Sitting with Pain

Image Courtesy of Fred Seibert on Flickr

Let’s face it, no one likes pain...well some people do, but only in specific situations and for specific reasons. But can pain be something to learn from? As my kung fu instructor was fond of saying, “Pain is a wonderful teacher, but no one wants to go to his class.” Want to learn that something is hot? Burning your hand is a quick way to make sure you don’t do that again. I was actually playing rugby once and got kicked in the head on the bottom of a ruck. When I mentioned this to my coach, he laughed and said that was a not so subtle hint not to be there next time. So why am I talking about all this here and now?

Believe it or not, and if you’ve been sitting for any length of time, you believe it, zazen can be the source of more than a little pain and discomfort. If you really pay attention to your everyday activities, you’ll notice that you don’t sit still very long. Or at least not perfectly still very long. Even when you’re just lounging on the couch, you still move and adjust from time to time. Foot falling asleep. Move it. Hip a little sore. Adjust. In zazen, we are going against that natural tendency to adjust at the first sign of discomfort. But why? Why do we sit so perfectly still that our bodies begin to rebel? Why not scratch every itch and move at every ache? Doesn’t sitting only until your legs get sore make way more sense?

By remaining perfectly still, we allow the body to settle and since in Zen we don’t separate the mind from the body, the mind settles as well. It’s like the glitter in a glitter jar. Once you stop shaking the jar and set it down, the jar settles, the water settles, and the glitter settles. But this is only one of the myriad lessons that sitting perfectly still teaches us. Another is about the nature of pain and the nature of the mind.

Pain is the body’s way of telling you something is wrong. That’s its job. Hey you driving the bus. There’s something you should come take a look at. So far so good. But it doesn’t stop there. Our thinking mind notices the pain as well and starts adding its own commentary to the story. Suddenly, it’s no longer just an itch on your face, but something that will surely drive you mad. Is there a spider crawling on my neck? What if my foot falls so asleep that it has to be amputated? Is that even possible? On and on the mind goes with its stories, thoughts, and comments.

From my perspective, there are a few things going on here worth looking at. The first is the fact that your mind is just plain bored. Think about meditation really honestly and you’ll find that a certain level of boredom is always present and absolutely necessary. We spend so much time avoiding being bored that it can seem almost overwhelming when we just sit still and stair at a wall. So, deprived of other more interesting things, the mind latches onto the pain and uses it to occupy itself.

It’s also worth pointing out that the mind tends to rebel against sensations that it has labeled as bad. We suffer when we are in pain because it goes against what we feel we should be feeling. We don’t like being uncomfortable and so we fight against it. As I write this, I have a massive sinus headache. If I focus on how much I wish my head didn’t hurt, I suffer because my head does hurt and that runs against what I really want which is to not hurt. But, if I instead release my attachment to how I think I should be feeling, it doesn’t hurt so much. A headache might still be an uncomfortable sensation, but I’m not adding the suffering to it by wanting my current state to be something other than it is. As the coffee mugs say, “Pain is inevitable, Suffering is optional.”

Another interesting thing that pain does for us during meditation is bring us back to the present moment. Try ignoring an uncomfortable leg or a twinge in your back. You’ll find that no matter how hard you try to not pay attention, the nagging sensation demands attention and while you’re noticing it, you’re not off somewhere else fantasizing or planning or whatever else.

A quick note of caution. As I mentioned above, pain is the body’s way of telling you something is amiss. Sharp pain especially can be a sign of something major. And believe it or not, people have injured themselves by sitting through immense pain during meditation. This is rather atypical and generally only happens in extreme cases. One major cause of injury from sitting is trying to sit full or half lotus when your hips are too tight. The rotation necessary for these postures comes from the hips, not the knees. So if you feel any knee pain, you should adjust your posture. Also remember that there is a difference between discomfort and pain or as my old football coach used to say, there’s a difference between being hurt and being injured.

Once we begin to really examine the sensations in our body, both good and bad, we can start letting them be what they are going to be without adding any additional mental noise to them. We let go of our stories about how things ought to be or that this feeling is good and this one is bad. Everything is just a part of the tapestry of our lives. The good, the bad, and the ugly. All go together to make up the life we live. So resist scratching that itch or adjusting that leg and instead see your life as it is in that moment of discomfort.


Gassho,


Daishin

Toilet Zen

Photo courtesy of  Jan Ubels on Flickr

It seems that we spend a lot of time as a species separating things into the categories of Good and Bad. We look at the world around us and immediately begin to move things into one bucket or another like a frantic toddler trying to get a piece of candy for picking up their Legos. Sometimes we go even farther and label some items as evil or impure or profane. The problem with this is that when we do this sort of sorting, good/bad right/wrong yes/no, we create a dualistic separation between ourselves and the rest of the Universe. In a lot of ways, this dualistic view is the cause of so much of the suffering in the world.

Zen is about living our lives in this World. Seeing things as they are. Without attaching labels to everything and creating separation where none exists. We tend to get ourselves very confused on this point by thinking that certain things are part of our practice and other things are not. But isn’t everything that we do a part of our Life. If Zen is about living, then what can possibly be outside of our practice? This is an idea that has echoed down through the ages with some of the most prominent masters going to great lengths to expound the virtues of the most mundane activities. Dogen even went so far as to write an entire fascicle in the Shobogenzo called Senjo on how to use the toilet in a monastery. In it, he demonstrates that every activity is an opportunity for practice and that to view somethings as vile and unworthy is a mistake. I think Brad Warner said it best when he said that if you can’t bow down before the putrefying roadkill on the side of the highway then you have no business worshiping leather bound tomes and statues made of gold and silver. It is in that spirit and with the teachings of Dogen Zenji in mind that I present my take on using the toilet as a form of practice. Hopefully Dogen approves of the update.

The bathroom is the most necessary room in any home, temple, or other building. It is used the most often by the most number of people and when it is needed can not be substituted for any other room. It is for this reason that we should treat using the restroom as nothing other than the practice of Zen. Each time we take time to satisfy our body’s need to remove waste, we are offered an opportunity to practice and show gratitude. By using the toilet, we are demonstrating compassion toward ourselves and thereby showing kindness to all living beings.

When you need to use the restroom, proceed directly there as soon as you realize you need to go. Do not wait until you have to go so badly that you might have an accident or need to rush.

If the door to the toilet is closed, knock three times and wait for a response. If someone is using the restroom, take this time as an opportunity to practice standing zazen. Wait patiently and do not become agitated. If you do not wait too long to go to the bathroom, this should not be an issue. If there is no answer to your knocks, open the door, bow before entering, enter, and close the door behind you.

If you are wearing an Okesa or Rakusu, hang them on the hooks provided outside of the restroom. Do not take your sacred vestments into the toilet. While the waste coming out of you is none other than the Buddha’s face, it is still bad form to let your robes get dirty.

Once in the bathroom, bow to the toilet with hands in gassho. Remember, it is because the toilet does it’s job and does it well that you are able to free yourself of your waste with little effort. Anyone who has ever had a toilet not do its job properly can attest to how important it is. We should be grateful for its continued efforts.

If you are standing to use the toilet, be sure to lift both the lid and the seat. It is also very important to maintain your focus so as not to soil the outside of the toilet. If you do happen to get some waste in any other place than in the toilet, use toilet paper to clean the area so that it is clean and ready for the next person. Do not force others to deal with your waste because of your laziness and inattention.

Do not take reading material, cell phones, or other entertainment items to use the toilet. This is not a time to relax, but is instead a time to focus on tending to the needs of your body. Focus on what needs to be done and do it in an expedient manner, but also do not rush. Take the time that needs to be taken and no more. Remember, while you are in the restroom, others may be waiting.

Once you are done eliminating your waste, use toilet paper to clean yourself thoroughly. Use only enough paper to become clean and do not be wasteful. Remember, living beings gave up their lives so that you can be clean and free from waste. Honor this by using only what you need and nothing more.

After cleaning, flush the toilet and lower the lid and seat if necessary. As you flush, be grateful for the opportunity to free yourself of your waste and take care of your body. Bow with hands in gassho. You may choose to recite a short gatha. An example might be:

“As I flush away my waste, may I be reminded to flush away my delusions and attachments in the waters of the dharma.”

Wash your hands thoroughly with soap and water. Regardless of how or why you went to the bathroom, it is important to clean your hands so as not to spread any germs to others.

If the bathroom has an unpleasant smell, use a bathroom spray to restore the freshness to the room so that the next person will not have to endure the smell.

Upon exiting the restroom, bow to the room as you leave thanking it for being there and for helping you. Put on your robes and return to whatever it was you were doing remembering that to take time out to use the restroom is an important part of living and thus an important part of Zen.

Gassho,

Daishin

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

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

Am I Doing It Right? - The Basics of Practice

photo courtesy of Eduardo on Flickr

One of the most common questions that any meditation teacher gets asked is “am I doing this right?” or “how do I know I am meditating correctly?” or some variation on that theme. Some teachers have answers for that. I don’t know that I do. What I will tell you is what my favorite author Brad Warner told me in one of his books, “if you’re doing zazen at all, chances are you’re doing it right.” Especially here in the West, we are so focused on doing things correctly. We expect there to be a specific measurable way of doing something that can be judged as good or bad, right or wrong. What if I told you that for Zen at least there really isn’t one...per se? You can judge the practice against a standard, but that standard isn’t necessarily correct in all cases, for all people, in all circumstances.

Matsuoka-roshi, my Dharma great-grandfather (my teacher’s teacher’s teacher) identified three aspects of practice, the posture, the breathing, and the mind. It is possible to say that you are practicing correctly when measured against these aspects, but his is just one framework of many. In my opinion, the real judge of practice is does it help you see more clearly into your true nature? With all that said, I’d like to take a few minutes to dig a little deeper into the three aspects of zazen in the Order of Clear Mind. Remember, these are more or less guidelines and, in most cases, I’m probably saying more than I should.

The posture: Some meditation teachers will tell you that any posture that is comfortable is the proper one. Some say that all the really matters is what you do with your mind. But is the mind really separate from the body? In Zen, we often speak of the body and mind as one not two or if not the same then at least directly affecting each other. The Japanese point to this body mind connection in their language. The word “shin” means both heart and mind and in Zen is often written as heart/mind pointing to the inseparable nature of the heart and the mind, the mind and the body. With this in mind, the importance of the posture in zazen is paramount. It allows one to remain upright and still while using as little effort as possible. And as the body settles becoming more and more still so does the mind. In the same vein, if the mind is unsettled, the posture has probably slipped. It is a balance between tension and relaxation, the middle way. Brad often remarks that zazen is a yoga class with only one posture that is held for a long time. Dogen encourages us to sit on our cushion as a king on his throne; with a sense of pride and dignity. So, it is with all this in mind that we take our seats.

The breath: Honestly, the less that is said about breathing the better as this is one of the aspects that people tend to obsess over. I know it can be for me. As much as possible, allow the breath to come and go as it will. If it is shallow, let it be shallow. If it is deep, let it be deep. Often, as we settle more and more into the practice, the breath becomes deeper, longer, and slower. One thing I will say about the breath is that it can be a powerful anchor for the mind. If your mind begins to wander, try counting your breath with each inhalation and exhalation getting a number. In, one. Out, two. And so on up to ten. If you lose count, start back at one. If you become distracted, start back at one. Sometimes you might spend an entire session just counting one two. That’s fine. Eventually, you can count only the in breath and after that, you can just notice the sensation of breathing. The most important part is don’t stop.

The mind: We can’t stop the mind from thinking. Its nature is to think. Daiho-roshi refers to the mind as a sense organ, a popular idea in Buddhism where the sixth sense is the mind itself and has nothing to do with Bruce Willis. As a sense organ, it takes in information and processes it, just as the eyes do with light and the ears do with sound. Brad often says that the mind excretes thoughts in the same way the stomach excretes acid and you wouldn’t want either to stop. Dogen encourages us to think non-thinking, but in this case what he means is something closer to consideration as in don’t spend your zazen time considering things. Just let the thoughts that arise, arise and pass away as they are want to do. Suzuki-roshi says to treat your thoughts like house guests. Let them come and go, but don’t serve them tea. As thoughts come and go, do not grab onto them. Use your time on the cushion for zazen, not for making grocery lists or planning a vacation.

If we follow these guidelines then by Matsuoka’s definition, we are doing it right. But even when we aren’t, we are still sitting, which is better than not. Vegging out on the couch...that’s probably a way to do zazen wrong.

Gassho,

Daishin