There was a brief comment on a recent posting I made regarding Zen meditation in which I alluded to the pain associated with the discipline, particularly within the context of intensive meditation retreats.
The writer, a practitioner of Aikido, spoke of several practices that involved kneeling, of which only one was particularly familiar to me. The point the commentator was making, as I read it, was that painful practices are not not necessary. At least as regards Aikido. I did not feel the writer was necessarily expressing an opinion regarding what one must or must not encounter in Zen, although I did feel she or he was not fond of pain.
I cannot comment in any meaningful way upon any martial art, soft or hard. Zen, however, I have some experience with.
I am also familiar with pain, of several kinds.
Seiza is one of the meditation postures used in Zen along with variations on the “Lotus” posture. The lotus includes “full” with both legs crossed and the feet resting on the thighs, “half “with one leg crossed, what some call “half-assed,” and the more delicate “quarter,” with the one crossed leg resting on the calf. In addition, in Zen practice many people sit “Burmese,” with one leg in front of the other, with both knees touching the ground. And, it should be noted, sitting in a chair is also an option.
The simple fact is that sitting in any of these positions, including sitting on a chair, for extended periods of time will involve some pain. And, frankly, with only the rarest of possible exceptions, anyone who sits cross-legged on the ground (even in the Zen style with its pillows), will experience quite a bit pain.
Over the years I’ve had cause to ruminate extensively on the pain associated with the physical practice of Zen meditation.
Now we have three teachers in our Boundless Way project and nearly every retreat all three of us are present. One of the gifts of this has been how we meet daily and discuss aspects of what is going on. This meeting was enriched this past retreat by the addition of a senior student who is shifting into teaching responsibility.
And, perhaps naturally, somewhere along the line the question of pain came up.
The first few days of any sesshin pain becomes a constant companion for the practitioner. While less so for the person who sits in a chair, pain is a reality for all. The pain continues all the way through, although at some point its place within our consciousness shifts. I want to return to that in a moment.
First, however, dealing with the reality of pain.
One of the laws of the universe is that pain happens. And so, as Zen disciplines are all about living in this world and not another one, unnecessarily attempting to avoid pain is seen as foolishness. Pain happens, deal with it.
However, there are poles. At one end is doing anything to avoid pain. This leads one to dream worlds that make one happy for a moment, but which betray us when bad things happen. At the other is romancing pain. There are Zen teachers and communities that romance pain, no doubt. If they do, I suggest, moving on. They’re not likely to be any more useful than those who would avoid pain at all costs.
Rather, there is realistic encounter. Many Zen groups, including ours, have incorporated yoga practices, or just basic stretching into our daily disciplines. This helps. Also, while we need to be willing to lean into the pain as it rises, to not too quickly turn from it; nonetheless there is also a need to be sensitive to our bodies. If the practice becomes nothing more than managing pain, well, again, there are more profitable things one might be doing. So, while it is important to not fidget, it is also okay to shift from one posture to another.
And in our teacher’s meeting we found ourselves, I forget, on the third or fourth day, discussing this issue of pain and the balance between not turning away and not fetishizing. There was some humor about how good chairs are, and how the teachers probably should model using them a bit more, and even a suggestion I should start a second sitting group at the new church I’m coming to, that could be called the “Sitting in Chairs is Good, Zen Group.”
But, then we return to the reality that whether its in the knees or back or deep in our hearts, pain is a fact. And in Zen it is a fact we will have to face.
One way or another…
And this brings me back to that shifting of our awareness, of how we might encounter the things that rise within our lives. Like pain. The counsel of the older teachers to the teacher in training was to keep a watchful eye on practitioners. There simply is no reason to encourage actions that can be physically damaging. Nor, ever, to make the practice all about pain.
But with some surrender into the reality of pain, a gate can be thrown open.
If one is willing to be with pain, and with sleepiness, and with a raging mind; and with whatever arises, to come back to the present moment, over and over and over again…
Something may happen.
A deeper place may reveal itself, where pain has its place, as does happiness, as does longing, as does fulfillment.
It is a moment of artfulness.
It is the moment of possibility.
And, the old teachers, suggest, it is worth the trouble…
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