Life and Death

As my father was dying, the phrase, "Life and death are one," repeatedly arose in my thoughts. One hears these sorts of things when reading around Zen, but to consider this when sitting next to the corpse of a loved one brings it into sharp relief. At that moment, looking at his face, I thought it over and over again like a mantra. It made an intuitive sense to me that I've struggled to explain to myself in the ten days since then.

In the Shobogenzo is a fascicle called "Shoji" or "Life and death". It's short, but here's an excerpt:

To understand that we move from birth to death is a mistake. Birth is a state at one moment; it already has a past and will have a future. For this reason, it is said in the Buddha-Dharma that appearance is just non-appearance. Extinction also is a state at one moment; it too has a past and a future. This is why it is said that disappearance is just non-disappearance. In the time called life, there is nothing besides life. In the time called death, there is nothing besides death. Thus, when life comes it is just life, and when death comes it is just death; do not say, confronting them, that you will serve them, and do not wish for them. 

This life-and-death is just the sacred life of buddha... There is a very easy way to become buddha. Not committing wrongs; being without attachment to life-and-death; showing deep compassion for all living beings, venerating those above and pitying those below; being free of the mind that dislikes the ten thousand things and free of the mind that desires them; the mind being without thought and without grief: this is called buddha. Look for nothing else. (Trans. Nishijima & Cross)

When dying comes, it is just dying, and does not belong to the realm of living. Dying is complete on its own. To be non-attached is not to be empty of grief or other emotions; when grief comes, it is just grief. And when we sit round the table and tell silly stories about dad's life, laughter comes and it is just laughter. We have thrown ourselves into these moments. 

I miss you, dad. 

Zendo closure extended by one week

 Hi all - sadly my father died last week. We've arranged for his memorial to be held in Johannesburg next week, so I'm extending my trip here for a bit. 

I'm afraid we won't be meeting on 8th July as promised, the next zazen will be held on Monday 15th July.

No zazen on 24 June or 1 July

 Hi all

Just a quick note about our regular Monday zazen. This upcoming Monday (June 17th), we will meet as usual at 7.30pm.

However, due to a family situation that requires my presence out of the country, I will be unable to host the group for the following two Mondays (June 24th and July 1st). During this time, we will unfortunately need to take a short break.

Sorry for stepping away on such short notice... I appreciate your understanding. We will resume our weekly zazen on Monday, July 8th. I look forward to sitting with you all again soon.

I wish you all a peaceful couple of weeks!

All the best,  

Alasdair

What is the purpose of Zen monks wearing robes?

This was posted a couple of weeks ago on the main StoneWater Zen blog, so now that it's been up there for a bit I thought I'd post it here too.

The title of this is a question I was asked online about a year ago, and I’ve just stumbled across my answer to it. We touch on the idea of ritual, ceremony and ‘the form’ from time to time in Northampton, especially when people come to their first sit with a service! Usually, I answer in various ways depending on the context and the person asking. On this occasion, not knowing the questioner, this is how I responded:

My answer is from the viewpoint of a Western Zen priest/monk who lives a lay life and yet still wears robes on meditation retreats (sesshin) and for a few other meditation sessions during the year (usually when also conducting service). My reasons for wearing my robe are complex and I don’t claim to have thought them out fully, but for what it’s worth…

1. Because it’s expected of me. I put this first just to get it out of the way – it’s probably the least important, but that being said, if I pitch up to a meditation period on retreat without wearing my robes, I’d be asked to explain why (I might even have a good reason!). All that said, there’s a remarkable freedom in the restrictions of the monastic regime we maintain during sesshin, as contradictory as that might sound. A freedom from having to choose what to do, what to wear, what to say, what to eat… we voluntarily submit to such a strict regime and find ourselves frequently surprised by how free we feel from the tyranny of everyday decisions!
2. Tradition. I practice Zen in a lineage that, like most Zen groups, traces our ‘bloodline’ back through generations of teachers all the way to the Buddha (and yes, I’m fully aware that some of this is mythological, some hagiographical, and some outright lies for political purposes in ancient China!). Part of this is that we’ve been handed down this practice in a particular form - we sit in a certain way, we chant certain texts, we conduct ourselves in the meditation hall in a certain way… and we dress in a certain way. Again, this ‘mere tradition’ is not terribly important to me, but expands into…
3. Gratitude. I keep the traditions, including wearing the robes, mainly as an expression of my ongoing gratitude to teachers and my dharma ancestors. My robes, for me, are a material expression of that gratitude, and a determination to continue the endless work to fulfil our vows, to end suffering and to save all sentient beings. I cannot express how important this aspect of robe wearing is for me.
4. Other people’s projections. We wear the robes not just for ourselves but also for other people. Putting on the robe for the first time during my tokudo ceremony was very moving: it was an outward expression of my commitment to service to the sangha - both in the local and universal sense. When I wear the robes, I represent not myself but something else, and ideal I suppose, and it’s very interesting to observe others’ responses to this. I’ve seen responses from surprised (“What the f*** is that?” – inmate during prison visit!) to respect (being called ‘father’ by a well-meaning Catholic lady at a public interfaith event was memorable) to outright veneration. I was surprised and initially very uncomfortable when visiting a Thai patient in a mental health hospital who bowed down and touched her head to my feet – until I realised it was nothing to do with me but the robes and what they meant to her, even if not the saffron robes she was probably used to seeing. On a more prosaic level, wearing the robes within our own sangha marks one out as, I hope, someone who’s been in the practice for a while and who can provide support and spiritual friendship.
5. As part of my practice. My jukai preceptor has often talked about the robes as teaching us – physically wearing them, all those layers and ridiculously long sleeves etc, with the kesa arranged just so over the top, is demanding! You can’t wander about mindlessly in robes like you can in a t-shirt and trackie bottoms. You can’t even hang your hands down by your side, but must be continually in shasshu, hands clasped in front of you, to keep your kesa and koromo sleeves off the ground. Even walking through a door mindlessly can be a hazard – the number of times my sleeve has caught in a doorhandle as I’ve passed through and spun me around…! Especially in the Zendo, making sure your kesa doesn’t touch the ground, trying to move quietly and nobly through this special space while managing metres and metres of material… it’s fascinating how much I’ve learned about the way I normally move because of wearing the robes.

Bound to be others… think I’ve probably bored you enough by now. But I hope that I’ve given you the impression that wearing the robes is a psychologically rich and complex matter, and not something that one enters into lightly.

Easter(ish) opening...

Hi everyone - just a quick note about our zazen evenings for the next couple of weeks...

This coming Monday is the Easter Monday Bank Holiday... but we won't let that stop us! We'll be meeting for zazen at the same time & place as ever, so if you can make it on Monday (1st April), we'll see you then.

However, the next Monday (8th April) we won't be meeting, as I'll be away on sesshin (meditation retreat). Sit at home that day! We'll meet again the following week (15th) as per usual.

I asked AI to make me an Easter-themed Buddhist image, and it came up with this...

If you're taking some time off over the Easter hols, have a great time!

The method of no-method

 There's some discussion about whether the terms "silent illumination" and "shikanatza" mean the same thing - but at the very least they're similar! Today's quote is from Illumination: A Guide to the Buddhist Method of No-Method by Rebecca Li that resonated strongly with me:

Silent Illumination is often called the method of no-method because it does not ask us to focus the mind on any particular object such as the breath. There is nothing to do, but you can’t do nothing, so you have to start with something. It is a way of clear and total open awareness, moment-to-moment experience that simultaneously reveals our intrinsic enlightenment. Silent Illumination is a relaxing into the present that allows us to shed our habits of self-centered attachment—and consequently our suffering—without force, like leaves falling from a tree in autumn.

AI-generated image: watercolor painting of a single
purple viola wittrockiana flower on a plain background

 

Zen "the direct expression of our true nature"

Today's quote comes from the remarkable Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind, by renowned teacher Shunryu Suzuki, whose Zen legacy is alive and well around the world. In ZMBM he writes:

Zazen practice is the direct expression of our true nature. Strictly speaking, for a human being, there is no other practice than this practice; there is no other way of life than this way of life.

This indivisibility of our practice and our life is crucial, though it should never be taken as encouragement not to do formal practice! Rather, as both our practice and our lives arise, our true nature inevitably expresses itself moment-by-moment. And as our practice matures, our responses to each moment come more from that true nature, unfiltered by our small selves. 

So: join us for a spot of zazen on Monday evening!