Neither Rushing Nor Still

 Just take tis single thought of shattering the mind of birth and death like a tile that knocks [down] a gate. [You should be like someone] sitting in the midst of a raging fire, wanting to escape. Do not step haphazardly; do not stand still (What Beginning Chan Practitioners Should Know, Master Boshan, from Attaining the Way,p.7)

As I am reading this passage from Master Boshan, I am thinking of a gazelle or even a mountain goat, a chamois, or some other graceful creature that survives through a mincing pace. Such kind of animals require a lithe body and movement that allows them to step over the crags of the narrowest of steppes, while still being able to avoid detection by predators. The combination of "not standing still" yet "not stepping haphazardly" perhaps best embodies this picture.

What do the raging fires represent? Perhaps they represent our ideas. As I was walking today, I thought about how the terms "idea" and "ideation" (as well as "ideal") have a similar root word of "Id", which also connects with identity (the sense of I) and even the mind of the Freudian id which is thought to be the seat of one's primordial wishes and desires. The one thing that is common to all these terms is the fact that they relate to half-formed, relatively fixed thoughts that obsessively recur over and over again. In contrast to unfolding events, ideas are often replays of the same event as a memory in our mind, something that lacks fluidity and might even represent unprocessed trauma or a stale, beaten path. The raging fires, in fact, represent the distracting influence of desirable impressions or ideas that cloud us from seeing the emptiness of all reality, or its unfolding constant nature.

In fact, people often get it backward, assuming that ideas are the only assurance of reality, whereas emptiness signals a kind of "void" or "lack". But its' the fixity of ideas that perhaps Boshan is cautioning us about. If I hold to a comforting idea about where I will be in ten years, or even hold the hopeful impression that I will be promoted tomorrow, little do I realize that I am attaching to a static concept that doesn't reflect the ceaseless nature of things. Instead of realizing that things are in continuous flux, I get stuck on ideas of who I am, a reality "out there" and this becomes a kind of mental prison to me. The only way to break out, says Boshan, is to "shatter the mind of birth and death like a kind of random "tile that knocks down a gate". We can only imagine that such a tile is accidental, because we hardly see such an event happen in everyday life, unless there is a passing wind or a storm.

If I practice with urgency, I know that each time I reinforce the concept of subject and object, self or other, I get deeper into my own delusion of what the world is. I don't go to the source of all being and thinking, which is beyond thought yet contains it at the same time. I suffer from this because I fail to realize how changing the reality actually is. It's like trying to catch water with a sieve. So this idea of not stepping haphazardly, not staying still, requires a kind of hyper alertness: knowing the dreamlike mind, and trying to avoid the reification of mind into objects and subjects.

Birds in the Sky etc.

 In Master Boshan's  "What Beginning Chan Practitioners Should Know", we read: "If you cannot discover the Original Great Principle that is within you, the mind of birth and death will never be shattered" (p.7). What is the Original Great Principle? According to the footnote in Master Sheng Yen's Attaining the Way, it's, "buddha nature, self nature, or the truth of emptiness" (p.7). And how do we discover this? By not using discrimination to cut up the world into self, other, me, other, this that--a kind of world of blocks, when in fact the world is not this way at all. I could now stop and say "the world is interdependence", but when I think of this, I am still thinking using consciousness. I might imagine a kind of swirling vortex where "things" are dancing together and then separating, then dancing again--but this too is based on the illusory notion that there are "things" independent of mind. So this too won't work. I am still creating a world and then assuming "this is the way it is out there", as if I am the onlooker standing over it. What then is this "interdependence" anyway? 

    Who is asking?

   I recall the concept that the flag neither stands still nor moves. "Moving" and "standing still" are all relative concepts, and from the perspective of mind, they don't ultimately exist. But we also know that the nature of emptiness is to be continually in flux. One moment can't be compared to the other. What I experience in this moment is all mind. Next moment is also mind; even if something has changed since the previous moment, nothing has changed from the perspective of mind (the clear primordial mind). So why do we say the mind is emptiness? Isn't it then a static mirror? This is the tricky part where I am getting stuck. I feel almost like there is relative emptiness (the impermanence and conditioned arising of all phenomena) and then ultimate emptiness (nothing really arises or disappears), but I have trouble connecting these together. 

    To use an example: we see the bird flying in the sky. From a relative perspective, the bird is only a temporary phenomena, because one minute, it's flying and the next, it's gone from our view. But consider from the perspective of ultimate mind. From the ultimate perspective, the bird is an image in our mind. But the image is only conditioned arising of elements. In fact, it (the image) has no independent reality from mind so it does not carry a "trace" with it into the next image of the bird. This is like the image on a tv screen. The image A only appears to be moving to image B, when in fact, each image is different. One doesn't actually move into another. So from the view of absolute emptiness, there is no connection between A and B. How then are they considered empty? I think it's because A and B appear without any interference. Because they don't really connect, there is no actual merging or "conflict": one doesn't disappear in order for the other to disappear. They are able to appear without any interference, in perfect harmony. That is because mind is identical with both images. Mind does not move from one image to the other. The image simply appears in mind. This is the principle of non-interference, non interaction, or total harmony. (Which is also a dream!) Perhaps this is an ultimate view of emptiness, whereas the relative view of emptiness still holds that things are born, change, die, transform into something else.  

    The important thing is maybe not what happens to phenomena under this view, but to keep looking for the mind that allows things to arise without interference. Then the nature of life really reveals itself.

Sharing My May 4 Lecture Notes

 On Saturday March 4, Venerable Chang Yuan began a series of Summer Dharma talks that are to take place every Saturday at DDM Toronto Center from May to August 2024. Ven. Chang Yuan provided a solid historical foray into the Dharma Drum lineage of Chan, describing the two major Chan Schools of Caodong (Soto) and Linji  and how Master Sheng Yen combined strands from these schools to form the methods that we now commonly refer to as Silent Illumination and Huatou. Master Sheng Yen’s book Attaining the Way by Master Sheng Yen is the principal text upon which these summer talks will be based.[i]

The first talk focused on excerpts from Master Boshan’s “What Beginning Practitioners Should Know” (from Attaining the Way, pp.7-22), with special emphasis on the meaning behind  his expression “break through the mind of birth and death”, as well as the importance of cultivating  a strong vow in one’s practice. What is birth and death after all? Before my birth, where did I come from? What is emptiness, and how can I discover it through practice and contemplation? Ven Chang Yuan remarked about how having a strong determination to answer a “great question” or great matter of life—such as who we are prior to birth and after death, or how to escape from attachment to birth and death—is one way to reduce the tendency to magnify small vexations in life. To treat Chan practice as a strong resolve to solve a deep problem that concerns our existence is one of the best ways that we can ensure that we are focusing on the things that matter the most in practice, and in life as a whole. Ven. Chang Yuan reminded us of how deep investigation of Chan can be a powerful way of setting the right priority. He also mentioned how some practitioners only practice Chan on the cushion, only to practice making money off the cushion. In fact, Dharma practice needs to soak into all of our experiences in order to reap the full benefits and find true peace in life, rather than relying on provisional things to make us feel secure.

I found myself gravitating to Ven Chang Yuan’s accounts of Master Boshan’s early education in Dharma. Wuyi Yuanlai (1575-1630) ---who was later named Master Boshan after Mount Bo where he taught Dharma-- was ordained at the age of 16, and experienced enlightenment at age 27. Although Yuanlai was a very studious monk and tried very hard to achieve realization through methods such as vipassana and samatha, he could only progress in his practice when he went beyond language and was able to see the reality of his mind directly. Ven. Chang Yuan used this story to remind the retreat participants how essential intensive Chan practice is, as an aid to directly experiencing what we have read in sutras. Truly investigating the method, as the Venerable reminded us, involves the process of knowing your method without giving it any second thought, until it becomes a part of you, and therefore can be used at all times, in every single moment. This is the difference between practicing on the cushion and being able to practice in every situation of one’s daily life.

Throughout this talk, Venerable Chang Yuan stressed the importance of having a great vow and using the vow to put in our earnest efforts in practice. Without a great vow or even a great question like Master Boshan’s, our practice will lack the continuity needed to strengthen our practice and apply it smoothly across different situations we face. Furthermore, without the truly strong vow, our life will be lead more by one’s karma than by insight or understanding. Ven. Chang Yuan also stressed the importance of the precepts as a means of protecting our practice, ensuring that, at the end of our life, we have enough positive merits that we can create a strong momentum to face death peacefully, without fear. Only with a positive perspective of looking back on our good deeds and intentions can one look forward to a favorable rebirth and face death openly and courageously.

One statement that most struck me during the talk was Ven. Chang Yuan’s reminder to be humble in our practice. He warned that it’s easy for practitioners to become arrogant when their practice experiences are quite smooth and they have started to develop a strong practice or flow with their method. In the Lotus Sutra, the Buddha waited for 500 arhats to leave the space where he was preaching before he started to deliver Dharma. The arhats left because they couldn’t accept the idea that all sentient beings possess the seed of buddha nature, that Buddha lies within all minds. This story emphasizes the importance of having an open and soft mind when listening to the Dharma—a mind that admits to not knowing the profound nature of emptiness, yet is not discouraged from wondering and trying to investigate under the guidance of sangha and teachers.

How can we apply the method of investigation in daily life? This was a question that one participant had raised during the Q and A. Ven. Chang Yuan responded that we should use apply method lightly but consistently in daily life without trying to suppress thoughts or emotions. Trying to use the method to suppress thoughts will only lead to tiredness and tenseness, not to mention a more distracted mind. On the other hand, when we experience strong anger in daily life, rather than suppressing angry thoughts and emotions, we can go to the heart of it by asking “who is it that is angry?” This would be one way of using the method of huatou to address daily life phenomena, without the side-effects of an intense approach or mindset.

Finally, when Ven. Chang Yuan was asked the question “what is ignorance?” he exhorted the participants to “talk less, listen more” when they go home. That is, if we don’t know what is wisdom and what is ignorance, it’s best to keep our minds clear and simple, and practice rather than speaking of what we don’t know. I believe that taking Ven. Chang Yuan’s advice slowed me down and allowed me to be more present when others are talking. It also reminded me that Dharma is not something we learn through words or memorization. It’s something we put into our heart through faith, vows and determination to apply the method to remain present with ourselves at all times.

Keith B. May 5, 2024

 

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[i] And the good news is, this book can be found and purchased on amazon.ca

Wisdom in Ignorance?

 Seeking wisdom outside of ignorance (and vexations, for that matter) is incorrect from a Chan perspective. But what does this mean? In Sword of Wisdom, Master Sheng Yen remarks, "In making the transition from ignorance to Buddha-nature, you will realize that ignorance does not really exist. If it did, we would all be bound to it forever. Anyone practicing who understands this principle will not strive to get rid of ignorance or seek after Buddha-nature."

Another way of saying this is that there is no need to seek beyond this world, this life, and the experiences around us to be able to see how the Buddha nature is, since Buddha nature is simply taking the temporary form of ignorance. This is the same way that a water will take on various forms depending on the container in which it is presented, but this water is not any different in its essential nature. 

Making mistakes stems from the fact that we live in a world where we are using consciousness to distinguish "I" from others, and even assuming that things aren't interrelated and interconnected, when in fact, they are. I believe that knowing this will help us to practice in a way that is more practical and about present day life, rather than trying to achieve some otherworldly experience.

Boshan's Exhortations

 At the very outset of practice, arouse the aspiration to break through the mind of birth and death. With determined resolve, see through the universe, body and mind, and realize that everything is [the coming together of] provisional conditions--without a substantial self - Master Boshan, Exhortations on Investigating Chan from Sheng Yen (2006) Attaining the Way: A Guide to the Practice of Chan Buddhism, (p.7)

What exactly does it mean to "break through the mind of birth and death"? Perhaps it means a literal birth and death, but it could also mean the view of birth and death that keeps people in a cycle of bondage. When I continue to believe that I am bound to a cycle of coming into being, I am using my mind to connect the previous experiences with the present, adding to this the concept of a self that experiences and "travels" from past to present to future.

 I wonder if this is what Master Boshan means by "break through the mind of birth and death". At the same time, when he says "break through", it makes me think of how sometimes the only way to see past a brick wall is to shatter it, rather than trying to carve a neat little door into it. Chan Buddhism tends to use a lot of aggressive metaphors such as "break through" or "shatter" to describe an act of sudden awakening that has to transcends the barrier of self and other.

"Breaking through", for sure, may involve some kind of superhuman strength: a resolve, a kind of willpower that pushes past distractions and discriminations. The importance of "determined resolve" here should not be underemphasized, since it entails that we should use a determined effort to counterbalance the tendency to divide the world between self and other (subject/object), which gives rise to all kinds of grasping mentalities and vexations. Wanting very much to "stay afloat" on the raft of life, we fail to realize that we are creating the sense of desperation and conflict by giving rise to (and  reinforcing, for that matter) the separation of self and other. But more to the point, breaking through requires completely letting go of the safety raft of words and concepts; it entails a clean break, rather than trying to use words as crutches to support that subtle sense of self and grasping.

The concept of a clean break if followed by the notion of seeing through as in see through the universe, body and mind. What is seeing through? Does it mean to have x-ray glasses that see through everything magically? I think not. It means to be able to see all phenomena as having an empty, dependently originating nature. It is to see that body, universe, mind--all the things we distinguish as separate entities--are in act interconnected parts. The notion of separation is only a conceptual one and is not based on the real experience of things interconnected. Does this insight or this seeing through really require superhuman strength? Well, it requires a determination not to act from a place of routine dualism and habits.

Finally, one realizes the crux of the matter: realize that everything is [the coming together of] provisional conditions--without a substantial self . This hinges upon the three Dharma seals of emptiness, impermanence, and no-self. When we stop acting from the idea that everything is a discrete identity, then where is the sense of opposition? Let's break this down if we can:

Without a separate substantial self, is there any room for grasping the other as someone who can be possessed? Rejecting the other as someone worthy of disdain? Praising the self as something precious and immortal? Seeing success as great, failure as small? Comparing myself to others? Without a separate self, everything is seen in its fluidity. Our role becomes that of temporary players in the stream of life, rather than permanent stations. And then we can let go of the grave seriousness of having to be a complete, whole, integrated player who has everything "all together". By nature, we come into the game as passerbys: identities that are in constant learning, flux and shaping. With this full realization, we naturally will experience less grasping, comparison, desire, envy, greed, self-preservation, etc.

The Butterfly's Meal

  When I looked at the butterfly in the park today, I thought about the simplicity of this creature's life, and how it eats the simplest things from the flowers, mates and dies. There is something about this kind of life that is touching and makes me reflect on how the mind overcomplicates things indeed. To live, is it not just to breathe, to have companions, to eat, and to pass onto another form altogether? Although this seems quite fleeting and meaningless, the fact that we are here to observe it means there is something deeper within that never dies. It is still, it is quiet, and it is capable of seeing the subtlest beauty in all things. 

    The mind that is deep within us does not need an image of itself to confirm its being, and nor does it require the support of stimulants or other kinds of things we use to keep ourselves awake. It is purely being without an object, a deep sense of connection that goes beyond self. It is the flow that I sometimes feel when I am able to do something purely guided by exploration rather than being distracted by so man events. And often I have these everyday reminders to confirm what I feel about that.

   If we forget, we only need think: what is the one social role, the one fabricated sense of "I", the one image of the self, that has stayed with me from the day of birth? Life goes on being in spite of all these changing images of the self and its numerous desires.

Parenting Our Children

 I have recently been reflecting on the relationship between parenting and 'childing" or the act of being a child. I often see myself as a child, mainly because I never was a parent, and it seems that my roles as a teacher and facilitator position me closest to that of a parent--not to mention my roles in training at work. Many modern psychologists focus on the wounding that people received as children, in addition to how we can heal those wounds before we can be fully available to others. We can characterize such psychologies as "child-centered" in the sense that they locate the pain in the world back in the child, rather than looking at the ways adults and parents have their own unique burdens and sufferings. But I wonder if it's precisely our wounds that become gifts to others, in the sense that they help us develop compassion and the ability to heal others.

   Buddhism emphasizes how we should meditate on those who have benefited us. Our giving can come from a sense of honoring those who have given to us, from this perspective. But honoring requires slowing down to see that we were always standing on the shoulders of others, and this is not easy. If we are always picturing ourselves as in battle or competition with others, the idea of having depended on others seems belittling or even demeaning to our sense of personal identity.

 I think the most apt metaphor to describe benefiting others is that of a kind of wounded healer. We are negatively impacted by the ways we may have been dropped or abandoned in the past, yet we use all the emotion that accumulates from that to raise others up. The principle, at the end of the day, is that everybody is really doing their best. If there were things that our benefactors didn't do for us, then those gaps are the things that we can fill for others, since our recognition of those gaps means we have a seed within ourselves that can fill them. Suffering can complete us; it can help us to become more three dimensional, if we practice non-resistance to it, but also try to get as much help as possible to support our frailties.