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176. Demons

Master Dogen described zazen as walking at full speed over the heads of demons.

Note the imagery carefully. The demons don’t belong to someone else; they belong to you: their heads live in your head, and you don’t need to be rid of them to be free of them. Yet, they enable the Way to be walked.

Because they don’t live in the vigorous body of practice. Beware the demon of acquisition. Beware the demon of wisdom.

It’s an odd inversion: the body walking over the head. Your head, obviously, but not your body. Rather, the body of the whole universe, expressed through this body.

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175. Practice zazen eternally

My first teacher, Nancy Amphoux, asked her teacher – “How should I practice Zazen?”

Her teacher replied – “You should practice Zazen eternally.”

She said that she thought at first that what he meant was that she should practice Zazen for the rest of her life.

To practice eternally, it’s as if we are the ground on which all beings and all moments walk

Or the space within which all beings and all moments live.

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174. The body in zazen

Master Dogen asked “If the cart is stuck, do we beat the horse, or beat the cart?”

Almost all meditation teachers would say the horse, the mind. Surely that is the point of meditation? To empty and purify the mind.

But Dogen said that we should beat (give attention to) the cart, the body. How so?

Zazen is the way of liberation through the body. Not the body as thought. Not the body as object, but the body as it actually is. Because that body, completely alive, is already part of the body of the universe, completely alive.

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173. Pillars

Taigen Dan Leighton described the various aspects of our practice as ritual enactment and expression.

It isn’t moving slowly towards the Buddha, a speck in the ghost cave of the future. It is the living activity of Buddha now. It isn’t forming the thought of gratitude, and then giving form to that thought in the symbolism of bowing. No.

Awake-awareness, compassion, gratitude, generosity: they are not qualities of the self. They are pillars holding up the roof of the world.

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172. The sangha body

The three treasures are Buddha, Dharma, Sangha.

Towards the end of his life, the Buddha said to his disciples “My true body is my teachings

Out of this arose the idea of the dharmakaya, the Universal Body of the Buddha, and then, later, the Bliss Body. As ‘buddha’ inflated, ‘sangha’ shrunk.

But there’s another way to look at it.

The Buddha’s teachings weren’t written down in his lifetime. They were held in the bodies and minds of the disciples who heard them. They were brought out by those disciples. That’s where the teachings arose. Without a sangha, there would have been no dharma. That’s where the teachings were embodied. And from there, outward, to everywhere.

And it is this body – the Sangha body, both mythical and flesh and blood – which keeps giving birth to new buddhas.

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171. The fox

When she was alive, I often thought Nancy Amphoux, who introduced me to zen, was a terrible teacher. It took me a long time to realise that I was a terrible listener.

When I last saw her, a week before she died, she gave me a bird’s feather. She explained that years before, when she’d been driving in France, she saw a fox attacking a bird. She stopped the car and got out. The fox ran away, but the bird was already dead. Some of its feathers were scattered on the road, and Nancy took them, and kept them.

As people came to say goodbye to her, she would tell them the story and give them one of the feathers. As she finished telling the story to me she gave me the last feather and said “There, all gone”

Often in the teachings, an apparently humble thing: a cat, a pillow, a broken ladle, a dead bird, symbolises the alive wholeness of everything, but unless we feel it, our understanding is useless.

I lacked even that understanding. And I didn’t ask her who the fox was, either

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170. The zen lineage

When we chant the lineage, we chant the six primordial mythical buddhas, then the historical Buddha, then the generations of teachers following him, down to the present day.

The superficial problem – aside from the mythical buddhas – is that the lineage is made up. Some of the people named probably didn’t exist at all, and others almost certainly didn’t say or write what has been attributed to them.

In full knowledge of this, my teacher said that he accepts the lineage completely. How so?

Rinzai said that there is a true person – this person – who has no rank. This person is always going in and out through your face.

When we chant the lineage, all the names are provisional names, for this person.

And in the lineage of your own life, this person appears. All the demons, ghosts and false persons do not obstruct this person. And they don’t matter.

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Blue Cliff Record, Case 63

The Case: at Master Nansen’s temple, two groups of monks were arguing about a cat. Nansen held up the cat and said “If you can speak then I will not kill it”. The monks were silent. Nansen cut the cat in two.

Commentary:

1. Who is the one person within the temple who carries a sword? Manjusri, the bodhisattva of wisdom. He sits on the altar, atop the lion of courage.

1.1. So is it a real sword? Or a real cat? Given that a humble pillow can symbolise dependent origination, what more could a cat signify? What are monks really likely to be arguing about?

2. Dogen, in Zuimonki, asks his students what they would have said in response to Nansen’s demand. And then volunteers that he would have said to Nansen, “Why don’t you cut the cat into one?” Wouldn’t you be happily cut in two if you could say something this brilliant?

2.1. Isn’t Dogen’s point that the cat -reality- has already been cut in two? Nansen does not kill it, because it has already been ‘killed’ by the sword of duality, wielded by the disputatious monks. But Manjusri’s sword is different. It cuts into one. How?

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Shinji Shobogenzo, Book 3, Case 4

The Case (adapted):

Master Tozan was asked by a monk, “When we are going along a narrow path, how should be proceed?”

Tozan said, “Poisonous snakes are found even on a broad path, and I advise you not to attack one directly”

The Monk said, “If I do, what will happen?”

Tozan said, “Just at that moment, there will be no room for you to escape”

The Monk said, “Would you tell me about ‘just at this moment’?”

Tozan said, “All things are lost”

The Monk said, “Where have they gone?”

Tozan said, “Because of the grasses, we cannot find them”

The Monk said, “Master, if you go to the river bank you can get there at once”

Tozan rubbed his hands and said “The air now is poisonous”

Commentary:

Nagarjuna said that we should approach Emptiness as we would approach a poisonous snake. We cannot avoid it.

But if we attack it, we remain in duality. Likewise if we ignore it. We should pay careful attention to Tozan’s “you”.

Tozan was one of the founders of our Soto tradition, our narrow path. Unlike other traditions, we don’t engage with Emptiness “directly”. We don’t use koans. We don’t intellectually engage with it. We just sit. But isn’t that engaging directly? Because no “you” remains?

The Chinese Masters were keen that we didn’t misconstrue Emptiness as nothingness, or vacuity. Neither that we reified it. So they reconfigured Emptiness as Suchness, Is-Ness. The world is empty of our concepts and names, so what we choose to demarcate as distinct things ‘disappear’ and are lost. “Grasses” or “Myriad Grasses” is a way of talking about all beings, all things. In Suchness, we cannot find one thing as it is part of everything, which is whole.

The Monk finally alludes to the last part of the Heart Sutra – the Sutra on Emptiness – but for Tozan, this is exactly the sort of intellectual engagement he has disparaged, and so he dismisses the Monk.

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Practice Instructions: Bringing attention to the body and breath

If our intention is sincere, it doesn’t matter if our mind is busy or quiet. Nonetheless, if we are very distracted, it is often helpful to bring our attention back to our body and breath. But what does this mean?

For myself, I often find it’s helpful to focus initially on the head: the lips, the tongue, the musculature of the eyes, the pressure of the forehead, the muscles of the jaw, and so on. The attention then seems to flow quite naturally to the rest of the body. We use the unspoken equivalence of head/brain/mind/self to re-embody.

Likewise with the breath. We can start by feeling it in the nostrils, then the throat, then flowing down into the chest, the stomach, the pelvis, so that the whole body is breathing.

This feeling-being-body is the ground of practice.