Samu - Work AS Practice

photo courtesy of M I R A on Flickr

Before I get started with this piece, I’d like to reiterate something that I think is extremely important. What you are about to read, listen to, or otherwise take in is my opinion on the subject based on my experiences, practice, and mentality. If you are looking for the absolutely, undeniably, no argument can be made, correct answer, I suggest you stop with this piece and go find another. There are many folks out there who will tell you that theirs is that answer, but I’m not one of them. I feel like this point needs to be clearly understood because ultimately there are no absolutely correct answers and what really matters is what you understand for yourself. With all that said, here’s my opinion on the topic of samu.

The term samu is often translated as “work practice”. Wikipedia has a very short article that says samu is “participation in the physical work needed to maintain the Zen monastery.” The idea of “work practice” as many use it is something along these lines. Work done to help the zendo or practice space. From where I sit, that’s an interesting definition but only hits on a really small part of the issue. Let me posit a better definition, “work AS practice”. This may seem like a really simple change, but it points to the intention that you hold while doing the work rather than what it is specifically that you are doing. From here, we have a much wider landscape of work that can fall into the term samu. Just for the sake of clarity, if the schedule during sesshin says samu, it is almost certainly pointing to the first definition, but outside of that context, the second definition is more useful.

So what is the intention that I’m talking about? To answer this, we need only look to our zazen practice as a guide. When we sit, we just sit. We don’t make grocery lists. We don’t visualize our spirit animals. We just sit. When we bring this single-minded focus from the cushion to our work, we can then call it samu, work as practice. Now this is much easier to do when the task to be done is relatively simple, which is why Zen centers tend to assign chores like polishing the Buddha (which just sounds weird), sweeping the floor, or scrubbing the toilet. These basic mostly physical tasks allow us to just do the work and let the mind be on the work until we become one with the task. This doesn’t mean it is impossible to do with more complex undertakings like office work, paying bills, or writing dharma talks. It’s just harder to establish and maintain our focus. Also, it’s worth pointing out that, just like zazen, we set out intention to work solely on the task at hand and then get distracted. This is not a problem. Just like zazen, when we notice that we have become distracted, we bring ourselves back to our task, over and over again until either the task is done or the period of samu ends.

After saying all this, I want to address two other points that often come up during the discussion of work and Buddhist practice. The first is what kinds of work can or should a Buddhist do. If you read what I said in the last paragraph and take it by itself outside of the envelope of the rest of Zen and Buddhism, you might come to the conclusion that a hitman could be doing samu when he kills someone so long as he maintains the proper focus on just killing. In fact, this argument pops up from time to time when folks want to argue about the dangers of mindfulness. We can teach mindfulness to soldiers and it will make them better killers. As I said a few sentences ago, to get to this point, you have to take what I said and remove it completely from the rest of Buddhism. Why? Because the first dang precept in Zen is Protect Life, Do Not Kill. To put it in more general terms, the Buddha was focused on the end of suffering and he created the Noble Eightfold Path as a way of living that supports the quest for the end of suffering and Right Livelihood is one of those folds. To put it yet another way using my favorite dirty glass metaphor, our practice is about letting the dirt in our glass settle so that we can see clearly. Killing and other such activities, no matter the mindset with which they are undertaken, have a tendency to add a lot of dirt to the glass and severely stir things up regardless of the reason. There’s an entire discussion to have regarding killing and precepts and whatnot which is not the subject of this piece so let’s move on for the moment.

The second point that I want to talk about is one that’s a little less controversial, but still seems to come up from time to time and that’s the subject of money. Dana is one of the perfections found in Buddhism. It is most often interpreted as “free giving” and is the subject of numerous books. What counts as free giving? What doesn’t? Often, folks want to tie the idea of dana to the idea of samu. I would argue that the two go hand-in-hand a lot, but be can’t inextricably linked and shouldn’t be. When we work to maintain our practice space, this form of samu is done with no thought of reward and therefore qualifies as dana under most strict definitions. But, when you really think about it, are you really working for free or is your payment for the work just non-monetary? Is the teacher freely giving a talk and are you freely giving your work? It’s an interesting question to ponder. And just to make things a little more confusing, our good buddy Dogen says in the Shobogenzo fascicle Four Elements of a Bodhisattva’s Social Relations that “earning a living and doing productive work are originally nothing other than free giving.” But we’re wandering away from the point a little here. The original discussion wasn’t about dana at all, but about samu, work as practice. Any work activity, done as a form of Zen practice, i.e., with single-minded focus and intention, can be a form of samu. Saying that you can’t get paid for it is just tacking on something that in my opinion wasn’t really part of the discussion to begin with. Now can it be called dana when you’re getting paid for it? That’s a different discussion.

To try and sum all this up, we spend a tremendous amount of time during our lives working in one form or another. Whether it is work for an employer or work to maintain our lifestyles, we are almost constantly working on something. I encourage all of us to use this time not only to make money and better our external situation, but also as an opportunity for practice. When we do what needs to be done, with focus and attention, our work becomes part of our practice and a much richer experience.

Gassho,

Daishin

Because a Cup is Not a Cup It is a Cup

photo courtesy of JR from Flickr

“This is not a cup. Because I can say this is not a cup, I can call it a cup.”

A monk asked Fuketsu, "Both speech and silence are faulty in being ri [離 inward action of mind] or bi [微 outward action of mind]. How can we escape these faults?"

Fuketsu said,

              "I always remember the spring in Kõnan,

              Where the partridges sing;

              How fragrant the countless flowers!"

Mumon's Comment

Fuketsu's Zen spirit was like lightning and opened a clear passage.

However, he was entangled in the monk's words and could not cut them off.

If you can really grasp the problem, you can readily find the way out.

Now, putting language samadhi aside, say it in your own words.

“It is like a finger pointing a way to the moon. Do not concentrate on the finger or you will miss all that heavenly glory.”

The first piece here is from Daiho-roshi and is an expression similar to those put forth by the Buddha in the Diamond Sutra. The second is Gateless Gate case 24 “Fuketsu’s Speech and Silence”. The last piece is a line from Enter the Dragon in which Bruce Lee chides his student to express himself through his technique.There is a very important point to be found here. Can you find it?

Daiho-roshi expresses the point clearly that a thing is not what we call it. When I say cup, I know what I mean by cup, but you can only guess. Language fails to really convey the cupness of my cup. So how do I pass along this truth of cup? Our words are hindrances to true understanding. We hear the words of others and then make up a story in our minds from what we understand those words to mean. But is it the same as the original story? 

In the case from the Mumonkan, Wumen in his commentary wonders why Fuketsu who possesses lightning Zen chooses to quote an ancient Chinese poem rather than expressing his own understanding. What could Fuketsu have done instead? When we quote others, we must understand that this is no longer our understanding, but is instead our interpretation of the expression of the understanding of the person who originally understood. Do you understand? How do you understand?

Bruce Lee was a practitioner of Zen if only in spirit and not formality. In the above line, he expresses what so many have said before. The Finger is not the Moon. The Way is not the Truth. There are some who only understand the finger and never see the Moon. They worship the finger as if it was the Moon, but it is only a finger. To experience the Moon, one must look not to the finger, but to where it is pointing. Follow the path, but do not mistake the path for the Truth.

This is the hardest piece I have ever written because the more I say, the farther I stray from what really is. I use words because they are the tool that I have, but my words will fail, as the words of all those who have come before me did. So instead, I bow in reverence. May we all understand the Truth for ourselves.

Gassho,

Daishin

Everything, Yes EVERYTHING is Impermanent

photo courtesy of James Webster on Flickr

I want to talk about a fundamental concept that still seems to elude the best of us from time to time. When the Buddha had his awakening, he saw clearly into a number of things and during his first sermon he discussed many of them including the doctrine that underlies so much of Buddhist practice, impermanence. What does impermanence mean? It means that nothing, absolutely nothing, not mountains or rivers or people or buildings or stars or anything remains unchanging and eternal. It means that everything changes no matter how solid it may seem. Let me say that one more time to drive home the point, nothing in this world stays the same and nothing lasts forever.

Before I start expounding on this idea, I want to beat the horse to death a little more. What are some of the things that we feel are unchanging? Mountains? Rivers? Stars? If we were to view each of these over a long enough span of time, would they change or stay the same? Part of what causes this delusion of permanence is that our lives are so short when compared to the incalculable eons of the Universe. What happens if we go the other direction? To a fruit fly who may only live for 24 hours, we may appear as completely unchanging and permanent. Does this mean that we are? From one point of view yes and from another no. It’s all in how you look at it.

Speaking of how you look at things, all this talk of things changing, coming into existence, and then passing away, seems like quite the downer. But is it really? It’s all in how you look at it. Both the good and the bad in Life pass with equal rapidity.

As the ancient Zen masters point out, when we realize that what we have is destined to go away, every moment becomes that much more precious. We are afforded only so many moments in this Life and when we truly understand that this time is indeed finite it only makes sense to cherish each moment. No matter how boring or how mundane. This is your life. Zazen affords us the opportunity to watch our lives unfold in front of us and when we learn to appreciate even the sheer banality of sitting and staring at a wall, our lives become much more rich.

But, just like everything else, this insight and realization fades. Which is why we practice. You do not accomplish the goal of Zen and then say ok I’m done and my life is fixed forever. Practice practice practice and then practice some more.

It is extremely important that you see the truth of impermanence for yourself. You can not simply go by the words of others or a mere intellectual understanding of the concept. You must experience it directly. The good news is that there is a way to do just that. The practice of zazen, which has been handed down through the generations from the Buddha to the present, allows us to really dig into the concept of impermanence in all its aspects. But how do you do that? How do you see it clearly? By paying close attention to the changing transient nature of the most basic experience of life, just sitting. The closer you look, the more you will see that each period is different, each moment is different. The pain in your legs will arise and then pass away. It will change. That sense of calm and clarity that you have at one moment will be gone just as quickly as it arrived. This is why we encourage you to not scratch every itch as soon as it arises or adjust your posture as soon as your legs begin to ache. Each of these is a powerful lesson in the arising and passing away of all things. And as you begin to look deeper and deeper, you may come to question the arising and passing away of so many things that you previously thought were solid, including your very sense of who and what you are. For if everything is impermanent and ever changing and you are part of everything then the only possible conclusion is that you are impermanent as well.

Gassho,

Daishin

The Gift of Things Breaking

photo courtesy of Shimelle Laine on Flickr

Last weekend, the Order of Clear Mind Zen hosted its first ever virtual zazenkai. I had the honor of helping Daiho-roshi plan and lead the event which was certainly one of the high points of my Zen career. I was also given a very powerful and direct lesson in impermanence and the need for flexibility and adaptability less than 48 hours before the event was scheduled to start. It’s story time ladies and gentlemen. I call this one “Well what am I going to do now.”

Our tale opens on Thursday morning with me finishing my usual morning sit. As I come up the stairs from my basement zendo I am met by my son Alex who tells me that the TV isn’t working. A few button presses later and indeed the TV isn’t working. Further investigation shows me that is in fact my internet connection as a whole that has decided to take the day off. A call to tech support and several reboots later and I hear the phrase that no Internet customer wants to hear “We’re going to have to schedule a technician to come out.” Great, when can this hero in khakis come and save me from the demons of No Internet? “The earliest appointment we have is Saturday...between 4 and 8 PM.” For those of you who might not be aware, the zazenkai was scheduled for Saturday from 7 AM to 1 PM so not only was I not going to be able to binge Netflix for the next couple of days, but I also wouldn’t be able to connect to the event that I was supposed to be leading to say nothing of how I was going to do my actual paycheck job. To further drive the point home, as I’m relaying this story to my wife Jamie, Alex takes a break from his oatmeal to say, “Daddy you’re going to lose your job. You have no internet so you lose your job.” Fortunately, his sharp five-year old intellect was a little off base on this point. So what the heck was I going to do next?

The story goes that Bodhidharma came before Emperor Wu and was asked what he brought to China. His first reply was nothing and when pressed he replied “a soft and flexible mind”. As we practice, we begin to see that the mind has amazing power and also an amazing ability to follow habitual patterns. We react to similar situations in time tested ways almost without thinking. This isn’t altogether a bad thing. These mental shortcuts allow us to react much more quickly to something rather than having to spend precious moments coming up with entirely new strategies for every situation. However, we over use these shortcuts to the point that we will respond to something in a way that may have worked for one instance but is completely wrong for another. Add to that how often these responses don’t actually address the matter at hand (does getting angry really help a situation?) and we have a bit of a mess. The good news is that through practice, we can work to regain that soft and flexible mind that Bodhidharma mentioned. And note that I said regain, not obtain. We had this at one point. We just buried under piles of conditioning.

Someone, I don’t remember who, described Zen practice as working to smooth out the ruts in our brains. The more we practice and the more we see that our thoughts are not really us, the more we can react to a given set of circumstances in the most appropriate way and as an added benefit, we can avoid wasting energy becoming upset when that won’t really do any good. Just to clarify a bit, I’m not saying that becoming upset is always a bad thing, I know a few people who like to find exceptions to everything, I’m saying that in a lot of cases we add energy and emotion to a situation that really does nothing other than cause us to needlessly suffer. As the coffee mugs say “pain is inevitable, suffering is optional”.

So back to my little tale of woe. Because of my practice, I was able to face the situation of my internet crashing with the mental resources to address the issue rather than falling into a cycle of anger, frustration, self-pity, and other ultimately unhelpful positions. When I got through being angry, my internet would still be broken. Instead, I handled what needed to be handled. Did what needed doing.

Sometimes people will ask what you get out of Zen or zazen practice. This is always a tricky question to answer for so many wild and wonderful reasons, however, I can say that a side effect of spending a lot of time staring at walls is a softer, more flexible mind.

As for how the zazenkai turned out, if you were there then you know.

Gassho,

Daishin

Ungan's The Whole Body is Hand and Eye

photo courtesy of Mark Esguerra on Flickr

Almost anyone who has heard the word Zen knows or at least thinks they know about the Zen koan. These are illogical puzzles that are supposed to shake us out of our normal way of thinking and into a great awakening. Some of the most popular are “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” and “What was your original face before your parents were born?” or my personal favorite “If a tree falls on a mime in a forest, does he make a sound?” The word koan means public case and refers to a conversation between a master and student. For the most part, the intensive studying and answering of koans is confined to the Rinzai school of Zen, but that doesn’t mean that they are not read and loved by many Soto teachers, including Dogen. 

The two most prominent koan collections are the Mumonkan or Gateless Gate and the Hekiganroku or Blue Cliff Record. Often, a case is chosen from one of these two collections and used as the starting point for a Dharma Talk on the topic of the case. In that storied tradition and in honor of Kannon the Bodhisattva of Compassion, She Who Hears the Cries of the World, I present case 89 of the Hekiganroku “Ungan’s ‘The Whole Body is Hand and Eye’”.

But, because it wouldn’t be one of my talks if it stayed completely on the straight and narrow, I am using the paraphrase of this case done by Brad Warner in his book It Came From Beyond Zen which is a collection of paraphrases and commentaries on various parts of Dogen Zenji’s Shobogenzo. So what you’re getting is Brad’s version of Dogen’s version of Case 89 from the Blue Cliff Record. Enjoy!

Hekiganroku – Case 89 – Ungan’s The Whole Body is Hand and Eye 

Master Ungan Donjo asked Master Dogo Enchi. “What does Kannon, the Bodhisattva of Compassion, do with all her bazillions of hands and eyes?” 

Dogo said, “She is like someone reaching for a pillow in the middle of the night.”

Ungan said, “Right on. I get it.”

Dogo said, “How do you get it?”

Ungan said, “The entire body is hands and eyes.”

Dogo said, “Not bad. I give that answer a B+.”

Ungan said, “That’s my take on it. What’s yours, bro?”

Dogo said, “No matter where you go, it’s all hands and eyes.”

Compassion is a popular topic of discussion especially when it comes to Buddhism. Everyone has an opinion on what it means to be compassionate or what compassionate action looks like. Often, we think that if we are helping to alleviate someone’s suffering that we are doing something compassionate. But is that always true? Is what looks compassionate always compassion?

Rather than attempt to explain the entire case, I want to focus on just one line “She is like someone reaching for a pillow in the middle of the night.” As a side note, Dogen devotes an entire chapter of Shobogenzo called “Kannon” to this case and a broader discussion of compassion. If you’re interested, check out any of the standard translations or Brad’s It Came From Beyond Zen for in depth commentary and discussion.

Another quick aside, Kannon here is referred to as female. In the Heart Sutra, she is a he. “He clearly saw that the five aggregates are empty.” I feel that this is worth pointing out because to me it shows that compassion is a universal capacity that we all possess regardless of who or what we are.

Back to the discussion at hand. As a reminder the important phrase here is, “She is like someone reaching for a pillow in the middle of the night.” 

We have all had the experience of waking in the night to change sleeping positions. We fix what needs to be fixed, move our pillows and blankets, then get back to sleeping. This is the crucial point. In this case, we are doing what needs to be done in the moment without thinking about it. True compassion is doing what needs to be done in each moment regardless of what it might look like to an outside observer. And really, if you take this idea all the way to it’s conclusion, true compassion happens without thinking. Prajna Paramita. Wisdom beyond Wisdom.

In reading Dogen’s chapter on compassion, there is one other point that continually jumps out at me which is the idea of night and day. Dogen says “We should examine the difference between nighttime as it is supposed in the light of day and the nighttime as it is in the night.” In the daylight, we can see what needs to be done to fix a situation, but in the dark of night, the solution may not be so obvious. This is extremely important because often we comment on what the compassionate action is in a given situation from an outside position, a place of daylight assuming we understand the night. However, when we are in a situation, in the dark of night, what to do is not so clear. And what happens in a place that is neither completely day or completely night? When we begin to see the difference between night and day, we see how hard it is to judge anyone’s actions, but our own.

So what do we do with all this?  What do you think?