Nomon Tim continues exploring Dogen's journals from when he was a young student, learning from Master Ruijing.
Stream audio:
Stream video:
Tim's talk notes:
In this week’s newsletter I want to do something different.
Normally, I break down a scientific idea and connect it to homelessness or de-escalation.
But today, I just feel anxious.
I feel anxious about the upcoming election….
I feel anxious because I don’t know how AI is going to change the world, especially for my kids…
And, honestly, I’m anxious about how a customer treated a stockboy at the grocery store last night…
When I feel like this I turn to a collection of quotes, poems and images I have hand selected for such moments.
They are my “kindling,” small sticks and dried leaves that I toss on the fire to hold back the bitter cold.
I have finally accepted that hope is the fire that warms the soul on the dark nights.
When I was a younger man, I thought that I needed to keep the fire blazing at all times—a bonfire of ambition for a better world.
Decades of fighting the forces of cruelty and indifference, though, have taught me something. It isn’t possible—or sustainable—to always burn brightly.
And it isn’t necessary.
The important part is that the fire not go out.
Working in a homeless shelter I witnessed how hard it is to restart a fire in a cold hearth. (Not impossible, but really hard).
But as long as there is a flicker—or even warm coals—there is potential… there is life.
So, perhaps you too need to tend your fire—to add a twig or a handful of leaves.
If so, I offer the poem that I huddled around this morning as I waited for dawn to break…
Peace,
Ryan
A few days ago I was reminded that the stuff of words - a poem, an inspiring dharma talk, journal writing - doesn't always act as that kindling for me. An experience can be more helpful - helping me get out of the realm of words.
Early morning jog, the surprising darkness once I got into Cornwall Park, thescreech of Great Horned Owls, the calling of migrating snow geese above the clouds as I made my way back into the streetlights and the beginnings of dawn. So transformational.
So we continue with an exploration of Dōgen's writing called Hōkyō-ki. It's written as Zen Master Dōgen's journal from when he was a young man studying in China with his teacher Rujing but scholars aren't sure when he wrote it - it's possible it's something he created late in his life to kind of explain more about his understanding, or maybe it was based on notes he took in China, we can't know. Like all religious literature the text tells a story with it's teachings and it's wise to lighten up about literal truth or we throw all kinds of things out with the bathwater.
The first section was a beautiful exchange between Dōgen and his new teacher Rujing where he's asked to get to see him privately - at any time, day or night! - and Rujing accepted with this lovely statement: "Yes, you can come informally to ask questions any time, day or night, from now on. Do not worry about formality; we can be like father and son."
And the second section was a kind of deep dharma inquiry into Dōgen's main question about practice and enlightenment and how to understand the emphasis in Zen teachings around going beyond "words and letters" - meaning that nothing can be put into words so forget about our thinking/reading/inquiring minds and just sit, stand, sweep, follow the many monastic rules in an intensive lifestyle with little sleep and much work and meditation - and it will just happen.
Rujing pretty much tells him it's a "both-and" - that experience does matter but the teachings matter too and that people who say it's just experience are missing the boat because they are writing off how we learn and grow. He does this with the kind of odd metaphor of saying that such people are denying birth and death. Meaning the don't see how if you learn something new in one moment in the next moment some karmic fruit will emerge.
He said that it's a mistake to deny there are future results from practice even while practice is only ever happening now in the present moment. The finger pointing to the moon in another form. And from all of this we can see the seeds of Dōgen's later teaching that practice and enlightenment are one and Suzuki Roshi's urging us to have no gaining idea and at the same practice changes us. Perhaps slowly, he said, like walking through the fog - you gradually realize your robes are being soaked through.
And just to keep us on our toes Rujing ends his answer this way:
Rujing said, "Those who say that sentient beings are already buddhas are really professing a belief in spontaneous enlightenment. This view is not at all in accord with the way. To equate ‘I’ with buddha is to mistake unattainment for attainment and unenlightenment for enlightenment."
We do need to practice. How we think about this can vary: practice to remember or realize our Buddha nature? Practice to see that we were never broken in the first place. Practice to see the emptiness of the idea that we're not Buddhas. But to just say "we're already Buddhas" is avoidance and dualism. It gets a little tricky, this stuff. There's a reason Dōgen spent the rest of his life teaching and writing and exploring this topic of practice and enlightenement.
The next question Dōgen asks his teacher, as recorded in the journal, is very practical:
I asked, "When we students practice the way, how should we cultivate the mind in the midst of ordinary activity, while walking, sitting, standing, and lying down?"
Great! A practical question: how do we bring our practice into everything we do?
Rujing said, "When Bodhidharma came from India, the body and mind of buddha‑dharma truly entered China. Here are some things to pay attention to when you first undertake dharma study: don't spend a long time sick in bed; don't travel far away; don't read or chant too much; don't argue too much; don't overwork…
And then he goes on with a long list of things to avoid. Lots of dietary things. Stuff about clothes and who you spend time with. A few feel very wise and important. A few seem a little silly. A few seem really unnecessary to me. And a few are actually a little weird and a bit bigoted. And not surprisingly a few sexists ones. He was a person of his time and all of that. Do we try to take such lists literally? If we're picking and choosing are we just clinging to the stuff we like - like he says no music or dancing and I'm not going there. Or are we adapting. No simple answer here.
Here's a selection from list - they are mostly prohibitions - mostly I slimmed down some very specific dietary ones like how many li-chi nuts to eat.
don't eat leeks and onions; don't eat meat; don't drink too much milk or honey; don't drink alcohol; don't listen to singing or music; don't look at mutilated bodies; don't look at pornography or talk about sex; don't wear filthy clothes; don't visit slaughterhouses; don't drink aged tea or take medicines for mental disease like those they sell at Mt. Tiantai; don't pay any attention to matters of fame and fortune; ; don't be associated with eunuchs or hermaphrodites; don't have too much sugar or candy; don't wear quilted clothes but wear only plain cotton clothes; don't pay attention to shouting and loud noises, or watch herds of pigs and sheep; don't stare at big fish, the ocean, bad pictures, hunchbacks, or puppets; instead look at mountains and streams.
Or maybe we can land this as: live a life of restraint.
Pay attention to your distractions and see about letting them go. What you choose to bring into your body or into your mind really matters. It really does.
And then some nice overall advice from Master Rujing:
"Illuminate the mind with ancient teachings and read sutras that contain complete meanings. Monks who practice zazen should always have clean feet. When the body and mind are confused, chant the beginning of the text called 'the bodhisattva precepts'."
And then after all of that Rujing adds one last point.
Rujing said, "Don't associate with small‑minded people."
I asked, "Who are small‑minded people?"
Rujing said, "Those who are full of greed."
So pay attention to the company you keep!
Back to this big picture question of what we really are - are we the confused neurotic people we often think we are? And what are Buddhas? Is that what might happen in a zillion years of practice after we're purified and transformed by our careful practice and study?
That always makes me think of this wonderful poem from Katagiri Roshi. Apologies if you've heard this a bunch of times before but it does bear repeating. I believe it's a piece Katagiri wrote to encourage himself.
I came to this honestly at least: Norman used to quote and share this a lot too. Listen to how he navigates "I" and "Buddha" here:
Being told that it is impossible
One believes, in despair, "Is that so?"
Being told that it is possible,
One believes, in excitement, "That's right."
But, whichever is chosen,
It does not fit one's heart neatly.
Being asked, "What is unfitting?"
I don't know what it is.
But my heart knows somehow.
I feel irresistible desire to know.
What a mystery a "human" is!
As to this mystery:
Clarifying,
Knowing how to live,
Knowing how to walk with people,
Demonstrating and teaching,
This is the Buddha.
From my human eyes,
I feel it's really impossible to become Buddha.
But this "I", regarding what the Buddha does,
Vows to practice,
To aspire,
To be resolute,
And tells myself, "Yes, I will."
Just practice right here now,
And achieve continuity,
Endlessly,
Forever.
This is living in vow.
Herein is one's peaceful life found.
SOURCE: MZMC News, Spring 1991, Vol 16 no.1, pp.3
NOTES: A poem by Dainin KATAGIRI Roshi published posthumously, on the first anniversary of his death, by the Minnesota Zen Meditation Center News.
Sometimes Rujing's advice to Dōgen was quite practical, like the long list of choices to avoid. Here's another one:
Rujing said, "Don't keep tigers, elephants, pigs, dogs, cats, or badgers. Nowadays elders in many monasteries keep cats; this is really unacceptable; only stupid people do this. The sixteen nasty habits are prohibited by buddha ancestors. Do not get accustomed to them,"
So no temple cat at Sansui-ji I guess. I tried to look up what the sixteen nasty habits are and couldn't find anything. The focus on cats might be a connection to the well known koan of Nanchuan threatening to kill a cat when the monks of the east and west halls were arguing.
Sometimes lovely practice advice. One time Rujing taught Dōgen about kinhin:
Rujing said, "One of the most essential practices for the training in the monks' hall is the practice of slow walking. There are many elders here and there nowadays who do not know about this practice. In fact, only a few people know how to do it. To do the slow walking practice you coordinate the steps with the breathing. You walk without looking at the feet, without bending over or looking up. You go so slowly it looks like you're not moving at all. Do not sway when you walk."
Then he walked back and forth several times in the Great Light Storehouse Hall to show me how to do it and said to me, "Nowadays I am the only one who knows this slow walking practice. If you ask elders in different monasteries about it, I'm sure you'll find they don't know it."
And plenty of emphasis on the non-dual teachings.
I asked "The nature of all things is either good, bad, or neutral. Which of these is the buddha‑dharma?"
Rujing said, "The buddha‑dharma goes beyond these three."
This is a lifetime's study right here. We have this powerful reflex to divide our universe up into pleasant and unpleasant; good and bad; like it and don't like it; mmm-mmm and uhh-uhh. Sometimes there are moments of experience that are more neutral but we hardly notice those usually.
And does our life become a never ending quest for more pleasant and less unpleasant? It's not that we can't make some improvements but we'll never escape from the unpleasant really we? And even if we did the teachings and also some psychological research suggest that actually that isn't a fulfilling life either. We need some stress and suffering it seems.
So Dōgen asks about this: if regular moments get sorted this way as good, bad or neutral then what's the true nature of the buddha-dharma?
You'd think the answer would be good right. The teachings are good all the way through. But he doesn't say good. He says the teaching are about seeing through this conditioned habit of sorting everything. They are beyond that. They help us touch the ultimate. And see that categories like good, bad, and neutral are empty.
A really interesting part of Dōgen's question is the says "is" about the nature of all things. He doesn't say "we tend to experience all things as good, bad, or neutral" we says "The nature of all things is good, bad, or neutral."
And sometimes it seems that way. Certain things seem to be usually good and we then start to assume they are always good. Other things same thing with bad. But are those experiences really inherently good or bad or is more to do with how we relate to our moments. How we relate to ourselves. How we relate to each other.
So sometimes we need kindling to bring back some light in into our lives. I think Ryan Dowd give a wise suggestion there but the teachings also point to a deeper approach: let go of seeking light and avoiding darkness. Embrace the dark too.
Listen for the life that's even there. And the bodhisattva teachings go a giant step further: learn to move freely though darkness and light so that you can really be there for all beings. Don't discriminate.
But the challenge is we don't notice how we're discriminating and relating and dividing things. We just think this is like that, and that is like this. I am this kind of person and you are that kind of person. We make the mistake of inherency. And this little teaching from Rujing is about the emptiness of all of these categories. The Buddha-Dharma, the true nature of all things, is beyond good, bad, and neutral.
So that's a bit more of Dōgen's Hokyoki.
Discussion:
how do you practice when you're in the dark? how do you meet those challenging moments? how do you understand the darkness in your life?