What’s the “Just” in Just Sitting All About?

Before the noon meal during sesshin the Katagiri Roshi way, we rise from zazen, offer incense, do three prostrations, and chant the “Self Enjoyment Samadhi” section of Dogen’s Negotiating the Way (Bendowa).

It includes the lines (a quote, really, unattributed here to Dogen’s teacher, Rujing), “From the start of your consultation with a wise teacher, have no recourse whatsoever to burning incense, prostrations, buddha-mindfulness, repentances, or sutra reading. Just sit and attain the sloughing off of mind and body.”

One common interpretation of this passage is that zazen-only is the one true way, and is the expression of pure and original Zen, while other practices are cultural baggage, secretions of other schools, and not something we Westerns really need to do. This is a common view in so-called Western Zen.

When I was young, I wrestled with this passage and the behavior surrounding it, sometimes delighting in the irony of offering incense, bowing, reading a sutra and then chanting that there is no need for these practices, then bowing again three times at the end of the recitation for good measure.

Other times, I confess, it was just annoying. Back then I was a zazen-only guy, or so I thought, and so resonated with Antaiji-style Zen that threw out everything but zazen (as I understood at the time).

Now I see it differently and so was delighted to read T. Griffith Foulk’s essay, “‘Just Sitting?’ Dogen’s Take on Zazen, Sutra Reading, and other Conventional Buddhist Practices,” in Dogen: Textual and Historical Studies, edited by Steve Heine. I beat up on the good professor in a post in the fall, Satisfying Hunger with Koan: A Critical Review of Foulk’s Scholarly Perspective, but I’m not a hater, generally speaking, so here’s lavish praise for the eminent scholar.

Foulk has written other pieces about this key Dogenophile passage and now takes it to a new level of thoroughgoingness. He first works through each practice that Dogen seems to be saying isn’t necessary, offering incense, bowing, etc., and cites passages where Dogen gives specific instructions for that very practice, “…explicitly and enthusiastically promot[ing]…” these practices.

“Those practices,” writes Foulk, “were not mere fomalities for Dogen, but heartfelt expressions of his Buddhist faith.”

Foulk concludes this section with this: “The vision of ‘pure,’ ‘original’ Zen that informs this view (that Dogen was a zazen-only guy), is largely wishful thinking on the part of academic apologists for the Zen schools of modern Japan. The projection of that ideal onto the figure of Dogen is scarcely defensible….”

And like I said above, not only the Japanese scholars have this view. There are plenty of practitioners and teachers who also embrace it because it so nicely aligns with the culturally-conditioned, self-serving dream that makes Western Zen something like a box of chocolates and we get to pick the ones we like and leave the rest. The dark chocolate fudgies for me, please, and I’ll leave the nasty milk-chocolate caramels for someone else.

That’s all well and good when it comes to chocolate selections but when we extend this picking-and-choosing mind to everything, particularly those things we can’t really choose – like life and death – our practice  becomes just another expression of our disease and dis-ease.

Preemptive comment: yes, prissy-assed offering incense, bowing, etc., might also be culturally-conditioned, self-serving dreamin’. Rejecting offering incense, bowing, etc., is wrong. Accepting offering incense, bowing, etc., is also wrong. Here’s the sweet old corner where we cannot move an inch.

What is right?

Foulk’s second movement in “‘Just Sitting’? Dogen’s Take on Zazen, Sutra Reading, and other Conventional Buddhist Practices,” involves his careful examination of the seven other times in his extant writings, from Hokyoki to Eihikoroku, where Dogen quotes Rujing’s admonition to “…just sitting and attain the sloughing off of mind and body.”

In Eiheikoroku, Vol. 9.85, Dogen goes so far as to elevate this saying of Rujing to a koan, including it with the classical koans, one of the three involving Rujing that Dogen includes in his 90-case koan commentary that is included in Eiheikoroku.

This phrase about sloughing or dropping body and mind, of course (for you old Dogen hands that is), refers to Dogen’s enlightenment experience.

And, by the way, a while back I mentioned that Shohaku Okumura argues in his Genjokoan book (see Was Dogen Enlightened? And an Important New Book on Genjokoan for more about that) that Dogen’s enlightenment story may have been made up by Keizan because Dogen himself doesn’t tell the story. But according to Foulk, Dogen “…relates [it] in his colophon to the Discourse Record of Chan Master Rujing…” so I can breath a sigh of relief that my self-serving dream about Dogen’s enlightenment story is real after all. Phew!

Nevertheless, what is Dogen advocating in this passage? Fortunately, not just one thing. Dogen is a wonderful example of having a “thick” view of things. There are different nuances to each of the seven times he raises the quote. Sometimes it seems to be an admonition not to “use” anything, including zazen, but to authentically practice each thing wholly (see Koun’s “Authentic Practice” for more on this view).

Sometimes he seems to be saying that until a practitioner has sloughed off, the other practices will be counterproductive and so shouldn’t be done – using zazen as a means to an end in this case, horror of horrors! Dogen’s view also seems to shift from seeing sloughing off as a samadhi state of trance to realization or insight.

Like any real person, it is hard to pin the old boy down. This kind of careful study – Foulk’s that is – is great medicine for our proclivity toward fundamentalism, fetishism, and/or the tendancy to over-simplify so as to make the teachings into our own image.

So thanks! Professor Foulk for an excellent piece of Dogen scholarship.

Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Zennies

President’s Day off and I’m getting a bit silly! Here’s a new rendition of an old country classic. See the words below for a Zen sing along.

 

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be zennies
Don’t let ‘em fluff zafus and work them old koans
Make ‘em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be zennies
They’ll never stay home and they’re always alone
Even with someone they love
Zennies ain’t easy to love and they’re harder to hold
And they’d rather give you a sutra then diamonds or gold
Nyo-e o’kesa and old faded robes and each night begins a new day
And if you don’t understand him and he don’t die young
He’ll probably just drop away
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be zennies
Don’t let ‘em fluff zafus and work them old koans
Make ‘em be doctors and lawyers and such
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be zennies
They’ll never stay home and they’re always alone
Even with someone they love
Zennies like smokey old zendos and clear mountain mornin’s
Expensive green tea and Cohen and women of light
And them that don’t know him won’t like him
And them that do sometimes won’t know how to take him
He ain’t wrong he’s just different
but his pride won’t let him do things to make you think he’s right.

Using One Unobstructed Boat: How to Transcend Sounds and Colors Without Even Trying

 

 

 

 

 

Here are a couple bald eagles about a week back on a cold and windy day. This pair has hung around all winter, staying quite close to their nest and seeming to hunt together. They pay no heed whatsoever to this old baldy and dog Bodhi.

Speaking of baldies, I met an old friend today for coffee. He’s a retired Episcopalian minister and did a decade in a Catholic monastery when he was just out of high school. We both always arrive exactly on time, remnants of our monastic training, albeit in different traditions. We get together several times a year and always have a good time yacking it up.  A server at one restaurant once came over and asked if we could keep it down a bit, something I think we’re both nonmonastically and unspiritually proud of.

This morning my friend asked how koan training was going. “Still getting your mind zapped by the unanswerable?” he asked.

There is, of course, a bit of a mind zap when first encountering a koan, but koans, I explained to him, aren’t unanswerable and trippy. Instead, koans are the most practical little devils I’ve run across.

For example, “A monk once asked Fayan, ‘How can I transcend two words, sound and color?’”

Well, maybe in this case it’s more of a mind stoppage than a mind zappage. “Huh? I don’t get it,” you might say, “how can ‘I’ who is completely sound and color, transcend what I am?”

My friend is not alone in his impression that koans are unanswerable. Steven Heine concludes his nice piece, “What Is on the Other Side? Delusion and Realization in Dogen’s ‘Genjokoan’” that appears in his new book, Dogen: Textual and Historical Studies (see the previous post here for more) by quoting Dogen’s comments to the sound and color koan, “…Now I ask the great assembly, what things do you call sounds and colors?  Where are sounds and colors now?”

Heine sees this as a “rhetorical question.”

Quite the contrary and quite barking up an eagleless tree, imv. I see Dogen here as inviting a strong and clear dharma presentation.

Fayan responded to the monk, saying, “…if you understand the point of this monk’s question, it is not difficult to transcend sound and color.”

If it were meant rhetorically, in the sense of being unanswerable, transcending would not be not difficult, no?

A koan like this, though, is particularly impenetrable if the deep structures of consciousness still cling to the old stories about birth and death, delusion and enlightenment, buddhas and ordinary people.

Our practice on and off the cushion, is to be a bullshit burning furnace (Daido’s phrase), digging into the marrow of this one great life, leaping through sounds and colors.

Here’s another part of Dogen’s commentary on this koan, all of which occurs, btw, in Dogen’s Extensive Record (the Kindle edition is now a shockingly low $11.92 so shop now!) number 52:

When we realize the way, we do not realize with something else, we realize only with sounds and colors.  When we are deluded, we are not deluded with something else, we are deluded only with sounds and colors.  A deluded person and an enlightened person at the same time use one boat, and each is not obstructed.

Ain’t that sweet?

What is Enlightenment and What does It Matter Anyway?

“When perceiving one side, the other side is concealed.”

So says old Dogen in his Genjokoan (translated variously but by Heine’s work cited below as Spontaneous Realization of Zen Enlightenment).

This little gem is quite a fulcrum for understanding dharma practice and making it real or as Dogen puts it in “Bendowa,”

“The endeavor to negotiate the way as I teach now, consists in discerning all things in view of enlightenment, putting a unitive awareness into practice in the midst of the revaluated world.”

I regard Dogen’s work, and Genjokoan particularly, as a source text for Soto training, not as authoritative or something to submit too but as a barrier to be met or better, as a friend  in conversation. Source texts as such are companions for us on this endless journey.

One recurrent theme on the practicing-enlightenment journey is about whether enlightenment is absolute and forever, “…all encompassing, seamless realization experienced without obstruction or partiality,” as Steven Heine puts it in “What Is on the Other Side? Delusioin and Realization in Dogen’s ‘Genjokoan’” that appears in his new book, Dogen: Textual and Historical Studies. Or whether “…even in the realm of enlightenment, opposites continue to intermingle.”

The first perspective is be characterized as absolutist and the second as relativistic or better, relational. From the absolutist view, the “one-side” passage is strained to mean that when one realizes one dharma, one realizes all dharmas. Cut one, cut all.

From the relational view, “When perceiving one side, the other side is concealed,” or “Illuminating one side obscures the other side,” indicates that the even in enlightenment, there is something hidden.

Heine does his usual high-quality, skillful job thinking through the meaning of the passage in context of Dogen’s oeuvre and the commentarial literature, ancient and modern, much of which is beyond the scope of this blog post. Let me just say that I’m into my third time through the piece and recommend it for careful study.

One striking comment that Heine makes is that contemporary commenters Yasutani in Flowers Fall and Okumura in Realizing Genjokoan both tend toward the absolutist views, as does the ancient Gosho commentary by Dogen’s disciple Senne. Now Yasutani was a strong advocate of kensho and koan study, while Okumura minimizes (or even dismisses) kensho and is a strong advocate for shikantaza only.  That they both come to the absolutist view catches my attention.

The problem (and virtue) with the absolutist view is that it’s so darn idealistic, passionately singing the Great Vows, while not fully explaining the experience of enlightenment and the pickle of putting the unitive awareness into practice. Systems that foster this view in a one-sided way (emphasizing the vertical) tend to have a lot of heat in their practice and a propensity for arrogant teachers and dependent students. This leads to trouble.

The problem (and virtue) with the relativistic view is that it’s so darn lacking in idealism and so dang sober that it does little to inspire wholehearted practice or the discovery of the unitive view. Systems that foster this in a one-sided way (emphasizing the horizontal) tend to diminish kensho and wholeheartedness. Here a controlling metaphor is “…the community is the teacher,” or “Zen without Zen teachers.” The leadership vacuum in such systems is often filled with meetings and consensus-oriented processes. And pseudo-practice.

Both views are important and we need not resolve the matter. Let both voices sing and the short-comings of each might balance in harmonious concordance. This also seems to be the conclusion that Heine reaches,

“My approach seeks a constructive middle ground that finds some degree of truth in both absolutist and relativist standpoints by stressing that there is, in one sense, no possibility of complete understanding even after self-forgetfulness takes place, in that even a buddha ‘carries a board across the shoulder.’”

That view nicely puts the “koan” back in genjokoan. In this regard, Heine summarizes a leading Dogen-scholar, Kurebayshi, as “…stress[ing] that the contents of the fascicle, which are elusive and perplexing, function as a ‘manifesting koan’ or ‘koan which reveals itself,’ thereby suggesting that the text harbors unrevealed and mysterious elements of meaning like the puzzling, riddle-like paradigmatic cases found in the main Song dynasty koan collections.”

Your thoughts about this are welcome.