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Greetings from Shohaku Okumura
Dear Friends,
The year 2003 is very important in the history of Sanshin Zen Community. Finally,
my dream became reality: a practice center for Sanshin Zen Community.
My family and I moved from Minneapolis to Bloomington in June. Many friends in Minneapolis
helped us load a rental truck. Russ Levitt came from Bloomington to help load up
and drive the truck to Indiana. Using furniture staged on the sidewalk outside our
apartment, we had a birthday celebration for my wife, Yuko, and me with a cake that
friends made. That was on June 21st. While Russ headed back to Bloomington with the
truck, I drove our car with my son, Masaki, to Bloomington via Chicago. Yuko, my
daughter, Yoko, and her friend, Ana, with our two cats, flew to Indianapolis. When
we all arrived in Bloomington on June 22nd, several people helped us unload the truck.
Meanwhile, the home of Sanshin Zen community was still under construction. Rev. Chiko
Corona kindly invited my family to stay with her for almost 2 months. My family moved
into the building in mid-August and the Zen Center of Bloomington began using the
zendo. Zazen is held from 5 to 7 AM, Monday through Saturday.
At the Community Building Retreat held here in the beginning of September, several
people from out of town and Bloomington shared zazen, discussion and community work.
We had a zendo opening ceremony during the retreat. In October, we had a modified
sesshin, which was very quiet and peaceful with a small group of people.
In November, we had Genzo-e retreat. More than ten people participated from Minnesota,
Wisconsin, Florida, Texas, California and Bloomington. I gave two 90-minute lectures
each day on Dogen Zenji's Shobogenzo Gyoji (Continuous Practice ). I used
the same text during the Genzo-e at San Francisco Zen Center in March this year,
but only covered half of the first part. I continued to speak about Dogen Zenji's
teachings regarding living a life free from three poisonous minds (greed, anger/hatred
and ignorance) based on Buddha's teachings and zazen practice. In December, we will
have a 7-day Rohatsu sesshin. Each day, we will sit fourteen 50-minuts periods from
4 AM to 9 PM. In January, we will have 5-day community retreat with zazen, lectures
and work periods.
At Sanshin Zen Community Practice Center, Sanshinji, we focus on zazen practice and
the study of Dogen Zenji's and other Buddhist teachings. I would like to develop
a program for people in and around Bloomington, such as a series of weekly lectures
led by Rev. Corona and myself, walking meditation, celebrations of annual Buddhist
events, including Buddha's birthday, Enlightenment Day, Nirvana Day, as well as spring
and autumn equinox.
The history of Sanshin Practice Center, Sanshinji, has just begun this year. This
is a big step for us. I would like to express my deepest gratitude to all people
who have been helping, supporting and participating in the construction of Sanshinji,
our move, fund-raising and practice. Without all of your support, Sanshin cannot
exist. Sanshinji is a tiny seedling planted in Bloomington, Indiana. We need support
and nourishment to grow.
Gassho,
Shohaku Okumura
Dharma Inquiry
Zazenshin: Acupuncture Needle of Zazen
by Shohaku Okumura
This is the first in a series of lectures on Dogen Zenji's Zazenshin that were
given by Rev. Shohaku Okumura during sesshin at Chapel Hill Zen Center in spring
2001. Kathleen Batson from the Zen Center kindly provided the transcriptions. In
the next installment, Shohaku-san will speak about his experience in relation to
this teaching.
In this sesshin, we are going to study Shobogenzo Zazenshin . Zazen is definitely
the center of our practice and also the center of Dogen's teaching. When Dogen went
back to Japan from China, he first wrote the manual of zazen practice entitled in
Japanese, Fukanzazengi or the Universal Recommendation of Zazen . He re-wrote
this Fukanzazengi at least twice. The final version is what we recited this
morning. There are various English translations of this writing. He wrote not only Fukanzazengi ,
but also many other writings about zazen practice. Bendowa, or The Wholehearted
Practice of the Way , is the second writing of Dogen. In Bendowa , he
described what his zazen practice is like and he named his zazen jijuyu-zanmai. One
part of Bendowa in which Dogen described his zazen was extracted and entitled Jijuyu-zammai .
This Jijuyu-zammai is recited at Japanese monasteries. We also recite it during
this sesshin. And this Shobogenzo Zazenshin is one of Dogen's writings in
which he discussed the essential nature of his sitting practice.
Dogen wrote this text in 1242 at Koshoji monastery in Fukakusa near Kyoto. He and
his sangha moved to Echizen (present Fukui Prefecture) in the next year, 1243. “Za” means
sitting and “zen” is the Japanese pronunciation of the Chinese word “chan” which
is the transliteration of the Sanskrit word “dhyana”, which means meditation.
A literal translation of zazen is “seated meditation”. “Shin” means
acupuncture needle. The upper part of this Chinese character means bamboo. Today's
acupuncture needle is made of some kind of metal, but in ancient times an acupuncture
needle was made from bamboo. An acupuncture needle is a kind of instrument to heal
sickness. My translation of this title, Zazenshin , is “Acupuncture
Needle of Zazen”. Zazen is an acupuncture needle to heal our sickness.
Human Sickness
Then what is our sickness? I think it is very clear. Shakyamuni Buddha said that
we have been shot with an arrow tainted by the three poisonous states of mind. These
three states are greed, anger/hatred and ignorance of the reality of our life, that
is: impermanence, ego-lessness and interdependentorigination. Because of this ignorance,
we think that we are independent and separate from all other beings. We grasp this
as “ I” and think this is most important. To make this person powerful,
important, famous, wealthy and healthy, these become the purpose of our life. And
if we are successful, then we are happy like heavenly beings. And if not, we are
miserable and it feels like being in hell. Because no condition stays forever, we
transmigrate from one condition to another. This is the way our lives become transmigration
within samsara. According to the Buddha's teachings, this is how our lives become
suffering. This transmigration is actually happening moment by moment in our daily
lives in this lifetime. Buddha's teaching is often called medicine and the Buddha
is sometimes called “medicine master” or “great doctor”.
The idea of the acupuncture needle is the same; to heal the sickness caused by the
three poisonous states of mind. This is the basic meaning of this title, Zazenshin.
Zazen is an acupuncture needle to heal the sickness caused by the three poisonous
states of mind. And because the sickness is very inveterate and obstinate, it is
very difficult to heal.
Sickness caused by zazen
There is another meaning of Zazenshin. Even though our practice of zazen based on
Buddha's teachings is a treatment of this sickness, our zazen itself can be a poison
and cause sickness. Our zazen can be motivated by our three poisonous states of mind.
If our motivation to practice zazen is influenced by the three poisons, that is,
if we practice for the sake of making this person more important, more powerful,
more enlightened or whatever else, something we desire, then our practice is motivated
by our greed. “I want to get this or that”. It may not be wealth or power,
but something spiritual. If we practice in order to get something desirable our zazen
practice is generated by greed.
If we practice in order to escape from our present condition, then our practice is
motivated by anger/hatred toward the current condition of ourselves. At least in
my case, for the first ten years, greed and also anger/hatred motivated my practice.
I practiced because I didn't like who I was. I wanted to make my life more meaningful.
In order to do so, I really practiced earnestly. I really devoted my life to practice.
And without this greed and anger/hatred, I couldn't have practiced so earnestly for
such a long time. We often call this “way-seeking mind” using a Buddhist
technical term. But our way-seeking mind can be very deeply influenced by the three
poisonous states of mind. This is a strange contradiction isn't it? In order to practice
to be free from the three poisonous states of mind, we need the three poisonous states
of mind. This is a really basic contradiction in our practice. When we practice for
certain lengths we find that our motivation itself is influenced by poison. Then
often we have doubt about our practice, and whether or not it works to lessen the
suffering caused by the three poisons. And sometimes we quit practice because we
feel it doesn't work.
I think this is the most important koan for us: How can we continue to practice going
through this contradiction? It's like sitting on a cushion while trying to take away
the cushion on which we are sitting. It is very difficult. And it is a very important
question: How can we go through this contradiction and continue to practice? It's
a really basic point in our practice of zazen. If we practice based on the three
poisonous states of mind, our practice of zazen, not only sitting but also our entire
practice become a part of samsara. And we suffer because no condition lasts forever.
Sometimes we feel, “I had some deep experiences and I am getting better.” Sometimes
even we feel “I am enlightened!” But such conditions do not last forever.
We want to continue to have the same kind of fantastic experiences but such experiences
do not occur anymore and we create samsara within our practice of zazen. We transmigrate
within different conditions in our zazen. We find that we are still within samsara
even within zazen. Then, how can we be free from this samsara within our Buddhist
practice, within our zazen practice? I think that is the sickness Dogen Zenji discusses
in Zazenshin . How can we cure this sickness? This is the main point of this
writing.
Gift of the Gas Pump
by Dave Ellison, Pelican Rapids, MN
I was running a few necessary errands on my way to the hospital. This was the first
in a long string of night shifts. I would be gone from home for a while and there
were lots of loose ends to tie up. I wasn't really behind but there was no time to
spare when I realized that my gas tank was nearly empty. No problem. I pulled into
the gas station, took out my card, remembered my PIN, went through the login procedure,
put the nozzle in my car and started the pump. The windows were dirty so I went around
the car with the squeegee and checked the tires for air. When I got back to the driver's
side I saw my wallet on the seat and remembered the gas card in my pocket. Pleased
with my efficiency and organization I replaced the card in the proper pocket of my
wallet, sat down, started the engine, switched on the radio, glanced at the list
of things left to do on the seat beside me and put the car in gear. I could see a
line of traffic at the next light and decided to go round the back way to get to
the hardware store. This involved a left turn at the end of the line of pumps and
I was swinging a little to the right so as to safely clear the last one when the
expected sequence of sensations was interrupted by a loud hard thump from the rear
of the car --- really loud, really hard.
To say that I stopped and got out would be more than inaccurate. It would miss the
point entirely. “I” as a coherent set of expectations, plans, values
and memories ceased to exist. There was an abrupt discontinuity in the ongoing narrative
of my life, an inexplicable break in the line of existence. There seemed to be no
causal connection between this instant and what “I” remembered preceding
it. The hose lay on the drive between my car and the pump connected to neither. Gas
was gushing from the side of the pump. The storytelling function of the left side
of my brain kicked in almost immediately. I had driven off without taking the nozzle
out of my car. The hose had stretched and then broken loose from the pump and snapped
back into the rear of my car. The large dent in the hatch door and the open gas tank
cover supported that hypothesis and the story of my life continued. It was not a
very pleasant continuation.
There was the immediate problem of gasoline spewing out onto the drive. I shut off
the pump and it slowed but didn't stop. The front cover had flown off the pump but
I could see no obvious shut off valve inside. The pleasant lady at the desk in the
office suggested that I find “one of the guys” to help. I did. There
was some purposeful rushing about and the flow ceased. “The guys” went
back to pumping gas and I stood facing the broken pump and my own incredible incompetence. “Early
onset Alzheimer's?” Should I really be going to work? Who would willingly entrust
the management of their life threatening medical emergency to a guy who wasn't competent
to operate a self service gas pump? Comforting considerations clustered round. “Preoccupied,
trying to do too much...” Finally one of the guys came over and pointed out
the obvious fact that there really wasn't anything more I could do and that my liability
insurance would cover everything. His bland reassurance suggested that this was nothing
out of the ordinary and gave me the courage to attempt the hardware store. I was
successful and things have returned to normal.
More or less. There have been some real changes. I haven't had an opportunity to
fill my car since then but I'm quite certain that when I do I will do it with a little
more humility and care. There is, however, something much more pervasive. From this
side of the event my unquestioning belief in my own competence as I plotted a course
from the pump to the hardware store looks a lot like arrogance or, perhaps, profound
ignorance. Not because I forgot the nozzle in my car but because I was completely
absorbed in my own fog of assumptions, plans, fears, and hopes. I was literally blind
to the world around me. I was watching a checklist in my head instead of the reality
in front of my nose. That hose did much more than dent the rear end of my Civic.
It forced me to clearly see the flimsy chain of explanations I call a life, by rubbing
my nose for a brief moment, in its absence.
I was swinging a little to the right because I wanted to clear the last pump. I was
turning left because I wanted to avoid the traffic up ahead. I was going to the hardware
store because I needed oil for the chainsaw. When that nozzle smashed into my car,
it ripped a hole in the interlinked web of explanations that I use as a bridge between
a remembered past and an imagined future. When I stood by the door of my car and
stared back at the disconnected hose and gush of gasoline I was confronted by the
fundamental inexplicability of raw reality. In that first instant I was completely
disoriented. It was like waking up in a strange bed, searching one's memory for an
explanation of why the door is to the right of the bed instead of the left where
it should be. Nothing fit into the context of my previous life. Nothing had meaning.
In retrospect, I recognize the feeling. I've seen it from the outside many times
at work. I've seen it in the face of a 45 year old executive when I told him that
the 'indigestion' he'd been treating with antacids was angina and that tonight he
was having an MI. I've seen it in the eyes of the mother of a 17 year old boy who
rolled his new Mustang at 75 mph when I told her he was brain dead. Before the horror,
fear, and loss there is incomprehension and awe; nothing but a pure, selfless, completely
focused sort of seeing. Selfless because that moment, at least initially, is unconnected
to the self's remembered past or projected future. “This is real but can't
be me.” For that split second there is no “me”, no why, no meaning,
only raw, unfiltered, inexplicable experience.
I still glide through life operating under the illusion that it is a comfortable
linear structure, a track stretching from some unseen point in the past when I came
into existence to another unseen point in the future where I will cease to exist.
Any mathematically competent ninth grader will tell you that you can't plot a line
between two invisible points. I did well in ninth grade math but my life still feels
like a sequence of moments strung together like beads on a string. Virtually everyone
around me seems to subscribe to this linear model of experience without question.
In fact, I find it almost impossible to feel that the world works in any other way.
I can manipulate words so they describe or evoke alternatives. But that associative
masturbation, although enjoyable, falls far short of experienced reality. The difference,
since the gas pump, is that I can see my plans, assumptions, needs and hopes as a
very narrow and fragile bridge across the inchoate abyss of possibility. I try to
walk more softly now.
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