Mind of Infinite Tolerance

  I recently read an analogy which goes something like: imagine our vexations, thoughts (whether good or bad), as the various fish or shrimps in an ocean, and we ourselves are that ocean. Now, I normally don't think this way at all. Me, an ocean? Can't be!! But according to this analogy, indeed, the mind is an infinite ocean that is constantly renewing itself. In fact, even the analogy of renewal is inaccurate because it suggests that there is some recycling depot out there where the mind either purifies itself or "recycles" back to a normal state. Perhaps even a giant toilet that flushes and replenishes itself? I think the analogy suggests, to the contrary, that the mind is so vast that nothing can pollute it. 

   All too often, we think there is not enough in us. I reflect on how, when the mind is seen as a shallow pool, the creatures that inhabit it (our thoughts) feel like they are running out of water and can't survive for very long. They start knocking on the door, one by one, asking for sustenance, and asking to be the number one priority in the mind. They even want to shut out the other thoughts, for fear that their own voices will be drowned out. But if the mind is clear, vast, and non-grasping, there is more than enough room for all the thoughts. All thoughts are given their due consideration, without the illusion that the thoughts have an independent reality apart from mind itself. This is to say that when one can reach the point of purely observing thoughts and how they arise and disappear, one will not fall for the trap that thoughts endure forever as separate entities. I might think so and so is "this way", but that thought of the person has already disappeared. They, whoever they are, are not in that thought. They have moved on, and so have you, so why be bound to that one thought of the person (whether positive or negative)? 

   The insecurity that one has is the fear that they themselves are not "good enough". This leads to a clinging mindset, fear and regrets, which are all related to grasping conditions and how we are taking them to be permanent. Are they permanent? Is there anything one has worried about that still remains with them after 10, 20 years? In fact, most worries become other worries, or just resolve through the passage of time. So reflecting on emptiness is the only way to develop the confidence that no thought is getting  in the way of who we are. It is only our vexation and attachment to thoughts that causes us to feel scarcity, grasping and insecurity in life.

June 15 Dharma Talk- Finding Our Original Face

 For the June 15 Dharma talk, ChangYuan Fashi continued with a discussion of Chapter 5 with the stark reminder from Master Boshan: “do not fear that in death you will not live; instead, fear living without [having experienced the great] death!” What is the fear of death that Master Boshan refers to, and, more specifically, the “great” death? Part of the tricky balance of huatou practice is to maintain “relaxed focus”, which means that we fully engage in generating the mass of doubt, but we must learn to relax our bodies first. Since huatou practice involves singleminded devotion to a question, it can sometimes lead to bodily tension. This is why ChangYuan Fashi reminded us to “leave our bodies to the cushion” when practicing huatou method, which means slowing down and releasing all tension before devoting oneself to huatou practice. Fashi compared the tense or nervous attitude that people sometimes take toward huatou with those in China who “pray to the god of Exams” in order to successfully pass a test. With a tense mind, it’s easy to make mistakes or have scattered thoughts in whatever we do. On the other hand, when the body is relaxed, the huatou practice can be more seamlessly practiced.

But, to go back to the original statement that begins Chapter 5, what would cause practitioners to overcome the fear of death? Fashi explained how most of us are attached to our bodies, going to great pains to make ourselves comfortable, ease any pains in the body, or relieve discomforts. As a result, we start to identify ourselves with our bodies, which then creates heavy karmic obstacles to practice, including focusing on the discomfort of leg pain at the expense of using the actual method while in sitting meditation. This isn’t to say that we should discard the body, but we should view the body from the right view as a tool of one’s practice. After all, the body that we currently have allows us to contribute to society, attend Dharma talks, take responsibility for our families, and even repay the kindness of our parents. Fashi reminded the participants not to identify with or attach to the body, but instead to appreciate the body as the way we can generate merit and practice meditation methods. In this way, the craving for life and avoidance of death can gradually be overcome.

Fashi recited the line “Dying is to remove your stealing mind”, where “stealing” refers to the tendency to look to the external environment for support, rather than within our own original nature as the way to awaken. When we are not moved by grasping or craving, then both stillness and motion become identical because the mind is no longer swayed by the changing conditions. While the unenlightened mind sees “still” and “moving” objects, in reality, the mind is constantly in flux. In fact, everything is always changing, so there really isn’t a single still phenomena to be found anywhere. When Master Boshan remarks on how “the deluded mind will be purified by itself”, he is referring to the fact that our vexations stem from a tendency to grasp the thoughts as though they were real and external to mnd, rather than seeing that they are the result of causes and conditions. When we see vexations for what they are (as impermanent and identical with Buddha nature), they cease to be sources of suffering. In this way, deluded mind becomes purified without adding or subtracting anything.

Fashi pointed out how the method of involves contemplate (use the method), illuminate (being clear about the method, or mindfulness) and pick up the method to maintain consistent and constant practice at all times. During the talk, Fashi briefly explored Silent Illumination, mainly to point out its differences from Huatou. With Silent Illumination practice, the “silence” does not involve absence of sound, but, instead, refers to the absence of moving the mind. The mind is simply clear about all the sense objects, without seeking them or adding conscious thought to them. Illumination refers to clearly being mindful of the totality of all the body, and treat all phenomena as extension of the body. Fashi explained that this practice is simple to describe, but not always easy to implement, since there is no specific method to return to. Keeping the “six roots” (six senses) open means to be clear and relaxed about what is emerging in the six senses without adding a conscious thought. In contrast, Huatou method is almost the opposite: it involves a single-minded pointing to the question of the huatou, while shutting out the six senses.

Throughout the talk, Fashi reminded his audience that the practices described in Master Boshan’s treatise are very profound, yet not often easy to apply in daily life. He encouraged the audience to interpret the talks positively, meaning that they should try to take whatever they can from the talk to uplift their minds rather than feeling discouraged or challenged by applying the method to daily life. When people go home to their families and express the joy of hearing the Dharma, their families will see an immediate difference and will want them to go back to the centre to learn more. At times, people may find the practice a burden and treat it as a responsibility, much like the “thousand pounds on your shoulders” which describes the doubt sensation in Chapter Six.  Instead of viewing practice as a burden, Fashi encouraged the retreat participants to see these burdens as opportunities to acquire merit. He compared this to a grandmother who doesn’t see taking care of her grandchildren as a burden.

Another analogy that is mentioned in Chapter 6 to explain the Huatou method is “searching for an important thing you have lost”. In fact, according to the analogy of the Original Face in the Platform Sutra, the one thing we feel we have lost the most is our original nature, which we have already had all along, and therefore does not need to be found outside the mind. As long as we are willing to investigate our vexations, then there is no need to seek additional wisdom beyond the vexations themselves. Fashi stressed that we should not try to seek this original face outside our mind, or with the intention of personal gain. Like a cat watching the mouse, we generate the huatou with a determination that is relaxed. At the very least, if we can do this at a slowed pace, we develop the quality of patience, both with the method itself and with vexations we face in daily life and practice. This also requires cultivating an intentional curiosity to know the answer to the huatou, and to use it to find our true home.

Reflection and Contemplation: Two Oars for Rowing

    I am always a bit leery, to be honest, when people say things like "don't just think about Zen; directly experience it!" This approach--which some have compared to eating instead of simply looking at the menu--makes me feel that thought is divorced from so called life. In fact, both "direct experience" and "thought" are just variations on thought. As soon as I even become conscious of anything, there is already a sense of subject and object. So I don't think it's necessary to rage war against thought. The claim that some think meditation instead of doing meditation seems a bit extreme and dualistic. I would suggest instead that all are just functions of the mind, and leave it at that.

   There is this fantasy that somehow if only I let go of all the "bad" things that make me chained to a life of vexations, addictions, and so on, then I would reach this pristine state of being. It could be called "the moment", "now", "the present" and so on, but whatever we call it, there is always a sense that something out there is better, more clear, more pristine. And we keep trying to get that experience, even to the point where we discriminate between those who "have it" (sages) and those who don't (neurotics). But I think the whole point of practice is that whatever we are doing, thinking, feeling in the present, are really just functions of mind. We should never feel afraid of these things, since they are impermanent. 

Being able to directly experience impermanence does not mean we just "ditch" our thoughts, but nor does it mean that we try to seek "clearer" or "better" thoughts. Instead, we simply experience the temporality of thoughts and their contingent, provisional nature. This involves both an appreciation for the ability to think and make sense of the world, and a light attitude: let's not fall too deeply into our thoughts, or become enthralled in the search for perfect thoughts, knowing that they will all be washed up with the tides. But we need not dismiss thoughts either. They have their place, just like the oars on a boat have a place in steering the boat. Oars do not control the boat--they only gently direct the boat to where we need it to go. In the same way, we need reflections, thoughts, concepts, to be able to add shape and sense to our experiences, but we don't need to urgently cling to them. They are just there to help us steer clear of trouble and stay on an even path.

Seeking vs Not Seeking

  It's been a while since I dipped into Master Boshan's writings, so I thought I would continue from where I left off in Master Sheng Yen's Attaining the Way. But let me preface this by saying: I think that the art of "not knowing" is to learn to enjoy the space between the knowing and the not knowing, without punishing ourselves for not knowing. Sometimes the grassy path has no clear footprints, but the only direction is the direction that one's feet are taking us. If you don't know what this means, just walk! And you will soon find out that the walking itself is the destination.

 Here is what Master Boshan notes:

"You can only resolve the Great Matter [of birth and death] in the midst of stillness, while not knowing that you are in stillness. But if you seek to resolve this Great Matter in stillness, then you'll never attain it! If you don't seek, then you are sure to get it" (p.8).

When reading this passage, I am sure many would be confused. Why would we be "sure" to get something by not seeking it? Is this a veiled invitation to a kind of lazy "non-practice"? I think the idea of "not knowing that you are in stillness" simply means, we don't treat stillness as an object of contemplation. If I meditate and look for something called "stillness", I am really attaching to some idea called "stillness", without realizing that true stillness is the absence of attachment. Stillness can be anywhere and in anything, as long as the mind isn't approaching or rejecting anything. But if my mindset involves reifying stillness into an object of accomplishment, or a kind of goal, then I will only create vexations for myself. 

This is tricky, because anything we call mind is bound to be a concept. But if, instead of trying to achieve this thing called mind, I get out of the way of mind, I find that mind already functions perfectly well in accordance with the cause and conditions. I don't need to "achieve", hold onto, or savor a special kind of mind. Mind is an endless flow of possibilities, and it is unfolding even now as I am typing these words. When, instead of being self-conscious and looking for answers, I faithfully allow the answers to come forth in the everyday flow of experience, then I can directly perceive the emptiness of all phenomena. This does not require an act of seeking to resolve the Great Matter...because to do so is to create a separate subject and object. Instead, it means completely trusting that this mind you experience now is still mind. But even this can become an object of seeking--this so called "non-seeking"!! 

So it's important not to try to make this into a plan of action. Just like right now, I don't know which word will arise next, I am trusting that the moment will provide me with the right words to express something inexpressible. And I didn't need to discuss this with myself. I only had to trust that, "you will have the words that are needed". This is a subtle experience of letting myself get out of the way. Stepping aside and allowing this experience to unfold, to orchestrate itself, to create harmony, without needing to figure it out ahead of time. Perhaps this is one way to understand how we approach meditation practice.

Tolerating Injustice

  During the Dharma talk tonight, ChangYuan Fashi shared his ideas about repentance and how they relate to "tolerating injustice". Whenever I feel distress about something, I might have the idea in my mind that things should be better. I think it's the "should" part ("I should feel secure", "I should be happy", "I should be treated fairly") that leads an otherwise simply unpleasant situation to be a source of suffering. Not only do we feel the pain of insecurity (which is a natural part of being alive) but we add to that the sense that we are entitled to feel secure. In fact, as Fashi pointed out, many unfortunate things happen to us as a result of the ripening of causes and conditions that happened to us in the far distant past or even many lifetimes ago. Since karma is very complex, we can never tell when a negative karmic retribution will ripen. The best attitude is to fully accept the retribution, knowing that we must have incurred it through our previous behaviors, and that it's ultimately impermanent and the result of myriad circumstances, causes and conditions that happen to ripen.

   When I asked Fashi how we deal with fears about the future, he mentioned that repentance helps us to calm down and to stay in the present, rather than imagining a future that hasn't happened. The "future" is often only our own projected image of the past, and the future itself has nothing to do with how we are thinking about it. The fact is, we only need take care of what is happening now in this moment. There is so much that we can't know about the future, so instead of being endlessly anxious about the future, we can ask ourselves, "what can I do now about this?" In this way, the worries become more manageable and less cumbersome. 

  Another point is about regret. "Regret" involves thinking that we should have done one thing instead of another. Again, this can be resolved through the practice of fully repenting and saying wholeheartedly "I am sorry". But we can also practice acceptance of the moment. What we did in the past was the result of the causes and conditions. Why feel regret for what's already passed? Again, working with repentance--wholeheartedly repenting of previous mistakes and accepting the present moment--can be a good way of addressing regrets

Living Whilst Dying

   It's perhaps become a cliche to say that Buddhism (and other religions) teach us how to face death with equanimity. Some religions are doing this by reassuring its practitioners of the afterlife to come, while others help us to meditate on death as a daily practice. What I think is especially challenging is to recognize death in the midst of living. What I mean by this is that the things we work for now are all impermanent and are going to change to something else. It's inevitable and something about life that we need to face. But too much emphasis on "death" can lead to nihilism, despair, or even the desire to stop trying altogether. I have a feeling that his might have been what Freud meant by the "death instinct" (Thanatos). There is some part of us that no longer wants to continue the struggle of life; we even want to crawl back into the womb, because life can be so precarious, uncertain and harsh. Sometimes this even takes the form of not wanting to get out of bed in the morning! Here, I think the challenge is to embrace death as a living presence in our lived experience: to see that life and death are inseparable.

  Without death, there could be no change, and we wouldn't be able to let go of things. We would also ossify around a sense of self that can become quickly outdated. Letting go itself can be invigorating, because it can help us release painful attachments to things that really have nothing to do with who we are. Imagine one of those barbary sheep or reindeer carrying a head of dead horns or antlers--how it feels to shed all those dead accretions and start all over again. It's a relief for us to suffer the death of things that are giving us too much pressure or pain. However, we should also be aware that all of life is loaded with pain and responsibilities. It's important not to make death into a new kind of desire, such as the desire for "no responsibility", no pain, hassles etc, all of which is unrealistic and delusory. Instead, we should always be ready to do whatever we can to preserve the important things around us. This is not because these things are forever, but because going through the experience of cherishment and loss are the ways that we can mature and learn what interconnection is. To me, this is the experience of "Living Whilst Dying" or "Dying Whilst Living".

Daily Softness

   What is a soft attitude toward life, and what does it mean? Is it possible to be "too soft"? Yes, it is possible, I suppose, since we've been brought up to feel that we need to push ourselves hard to in order to achieve and get good results. Too lax an attitude can make us into homeless people who do nothing all day because they didn't push themselves hard enough. Or so they say...

  So where does softness come into it? Is softness something we contrive, or is it something that naturally comes from a changed perspective or attitude?

    Emptiness can be an invitation to softness. If we know that things are based on causes and conditions, we will feel less forceful in our approach to solving a problem or going about understanding something. There are many many reasons why something is what it is and not something else. Before we can even make changes to a situation, we need to contemplate the reasons for the phenomena: why it exists the way it does and not as something else. A butterfly has its own unique causes and conditions, as does the caterpillar, the bird and the bull. Though the caterpillar has a potential to be a butterfly, we can't force it to happen in this way. It needs to unfold through the right factors. A forceful attitude only makes the caterpillar sick and pressured. So the same with everything. 

    Even when we try to adopt this attitude, we may then think: well. I'm being soft and kind, so how come the things around me don't change into the things I want? But this again is an attitude of wanting to control to gain something. Again, the approach is "I plant the seeds, but I don't expect things to grow x way or y way". There are many causes and conditions to consider. Same as when we can't comprehend another person's behavior: we may think, how come they don't behave as I expect? Then we are also imposing an idea on a very complex situation that we may not fully understand. So again, the softness requires that we accept some mystery in how things are unfolding. 

    Gracefully allowing: this is the skill of softness. Get up to have your 4:30 meditation, but is it ok to have a coffee first? Sure! If you need it.