I think that there is some mysterious connection between Chan and nature. I have yet to see a study which really explores the interconnections between nature and Chan, but Master Sheng Yen remarks:
Within the confines of your own home you may feel you are the master, but if may others live there, the sense of being in your own space begins to diminish. When you go into the country, the expanse of sky and earth form one big universal house and you can feel very small. At the same time, in that great open space you would feel that all nature is yours, and even with other people there, you still feel a sense of spaciousness. (p.33)
I felt a similar sense when I was on the camping trip and doing meditation this weekend. City life does in fact make people feel that they are often masters of their lives. I am thinking about how convenient it is to find food in the city and even to turn on a faucet or a light switch in the expectation of clean water and light. While spending time in the non-service area (read: no hydro), I began to see how everything that I take for granted in the city is based on complex supporting conditions. But when a lot of conveniences are reduced, we are all left to take in the sounds, sights and smells around us, as well as to see that there is only a very thin tissue between ourselves and the universe of other sentient creatures.
The tent seems to symbolize this interconnection the most. While meditating in the tent, the four of us had experienced all the sounds of the natural world, separated only by a very thin mosquito netting. As I closed my eyes to start the meditation practice, I began to feel a certain power in the way the sounds were all separate yet coalescing and co-existing together. And I also began to appreciate the vastness of life. What I experience in my relations with those I know is only a tiny part of all the relationships that living beings share with each other. Even though I may not feel connected to the spider which crawled into the inside of the tent, we are both in some ways contributing to the same world, and there is some collective karmic affinity that we are able to experience the other in some way.
There seems to be some intrinsic joy in meditating close to nature and being able to sense certain things or connections there. Part of it is what I alluded to before. Even to close your eyes or behold a landscape such as a forest or a lake can give you and idea that the world is much bigger and less controllable than the habitual worlds one occupies. And this vastness is nothing to fear. Rather than excluding, it envelops the listener. There is a sense that the world participates in a shared unity, even when it may seem that sentient beings are divided from each other by different perspectives and concerns.
Somehow, I feel a linkage between nature and the kinds of relationships that can only develop with a healthy solitude. What do I mean by 'healthy' solitude? I am referring to a kind of solitude that increases the sense that one is already connected to the world and universe in ways that go beyond words and verbal communication. To be with plants and animals in a silent way is a kind of step in realizing the depth of connections that aren't really said at all. Sheng Yen remarks, "When I was in solitary retreat, I knew that I was together with all sentient beings in innumerable worlds. Even though I seemed to b alone in a small, enclosed room, actually I was living in the company of many ants who found their way inside, and insects outside of the hut created all kinds of sounds in the evening." (p.24) With this perspective and attitude, could anyone ever feel alone in the universe?
Sheng Yen (2012), Tea Words Volume One. New York: Dharma Drum Publications
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