by Domyo Burk | Jun 11, 2014 | Personal Musings
When the shit first really hits the fan, denial is a natural human response. It’s not that people don’t care, it’s that they care so much. The possibility that there’s nothing they can do to help the situation is too terrible to face. This is at least partly why so little has changed since the incomprehensible slaughter of 20 children at Sandy Hook Elementary School in 2012, even though random violence continues and is probably even increasing.
Widespread random violence should be considered a conclusive sign that a society is suffering from a fatal illness. A society is coming apart at the seams when it contains a growing number of people who are so disconnected, lonely, and desperate they find gratification in seeking out and destroying completely innocent beings. Think about this. Sure, guns make the violence worse and need to be regulated. But for a moment, contemplate the internal hell that makes someone believe their best hope of relief is to see the life of child snuffed out in front of them – for no other reason than to see that life end. This isn’t about incidental killing during war, or being overcome with anger or aggression, or taking lives to make a political point. This is about a carefully contemplated hatred of life.
It’s a tragic mistake to vilify the individuals who commit random violence. Sure, every individual must be held accountable for their actions or placed where they can’t do further harm. But those who have acted out their hatred of life by killing are only the weakest among us and therefore the first to manifest the symptoms of our societal illness. When we simply label the perpetrators of random violence as “mentally ill,” we think we’ve solved the problem by placing it outside of ourselves, outside of our society. Instead, we create prejudice against a diverse group of people who suffer from mental illness, almost all of whom find random violence as unfathomable as everyone else does. We also create more alienation, hatred, and fear just when we need to be asking ourselves what is causing the most emotionally fragile and volatile among us to snap, and what we can do to help them.
What is our societal illness? We are so used to it we can hardly see it, so I’ll project our situation out a few decades.
Imagine this as an entry in history text:
The Industrial Growth Society
In the Industrial Growth Society, the comfort, pleasure, and freedom of individuals was prioritized over the health and long-term existence of the social and ecological systems on which all of life depended. Greater and greater material and technological productivity and ingenuity was encouraged by requiring individuals to compete with one another. People and nations who were successful in this competition ended up with more and more of the resources, and social systems were allowed to disintegrate because they ran counter to the self-interest of individuals. This resulted in a growing number of desperate people in extreme material or social poverty, some of whom committed extreme acts of random violence that demoralized whole nations. Inevitably, the industrial growth society self-destructed.
There are no simple answers because the answer is everything has to change. The whole way our society functions has to change. That said, we have to start somewhere, so lets get to work and help the following scenario come about:
The Life-Sustaining Society
The Industrial Growth Society was survived by the Life-Sustaining Society. It took a few decades to mature into full function, but its development was inevitable when people remembered that they could not function independently of one another, or of the systems in which they participated. People realized that the comfort, pleasure, and freedom of individuals had to be balanced with care for one another and for all living systems. They realized that the need for such care wasn’t an idealistic dream or an outdated spiritual idea, it was a real and practical necessity. Fortunately, much of the energy that individuals had previously spent competing with one another for resources was channeled into ingenious ways to restructure the society into a life-sustaining one.
by Domyo Burk | Jun 6, 2014 | Understanding: Fundamental Teachings to Investigate
Excerpted with permission from Idiot's Guides: Zen Living by Domyo Burk
No matter how many things you recognize are not part of your self-essence, you can still persist in believ-ing you have one. After all, it just feels like you do. Even if you manage to let the mind settle in zazen, and refrain from identifying any of your thoughts and feelings as self, there’s you sitting zazen!
Many Zen teachings and methods are aimed at getting you to drop this self illusion. One of my favorites is to imagine that you are long dead, but somehow, strangely, still aware. If you like, you can imagine your bleached-out skull sitting in a deserted, sunny meadow (go ahead and make it sunny, this isn’t supposed to be depressing). You have been dead for 100 years, so all the people who would personally remember you are also gone. Anything you worked for or possessed in life has disappeared or belongs to someone else. Many of the things you cared deeply about look very different, because things have changed so much. Your inventions or passions or causes may be obsolete. Given all of this, who are you? You can still imagine inherently ex-isting, but in what way? Then you think of being dead 300 years, or 500. This is a good exercise for focus-ing in on your belief in self-essence.
If you keep studying your self illusion, in the course of meditation you can notice something radical: when you are thinking, you have a conviction of self-essence. When you aren’t thinking, or at least not doing so consciously, the sense of self isn’t there. Of course, it’s extremely difficult to make this observation, be-cause the second you make it you are thinking. After a while, however, you are able to notice the moment of self-concept arising. Noticing it arise, you know there was a period of time when it wasn’t there.
This absolutely convincing sense of inherent, enduring existence—on which you have based everything—comes and goes! You’ve already stripped away all the things the self identifies with, and now you’ve called into question the only piece of evidence you have left: you feel like you inherently exist. If you don’t have that feeling for a period of time, either your feeling-sense is fallible, or … maybe … you don’t exist the way you think you do.
“If you realize that your activities are not based on thought alone, you let go of thought. Strangely enough, whether you think about it or not, the heavy meal in your stomach gets digested completely. When sleeping, we continue breathing the neces-sary number of breaths per minute and the ‘I’ continues to live. What on earth is this ‘I’? I can’t help but feel that this ‘I’ is the self that is connected with the universe.” — Kosho Uchiyama Roshi (1912–1998), from The Zen Teaching of Homeless Kodo
by Domyo Burk | May 30, 2014 | Understanding: Fundamental Teachings to Investigate
Excerpted with permission from Idiot's Guides: Zen Living by Domyo Burk
One Big Reality
One of the first things you realize once you get a good look at reality is that a lot of the things you previously thought were real were simply your concepts about the world. It’s kind of like you’ve been wearing a pair of glasses all your life that gave everything a certain hue and were covered with little stars. Naturally, you thought the world was that color, and you probably built your worldview around the constant presence of stars. And now they’re gone!
When you view reality without the filters of your preferences, expectations, and concepts, you notice that it’s your mind that creates the differentiation between things. All along you’ve believed that your mind was doing you a big favor by pointing out distinctions that actually existed, but now you see how conceptual distinctions are just an overlay on reality. Things are complete just as they are, without reference to one another. By its very nature this observation is difficult to explain using words and concepts, but suffice it to say things are not actually separate from each other. You create the separation in your own mind.
Now, obviously the world is populated with things that don’t overlap in space and time: people and objects, places and actions. Zen is not denying any of that, which would be silly. The point is that those objects don’t require any conceptual differentiation to keep them apart. The world does not depend on your mind! This may sound ridiculously obvious, but at some level you think it does.
There’s no reason for there to be a you separate from me unless we need to engage in a practical interaction where such a distinction is useful, such as when we conduct a business transaction (it matters that you are the one paying me). When we pass each other on the street and exchange a smile, there is no need for you versus me. We are simply part of one big reality that manifests in many ways.
Because we are all part of one big reality, you can also say that all beings and things are interdependent. Whatever you do affects my reality, and vice versa. My unique position in the universe is in part characterized by your presence, and because we share a big reality anything each of us does affects the other. This accounts for the fact that at a certain level, your suffering is my suffering, as discussed in the chapter on the precepts.
However, in Zen, interdependence is not a philosophical theory to account for how morality functions, it’s a direct experience you can have. Although when you have it, it’s likely to feel surprisingly familiar. After all, you are part of the big reality whether you feel like it or not.
Bright and Precious
Viewed without the filters of conceptualization, the one big reality you’re part of appears bright, luminous, and precious. There’s no accounting for why this is, it’s just been proven again and again through the personal experiences of people from all kinds of spiritual traditions (as well as people without an identified spiritual practice). The filters with which you habitually view the world darken and limit it, while reality itself, even the ugly parts, is starkly beautiful in a strange, surprising way.
Sometimes you’ll hear this Zen teaching phrased as “things are perfect just as they are,” but to me perfection invites too much comparison, and anything you compare will fall short. I prefer the word “precious” because whether something is seen as precious is entirely up to the beholder, and you can hold something as precious that appears ugly, useless, or meaningless to someone else. Preciousness is about the viewer, not the inherent characteristics of that which is viewed.
I know a man who managed to drop his conceptual filters completely for the first time while looking at a can of tomatoes. Tears ran down his face as he suddenly appreciated how amazing and beautiful this tomato can was. Now, by regular standards there is nothing remarkable about a container of vegetables, but if you let go of any comparisons, any expectations whatsoever, the situation is very different. The entire universe in all its wonder and benevolence manifests right there in whatever is in front of you.
This may sound far-out, but imagine you live on another planet where life is very different from Earth, and a can of tomatoes falls from the sky. Without any earthly context or comparisons, it’s likely to be an object of wonder to you. What are these markings on the outside of the can? Why are there ridges along its sides? How do you open it? Who thought to put mushy red things inside a metal shell?
Eventually this ability to see things in such a direct, fresh way occurs not just in momentary peak experiences, but every day. The shape of a glass, the color of leaves on a tree, the sound of your child’s voice—any of these can suddenly appear to you without a filter, complete and luminous phenomena in and of themselves. From time to time they probably do, you just may not appreciate why.
by Domyo Burk | Sep 5, 2013 | How to Develop Your Zen Practice
A commentary on Zen Master Lin-chi’s teaching.
Quotations are from Chapter 11 of The Zen Teachings of Master Lin-chi, translated by Burton Watson (New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 1993)
The Master instructed the group, saying: Those who study the Dharma of the buddhas these days should approach it with a true and proper understanding. If you approach it with a true and proper understanding, you won’t be affected by considerations of birth or death, you’ll be free to go or stay as you please. You don’t have to strive for benefits, benefits will come of themselves.
If you approach the study of the Truth with true and proper understanding, you will already be enlightened. Isn’t this a paradox? How do we get to that true and proper understanding in the first place? Trial and error? Striving and striving until we finally find ourselves unaffected by considerations of birth or death – free to go or stay as we please?
Let’s assume that being unaffected by considerations of birth or death, or free to go or stay as we please, are some of the benefits Lin-chi speaks of. He says don’t we have to strive for them, and therefore we do not even have to strive for true and proper understanding. He cannot be saying no effort is required, or that there is no truth, no Dharma, and no benefits. He paints us into a corner and doesn’t let us go about things our usual way, and he doesn’t let us rest. What can we do? This isn’t about giving us answers, but about awakening in us the vital question of how to engage our lives. Naturally this will not be simple.
Followers of the Way, the outstanding teachers from times past have all had ways of drawing people out. What I myself want to impress on you is that you mustn’t be led astray by others. If you want to use this thing, then use it and have no doubts or hesitations!
We are in need of being drawn out… but we mustn’t be led astray by others. Lin-chi is not talking about choosing the right teacher, or being skeptical about teachings. These things need to happen, but they are not the most important thing. Once we have been drawn out of our waking dream, whether it is by a teacher, a disaster, or a falling leaf, the rest is up to us. Anyone who encourages you to look for ultimate satisfaction outside of your own body-mind is leading you astray. So, in a sense, anyone leading you is leading you astray. You find your own way through your inner landscape, a path no one can find for you or walk with you.
Given that we’re on our own with this, how can we have no doubts or hesitations? It may help to consider what it is Lin-chi is referring to when he says “use this thing.” This translator Schloegel suggests it is “genuine insight.” Shimano Roshi translated this as, “If you want to act, just act.” Perhaps in the Chinese it is not so clear what “it” is, and this is not surprising. Something needs to be used without doubt or hesitation – what is it? We are left with another open question. What is ours to work with? Whatever it is, no doubts or hesitation means taking the risk of being wrong or making mistakes. No one cherishes the experience of disappointment, frustration, or looking stupid. But are we going to let these petty concerns keep us from exploring what we need to explore?
When students today fail to make progress, where’s the fault? The fault lies in the fact that they don’t have faith in themselves! If you don’t have faith in yourself, then you’ll be forever in a hurry trying to keep up with everything around you, you’ll be twisted and turned by whatever environment you’re in and you can never move freely. But if you can just stop this mind that goes rushing around moment by moment looking for something, then you’ll be no different from the [ancestors] and buddhas. Do you want to get to know the [ancestors] and buddhas? They’re none other than you, the people standing in front of me listening to this lecture on the Dharma!
Students don’t have enough faith in themselves, and so they rush around looking for something outside themselves. But even if they get something, all it will be is words and phrases, pretty appearances. They’ll never get at the living thought of the [ancestors]!
The self we need to have faith in has nothing to do with our skill or knowledge. If we rely on any of the details of who we are, we will fall short at some time and our faith in ourselves will be compromised. Or we will conclude we do not have enough skill or knowledge to take the ultimate leap. Then we’ll keep looking around for the things that will complete us, so we can be up to the task of claiming our birthright. As Lin-chi says, we’ll be “twisted and turned by whatever environment” we’re in. We’ll go rushing around moment by moment looking for something.
The mind that has passed its koan, the mind that has claimed its birthright, the mind of enlightenment, goes nowhere when queried or tested. When it is asked, “Where is your true nature?” it does not waver for a moment. It does not think about teachings. It does not think about past insights. It does not think about theories or philosophy. It does not mine science or nature for analogies. It has utterly given up looking anywhere other than here. Actually, it does not even look here. It is just open and alive.
This being who does not look elsewhere is the same being as has manifested as each ancestor and each buddha. It is only our own doubt that keeps us dancing about, seeking for assurances outside of our own direct experience. Lin-chi may sound harsh when he warns that students who rush around looking outside of themselves will “never get at the living thought of the [ancestors]!” This may sound like a judgment passed on all of us who are guilty of rushing around looking outside of ourselves, but Lin-chi is just saying that we won’t find what we’re looking for that way.
Make no mistake, you followers of Chan. If you don’t find it in this life, then for a thousand kalpas you’ll be born again and again in the three-fold world, you’ll be lured off by what you think are favorable environments and be born in the belly of a donkey or a cow!
Is this a Buddhist version of fire and brimstone? You might say so, in that it is supposed to be motivating. But we do not get condemned to the fire by someone or something outside of ourselves, we simply experience the results of our own choices. We keep getting lured off by what we think are favorable environments – situations that we think we make us happy and secure. We settle down into our nests and fall asleep again. But life keeps moving on… if we are born in the belly of a donkey or cow because of our negligence, we will end up being incapable of practice. Basically: you can practice now, but you may not be able to practice in the future.
Followers of the Way, as I look at it, we’re no different from Shakyamuni. In all our various activities each day, is there anything we lack? The wonderful light of the six faculties has never for a moment ceased to shine. If you could just look at it this way, then you’d be the kind of person who has nothing to do for the rest of his life.
What does it mean to “be the kind of person who has nothing to do for the rest of her life?” If we try to think about it rationally or philosophically it may not make much sense, but in our gut we know what this means. To have nothing we have to do for the rest of our lives – to be free to do, or not do, and just to be. To be sufficient, without anything we have to achieve or prove in order to earn our place in this world. A person who has nothing to do for the rest of his life may be very busy, or he may live very simply, but in neither case is he compelled.
Fellow believers, ‘There is no safety in the threefold world; it is like a burning house.’ This is no place for you to linger long! The deadly demon of impermanence will be on you in an instant, regardless of whether you’re rich or poor, old or young.
In the Lotus Sutra, the world is compared to a burning house, and we are compared to children playing in the house, so wrapped up in their toys and play that they are oblivious to the flames. This may seem like a grim, pessimistic view of the world, but it points to the delusion all human beings share – that somehow our life will just keep going on. Things are not going to crumble down around us. Maybe they’ll change a little, we figure, but we cannot get our minds around the reality that we will lose absolutely everything. Outside the burning house is a whole world, and the opportunity to practice, so we are not doomed. But we have to be careful not to get so wrapped up in our toys that we forget what is really happening.
If you want to be no different from the patriarchs and buddhas, then never look for something outside yourselves. The clean pure light in a moment of your mind – that is the Essence-body of the Buddha lodged in you. The undifferentiated light in a moment of your mind – that is the Bliss-body of the Buddha lodged in you. The undiscriminating light in a moment of your mind – that is the Transformation-body of the Buddha lodged in you. These three types of bodies are you, the person who stands before me now listening to this lecture on the Dharma! And simply because you do not rush around seeking anything outside yourselves, you can command these fine faculties.
The Buddhist teaching on the three bodies of buddha is generally considered very profound and advanced. It is an attempt to describe different aspects or layers of reality – how the absolute becomes manifest in form. It is too complex to describe here. Suffice to say that such a teaching can pull you very far aware from yourself, while Lin-chi says the three types of bodies are you, right now. Teachings provoke us out of our complacency – they are ways to draw us out, as Lin-chi mentioned at the beginning. But then they can lead us astray if we start to look for their meaning outside, or even inside. Their meaning is found in your listening to the Dharma right now – they are nothing abstract, they cannot be grasped or located. They can only be manifested in this moment, a constantly moving target.
…But never at any time let go of this even for a moment. Everything that meets your eyes is this. But ‘when feelings arise, wisdom is blocked; when thoughts waver, reality departs,’ therefore you keep being reborn again and again in the threefold world and undergoing all kinds of misery. But as I see it, there are none of you incapable of profound understanding, none of you are incapable of emancipation.
Lin-chi actually said this to his assembled students, who were sitting and listening to the Dharma just as we are today. Just like his students, our thoughts waver. This is not a reason to feel inadequate, it is a reason to arouse the courage to stop looking anywhere else.
…The way I see it, we should cut off the heads of the Bliss-body and Transformation-body buddhas. Those who have fulfilled the ten stages of bodhisattva practice are no better than hired field hands; those who have attained the enlightenment of the fifty-first and fifty-second stages are prisoners shackled and bound; arhats and pratyekabuddhas are so much filth in the latrine, bodhi and nirvana are hitching posts for donkeys. Why do I speak of them like this? Because you followers of the Way fail to realize that this journey to enlightenment that takes three asamkhya kalpas to accomplish is meaningless. So these things become obstacles in your way. If you were truly proper [persons] of the Way, you would never let that happen.
Zen sacrilege! Committed out of compassion for us. Anything that causes us to look outside of ourselves gets in the way. And yet, what if there were no teachings at all? We would still be asleep. So we use teachings and practices like medicine, applying them as necessary, and giving them up when they become poisonous to us.
…Fellow believers, time is precious! You rush off frantically on side roads, studying Chan, studying the Way, clinging to words, clinging to phrases, seeking Buddha, seeking the patriarchs, seeking a good friend, scheming, planning. But make no mistake. Followers of the Way, you have one set of parents – what more are you looking for?’ You should stop and take a good look at yourselves. A man of old tells us that Yajnadatta thought he had lost his head and went looking for it, but once he had put a stop to his seeking mind, he found he was perfectly all right…’
Yajnadatta looked in the mirror one day and thought he had lost his head. He temporarily lost touch with reality, and when he came back to clarity and saw he had his head, it was not that he had found his head. It had, of course, always been there. As Zen practitioners, we try to avoid running around looking for our heads, even though we are experiencing the discomfort and worry resulting from having lost track of them. We take the counsel of people we trust who assure us our heads are still there, and we sit as still as we can. The delusion of being headless eventually wears off if we do not keep getting agitated by running about searching. This is hard practice. We really, really want to find our heads. And we should want to find them.
by Domyo Burk | Aug 30, 2013 | Your Zen Toolbox
Some Zen teachers are pussy cats, and some are tigers. Some are emphatic, some are ambiguous, some are dogmatic, and some eschew all dogma. Which Zen teachers are right?
When you are still searching for a teacher to trust, this may feel like a very important question. You are probably drawn to a particular kind of teacher, but you may also have doubts and feel drawn to more than one kind. The teacher at your local Zen center, for example, may present himself as a spiritual friend who can help you find your own way, and who responds to Dharma questions with phrases like, “In my practice, I have found…” This may put you at ease around the teacher, but make you doubt the depth of his Dharma. Another teacher you encounter may present a much stronger and clearer picture of the True Dharma and How to Realize It; she may state things in absolutes, provoking you but also inspiring you.
It’s important to realize that no single Zen teacher holds the entire Dharma, and every teaching style has strengths and weaknesses. A relatively informal, laid back teacher can make it clear to her students that they ultimately have to find their own path, but she may also fail to motivate her students enough. When the Dharma is presented as a method to improve your life, and is the subject of open, round-table discussions, you may end up thinking there’s not all that much to it. The fact that it is also an urgent matter of life and death can be missed. On the other hand, provocative and charismatic Zen teachers can inspire emulation instead of real practice in their students. They can inadvertently discourage authenticity, or inspire a cult of personality focused on the teacher and his special relationship to the truth.
Still, Zen teachers who dare to take a stand can help wake you up. Zen master Lin-chi said, “Students these days haven’t the slightest comprehension of the Dharma. They’re like sheep poking with their noses – whatever they happen on they immediately put in their mouths.”1 This sounds harsh and judgmental, but it makes you think about whether this is true for you. Have you really understood the teaching you are accepting? Dogen said, “Even if you hope to live for seventy or eighty years, in the end you are destined to die. You should regard your pleasure and sorrow, relationship, and attachment in worldly affairs as your enemy… You should keep in mind the buddha way alone and work for the bliss of nirvana.”2 Yikes, aren’t we supposed to enjoy our lives? And yet, perhaps you are letting precious time slip away without making a diligent effort to fulfill your deepest aspirations and resolve your deepest doubts.
Modern teachers can be provocative, too. Kodo Sawaki roshi said, “Everyone steeps himself in his own life and lives, blindly believing that there must be something to his daily activity. But in reality, a human being’s life does not differ from a swallow’s, the males collecting food and the females hatching eggs.”3 This may sound like a bleak view of humanity, but if was stated more gently, would you deeply contemplate in what way this is true? While most Zen teachers want to encourage everyone and present almost all Buddhist practices as part of a smorgasbord of options, some will tell you frankly that if you don’t become a monk, or spend thousands of hours in meditation retreats, or have an awakening experience, you are very unlikely to be able to experience the Truth for yourself. Which teachers are right?
Actually, most Zen teachers are right, in the sense that they are honestly and earnestly expressing the Dharma as they understand it, and as they manifest it as an individual. When you become a Zen teacher, you realize that it’s not really up to you how you express the Dharma. You just speak, and act, and your Dharma message comes out with a particular flavor. Any teacher can and should become more skillful and humble over time, but an informal, approachable teacher is not going to be able to be a fierce, charismatic, provocative teacher even if she wants to be, and vice versa. A teacher’s primary duty is to be completely him or herself, and to bravely express the Dharma as he or she experiences it.
The best approach as a student is to appreciate all the different kinds of Zen teachers for what they have to offer you. The Dharma is richer, and the Sangha benefits, from teachers across the spectrum from mild mannered to fiery. For example, when I tell you that liberation is accessible to you even if you are busy with your family and have little time to sit zazen, I mean it. It is not my way to harangue you about how essential it is to dive into the furnace of meditation retreats; I don’t think saying that would be helpful. It will only make you feel separated from “real” practice – and liberation is, indeed, available to you right now. When and if you are drawn to retreats, you will go. However, I am glad there are other teachers out there who will shout at you, “Wake up! You’re wasting your time!” There is truth in their Dharma, too.
1 Watson, Burton, trans. The Zen Teachings of Master Lin-chi. New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 1993
2 Tanahashi, Kazuaki, trans. Enlightenment Unfolds: The Essential Teachings of Zen Master Dogen. Boston, MA: Shambala Publications, 2000
3 Uchiyama, Kosho. The Zen Teaching of "Homeless" Kodo. Kyoto, Japan: Kyoto Soto-Zen Center, 1990
by Domyo Burk | Aug 21, 2013 | Things to Understand About the Nature of Practice
You can choose to be enlightened this moment. Your enlightenment does not depend on any skill such as the ability to concentrate, the ability to stay in the present moment, or the ability to overcome your attachments.
Perfect Zen meditation, or zazen, is the same thing as enlightenment. The reality of enlightenment can never be completely conveyed in words, but these point toward it: resting in the sufficiency of being. Letting go of the concern for self that leads us to ponder the past and anticipate the future. Existing wholeheartedly in the moment. Open, aware, ready and dignified. Drinking in the truth that is beyond dualisms like good and bad, useful and useless, like and dislike. Coming home to true self-nature.
We don’t practice zazen in order to get enlightened, we practice being enlightened as we practice zazen. How do we do this? Usually we are taught techniques for concentration, or for returning our attention to present. For most of us, it is a struggle to employ these techniques, and we don’t end up feeling very successful at them. A few people may be good at controlling their minds, but then they tend ask, “Is this it?”
It is an unfortunate misunderstanding of zazen, and of Zen practice in general, to think we need to become very skilled at some technique in order to penetrate to the truth and attain enlightenment. This often results in people giving up their practice, or in people thinking that they just don’t have what it takes: they plod along, trying to be satisfied with the small benefits that come along with practice, figuring enlightenment is far beyond their current grasp.
For many of us, it is more helpful to think of trying to convert our hearts, minds and bodies to a willingness to choose enlightenment. To choose enlightenment requires great courage. It requires an experiential understanding that we can let go of our habitual ways of being and thinking, and be supported by reality. It requires that we face our fears, and work with our conditioning. We have to generate the determination and curiosity that lets us take a leap into what we fear will be a void, but which ends up being the fullness of infinite potential.
As we try to sit zazen and be enlightened, we notice all the ways we resist it. We learn to recognize all the ways we avoid, fear, neglect and dismiss reality. There are reasons for all of the things we do. The body, heart and mind are not resisting just to be difficult. They are not simply disobeying the part of us that would like to meditate, concentrate, taste peace, let go, and cultivate insight. They are acting out our delusions and fears while trying to take care of us as best they know how.
Looking at practice this way means that simply trying to return the mind to the present over and over isn’t good enough. It’s not enough to strive to improve a skill, as if enlightenment or “good” zazen is something we can attain if we just try hard enough, for long enough. When we do this we are pitting ourselves against enlightenment, which is contrary to the whole idea of waking up.
Instead, we recognize that we aren’t willing to choose enlightenment yet – but it is essential that we do this without the slightest bit of judgment. It is just what it is. This can be a fruitful way to approach practice if it results in the generation of compassion for ourselves, gentle patience, and a determined curiosity. What is it that keeps us from choosing enlightenment? What is it that keeps us from settling into the sufficiency of being in our zazen? What we are still holding on to? What fears or beliefs keep us grasping after things?
If we notice something that is keeping us from choosing enlightenment, we work with it. Perhaps we are afraid of lack and can work on cultivating generosity in our daily life. Perhaps we believe that if we let go of thinking, our life will get out of control. If so, we can try letting go for a few moments at a time and observe closely how we end up better able to take care of our life. Perhaps we assume that the simplicity of this moment is not worth our attention, and we can examine our concern for the constant gratification of the self’s desires. This kind of work continues for our whole life, even after we have tasted enlightenment, because we want to continue choosing it, more and more often.
by Domyo Burk | Mar 23, 2013 | Your Zen Toolbox
Why, in a tradition like Buddhism in which you are supposed to verify everything for yourself, is there such an emphasis on Teachers?
In Zen our relationships to teachers are complex and multilayered. Relationships with teachers, whether brief and informal or long-term and committed, are every bit as complex, nuanced and varied as any of our human relationships. Every teacher-student relationship is different. Like our other relationships, they can be supportive, rewarding, instructive, challenging, frustrating, painful and ambiguous. Like those other relationships, the teacher-student relationship can be transformative.
Unlike our other relationships, however, the teacher-student one is explicitly based in, and in service of, Dharma practice. As we go deeply into a relationship with a teacher, the relationship can also become a koan for us – a thorny, elusive, apparently paradoxical matter that cannot be understood or explained with the discursive mind but can be understood and appreciated through personal experience.
Guidance
At the simplest level, a teacher provides guidance. The teacher is a senior, someone who has walked the path before us and can advise us how to do so ourselves.
To some extent this is like learning any discipline, in that we turn for instructions to people who know the discipline. Learning from a person who knows their stuff trumps learning from a book anytime. Zen practice is a full experience of body and mind; you wouldn’t think to become a doctor or an aikido master by reading and practicing on your own, would you?
Zen teachers guide us in meditation practice (zazen), in applying the precepts to our lives, in strengthening our practice, in study of the teachings, and in learning how to take a “Zen” approach in any given situation. We primarily get this instruction by meeting with teachers in sanzen and practice discussion, but also through interactions over meals, during ceremonies, social situations, work, etc. Much Zen instruction just takes place through time and proximity to the teacher and other practitioners. There is much happening in our practice below the surface, at the subconscious or unconscious levels, and much of it simply takes time to develop and ripen.
An obvious question is, “How good is this teacher?” To some extent we need to ask this question. Does it seem like they know the teaching? Do their answers ring true to you? Do they seem confident and yet able to admit limitations or mistakes? How well do they walk the talk?
But we can get stuck here, evaluating the quality of a teacher, as if spiritual proficiency or authority is something that can be measured objectively. Perhaps we decide that we can only respect a teacher enough to ask for guidance from them if they are a celibate monk, are a lay teacher, meditate a great deal, act in a dignified manner, are a woman or a man, are morally impeccable, spout obscure teachings, are charismatic, or apparently free from any desire or difficulty.
It is not that these things don’t matter, but rather that a better question to ask is not, “Is this person a good teacher,” in some objective sense, but rather, “Are they a good teacher, or guide, for me?” This is something you have to learn by experience, by working with a teacher for a while.
Sometimes there is a strong resonance between teacher and student. For example, I knew the instant I heard her speak that Gyokuko was my teacher. She heard the question beneath my question. She understood me somehow, and therefore was able to give me effective and appropriate instruction. I never went awry in listening to her, and it built my faith in her guidance and in the practice.
Sometimes it is not so straightforward. Sometimes other aspects of the relationship with the teacher (which I discuss below) are more important or salient for someone. Someone may have a meaningful relationship with a teacher where the guidance is less personal, or where there is little explicit guidance.
Finally, regarding guidance, sometimes it is less about the brilliant response a teacher gives us than it is about the effectiveness of having to come up the question in the first place. Ever have the experience of being in a class, having a question, walking up to the teacher and asking it, and then going, “Oh, wait, I know the answer now”? Sometimes the very process of showing up, of expressing ourselves to another person, helps to clarify what is going on for us.
Encouragement
Much of this practice we do on our own. In the spirit of the Protestants, we need no intermediary between us and the Dharma, or between us and our Buddha nature.
However, if you never think you need encouragement, think again. If you try to do without it, you may be placing a heavy burden of expectation on yourself that you’d be better off without. No one will look down on you around here for needing some encouragement. In fact, it lets us know that you are working hard, pushing the edges of your comfort zone.
Throughout much of my practice, my meetings with Gyokuko involved telling her what I was working on, what I was experiencing, and asking her, “Am I going crazy? Am I way off base? Am I OK? Does this happen to other people? Does this sound like authentic practice?” Because of her own experience and her experience in working with lots of other people, she was (almost) always able to reassure me. My mind would be put at ease, and I could concentrate on the next step in practice.
Zen practice requires incredible spiritual courage and perseverance. We have to face our deepest fears. It is also sometimes runs counter to “common sense” and certainly to cultural norms – which say that when you encounter something or someone that makes you uncomfortable, you are supposed to get as far away from it/them as possible, as quickly as you can. In our practice we move toward such things, and pay close attention. Most of us find we need encouragement sooner or later to tread in such unfamiliar and scary territory.
Witness
Another aspect of Zen teachers, more subtle, is teacher as someone who bears witness to your practice – in a given moment, and/or over time. There is great value and power in stepping forward to allow someone to see us at what is undoubtedly our most vulnerable – when we are actively examining, questioning, building aspirations, facing doubts, and working on our life and practice.
Most of us (all of us?) have a deep and great fear that if people see who we really are, we will be rejected – everyone will know we don’t really belong, that we are fundamentally flawed. Or perhaps we fear that other people will be malicious and take advantage of us.
I was bullied for various reasons throughout middle school. I learned early on not to let the other kids know what I really wanted, or what I really cared about, because they were sure to take the opportunity to point out my failures, make fun of my preferences or mock my aspirations. I learned to hide my vulnerability and instead to project a persona of competence, confidence and cynicism.
When we gradually begin to show ourselves, we gain trust in others and build real confidence in ourselves. And show not just the bits we want to show, but the parts we can’t hide if someone watches us over time.
Also, it is valuable to be witnessed over time – to have a spiritual friend that gets to know your spiritual practice and life very well. S/he has context for your questions and struggles, as well as for your triumphs. Many of us get to the point that our teacher is the only one who will fully understand or appreciate the significance of particular aspects of our life and practice. For example, if you finally manage to start pausing before you speak so you can choose what’s best to say next (for some of us, a Herculean task), a teacher who knows you well will be able to celebrate with you. On the other hand you may get caught up in some repetitive – and ultimate destructive – karmic cycle and not even realize it, and a teacher who knows you well will be able to gently point the situation out before the cycle goes too far.
Barrier/Challenge
This is the aspect of Zen teachers that usually shows up in the old stories: teachers as challengers to their students, poking them with questions they can’t quite answer (yet), or pointing out their limitations. Outside of the old stories, this kind of challenge happens both consciously (on the part of the teacher) and unconsciously – but more often the latter.
Teacher as barrier or challenger is most often something that develops in a very close teacher-student relationship after a long period of time, typically many years. Beware of teachers that present themselves in this way early on, before they really know you and before you have built up a relationship of trust and understanding. This is potentially dangerous territory for both student and teacher. Students can get hurt, and teachers can get lost in an arrogant sense that their spiritual insight gives them access to a kind of omniscience when it comes to dealing with people’s spiritual life and practice.
At the same time teacher as challenger is a potentially transformative opportunity. If we can trust a teacher enough to invite him or her to give us honest feedback on our life and practice, we can address our blind spots. By definition, we can’t see them! We have the opportunity to turn the heat on our practice up a notch, and extend our mastery of our life.
A karmic resonance or intuitive match with a teacher may help her or him be insightful about us, but frankly it doesn’t take a Zen master or an intuitive genius to be able to see our weaknesses, our stuck places and our unresolved karma. If you think of any of your close relationships – significant others, parents, children, friends – you can probably think of things about their life and behavior that you’d like to be able to point out to them. Unfortunately – or fortunately – it is inappropriate and unhelpful to offer unsolicited criticism. For this reason, most Zen teachers will not offer potential charged “feedback” unless you have made it very clear, over time, that you 1) want to hear it, and 2) can handle it. In most cases you have to ask again and again in order to make the invitation strongly and unambiguously.
Sometimes teacher as barrier or challenge has nothing to do with the teacher’s intent: we gravitate toward a certain teacher because they trigger old patterns in us. Like being drawn again and again to the same kind of intimate romantic relationship, we may start to act out with our teacher our unresolved karma from parental, romantic or other relationships.
This is where the teacher’s training is very important! They must have done enough personal work, and have received enough tough training from their own teacher, to be able to recognize their own karmic reactions and know how to deal with them – in order to avoid getting involved in a destructive karmic dance with a student.
Ideally we get to act out our karma while the teacher remains more or less still. Then we have to watch how we dance. We try our demands, manipulations, guilt trips, drama, projection, attempts to please, whatever. They don’t work, but they also don’t backfire as they might in other kinds of relationships – for example, when another person reacts to our behavior with defensiveness or anger.
It is sometimes said it is the job of the teacher to “keep pulling the rug out from under us” until we no longer fall down – until we are standing in the unassailable place, not on any simple rug. My teacher did this by not-doing; in a sense she refused to offer me any rugs, at least not when I was being really demanding about it. I craved her approval and understanding, but could never get it when I really wanted it. I struggled with this for many years, until finally I truly didn’t need her – or anyone’s – understanding or approval any more. Not that I didn’t want and appreciate connections with others, I just didn’t need their approval to know I was fundamentally OK.
Pulling out the rug is especially important when it comes to spiritual insight; the teacher must keep testing the student, not allowing him/her to concretize an experience, get stuck in a concept or memory, or become arrogant or complacent because of a sense of spiritual accomplishment.
We may think it is the teacher that makes us doubt ourselves, but actually no one can instill doubts in us about something we have complete knowledge of/confidence in; when someone causes doubts to arise, they were already there. We should become grateful for the challenge, even when it is upsetting.
Formalizing a Teacher-Student Relationship
Think again of the people in your life, and how you’d like to be able to give them a little honest feedback about their stuck places and suffering. Actually doing so is rarely ever effective, is it? That is because someone must ask for such feedback first. They must be open to it, and ready for it. They need to have some idea what it is they are asking for, too.
That’s why, in order to establish a formal teacher-student relationship, you have to ask the teacher at least three different times. Each of these must be serious, considered, “asks.” The teacher may put up obstacles, make certain requirements first – for example, that you finish school, clean some particularly disruptive karma, demonstrate stability or just give it more time.
This kind of relationship takes time to form; a teacher must know a student. The student must have come forward to meet the teacher many times, and allowed her/himself to be seen.
The impetus for the relationship must come only from the student; the teacher must examine his or her own motivations to make sure s/he does not nurture any ulterior motives in taking on a student (ego, a sense of self-importance, hoping the student can be useful to the teacher, etc.). Teachers must always understand that someone’s practice is still ultimately their own; that the teacher’s view is limited; that a student has Buddha-nature and must always be respected, and that patience and gentleness are as important to the process as frankness and challenge. This does not by any means require that the teacher must always be nice and polite with us. Some of the necessary messages would not get across that way.
The necessity and significance of the student’s conscious willingness is enacted in the ceremony of discipleship (lay and monastic) when the teacher is about to cut off a small portion of hair on the crown of the student’s head, traditionally seen as the “root” of the small self. The teacher asks, somberly, three times: “This portion of hair is called the shura. I am going to cut it off. Only a Buddha can cut it off. Do you permit me to do so or not?” If the student doesn’t reply, with a determined voice, “Yes,” three times, the ceremony is not completed.
Start to Work with a Teacher
Of course, it’s not necessary to formalize a relationship with a teacher. You can work productively with someone for a short time, when you feel the need, or over a long time – even many years – without becoming a formal student.
How do you start? Just take the opportunities you have to spend time with and talk to a teacher. Go to sanzen/dokusan when it is offered, and make appointments to speak with the teacher in practice discussion. You may feel as if you benefit from someone’s teaching by practicing with them and listening to them teach in group settings, but in those situations the teacher is less likely to get to know you. To build a relationship for all the reasons mentioned above takes some one-on-one time.
by Domyo Burk | Feb 25, 2013 | Personal Musings
The religious elements with which Zen is often presented may prevent many people from hearing what it has to offer them. This is unfortunate. Most people, religious or not, hold at an intention to learn and grow throughout their lives. Yet few people are aware that there exists a well-developed course of training and study that can support their intention and give focus, substance and intensity to their efforts to become the best human being they can possibly be. This course of study is Zen practice, but if people can only access a Zen practice enveloped in a religion, they may avoid the practice altogether.
At a relatively shallow level Zen is palatable in a popular context; basic meditation, mindfulness, calm and an appreciation of simplicity have seeped out of the religion into western culture. However, anyone seeking to engage Zen practice at a deep level is likely to be surprised at the full-blown religion they find at their local Zen Center (although many Zen Centers try to dial the religiosity down to be more accessible). Many Zen practitioners feel some disinterest or aversion to Zen as a religion at first, but end up embracing it because Zen practice is so rich and rewarding. I hope that continues to happen, because I believe religion has a great deal to offer people and we should try to make positive changes to its well-deserved bad reputation.
By “religion” I refer to a coherent set of traditions, resources and institutions human beings create around a particular approach to spiritual questions. The official definition of religion, “relating to or manifesting faithful devotion to an acknowledged ultimate reality or deity,” has become more associated with the word “spiritual” for most people, I believe. When someone describes themselves as “spiritual but not religious” they usually mean that they pay attention to issues beyond their immediate and personal physical, emotional and mental concerns – issues such as universal truths, morality, or the existence of God – but they do not identify with an established tradition, set of beliefs, or institution. If we use this popular understanding of religion, we might use the term “Zen practice” to refer to the Zen teachings and practices that address our relationship to ultimate reality, and the term “Zen Buddhism” to refer to the set of traditions, resources and institutions that people have created to support and convey those teachings and practices. Zen Buddhism includes writings, a special vocabulary, history, mythology, rituals, devotional practices, imagery, religious objects, clergy, institutions and – most important of all – many groups of people, now and over the course of the last thousand years, consciously practicing Zen Buddhism together.
Unlike some people, I don’t think Zen is necessarily better without religion. I have trained in Zen as a religion and I am a Zen priest that usually teaches Zen as a religion. However, many people have reasons to forgo being religious, or have another religious faith and don’t want to add another one to their life, and I believe these choices deserve respect. Some people identify as non-religious with the same level of conviction as the most devout Buddhist or Christian identifies with their faith. While I love Zen Buddhism and can make a good argument for how almost every aspect of the religion is an invaluable support or venue for Zen practice, it pains me to think of someone who could benefit from Zen practice, but who cannot embrace it because of religion.
I hope non-religious folks, or people of another religion, can find a way to practice Zen, because I believe that in its essence Zen is about training to master the art of living a human life. I want people to have access to that training no matter what they feel about religion. I see this training as a wonderful opportunity to take full advantage of having a human life, but even more I see it as a fundamental human responsibility. Should we not work to master the art of our human life as we would work to master a skill, a trade, or another kind of art? Should we not diligently train ourselves throughout our lives toward greater wisdom, compassion and facility with using this tool of a human body-mind?
Unfortunately for those looking for secular Zen teaching and community, most of us qualified to teach Zen Practice “grew up” in Zen Buddhism the religion. For many Zen teachers, the religion has become inextricably woven into their Zen Practice; for them, Zen is a religion. It can be a tough world out there for the aspiring secular Zen practitioner because engagement with a teacher and sangha (the community of people practicing together) is arguably essential to one’s Zen practice – religious or not. There aren’t many places to practice Zen without religion, but with other people, with a full depth of Zen teaching (not teaching limited to meditation and mindfulness). This is why I have decided to offer Secular Zen meetings where people can come together to sit zazen and study Zen, without any of the “religious” elements we use at Bright Way Zen at other times. How this group will evolve and relate to the rest of the Bright Way Zen sangha over time will be very interesting to watch! On Mondays I will teach at Bright Way without my priest’s robes, and will put a screen in front of our altar. I’ll do anything I can to make the zendo (meditation hall) inviting to anyone interested in Zen. Then, on Tuesdays, I’ll get to appreciate the beauty of the bell calling us to meditation, and the familiar ritual of offering incense and bowing at our altar. All of this reminds me of a sweet poem by the 16th century Japanese Zen master Rikyu (although I can’t remember the source, or the exact quote, unfortunately) that goes something like this:
The Buddha’s robe –
putting it on
taking it off
by Domyo Burk | Jan 3, 2013 | Things to Understand About the Nature of Practice
Many people will say, “I’m spiritual, not religious.” What does this really mean, and what significance do these concepts have in our world?
When people describe themselves as “spiritual” they usually mean that they pay attention to aspects of life beyond our personal physical, emotional and mental concerns. By “spiritual” they refer to intangible things like meaning, universal truths, the nature of existence, or, literally, spirits and deities.
When they say they are “not religious,” on the other hand, people are usually saying that they are not actively involved with any of the human institutions or traditions that have evolved to address spiritual concerns.
There are many reasons people forgo being religious. They may not have found a religion that appealed to them. They may have been hurt by involvement in a religion and subsequently become suspicious of all of them. They may regard spiritual concerns as a very private matter and prefer to investigate and address such things on their own. They may not feel motivated enough to spend the time, energy and money required for active engagement in a religion.
At least many non-religious people will admit to being spiritual. What a shame it is if they don’t! What is a human life lived without attention to aspects of life beyond our personal physical, emotional and mental concerns? Doesn’t a lack of interest in intangible things like meaning, universal truths, the nature of existence, or God result in a small, self-absorbed life?
If many people can’t be bothered with “spirituality,” perhaps part of the problem springs from the way we conceive of it to begin with. When we specify “spiritual,” we usually conceive of a realm separate from our everyday lives – that is, our basic physical, emotional and mental concerns. This “spiritual” realm becomes disembodied and well, frankly, rather ethereal and fruity at times: filled with goodness, light, and anthropomorphized trees. To experience something spiritual comes to mean experiencing something special.
For many people “spiritual” sounds like something too removed from their everyday life, something extra. Their everyday life may be rich and challenging and just fine, thank you very much, so who needs this extra thing called spirituality? Or their everyday life may be troubled but “spirituality” doesn’t seem to offer anything relevant or useful.
What if we conceived differently our human relationship to aspects of life beyond our personal physical, emotional and mental concerns? What if we considered it a human responsibility to become a student of life and to practice diligently throughout our lifetime to get better and better at being human?
Being a human is an amazingly complex experience, an enormous responsibility, and an incredible opportunity. Our capacity to learn and adapt is unlimited. The different ways we can manifest, express ourselves, create, destroy, heal and harm are infinite. We change throughout our lives physically, emotionally and mentally. And yet we commonly hold that someone knows how to be responsible for a human life once they are eighteen years old. Or maybe 21, 25, 30 or 40. If someone doesn’t “have it together” at least by the time they are middle aged we think it’s pretty sad.
What does it mean to get better and better at being a human being? You get to know yourself intimately – your strengths, weaknesses and blind spots. You learn how to best handle yourself, like you would learn to handle a car in order to provide a smooth, efficient, safe ride. You carefully examine and work through your stuck places so you can respond to beings and situations with presence, patience and compassion. You search out and face your deepest fears so they can’t control you from behind or sneak up on you at a vulnerable moment. You take any opportunity you can to explore your relationship to the universe so you continually deepen your understanding about your place in it, and about the nature of existence.
When we practice being human, it is a process without end. Practicing being human can include every aspect of our lives – physical, emotional, mental, spiritual or religious. It includes our special feelings and insights, and it includes our annoyance at having to take out the trash. Practicing being human is not optional or extra. It is an ennobling responsibility, and utterly fascinating.
So we needn’t be religious, or even spiritual, according to the usual definitions of these terms. However, let’s not relegate the profound practice of being human only to the spiritual or religious realms. It would greatly benefit ourselves and the rest of the world if we embraced the practice of being human like we might embrace a new area of study or a new kind of physical training. “Practice” means to carry out, apply, and to perform repeatedly so as to become proficient. There is no limit to how proficient, even masterful, we can become at being human.
by Domyo Burk | Dec 26, 2012 | Personal Musings
If religion’s purpose is to help people find peace and strength and to live good lives, which I believe it is, it makes sense that people would turn to religion to explain why terrible things happen in the world – particularly terrible things that happen to individuals that apparently didn’t do anything to deserve it.
Read the rest of this post on Domyo’s blog at Patheos.com.
