Adult practice: Part 6
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Last month I explained about "adult practice"
using the first two of the "eight awarenesses of true adults", that is
"small desire" and "knowing that one has enough".
I said something to
the effect that being an adult means to realize that what life offers you
in this precise moment is already enough, and that there is no need at all
for you to look for something better in some other place. The more you
desire, the more you will feel that something is missing, which will cause
you to suffer. So an adult just stops desiring more than what life has to
offer right here and now.
Now, this might sound nice, but don't you
think that this is only empty theory, without any relation to the reality
in which we actually live in? If in fact it was only empty theory, you
should better stop reading this "shit paper" right now, and I should stop
wasting my time writing it. But of course I am trying not to talk mere
theory, but rather throw some light on what I call "adult practice".
"Practice" is daily life, and never "theory", although "theory" can
sometimes help us to become more clear about "practice". We have to be
careful not to stop short at theorizing about "practice", but actually put
the "practice" into practice, realize and manifest it in our lives.
Otherwise our "practice" really is no more than empty theory.
So,
why is it that concepts like "small desire" and "knowing that one has
enough", "realizing that one has enough if one stops desiring more than
what life offers to us in this precise moment" sound like empty theory to
us? Isn't it because deep inside ourselves we feel that "something is
still missing" even though we might understand intellectually that the
reality of our lives is fine as it is? I think even after years of
practicing Buddhism we still have this feeling of "something missing". We
still want something better, a little bit more candy, happiness and
enlightenment. So rather than being content with what life has to offer to
us right now, if we are honest with ourselves, we might realize that we
never have enough with what we have and always desire more, even if we
don't even really know what we are missing exactly in the first place. Why
is that?
Sawaki Kodo Roshi says:
"Something is missing in
zazen? What is missing? It is not on the side of zazen that something is
missing, it is just the deluded human being sitting in zazen that thinks
'something's missing'!"
"Something missing - just sit zazen. Something
missing - practice zazen with your body. Something missing - manifest
zazen with your body."
Still, why is there something missing? If "adult
practice" really means to stop desiring more than life has to offer to us
right now, how could we possibly think that something is still missing? At
least during zazen, we should feel that there is really nothing missing,
that we are having all we need!?
Sawaki Roshi gives the answer when he
says that "it is just the deluded human being sitting in zazen that thinks
'something's missing'!" There is nothing wrong with the zazen we practice.
It is only our deluded thoughts accompanying this practice which try to
convince us that "something is still missing". So for all of us who are
deluded human beings, there is always something missing. It is just
natural. On the other hand, we must not forget that at the same time we
are human beings, we are also buddha. Being buddha means to be connected
to that absolute reality in which their is no way for anything to be
missing ever. Even when we think that we are still missing something, a
part of us perfectly realizes that we could not possibly desire more than
what we have. We are at the same time deluded human beings and buddhas,
both infantile and adult. I think that all of us possess this almost
schizophrenic double structure in our minds, and I do not think that it is
possible to discard of one side of ourselves in favor of the other.
The
problem then for a true adult is how these two sides of the one self
relate to each other. Do you want to live your life letting yourself be
led around by that infantile part of you that always claims that something
is still missing? A true adult would rather sit stably in this reality
where "something is still missing", manifesting zazen with his body even
though his thoughts desire "something more".
Sawaki Roshi also said:
"Zazen means to sit firmly while something is missing."
There is a
famous Zen koan, usually referred to in Japan as the "koan of character
Mu". It is about a monk asking a master: "How about this dog. Has he
buddha nature or not (mu)?" The master answers: "Mu (not)!"
The word
"koan" literally means a "public case", usually an exchange between a
teacher and a student, or some other saying or doing by a zen master that
later served as a model expression of truth. In modern years though, the
word "koan" started to be used to refer to a single question out of a
curriculum for zen students to be "passed" during the training under a
koan teacher. The student will enter the "dokusan room" to meet one to one
with the teacher. First he will announce his koan, then the teacher will
ask him for his answer. The student has already prepared some statement or
action to express his understanding. If the teacher approves of his
understanding, the student will "proceed" to the "next koan", if the
teacher does not approve the student has to "try again" next time. In the
case of the "koan of character Mu", the student will usually have a good
chance to "pass" if he just bellows "Moooooooh!" in a deep voice from the
depth of his hara, to demonstrate that he has "become one with Mu". It is
worthwhile to notice that the koan is called the "koan of character
Mu" in Japan, not "Mu koan". It is all about becoming the character
"Mu", not about becoming somekind of "absolute nothingness" or
"far-eastern void" that certain philosophers thought "Mu" was all about.
As a modern koan, "Mu" has no other meaning than "Mooooooooh!"
Other
koans require that the student slaps the teacher or pretends to be pissing
at him. Answers to koans can be in fact as innocent and amusing as the
play of kids in kindergarten. Not exactly what you would call "adult
practice", but then koans are used as a means to an end in certain zen
traditions, not as an end in itself. As means to an end, I think that
koans serve well to free us out of the prisons of our too many thoughts in
our minds. Still, this liberation from thoughts takes place through an
artificial infantilization of ourselves, a return to a baby like state -
in zen this is called "becoming a complete idiot". In some traditions,
"becoming a complete idiot" is considered a necessary first step for zen
practice.
But now I do not want to proceed to discuss the strenghts
and weaknesses of "koan zen". I would rather like to concentrate on some
deeper aspects in the "koan of the character Mu". When the monk asks, "How
about this dog. Has he buddha nature or not?", he is not just talking
about some random dog. When he says "dog", he is reflecting on that side
of himself that can be expressed most accuredly as "dog". Buddhism teaches
that we are all buddhas, but can you really call this dog of a self a
buddha? The master answer was not "Mooooooh!" but a plain "no!". There is
a clear difference between a deluded human being and a buddha. As deluded
human beings, we are far from being "buddhas as we are". The koan
continues with the monk's question: "If, as Buddhism teaches, everything
has the buddha nature, how come that only this dog, myself, has none?" The
master answers: "Because of karmic nature". As buddhas, we have buddha
nature, true, but as deluded beings our nature is "karma", and living our
lives being spinned around by karma is different from living as a
buddha.
It is interesting that at a different time the same master
answered the same questions in the opposite way: The monk asks, "How about
this dog. Has he buddha nature or not?", the master answers "yes, he
has!". Even for a dog like you or myself there is no way to escape out of
that absolute reality called "buddha nature". A deluded human being is not
the same as a buddha, but they also can not be seperated. A buddha
transcends the human being, but at the same time he encloses and embraces
the human being. The monk continued: "You say that this dog has buddha
nature, but why then does the pure buddha nature manifest in such an ugly
state of existence?" When I look at myself honestly, I can see only
desires, hate, delusion - how could any "buddha nature" possibly manifest
here? The teacher's answer is famous: "It is done deliberately!"
A
deluded being is not more than a deluded being. A buddha is nothing less
than a buddha. A deluded being and a buddha are not the same thing, but
when a deluded human being, in the midst of karma and delusion, takes
refuge to vows and lives a life of practice, the karmic-nature
being turns into a vow-nature being, and a buddha and
bodhisattva, a true adult manifests deliberately. A bodhisattva or adult
is a deluded being living by vows. Buddha and human being can never be
seperated, although they are not one either. To live by vows, to live as a
responsible adult, and to live by karma, as a big baby, are two completely
different ways to live our lives. An adult "deliberately" chooses to use
this karmic human existence to live for the buddha way.
I am
deluded, and I am buddha. I am a big baby, and I am a true adult at the
same time. The question is how these two "myselves" relate to each other.
Just as a loving mother pulls the whining child by the hand, the adult me
guides the infantile me by letting it follow the gravity force of zazen.
There is no use in getting all neurotic trying to "educate" myself by
myself, as some young mother might get when her baby won't stop crying.
When the parent naturally loves the child, and the child naturally follows
the parent, it becomes obvious how the deluded karmic being, the "dog me",
is at the same time connected to the adult buddha and bodhisattva, living
by vows.
"Zazen means to sit firmly while something is
missing."
"Being stared into the eye by zazen, being scolded by zazen,
being obstructed by zazen, being dragged around by zazen this way and the
other, crying all the time - isn't this the most happy way of life we
could think of?"
Only with the firm and stable resolution of an adult
can we have a taste of this "happiness". Sadly, it does not exist for
mentally three year olds. In myself, the firm and stable adult, and the
three year old for whom there is always something missing, exist
parallely. But this double structure is not just a form of schizophrenia
or self-contradiction. If we practice in a mature way, we can get a great
force for our practice just because of this inner structure of ourselves.
In the Genjokoan, Dogen Zenji says:
"When the dharma does not yet fill
body-and-mind, you think there is already enough dharma.
When the
dharma does fill body-and-mind, you will realize that one side is still
missing."
When it comes to practice of the dharma, to think that we
already have enough is childish. Here it is the adult who realizes that
"something is still missing". When we are content with our zazen, it is a
sure sign that something is wrong with our zazen. Contrariwise, it is when
we truely practice zazen that we realize that one side is still missing.
Nothing is missing on the side of zazen of course. But as human beings, we
still have our defects, our childish sides, and the more mature our
practice becomes, the clearer our awareness of this childishness and
deludedness of ourself becomes. Because of this awareness, we continue to
practice and commit ourselves to the way, looking at ourselves from
different angles. Once we start to become content with our practice
though, congratulating ourselves on our attainments, we have actually
retarded to the state where we think we have enough of what we could not
possibly ever have enough of: Dharma. And it is only a question of time
when we will start to whine and complain: "Something is still missing".
The only thing missing is a mature, responsible approach to our own
practice.
Following "small desire" and "knowing that one has
enough", there are six more awarenesses of a true adult: "Enjoying
quietude (not busying oneself with irrelevant matters)", "Making an effort
to practice (taking responsibilty for one's own life)", "Not forgetting
one's resolution (why do I practice?)", "Practicing samadhi (manifesting
zazen with the body)", "Practing wisdom (putting "adult practice" into
actual practice)", "No superfluous talking (graduating from empty
theory)". Rather than explaining about the rest of these awarenesses, I
would like to talk about how I myself came to Antaiji for the first time,
and what I experienced there. To be continued.
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