engineers and airline pilots.

I think it's a strong principle when applied judiciously in life decisions.

In popular culture, our Occam par excellence is Sherlock Holmes. In pursuit of his quarry, Holmes gleefully abandons complex explanations in favor of simple ones, not because the simple is always true, but because the complex is apt to be loaded up with irrelevancies, thereby likely wasting effort: "When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." Stripping away specious explanatory principles improves his chances of arriving at an explanation that correctly describes what actually happened.

Society is struggling right now with a cornucopia of misinformation and disinformation, aimed at preventing rather than encouraging sound decision-making on the part of target populations. This is in fact a war, one we're all losing, and we are most likely entering a period of unprecedented suffering brought on by desire for and addiction to political and economic hegemony. 

Buddhism says we are subject to three poisons in our social setting (for our purpose they pretty much require the presence of others to be venemous): greed, anger and ignorance. I think of two of them as subsumed under the third: anger and ignorance serve greed.

Complex, or rather falsified, explanations are mustered to increase ignorance and foment anger in service of greed. Where someone has been duped by the greedy with such explanations, we have misinformation. The misinformed more easily harbor racism, sexism, anti-semitism, trans- "phobia," science denial, and the like, and can be recruited, wholeheartedly and with the belief that they are doing good, into campaigns against the commons, in the form of democratic elections, public health, public education, libraries and more, all of which may tend to equip us to resist the greedy.

Disinformation is the misinformation which is knowingly propagated by the greedy to boost ignorance and anger, so as to create and direct mobs -- armies that can serve as the shock troops -- in informal warfare to serve a will to power, the will of the greedy whose aim is rule in service of their greed.

Even those who recognize the caveat of "beyond necessity" may attack the razor for its imprecision. Such may have thoughts along these lines: "Occam has an out and therefore cannot be entirely trusted as it stands, hence it is misinformation and therefore its choice of theory is ultimately no better than the alternatives." This can be a reason why disinformers remain entirely within their comfort zones while laying waste to whole realms of the commons.

But it's not the micro-scale accuracy of our tools of inquiry that concerns humanity here. It's the motivation behind the uses to which they are put. We don't simply seek to know; we seek to know for benefit, and the majority (rightly, I submit) seek to benefit the many rather than the few.

When Buddha intuited that there is no permanent soul of the individual, he was applying something like Occam's razor. Dependent origination is for him the simple ontological explanation of existence, as opposed to a more complex and less demonstrable dualism, and gives rise to his four truths.

Buddhism does have an ethical position, but it's maybe hard to describe because we are used to prescriptives. The default Buddhist ethic is to show by example. As in, in case y'wanna try this stuff.

Buddha said "come, monk" to anyone who showed up. And then there was a knowledge commons. But whenever anyone took an action that was outside the bubble of right action arising from right view, he found it necessary to proscribe such actions in future, and from this arose the precepts.

Well and good; the precepts are a magnificent set of "skillful means." But Buddha and Occam both appreciate simple adherence to first principles, and at the center of first principles, I think, there is something like a still point. Bodhidharma says (in effect) Buddhas don't obey precepts because they are the precepts.

Here is the ground of minimalism; non-harm through simplicity. If you sit a lot of zazen, by that much you're avoiding being trapped in consumerism and the burning down of the surface of the planet.

When I sit zazen, I'm not ... shopping. 

If I'm not shopping, I'm not under the influence of advertising. Therefore the ontological parsimony of sitting zazen resists the illusions promoted by the greedy, and by extension may be said to be resistance to fascism.

That sounds strenuous, but we're learning to adapt (ableism can be its own form of seeking power). Here is my current not-shopping zazen, in progress.

This is zero-gravity-chair-zazen, practically-reclining-in-bed zazen, very-intermittent zazen. 😁

Some might object that this cannot be zazen on the grounds that I'm not sitting up straight. Some might also object to it on the grounds that I'm probably only really doing it for a few moments at a time, rather than the full half hour of most of the Zoom zazen periods I attend. I'm just not up to much, as I've been deteriorating for some time. 

The doctors tell me they've finally located the problem(s), which are leukemia and cardiac amloidosis. I'm not in much pain, but I'm definitely sort of weak and woozy as a regular thing, so I've adapted my zazen accordingly. In like case, such as Long Covid, others may do the same. The important thing, as any Zen teacher will tell you, is not to be doing much. 

Not traveling to the lake to zip around on jet skis, say.

The goalless goal, I think, for anyone interested in ontology at least, is to not be fooled. I admire those who aren't fooled for a whole half-hour at a time. I like to think I've been there and done that. If socially acceptable practice is in the rear view mirror, though, I can at least, for the time being, be not fooled in little sips. 

Do you know the story of the tigers and the strawberry? Little sips can be very tasty.

-- shonin  

 

Alms

So the stone woman and wooden man
carry the burden of appearing to be two;
as do the bowl and icy filling,

as do the stork and round moon;
as do form and emptiness
or form and mirror's image.

As do Boy and snorting Ox,
relative and ultimate,
stick and struck,

arrow and flesh,
way and weary feet,
cedar box with cedar lid,

dollar and power,
bully and victim,
peace and war.

We might for metaphor prefer
thousand-armed Monju
offering us, hands extended,

a thousand Shakyamunis,
each with his bowl presented
for our alms.

Sometimes it's enough just to walk
around the block, shake rain 
from umbrella, sit down,

glance around the room.

-- shonin



MUMONKAN (The Gateless Gate)

13th century Chinese koan collection

Case 12: Zuigan Calls His Master

Zuigan Gen Osho called to himself every day, “Master!” and answered, “Yes, sir!” Then he would say, “Be wide awake!” and answer, “Yes, sir!” “Henceforward, never be deceived by others!” “No, I won’t!”

MUMON’S COMMENT

Old Zuigan buys and sells himself. He takes out a lot of god-masks and devil-masks and puts them on and plays with them. What for, eh? One calling and the other answering; one wide awake, the other saying he will never be deceived. If you stick to any of them, you will be a failure. If you imitate Zuigan, you will play the fox.

MUMON’S VERSE

Clinging to the deluded way of consciousness,
Students of the Way do not realize truth.
The seed of birth and death through endless eons:
The fool calls it the true original self.

The exemplar empty place

 Lately I've been fascinated by reciprocal roofs, which are popular with those who want to try a round house with a smoke hole or perhaps a round central skylight. Here's an example from Wikipedia:  

By Adrian Leaman

The roof beams each lean upon one another in an endless progression, each contributing to the strength and utility of the whole, while leaving a hole that also has utility.

I tend to think of certain lists -- the eightfold way, immeasurables, precepts, paramitas, Shishobo, eight great realizations -- as reciprocal structures, each arranged around the same hole. 

The roundhouse smoke hole has function; it lets smoke out through the roof, admits light, and helps to regulate ventilation, temperature and humidity. But by itself it's not a thing. It is brought into "being" by the beams around it.

I came up with these ruminations while reading these lines, for the umpteenth time, from the Song of the Jewel Mirror Samadhi:

    Like facing a precious mirror; form and reflection behold each other.
    You are not it, but in truth it is you.

The mirror is an upaya teaching-metaphor for thusness. "You are not it." This sounds nihilistic, but "it is you." Here there is a teachable (actually, taught) moment: it is when you let go of your personality.

Shakyamuni is said to have been on his begging rounds when he was interrupted by a Brahmin who had heard his teachings were reliable. "Teach me!" "Not now; we are among the houses doing our begging rounds." "Yeah, but something may happen to either of us and then I will not have received the Dharma!" "Okay, I'll give you the short version:"

    In what is seen there must be only what is seen,
    in what is heard there must be only what is heard,
    in what is sensed there must be only what is sensed,
    in what is cognized there must be only what is cognized.
    This is the way you should train yourself.
    And since for you, in what is seen there will be only what is seen,
    in what is heard there will be only what is heard,
    in what is sensed there will be only what is sensed,
    in what is cognized there will be only what is cognized,
    therefore, you will not be with that;
    and since you will not be in that, therefore, you
    will not be here or hereafter or in between the two
    - just this is the end of suffering.  

I was puzzling over this passage, which I had encountered in Charlie Korin Pokorny's commentary on the Jewel Mirror, while on my "kinh hanh" round of the neighborhood, when for whatever reason I saw a very detailed mental picture of Gautama sitting beneath the fig tree looking at the morning star, smiling, and saying "aha! The morning star is me! But I am not the morning star!" -- upon which the rafters of his forthcoming teachings click into place and he becomes the exemplar empty place for us all.

 

-- shonin 

Long range kinhin

 "Intimate with the essence and intimate with the path, one embraces the territory and embraces the road." -- Jewel Mirror Samadhi 

We mentioned earlier that kora in Tibetan means both circumambulation and pilgrimage. Kinhin offers relief to bodies that have been practicing zazen. Our Soto kinhin, as practiced inside zendos, is generally a short circumambulation and may be regarded as a very short pilgrimage. 

Some Tendai monks engage in a practice of performing a nineteen-mile circumambulation of Mount Hiei, visiting 260 sites, for, in the extreme instance, up to one thousand days, to be completed within seven years. "Part of Tendai Buddhism's teaching is that enlightenment can be attained in the current life. It is through the process of selfless service and devotion that this can be achieved, and the kaihōgyō is seen as the ultimate expression of this desire." -- Wikipedia

Famously, some pilgrims walk clockwise around the entire island of Shikoku, a circumambulation of some twelve hundred kilometers. "The Shikoku Pilgrimage or Shikoku Junrei (四国巡礼) is a multi-site pilgrimage of 88 temples associated with the Buddhist monk Kūkai on the island of Shikoku, Japan." -- Wikipedia

 These can be explicitly secular, even if one chants sutras and wears the clothing: "Five young men from around Japan, once withdrawn from society - a phenomenon known as hikikomori - embark on a 1,200-kilometer pilgrimage around the island of Shikoku, on a journey of self-discovery." -- NHK 

And yet the effects are often similar to what one might expect from religious pilgrimage. Many travelers, tourists and long distance hikers talk about how the journey changed their lives. The Way of St. James (Camino de Santiago) is noted for this: "Pilgrims follow its routes as a form of spiritual path or retreat for their spiritual growth. It is also popular with hikers, cyclists, and organized tour groups."

I have noticed the effects of secular long-distance hiking along trails or roads not associated with religious observances can be at least self-revelatory and uplifting. The psychological effects are similar to those sometimes reported by those who have crossed oceans, or circled the world, on small boats, or those who have climbed mountains. I sometimes think there is little difference between such experiences and spiritual awakenings. To move is to seek dharmas; on a sliding scale, this segues into seeking Dharma.

It is on the strength of such findings that shinrin-yoku has become an accepted form of therapy. "Not only is "forest bathing" a magical way to explore nature, decades of research has shown that it's good for your health. It can boost your immune system, lower blood pressure and help with depression. It can also reduce the stress hormones cortisol and adrenaline and turn down the dial on your body's fight-or-flight response." -- NPR

My doctor has told me to resume long walks, within my current constraints, as not walking much is a risk factor. At the same time, I'm involved in a sangha's Ango, or 90 day retreat, during which my long walks can be regarded as a form of meditation -- in effect, a kora pilgrimage. The two can be combined by means of intentionality.

From one end of my street to the other is 0.3 mile. If I cross at each end and come back to the house, it is 0.6 mile. This is a circumambulation. Namu Shakyamuni Butsu.

It's a start. Loooong range kinhin!

-- shonin

Pretty good stuff

Ling Xingpo visited Master Fubei Heshang to pay her respects. They sat together and drank tea, and she asked him, “If a true word can’t be spoken no matter how hard you try, how will you teach?”
Fubei said, “Fubei has nothing to say.”
Ling was not satisfied. She placed her hands inside the opposite sleeves of her robe and cried out: “There is grievous suffering even within a blue sky!”
Again Fubei had nothing to say.
Ling said, “To be a human being is to live in calamity.” -- Hidden Lamp, page 260 

The assertion that true Dharma cannot be conveyed by words goes way back. 

"After old man Shakyamuni had attained the Path in the land of Magadha, he spent three weeks contemplating this matter: "The nature of all things being quiescent extinc­tion cannot be conveyed by words; I would rather not preach the Dharma, but quickly enter nirvana." When he got to this point, even Shakyamuni couldn't find any way to open his mouth. But by virtue of his power of skill in technique, after he had preached to the five mendicants, he went to three hundred and sixty assemblies and expounded the teachings for his age. All these were just expedients. For this reason he had taken off his bejewelled regal garments and put on rough dirty clothing. He could not but turn towards the shallows within the gate of the secondary meaning in order to lead in his various disciples. If we had him face upwards and bring it all up at once, there would hardly be anyone in the whole world (who could under­stand)." -- The Blue Cliff Record, tr. T. Cleary and J. C. Cleary

Changqing once said, “I would rather say that arhats have three types of poison than say that the Tathāgata [Śākyamuni Buddha] has two kinds of expression. It’s not that the Tathāgata has no expression. It is just that he does not have two kinds of expression.”
Baofu Congzhan asked, “What is the Tathāgata’s expression?” Changqing asked, “How can a deaf person hear it?”
Baofu said, “I knew you were speaking on a secondary level.” Changqing said, “Then what is the Tathāgata’s expression?” Baofu said, “Have a cup of tea.” -- Shingi Shobogenzo

"Whenever Chao Chou saw a monk, right away he would say, "Have you ever been here?" Whether the monk said he had or he hadn't, Chou would always say, "Go drink some tea." The temple overseer asked, "The teacher always asks monks if they've been here or not, then always says, 'Go drink some tea.' What is the meaning?" Chou said, "Overseer!" When the over­ seer responded, Chou said, "Go drink some tea."" -- The Blue Cliff Record, tr. T. Cleary and J. C. Cleary

In some depictions of Manjushri, such as here from the Dunhuang Caves, he has 1000 arms and hands, each one holding a begging bowl, and he is said to be offering Buddha/Dharma to us, the Sangha, from each bowl. Us is everyone; we are all the Sangha either in the past, the present, or the future. It is said that the offer is good until we accept it, though we resist for kalpas. 

Wu Cho, a traveling monk, visits Diamond Cave on Five Peak Mountain and meets an old man there who offers him tea. The old man drinks from a crystal bowl. He shows the bowl to Wu Cho and asks, "Do they have these where you came from?" "No." "What!? How do they drink tea then?" Later, Wu Cho realizes he has been drinking tea with Manjusri. (Blue Cliff Record)

Yunyan was boiling some tea. Daowu asked who he was making it for. Yunyan answered, "nobody special."
-- Soto Zen Ancestors in China, Mitchell, 72.

Chongxin of Mount Longtan was making rice cakes for a living. When he met Tianhuang, he bowed and left his household.
Tianhuang said, “Be my attendant. From now on I will teach you the essential dharma gate.”
After one year passed Longtan said, “When I arrived, you said that you would teach me the essential dharma gate. I haven’t received any of your instruction yet.”
Tianhuang said, “I have been teaching you for a long time.”
Longtan said, “What have you been teaching me?”
Tianhuang said, “When you greet me, I join my palms. When I sit, you stand beside
me. When you bring tea, I receive it from you.”
Longtan was silent for a while.
Tianhuang said, “When you see it, you just see it. When you think about it, you miss
it.” Longtan then had great enlightenment. -- Shingi Shobogenzo

There is no getting out of the calamity. But Fubei's tea is probably pretty good stuff.

-- shonin 

Walking Meditation

"A monk, in going forward and back, applies clear comprehension; in looking straight on and looking away, he applies clear comprehension; in bending and in stretching, he applies clear comprehension; in wearing robes and carrying the bowl, he applies clear comprehension; in eating, drinking, chewing and savoring, he applies clear comprehension; in walking, in standing, in sitting, in falling asleep, in waking, in speaking and in keeping silence, he applies clear comprehension." 
-- Satipatthana Sutta

Theravada: cankama

Straight line 15 to 50 or so paces. Hands clasped in front. Turn and walk back. Awareness of feet as they reach the ground.

"The Buddha stressed developing mindfulness in the four main postures of the body: standing, sitting, lying down and walking. If you read about the lives of the monks and nuns at the time of the Buddha, you will see that many obtained the stages of Enlightenment while on the walking meditation path. In the Forest Meditation Tradition in Northeast Thailand, there is a great emphasis on walking meditation. Many monks will walk for long hours as a way of developing concentration sometimes as much as ten or fifteen hours a day.  The Buddha spoke of five benefits of walking meditation. In the order that he listed them in this Sutta, they are as follows: It develops endurance for walking long distances; it is good for striving; it is healthy; it is good for the digestion after a meal, and the concentration won from walking meditation lasts a long time." 

--Ajahn Nyanadhammo

Mahayana in East Asia

Circumambulation, called kora and synonymous with pilgrimage in Tibetan Buddhism, is done clockwise around holy sites, or straight ahead when in transit, as seen throughout Mahayana Buddhism. 

In China and Korea this is generally faster than Japan and gets the blood flowing after a cold sit. Swing the arms. "Fast walking meditation, also known as pao-xiang (跑香) in Chinese, is a practice method unique to the Chinese Chan tradition, which is not taught in other traditions such as Theravada, Tibetan and Japanese Buddhism. In this method, practitioners walk quickly in clockwise direction around a circle, starting with a normal speed, and then gradually speeding up. This approach requires practitioners to remain mindful of nothing but the idea of walking fast. Doing so helps us get rid of wandering thoughts and dispel our bodily and mental attachments. During the walking sessions of a group retreat, both older practitioners and those who have difficulty walking quickly can walk in the inner circle, while others walk in the outer circle." -- Dharma Drum

  

In Korea yeonghyaeng is like in China but typically takes place outside, for example in a courtyard. 

Or, as also in China (shown below), there may be walking in a straight line; for example along the road leading to the temple.

This shades over into pindapata (takuhatsu) and pilgrimages.

In Vietnam, it is kinh hành. As in China and Korea, or, Plum Village style: just walk mindfully, a little more swing than hiking. "Walking meditation unites our body and our mind. We combine our breathing with our steps. When we breathe in, we may take two or three steps. When we breathe out, we may take three, four, or five steps. We pay attention to what is comfortable for our body." 

 

This, when undertaken less formally, can be like what is called forest bathing (Shinrin-yoku), a secular health practice originating in Japan.

Kinhin (Soto)

Dogen, Bendoho: "Do not let the feet get ahead and the body behind. Move body and feet together. Look directly ahead at the ground one fathom ahead. The measure of the pace is equal to the instep of the foot. Be as though standing in one place, as though not moving forward. It is splendid to move slowly, walking in magnificent ease and quiet. Do not make noise with your slippers and rudely distract the assembly. When you are walking, clasp both hands together, putting them inside the sleeves. Do not let the sleeves dangle down to the right and left near your feet."

Menzan adapts it thus for Kinhin in his Kinhinki: 

"Clasp both hands in front of the chest, putting them inside the sleeves, and not letting the sleeves fall down near the feet to the right and left. Look directly one fathom ahead (about six or seven feet). When walking properly, use the breath as measure: a half step is taken in the time of one breath. The measure of the pace is equal to the instep of the foot. Do not let the feet get ahead and the body behind. Move body and feet together. Do not look around right and left or gaze up and down. Do not move your chest and shoulders. Do not make noise by dragging your slippers. Be as though standing in one place, as though not moving forward. It is splendid to move slowly, walking in magnificent ease and quiet."

Shashu (sotozen.net)

"Step out with your right foot. When you do kinhin, start to do it right away. Keep an equal distance between you and the people behind and in front of you. At the end of kinhin the bell is rung once. Stop and bow in shashu. Then walk at a normal pace following the person in front of you. Walk around the hall until you return to your seat." 

I came across some discussion of hand position. Sawaki lineage and some others notably in Rinzai, use isshu, which is similar to the hand position of a gesture of fealty in Imperial China.

"Fold your left thumb into your left palm and curl your fingers over it to make a fist.  Cover your left hand with your right and hold your hands in front of you against the body, with forearms parallel to the floor."

Disability in Kinhin: do what you do as way opens. Some remain seated or lying down, in shashu. Some stand in place in shashu or do bows from the waist. If sitting, can you bend your ankles? Experiment. Everything that happens in Dharma began as experiments. Those who cannot walk have already arrived with the first step. Gratitude crosses all space and time.

   -- shonin 

In dewdrops

I'm a sucker for anything by Bill Porter, who seems to me an especially salty reincarnation of Layman Pang, and am happiest reading him as he visits Chinese poets' graves and offers them Kentucky whiskey.

That he translated the Diamond Sutra at first surprised me, as I'm sure he finds it redundant to the whiskey offerings, but, as a Quaker acquaintance once explained to me, for them Quakerism wasn't everything they looked for in Christianity as they understood it, but it was "the only game in town."

When I was in my teens and twenties, I read everything I could get my hands on about Zen, which means I had stuffed myself full of the kinds of things bookstores and libraries had on the subject in the 1960s and 70s, very little of seemed to come from Soto.

However, at some point I came across Heinrich Dumoulin's history, such as it was, of Zen, and he did devote part of it to Dogen, though I felt he did so under a sense of obligation -- seemed to regard Dogen as a bit of an aberration. 

Dumoulin included one of Dogen's last poems.

It really got my full attention.

Here it is, in Steven Heine's translation:

To what shall
I liken the world?
Moonlight, reflected
In dewdrops,
Shaken from a crane's bill.

This is the Diamond Sutra in full. Its immediacy has no past, no future, no accumulation of karma or merit, also both no thought of accumulation of karma or merit and no thought of no accumulation of karma or merit.

 -- shonin 

Cut Cabbage

 

I’m a poor but happy follower of the Way
whatever happens takes care of my needs
last night the west wind blew down an old tree
at daybreak firewood covered the ground
windblown white silk wreathed the red scarps
dewdrop pearls adorned the green cliffs
my survival has always depended on what’s present
why should I tire myself out making plans

-- Stonehouse, tr. Red Pine 

I'm interested in the traces I feel I can sense of the effect of the word "Way" in various minds. Ask the average Taoist or Zennist about it, and you can hear some overlap in their replies, but it's not a matchup, the way their image of "noodles" or "ocean" might be. This leaves me wondering what idiot came up with the word "Way" in the first place. Trying to confuse us, eh?

The more I muse on all this, the more I feel like candles and chants risk more hindrance than help. When it's time to cut up some cabbage, just pick up the knife and cut cabbage.

-- shonin

One head

 I've brought a head of red cabbage into the tiny hut kitchen to blanch, pickle and water bath can, using the few narrowmouth lids I have on hand (small jars). About half of this will go in the freezer. All will be small batches, to have with rice, spuds or noodles. 

[later] All done; it made about six pints of canned "imitation kimchi" in jars and five pints in bags in the hut freezer. That's enough for about thirty-three meals for me, in combination with other ingredients.

Two heads, they say, are better than one, but thirty-three meals' worth of cabbage is a lot for me in one year. So it's as well that only one of my cabbages made a head! I'm fine with that; the collards did much better and will likely be the main winter veg this year.

We are a two-headed species. One head witnesses a singing bird. The other talks to itself: "Oh, there's a singing bird." This monologue appears to be a step away from the world, or what could be called nature, even though of course the monologue occurs within nature -- it can't be anywhere else! But we fool ourselves.

The epitome of such fooling is when we try, sometimes with horrible success, to fool one another. As a civilization we're approaching fully automated 24/7 fooling, with a corresponding massive leap in gratuitous suffering.

Zen folks have a project to let go of that second head, for as much of the time as is practicable. Releasing the past as regret, releasing the future as expectation, hear the bird, see the garden, inhale, exhale, cut the cabbage.

-- shonin 

The Woman Lets It Be

Hidden Lamp, p.62

 

Master Langye Huijue had a woman disciple who came to him for instruction.  The master told her to examine the saying “Let it be.”  He said that if she faithfully used this sentence as a scythe, she would cut down illusions and reap enlightenment.

 

The woman followed his instructions faithfully.  One day her house burned down and she said, “Let it be.”  ....

One day she started to make fried cakes for dinner as her husband lit the fire.  She prepared the batter and heated the oil, then poured a spoonful of batter into the hot oil.

 

When she heard the sizzling sound, she was immediately enlightened.  She threw the pan to the ground and jumped up and down, clapping her hands and laughing.

 

Her husband shouted at her, “What are you doing?  Have you gone mad?”  She answered, “Let it be.”

 

Then she went to Huijue and he confirmed that she had indeed harvested the holy fruit.

 

Waiting for go

         Jiaoan’s Sand in the Eye

Hidden Lamp p.90

 

Jaioan was the niece of a high official of the Song dynasty.  When she was young, she decided not to marry or bear children and she set her heart on the way of Chan.  She experienced a clear awakening at the words of Master Yuanwu Keqin as he spoke to the assembly.

 

Later Yuanwu said to her, “You should go on to erase your views –then you will finally be free.”

 

She answered in verse:

 

          The pillar pulls out the bone sideways;

          the void shows its claws and fangs;

          even if one profoundly understands,

          there is still sand in the eye.

 

To set one's heart on the way is to sit at the entrance and admire it, or to cling to the gate. Way-entering is devoid of clinging. Yuanwu could see that she could let go, so told her directly to just do so. Life gives us sandstorms. We squint, we hide behind buildings, we make excuses. Forward is just forward. No point waiting for the sandstorm to stop, eh?

Has my head been casting shadows inside as well as out? When I'm told to make an effort, I suddenly picture myself sitting and grunting, as if I might take in an elusive fact.It would be more the other way round if there were any direction for facts to go.

 

-- shonin 

No aversion

 I get questions about hermitary cookery.

There might not be much to tell; I'll try.

There are as many ways to cook and eat as there are people. Some ways are just "I'll eat whatever they parachute into this refugee camp" or "well, I sure hope I get to eat in the rapidly approaching afterlife." In other words, eating, let alone cooking, is a privilege in the world, more so, perhaps, than when foraged food was all there was to be had.

So, I'm conflicted about what may appear to be showing off. On the other hand, mindful eating can be an exercise in responsible behavior. I do think that my solitary routine, now established, is less wasteful, more nutritious, and healthier than before. While that may not do much for the world, it does something. Dogen tells us a little is a lot in Buddhist practice. You never know where a given small yet sincere practice will take you, but usually not to anyplace those around you will regard as a hindrance. Taking proper care of yourself takes care of others in many ways, often unforeseen.

Dogen wrote a small treatise, the title of which can be loosely translated "Instructions for the Monastery Head Cook (Tenzo)," which was/is intended as a guide to ethically feeding, in effect, a commune. 

Also the position tends to be a rotating one. Everyone has already been told to tough it out if you prove to be untalented, and by gosh they had better be thankful for it. So it's great that I, an untalented cook with only one patron, don't at all mind most of my mistakes. If it's truly inedible, just apologize to it with a gassho and add it to the compost.

In my movements and attitude, to the extent possible for me, I follow the "Instructions to the Tenzo. "

Here's the kitchen. The hut is nine feet wide. Most daily use items fit along a six foot section of one wall. Some supplies and less frequently used items are stored under or above the sewing table, alongside the opposite wall. Indoor plants and a basin and ewer share the space, along with baskets of fabric and sundries.

You can see I'm a pack rat, dating back to days of actual rather than currently simulated poverty. Everything here is hand-me-downs. I think that matters in the case of an attached hermitary, because I'm duplicating equipment already available in the kitchen of the household. But that kitchen, in a 1950s starter bungalow, is also tiny and the other family members have their own dietary requirements. We stay out of one another's hair, so to speak.

The hut has one wall outlet with its own circuit breaker, good for up to twenty amps, which enforces attentive power usage. The tiny fridge is on all the time, so the kettle and microwave and rice cooker and space heater can be used in twos but not in threes or fours. This enforces some discipline and thinking ahead, especially in winter.

As homesteaders/nomads, we used to cook on a smallish wood stove, the top of which enforced a similar discipline: a pot of water for washing dishes might take up half the surface and a Dutch oven with beans or bread in it taking up the other half. We inverted their lids and set bowls of whatever on them to simmer. My current efforts reflect the frugality of those years.

Back in the day

I forage very locally, mostly on this one city lot.

We don't use herbicides or pesticides, so I safely wander around the yard, then the garden. What draws my interest? In season, chicory, dandelions, nipplewort, narrow leaf plantain, crimson clover, deadnettle, cat’s ears, blackberry leaves, fir or spruce needles, money plant, parlsey, sage, rosemary, thyme, Bigleaf maple flowers, willow leaves, herb Robert, and crop foliage such as kale, chard, beet greens, squash blossoms and leaves, pea and bean foliage, corn silk, and the like.

Out of season, many of these are not as bitter as some foraging websites will tell you, and if worst comes to worst, for the pot I steam first and reserve the bitter stock to give to my house plants or garden.

Often the yard is so productive I don't even make it into the garden. That's the maritime Pacific Northwest for you.

I bring my treasures into the hut and decide how they will be used. My cookery revolves around making tea (tisane) first. If what I gathered appeals to me as tea only, I put that in the tea strainer, set the strainer in a cup, run the kettle and pour boiling water over the foliage. It won't make much color in the cup unless there is something like beet greens, or I've dried the foliage, or I'm adding green tea or perhaps Darjeeling. That's fine. Minimalists need not be nutrition maximalists, let alone flavor maximalists, except perhaps if they can afford some loose-packed Darjeeling.

This tea is to have when Zooming with the sangha, or a friend, or while reading, or just watching the moon cross the window.

Next, I notice it's meal time. Some things that we all like to eat raw, I have to eat only a little of or not at all, so I do tend to focus on the steamer.

The little Aroma rice steamer, which is the heart of the hermitary kitchen, was handed down because it forgot its time limit for making rice. So I have to keep an eye on it for that cycle. I may use that for rice, or lentils, or root vegs, but I don't need a lot, and I'm not a fan of the coating on the metal liner you're supposed to cook in. My porcelain eating bowl fits inside the liner. So I put an inch of water from the pitcher (rain water, if it's fresh) inside the liner and set the bowl in that. 

I'm also not fond of the plastic steamer basket that came with the appliance, so that added to my interest in learning to cook in various ways in the bowl.

I then cut up any root vegs I'm using, including skins if possible, or pour in the rice or lentils, and add water, salt, spices as needed. Set on Rice or sometimes twice on Steam. Udon I find I can make on Steam (5 minutes), though the consistency might not be to everyone's taste. Summer vegs such as zucchini should wait out the first five minutes and then be thrown in, chopped. Density is my guide here.

Meanwhile, if I'm adding greens, I have options. I might use what's in the strainer, if it's not anything I really shouldn't try to eat (for example, willow bark). Or I may choose to roll up some dandelion and chicory leaves with onion greens in a leaf of collard or kale and chop small, then check to see if the carbs are done, then turn off the rice steamer, pop in the greens (and maybe small tomatoes and such), and close the lid for some residual-heat cooking.

The bowl will be a little hot to fish out of the liner with my fingers, as there's little room along the sides, so I grab the bowl with a handy pair of side-cutting pliers and set it on a coaster. Here I may add more seasoning or soy sauce as desired. I pour some water in a cup and keep it handy, or if the broth is palatable, I'll use that, and sit down and eat.

This can be a wet way to eat, so I often pour off the liquids to drink. This is a matter of taste; in Japan folks eat the solids, then drink liquids from the bowl as a chaser. Great! I have to spend a lot of time in my zero gravity chair and pretty much only eat there, so draining the bowl first saves me trouble with wet chin and fabric.

I mostly rotate four "recipes" based on rice, then potatoes, then lentils, then noodles, through the two daily meals and there is my week. For snacks there might be a deadfall apple or whatever comes my way.

I used to do a lot more drying of fruits and foliage than needed for the winters and now mostly just set aside some of my foraging to dry on a hardware-cloth shelf in the "greenhouse," or chop it all up to stuff into an ice cube tray, maybe with a bit of olive oil, for itinerant use.

Aside from this routine, I grind mixed grains in the Corona once a year and jar it up for the occasional breakfast with apple butter, and if I have extra fruit or root vegs on hand I may get out the small graniteware water bath canner and make preserves or pickled vegs to use over the winter, in very small jars.

 
The herb Robert and willow are part of my efforts to treat leukemia. 

I wouldn't ask anyone to try to duplicate my diet, but I do encourage experimentation for those interested in simplifying. This kind of food prep and eating is adaptable to many situations, especially for anyone living alone in a small space. Also it is a very portable way to eat, though maybe not as Spartan as this: Cooking Without a Kitchen: The Coffeemaker Cookbook

By not unnecessarily frequenting restaurants and supermarkets, it is possible to simplify quite a lot. Some foods are becoming scarce and I like to think I am leaving it on the shelves for someone else. 

I think the complexity of our civilization has a lot of inflicted suffering to live down. Courtesy shows there is a commons of the heart.  🙏

-- shonin 

If you only have wild grasses with which to make a broth, do not disdain them ... Where there is no attachment, there can be no aversion. -- Dogen

Another meditation on Hongzhi's Acupuncture Needle of Zazen

Hongzhi likes untouched function.
Action said to be action of Buddhas
past and present is to see all

in the ten directions without
reaching for the pry bar.
Without reaching for the pry bar,

just appreciate. See, appreciate,
settle in, sip tea. Fearlessly sipping tea
is a tiger's roar. The squirrel

out there watches a jay bury acorns.
He relentlessly digs and eats them.
The jay returns with more acorns.

The squirrel returns and digs.
I set down my cup, chuckling.

-- shonin 

Reality gives me cold toes

 

Chiyono’s No Water, No Moon. Hidden Lamp, p. 37. Chiyono was a servant in a Zen convent who wanted to practice zazen. One day she approached an elderly nun and asked, “I’m of humble birth. I can’t read or write and must work all the time. Is there any possibility that I could attain the way of Buddha even though I have no skills?”

The nun answered her, “This is wonderful, my dear. In Buddhism there are no distinctions between people. There is only this – each person must hold fast to the desire to awaken and cultivate a heart of great compassion. People are complete as they are. If you don’t fall into delusive thoughts, there is no Buddha and no sentient being; there is only one complete nature. If you want to know your true nature you need to turn toward the source of your delusive thoughts. This is called zazen.”

Chiyono said, with happiness, “With this practice as my companion I have only to go about my daily life, practicing day and night.”

There are varied stories of Chiyono's life. Richard Bryan McDaniel, in Zen Masters of Japan, says: "One of Bukko’s students was the first Japanese woman to receive a certificate of inka. Her Buddhist name was Mugai Nyodai, but she is remembered by her personal name, Chiyono. She was a member of the Hojo family by marriage and a well-educated woman who long had an interest in the Dharma. After her husband died and her family responsibilities had been fulfilled, she went to study with the Chinese master."

He goes on to recount a longer version of the story told in Hidden Lamp, after warning us it is apocryphal, as Chiyono was of the lower samurai class, rather than of the Hisabetsu-buraku (discriminated hamlet class) as implied in both the story and in Hakuin's illustration above. 

Was she perhaps in a servant-like role as many new students are, in a training-monastery setting? Whether as a servant or a somewhat respectable widow, there is the implication that Chiyono must seek enlightenment with the handicap of actual or temporary (for training purposes) low status to be overcome.

There is also a story that when Chiyono was ready to begin her koan study with the master, her presence in the zendo was at first objected to by the monks, on the grounds that her beauty would distract them. And that to overcome this she burned her face with a hot iron rod. Some have noted an apparent sag in her face as depicted in her lifelike portrait sculpture as evidence of the truth of this story.

These two stories are related. But to continue.

Zen is grounded in work, both on and off the cushion. Work off the cushion is called samu. Monks and nuns are famous for their samu: sweeping, chopping wood and carrying water. Chiyono is known to have carried water.

After months of wholehearted practice, she went out on a full moon night to draw some water from the well. The bottom of her old bucket, held together by bamboo strips, suddenly gave way, and the reflection of the moon vanished with the water. When she saw this she attained great realization.

She wrote a realization poem.

With this and that I tried to keep the bucket together,
And then the bottom fell out.
Where water does not collect,
The moon does not dwell.

I have been asked three questions in the presence of this koan.

1. What are you trying to keep together at this time of your life?
2. Where does the moon go when its reflection disappears?
3. Where do we go when we let go completely?

1. What I am trying to keep together at this time of my life is my body, with its diminishing capacity for activity/work, awareness, compassion, and kindness, largely because I feel I still have some responsibilities to family and community, including the sangha. My life has been greatly simplified due to bodily conditions: I don't drive or shop or handle finances, and am praised for shuffling around the block with my two sticks. "Got your phone? Okay, have fun."

I still have grief and regret. There's not much to do about that but carry a few tiny blossoms to a cairn nearby. Some self-indulgence in this, I think, may be excused.

It's easy to vanish into an easy chair. Letting go, now, would be as simple as the decision not to try to stand up. But also I'm still capable of spouting verbal abuse, which originates right here in the body, a part of nature. Channeling my speech (and facial cues) away from such may be my final exercise in letting go.

2. I reflect on the moon's beauty in its path across the sky, and then I don't. The moment a thought is over, it's nowhere, especially as near-term memory paths erode in one's cortex.  In resting from even reflection we come to ground truth -- not by seeking to rest, but by the simple expedient of absent-mindedness. This could be called the practice of not practicing, for which, for our purposes, we may use the model of a pet rock.

3. We don't go anywhere at all.

The bucket's bamboo strap unwinds and its moldy bottom falls out. Icy well water sluices down mossy stone steps. My feet are wet. Reality gives me cold toes.

-- shonin