The World is My Monastery

WELCOME TO MY MONASTERY

(Reading "Eat Sleep Sit" by Kaoru Nonomura takes me back to days at the Green Gulch Farm/Green Dragon Zen Center in Muir Beach, CA, and Tassajara Zen Mountain Center near Carmel Valley, CA, both part of the San Francisco Zen Center -- the most prominent transfer point of Zen philosophy to the Americas from Japan, having migrated via China and its origins in India. The book, and parts I share here, capture the extreme or purest form of Zen practice, while my experience was very much diluted, far less rigorous and devoid of violence -- yet it captured and conveyed the essence. I am reminded of the lasting effect of sitting in -- as close as I could get and for as long as I could hold a -- half-lotus position and emptying the mind of both thought and the self mornings and evenings. Doing chores from the menial to the subline, and being a part of a unit, a team, a family -- my sangha, which was both distinct and universal. And timeless. And, I now realize my monastery is the world. Being in meditation is not only doing zazen, but as the Indian philosopher Jiddu Krishnamurti, at whose foundation I subsequently was a resident student, stressed -- is walking, running and the living of life without the hindrance of thought.)

Excerpts:

Until now, I suddenly realized, I had spent my life exerting mental and physical strength in a desperate attempt to fill the emptiness of passing time. Now I was turned around, literally, in the opposite direction. Without exerting my mind or body in the least, losing even awareness of myself sitting, all I had to do was just sit and not think.

We were taught to chant with the ears, not the mouth. The idea was not to open your book and sing randomly, but to listen to the voices of others and blend in. Even if not used in a particularly musical way, the human voice in combination with others forms a rich tapestry of sound that moves the listener's heart. Although there was no special melody, because of the very simplicity of the vocalization, the slight variations in each voice produced a mysterious resonance with beautiful overtones.

The chants flowed from one to the next in prescribed order without pause, each participant knowing his place and performing his role, doing neither more or less than required. The service had a sublime and solemn beauty in which individual feelings had no place.

The Five Reflections
First we must not forget the blessing of nature in the food we now eat, nor the efforts of many that went into its making.
Second, as the purpose of eating is the practice of those things we ought to do, we must consider well whether we deserve this food today.
Third, if the food is to our liking, we must not eat greedily. There must be no delusion or error in our approach to food.
Fourth, food is medicinal in nature; we take it to keep the body from withering and dying.
Fifth, we take this food now so that we may fulfill the true way.

Checking Desire Even if someone wore a mantle of rich cloth all his life in the spirit of humility, as long as he was distracted by the material and appearance of the cloth, faithful transmission of Buddha's teachings would never be possible." There must be a complete departure from human desires. Put another way, only when the wearer's understanding of the mantle transcended the physical can the garment be a true expression and symbol of the transmission of Buddha's teachings.

Respect and Purity 'Washing the face is not only done to remove grease and grime. It is the living truth passed on by the buddhas and their ancestors. If you pay respect to others or receive respect without washing your face, you commit a grave sin."

The practice of face washing laid out by Dogen involves cleansing and purifying the body, the mind and all things: to cleanse the body and mind is also to cleanse the world around oneself. The face should not be washed because it is dirty, or left unwashed because it is not. The truth encapsulated in the practice of washing the face transcends ordinary concepts of the pure and the impure.

Age (I also experienced this, being older in time than most aspiring monks) I was a little fearful that after coming so far I might not be up to this task. Never had I felt so disheartened on account of my age, which was 30. Most of my fellow applicants were kids fresh out of college, their powers of recall undoubtedly superior to mine. More than that, they were like the proverbial boy near the temple who knew the sutras without trying.

Nourishing the body-temple But here at Eihieji, eating was a major undertaking. It was not a question of hunger or satiety, or of food tasting good or bad. The point lay in the act of eating itself. Eating was the Dharma, the essence of Buddhist teachings, and vice versa.

The Universe in Microcosm As suggested by the saying, "Awake half a mat, asleep a whole mat." each person's tatami mat represents the personal space allocated to him in the Monk's Hall. For a trainee, his mat is indeed the universe.
Let only those who earnestly desire the way and who have cast aside fame and profit enter this hall. Those without a mind of truth must not enter. If such a person should enter the hall, he must be carefully examined and then expelled. Let it be well understood: once desire for the way arises, the desire for fame and riches will disappear in a moment.
All those in the hall should blend like milk and water, earnestly seeking the way of Buddha together. Although now there is the relation of teacher and student, later all will be buddhas and ancestors. Therefore, let all as one encounter that which is difficult to encounter and practice that which is difficult to practice, never forgetting the mind of truth. All will definitely become buddhas; all will definitely become ancestors.

Those in the Monks' Hall have already left home and village behind, Relying on clouds and water, they aid one another's welfare and pursuit of the way. The debt thus incurred is greater even than the debt owed to father or mother, who are one's parents for only the duration of this life. Those in the hall will be friends in Buddhism for all eternity.

Now is the time to rid yourself of wicked thoughts. If, at a time like this, you were swayed by things of the world, how regrettable that would be! Things if the world are impermanent and fleeting. This life of ours is as ephemeral as the dew….

Lifeguides Have nothing to do with the wrongdoing of others. Do not look on others' misdeeds with venom. If you neither find fault with others nor take pride in your own good deeds, you will come naturally to esteem the high and the low. Do not emulate others' wrongdoing. See to your own virtue. Buddha said to restrain the misdeeds of others, but this does not mean you should despise them.
If two monks quarrel, both should be expelled. They impede not only their own Buddhist practice, but that of others as well. Anyone who looks on a quarrel without restraining it is to receive the same punishment.

Zen, it is said, aims to compress human physical needs to the barest minimum and to direct the human spirit to a higher sphere of activity. Diligent study to this end is concentrated within the walls of the Monk's Hall, a place that was, I thought, the epitome of self-denial. Row upon neat row of mats, one to a man, with shelves for bedding and bowls: that was all. Each occupant had cut off every tie with society and abandoned whatever riches and positions were his, wordlessly turning his back on the stream of events in the world in order to sit, eat, defecate, wash his face, brush his teeth, sweep, polish and pray.
I pondered the strangeness of it all. Monks take the human capacity for desire and turn it around so that, by observing the self that remains unsatisfied, that seeks no satisfaction, another, different self can obtain fulfillment in a different dimension. What convolution! Perhaps it's a kind of instinctual thought process unique to our species, one that comes into play precisely because we are so proficient at using every possible means to satisfy our longings that we don't know when to stop.

Dispassion "You undoubtedly will be concerned about your relative's well-being, but please know that the more you try to provide for him, the more his suffering will continue. We ask you to do nothing for a time.

The Integral of it All All of the tasks in the monastery were interconnected. If the drum and gong in the Outer Hall were not sounded properly, the monk waiting by the bell tower could not do his job. If the fourteenth toll were not properly soft, the one whose signal that was to do his job would be stymied. Any misstep was not just an individual blunder, but had the potential to bring to a halt the monastery's entire cycle of activity. There were no room for mistakes.

Each Day Virgin As soon as the evening bell had finished tolling, we gathered for a time of self-reflection. This meant looking back on what we had done that day, stating the mistakes we made, and getting the slate wiped clean. We did this every night, kneeling formally on the floor, buttocks on heels, with no cushion or mat between us and the floorboards. The average duration was thirty minutes, but sometimes it went on for an hour. We had to maintain posture on the hard floor the entire time. By learning each other's mistakes, we not only gained practical knowledge of matters not covered in the work ledgers but also were reminded of our proper place in Eiheiji and how to conduct ourselves accordingly.

Hierarchy Eiheiji is a completely hierarchical society. This fact does not derive from any particular era in Chinese or Indian history, it's just the way things have always been at Eiheiji. The hierarchy in batches of newcomers determined by the order of admittance is fixed and immovable, and it defines one's relation to every other member of the group regardless of age, education, status, or wealth. Herein lies the essence of Eiheiji equality.

Selflessness From the beginning, self-annihilation has been an important task imposed on Zen monks in everyday discipline, To cast aside the ego means to cast aside your self-hood, determinedly reducing yourself to nothing, all while revering and obeying your seniors and carrying out your daily chores in perfect silence. Yet mere awareness of this requirement does not enable anyone to easily set aside something as important as himself. Besides, we all had received an education influenced by modern western thinking, in which all existence is considered from the standpoint of the self.

Violence for Goodness Sake? The hapless disciple is beaten with a stick, kicked, slapped on the head with his teacher's sandal. But to revile all such actions as violence is too hasty a conclusion. Before an act can be labeled violent, its underlying purpose must be ascertained. A little thought will show that in the context Zen discipline, the fundamental purpose of a beating or thrashing is not to inflict injury or pain. Such acts are rather a means of conveying living truth from body to body and mind to mind, a form of spiritual training and cultivation….
Every time I was pummeled, kicked or otherwise done over, I felt a sense of relief, like an artificial pearl whose false exterior was being scraped away -- an exterior that previously I had struggled fiercely to protect, determined not to let it be damaged or broken. Now that it was gone, and I had nothing left to cover up or gloss over, I knew that whatever remained, exposed for all to see, was nothing less than my true self. The discovery of my own insignificance brought instant, indescribable relief.

Gratitude Before coming to Eiheiji, like everyone else in Japan I would say "Itadakimasu," I humbly receive, out loud at the beginning of a meal, but I could never rid myself of a certain embarrassment about, and internal resistance to, saying it with my palms joined. I automatically rejected the gesture as smacking of religiosity. Yet, the act of placing the palms together before eating should not be lightly dismissed. At the bottom, it is not an acknowledgement of the existence of some superhuman Other whose gift to us is food, but an expression of humble gratitude for what one is about to eat. Such gratitude is an important principle that must be held to if human beings are to coexist peacefully with their neighbors and with nature.

Freedom “I found great freedom in this way. Freedom in Zen means liberation from self-interests, from the insistent voice that says “I, me , my.” Liberation not from any external circumstance, but from a host of internal mental and psychological states, including desire; herein lies genuine, untrammeled freedom. This insight is nothing I stumbled upon myself, but a truth that has been transmitted ceaselessly down the ages from ancient India, the cradle of Buddhism.”

Preparing Food At Eiheiji, cooking for trainee monks is done not by professional cooks but by trainees themselves, under the supervision of a master whose role is head cook. Cooking, like eating, is considered an important discipline and a form of merit that nurtures goodness within the community. Washing rice, cutting pickles and cooking radish are not only culinary arts but ascetic discipline that must be done…with a profoundly way-seeking mind. …In accordance with the prohibition on taking life, a strict vegetarian regimen is followed — but not all vegetables are permitted. An old saying has it that “garlic and wine may not enter temple gates,” and indeed the use of pungent vegetables such as onions, leeks, scallions, pickled ginger shoots, chives and garlic are forbidden.

Ah, but ancient India was largely a Hindu/Buddhist society without the wide consumption of animals introduced by European colonizers I should mention here that even though the main ingredients are all vegetables, such dishes are not strictly vegan. At Eiheiji, curries and stews are made using standard commercial roux, which does contain meat products. Even so, this does not violate any Buddhist precept.
In Thailand and other countries practicing Hinayana Buddhism, which emphasizes adherence to ancient precepts, monks go begging for their food. They eat whatever is placed in their begging bowl, be it meat or vegetable, without penalty. The Discipline of the Tea Chants stipulate three conditions under which it is permissible to eat meat: if you did not see the animal being killed for your consumption; if you did not hear of the animal being killed for your consumption; if it is certain that the animal was not killed for your consumption. …What really matters is the determination not to take life. In fact, society is full of people who spend so much energy pursuing the means of doing something that they lose sight of purpose. Rather than thinking about purpose, people are more attracted by, and more proficient at, having various methods at their disposal. But methods that are devoid of purpose or detached from ultimate meaning will often — like war, and like development in the name of progress — lead only to disaster.

A Baldhead “Given up the hair of one’s head means giving up the roots of one’s desires. When desires are cut off even a little, the true self appears.” So goes a line from Dogens’ Abbreviated Etiquette of Becoming a Monk.

Discipline and Contradiction At Eiheiji, all leftovers from the formal meals are thrown away, regardless of the amount. When we were assigned to cleanup duty in the kitchen, every day we would throw away huge amounts of leftover food, despite our private struggles with hunger. This practice is hardly commendable, but it was a necessary evil in monastic life. It is a matter of deep regret that food should go to waste; yet if there were any leftovers, monastic disciplined required that they be discarded.
Reason made us obediently throw out leftovers as garbage, and instinct made us treat garbage as food, pawing through it at the mercy of our ravenous appetites. Both actions were inherently and indisputably human in nature. This contradiction is part of the eternal agony and dilemma faced by human beings, who have both a mind and a body. Ascetic discipline at Eiheiji suppressed our raw desires to the point that the divide between body and spirit stood out inescapably, forcing us to face this dilemma head on.

You Are Your Own Teacher But the discipline at Eiheiji taught us nothing. All there is at Eiheiji is a string of days with unvarying routine, nothing more. The “why” of that is not something anyone can teach, but must be grasped with one’s own body and spirit in the course of those endlessly repetitive days.

Hard Work An integral part of Zen life, no less important than sitting itself, is manual labor. This refers to the physical labor done in a Zen monastery. In ancient India, monks were detached from all physical labor and devoted themselves to spiritual labors. All their material needs were met by believers who provided alms and did any necessary work. In China, high esteem for physical work was tied to a practical turn of mind that resulted in the establishment of labor as a form of discipline.

Life in a Christian monastery is also based on prayer and work…but the two religious traditions have a fundamentally different approach to work. In the Christian monastic tradition, work is a means of supporting the life of prayer. Continued prayer is the goal, work the means. But for Zen practitioners, work has an inherent spiritual value and is integral to the life of discipline.

Sitting At Eiheiji, sitting is neither a purpose nor a means to an end. One doesn’t sit in order to gain enlightenment; one just sits. But what does “just sitting” mean? The act of folding the legs and sitting transcends everyday acts of sitting, standing and walking. When sitting, the sitter assumes a certain form. To assume this form is to become perfectly one with it — removing all fetters and ego — to be unselfconsciously present in the moment, like air.

The question naturally arises: why, in order to remove the ego, is it necessary to sit with legs folded, facing a wall? Why this form and no other? I doubt whether anyone could put the answer into words. Only in sitting for oneself , and persisting in sitting to the very end, does the answer come welling up in one’s blood and bones. This, I believe, is the essence of religion, which of course is something different than membership in a religious body. Religion isn’t something to explicate, but something to believe in; something that stands apart from all our probing. Some find their inspiration in the laws of nature, others in the lives of great predecessors. What I believed in was the successive moments of my life at Eiheiji.

Whenever I sat with my legs folded. Quietly facing the wall, various physical sensations became paramount in turn. My eardrums registered delicate vibrations from the currents of the air and the flux of nature all around. True, the longer I sat the more my legs hurt, but in time I came to grasp the importance of this and all else that happened in the course of sitting. Devoting oneself to sitting, getting used to sitting and conquering the pain of sitting are all equally pointless. The only point of sitting is to accept unconditionally each moment as it occurs. This is the lesson of “just sitting” that I had absorbed after one year.

Liberation I found great freedom in this way. Freedom in Zen means liberation from self-interests, from the insistent voice that says “I, me , my.” Liberation not from any external circumstance, but from a host of internal mental and psychological states, including desire; herein lies genuine, untrammeled freedom. This insight is nothing I stumbled upon myself, but a truth that has been transmitted ceaselessly down the ages from ancient India, the cradle of Buddhism.

Truth is in the Details But now I realize that apart from a few special days now and then, life mostly does consist of one dull, insignificant day after another. Human beings are attracted to drama and variety. The humdrum we hold in disdain. Wrapped up in the routines of our daily lives, we let them slide by unnoticed. But I believe that hidden in these ordinary, unremarkable routines of life is a great truth that requires our attention.

By contemplating life as it is, stripped of all extraneous added value, I felt I could let go of a myriad things that had been gnawing at my mind. Through the prosaic repetition of Eiheiji’s exacting daily routines, … this is the answer I felt in my bones: Accept unconditionally the fact of your life and treasure each moment of each day.