Origin

Bodhidharma (Japanese painting)
THE ZEN monk Bodhidharma asked, "Why explain Sutras?"

A teacher, "To end birth and death."

Bodhidharma said, "The words are black and the paper is white. How does this teach people to end birth and death?"

The other reddened and raged, "You are slandering the Dharma!" struck him across the mouth with an iron rod and knocked loose two teeth. [More in a tale below]

MISSIONARIES in the first and second centuries spread Buddhism to China. It got entrenched there. Great monastic communities and vast temple complexes, an enormous body of Buddhist literature translated into Chinese - these were the tokens. Centres of great learning arose as Buddhism adapted itself to the Chinese milieu in new, sinified forms.

The founder of the Tang dynasty (from 618) was nominally a Taoist, but all the same he contributed much to the rise of Buddhism. By the eight century, China was virtually a Buddhist nation. But the power Buddhism held then, intensified destructive quarrels and destructive activities among various Buddhist groups and sects and Tang schools that had been imported long before Ch'an. Most of these schools of Buddhism lost their vital power, and in the end Ch'an emerged as the primary school of Chinese Buddhism.

Also, Buddhism survived disastrous persecutions of the Hui Chang era (in the years 842-45), but never regained its dominant position in China.

Many Indian works on meditation techniques gained fairly wide circulation. Meditation techniques were adopted and put to use with different emphasises. Communities grew up as practitioners banded together. One such community, that of the priest Hung Jeng of the East Mountain, gained considerable prominence. Many disciples left him to move to other areas of the nation and established schools of their own. With these men the story of Ch'an as a sect begins.

The Ch'an adherents made copious use of old legends and devised new ones. Various priests used various legends; they were refined and adjusted till a quite confusing whole emerged.

Only fragments of the literature remains. Therefore it is virtually impossible to determine just how Ch'an developed - one can come to no definite conclusion, writes Philip Yampolsky. [Tun 1-4]




Bodhidharma Lore
Most accounts agree that Bodhidharma (early 400s CE) was a South Indian Pallava prince-turned-monk who journeyed to Southern China and subsequently relocated northwards. And some scholars doubt that there really was any historical Bodhidharma (Japanese: Daruma Daishi). Versions differ. Here's a part of what's generally believed about his life:

He was born in Kanchi in the Southern Indian kingdom of Pallava between 440 and 470. His spiritual instructor was the monk Prajnatara. He told him to travel to China and he came there by ship somewhere between 475 to 520. Legend has it that he spent nine years in meditation, where he used to sit facing the rock wall of a cave that's about a mile from the Shaolin Temple. Thus he won the title "the wall-gazing brahmin".
It is also held that Bodhidharma created an exercise program for the monks as time went by. The program involved physical techniques that strengthened the body and also could be used practically in self-defense, self-defense, and never to hurt or injure needlessly. This system is known today as the Priest-Scholar 18 Hand Movements. They are the basis of Chinese Temple Boxing and the Shaolin Arts. And thus, the martial art kung fu (also: Gung Fu) is associated with him too.

Meeting the emperor
AFTER Bodhidharma arrived in what is today the port city of Canton, he travelled at the invitation of the Emperor Wu of the Liang Dynasty (6th C) to visit him in Nanking. Wu Ti had had many Buddhist monasteries built. Now he asked the master from India what merit and virtues for succeeding lives the emperor had accumulated through his benevolence.

Bodhidharma answered curtly, "No virtues, none."

Bodhidharma thought that the emperor only received merits for building temples, but not hard-won virtues from own deeds.

How two teeth were knocked out
BODHIDHARMA had come to Nanking where he listened to one Shen Kuang explaining the sutras. When Shen Kuang spoke, the heavens rained fragrant blossoms and a gold-petalled lotus rose from the earth. But all were not able to see that -
After listening to the Sutra, Bodhidharma asked, "Dharma Master, what are you doing? Why explain Sutras?"

"I am teaching people to end birth and death."

"Oh?" said Bodhidharma, "Exactly how do you do that? The words are black and the paper is white. How does this teach people to end birth and death?"
Dharma master Shen Kuang had nothing to say, though he reddened with anger and raged. Then he snapped, "You are slandering the Dharma!" and cracked Bodhidharma across the mouth with his iron rod, knocking loose two teeth.

Bodhidharma hadn't expected such a vicious reply. He swallowed the two teeth and disappeared down the road.

Meeting the parrot
ON THE way Bodhidharma met a parrot who was kept in a wicker cage. The bird recognized Bodhidharma as a great one, and said:

"Mind from the West.
Mind from the West.
Do me a favour and teach me a way
To escape from this cage."

Bodhidharma whispered a secret teaching to help the bird end suffering. He said,

Put out both legs,
Close both eyes.
This is the way
To escape from the cage!

The parrot listened and said, "All right! I understand."

The bird stuck out his legs, closed his eyes, and waited. When the bird's owner came home from work, he opened the cage door and scooped up the bird - it lay still and quiet in his hand. Thinking the bird had recently died, he slowly he opened his hand - Then the bird suddenly flapped and flew away -

Clairvoyant parrot, that's what the media say
A WOMAN in New York has a parrot that has passed scientific clairvoyance tests. The parrot N'Kisi has a vocaculary of 555 words, and use them in commenting on thoughts of people.

During the tests, her owner, Aimee Morgana, was sitting in one room with a bunch of pictures, and the parrot was in another room. As a picture of a bouquet of flowers was shown, the parrot called, "Picture of flowers. Picture of flowers." When the picture of a telephone was shown her owner, N'Kisi called something like, "Dealing with the phone again, eh?"

A retired researcher from the University of Cambridge, Dr Rupert Sheldrake, has tested N'Kisi against 70 different pictures. An average score based on luck would be 5 hits, but N'Kisi tackled 32 of 70 pictures, a hit score of nearly 50%.
"Wholly amazing," says Sheldrake.

[Source: NRK (Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation)]

Rose Ringed Parakeets
The Indian Ringnecks form a sub-species among many other species in the Psittacula genus. For many centuries the Ringnecks have been known for their talking ability. Ancient Indian law protected them from being killed because their clear and convincing imitation of human speech was regarded by the Brahmins as evidence of their being sacred. In Roman times they are reported to have been taught to greet the Emperor with "Hail Caesar!", to his delight.

Their typical clarity of speech is very impressive and most often a delight. Vocabularies of these birds have been reported as high as 250 words. Not every bird has the capability of reaching this level.

What talking birds can do more
IN THE daily newspaper Aftenposten (June 21, 2001) there is a story of a speaking mynah bird.

A woman from Chung Ching in southwest China noted that their family bird started to give hints that her husband had a mistress. The bird started to use words like "divorce", "I love you", and "be patient" - terms and phrases it apparently had picked up while the woman had been away from home for a month. BBC informs that the bird became talkative when the telephone rang.

The now suspicious woman would like to bring the bird with her to court as proof against her husband, if possible. According to BBC the bird has been brought to the woman's lawyer for consultations.

Mynahs (Gracula religiosa) belong to the family of starlings (Sturnidae). They can be found in a large area of Asia and are very social birds.

Mynah birds are considered to be much better than parrots in imitating human voices and the like. They are intelligent birds and can become skilled talkers. Mynahs also master the art of repeating sounds they hear. They may mimic a ringing phone, electronic door bells, timers, fire sirens, chimes, and more. They can also learn new words which they have only heard once.

When a mynah speaks, it speaks very clearly. It may acquire over a hundred words and speak in sentences. But not every mynah develops a large vocabulary. There are differences among them. [Check]



The ghost of impermanence
NOT LONG after, the ghost of impermanence in a high hat, paid a call on Shen Kuang. "Your life ends today," said the ghost.

Shen Kuang said, "What? Why must I die? Er, is there a person in this world who has put an end to death?"

"There is," said the ghost, "the black-faced mendicant you knocked two teeth out of."

"Oh, he can help me? Please, give me some more time!"
"All right," said the ghost. "Since you are sincere."
Shen Kuang quickly rushed after Bodhidharma. He forgot to thank the ghost and forgot to put on his shoes. He ran until he met the parrot that Bodhidharma had freed, and suddenly he understood, "Originally, there is just this way! I need only act dead. I need only be a living dead person!"

The stilled mind
BODHIDHARMA walked on. He arrived at Bear's Ear Mountain in Loyang. There he sat down to meditate while facing a wall. For nine years he sat meditating while Shen Kuang knelt beside him, seeking his secrets.

One day a great snow fell, and it rose in drifts as high as Shen Kuang's waist. Still he kept on kneeling. At last Bodhidharma asked him, "Why are you kneeling here in such deep snow?"

"I want to put an end to death," replied Shen Kuang. "I was really unsuccessful lecturing. Please, transmit the fit way to me."

At last Bodhidharma told him how to "Use the mind to seal the mind."
Yet the other said, "Quiet my mind."

"Find your mind," said Bodhidharma. "Show it to me and I will quiet it for you."

Shen Kuang looked for his mind outside his body and inside his body. He looked where there was light and in the middle of things and so on. At last Shen Kuang said to Bodhidharma, "I can't find my mind!"

"This is how well I have quieted your mind," said Bodhidharma.
At these words Shen Kuang understood things and got the name "Hui Ko" (Able Wisdom - Eka in Japanese) and became "Zen man number two" in the line after Bodhidharma.


Legend
THE LEGEND tells that Bodhidharma crossed the Yangtse River on a reed and travelled to northern China. There he settled at the Shaolin Monastery and transmitted the patriarchy to Hui Ko. Soon afterwards Bodhidharma died in 528.
A few years after his death, a Chinese official reported that he had encountered Bodhidharma in the mountains of Central Asia. Bodhidharma was then carrying a staff; a single sandal was hanging from it. He told that he was on his way back to India. When this story reached his Chinese home, fellow monks decided to open Bodhidharma's tomb. Inside there was only a sandal.

The line
IN TURN Hui Ko (487–593) handed over the "Seal of Buddha-Heart" to his foremost disciple, Seng Tsan (?–606), who was followed by Tao Hsin (580-665?) and Hung Jen (674–674?).

After Hung Jen, Chinese Ch'an (Zen) was divided into two schools, Northern and Southern. The latter, which was led by Hui Neng (638–713), the sixth patriarch, continued a transmission that is flourishing in Japan still. [The dates given are not certain.]






Bodhidharma's Teachings

His Motives
THE DEAR contemplation methods which Bodhidharma taught, were taken from the "pan-Indian" heritage. His instructions were to a great extent based on the sutras of Mahayana Buddhism. In The Zen Teaching of Bodhidharma he says:

The only reason I've come to China is to transmit the instantaneous teaching of the Mahayana: This mind is the buddha. [And] eating one meal a day, or never lying down [...] are fanatical, provisional teachings. Once you recognize your moving, miraculously aware nature, yours is the mind of all buddhas.


The old teachings
Do not misconceive karma. [Do not misconstrue.]

[Never slander a Buddha].

Buddhas neither create nor negate the mind.

The Buddha used the tangible to represent the sublime.
Buddhas do not practice nonsense.

This mind is like space ... you can't lose it.—This mind is also called the Unstoppable Tathagatha.

There's no fragrance without a tree and no buddha without the mind.
The nature of [a Buddha's] mind is basically empty ... free of cause and effect.

Only the wise know this mind, this mind called dharma-nature, this mind called liberation.—It is not the same as the sensual mind.

Bodhidharma on how to get into Tao

Outwardly, all activities cease;
Inwardly, the mind stops its panting.
When one's mind has become a wall [- looks like dharana],
Then he may [begin to] enter into the Tao.

[Prz]

[And well sustained dharana is called dhyana, (jhana in the Pali language). It is a state of meditative absorption. The Chinese Ch'an that became Japanese Zen in time, stems from the Sanskrit dhyana, thus.]






Hints for Advanced Living

Most of the points relate to many salient ones of Bodhidharma's "Bloodstream Sermon" from antiquity.


A - The Buddha's Nature is Found by Diving Inside Yourself
BY MISTAKENLY clinging to the appearance of things there is this statement: "Buddha is Sanskrit for what you call aware, miraculously aware. And the mind is a Buddha." ◊
Studying long and hard, practicing morning and night, never lying down, or acquiring knowledge of the Dharma, can blaspheme right living (i.e., the Dharma). Buddhas of the past and future only talk about seeing your nature. Experiencing your nature is of Zen (dhyana). Unless you experience your nature, the diving inside is not good enough.
Motion is the mind's function, and its function is its motion. You have to learn how to still it. Contempation (Zen) is for that. YOU'RE walking, talking and sleeping essence, basically. It is standing, sitting, or lying in a quiet grove, - there is the essence of your own being and the light of your own nature while you're walking, standing, sitting, or lying in the stillness and darkness of night - And to find a Buddha all you have to do is experience your nature.

B - The Mind's Range is Said to Have no Limit
DOCTRINES are not the Way. The Way finally becomes wordless. Thus, even if you can explain thousands of sutras and shastras, unless you see your own nature yours is the teaching of a mortal, and not worth a Buddha.
Once you see your nature, sex is basically immaterial. In the end it ends along with your delight.
The mind's range of awareness has no limit. Do not misdirect your worship.
Devils and demons possess the power of manifestation—Unless you feel your nature, you shouldn't go around criticizing the goodness of others.

ALL DAY long some persons invoke Buddhas and read sutras. But they remain blind to their own divine nature. Ideally, you do not need to read sutras or invoke buddhas.
What is meant by mind: Your mind is nirvana deep inside. A Tathagata knows, he also knows men and gods if comparing to what is of a Buddha, or divine essence. ◊
To be bound by attachments is not great, all in all.

C - A Buddha is an Essentialist Inside
DAMNED fools neither know nor believe to their own ultimate good.
What is good, also results in a good memory. And attachments that remain will come to an end through that.
Motions and ideas are not the mind. And deluded people do not realize that their own mind is the Buddha, divine essence.
Of what use are scriptures? But someone who sees his own nature finds the Way, even if he can't read a word. Someone who sees his nature is a Buddha. And since a Buddha's body is intrinsically pure and unsullied, and everything he says is an expression of his mind, being basically empty, a buddha, an essential one, an essentialist.
The Buddha comes outward in your real body, your original mind. This mind is like an inner space. The day-to-day person-mind can't hold it full well. Thus, what good are doctrines? The ultimate Truth is beyond words. You can be better off "doing nothing" (wu wei).
Also, free yourself from karma. If you do not see your nature, quoting sutras is no help.
Those who worship do not know, and those who know do not worship.
It is only now. ◊
Go beyond language. Go beyond thought, basically. Adhere to that.
People who see that their mind is the Buddha do not need to shave their heads (in a monk's style).





Literature

Prz: Chang, Garma C. The Practice of Zen. New York: Harper, 1970.

Tun: Yampolsky, Philip, tr. The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch. The Text of the Tun-Huang Manuscript. New York: Columbia University, 1967.




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Master Keizan's Transmission of the Light, Case 1 Shakyamuni Buddha
.by Rocks and Clouds Zendo on Wednesday, December 8, 2010 at 9:30am.Pointer

A single branch springs forth from the old tree. Though hidden in brambles, countless generations of flowers, fruit, and seed flourish. They feed the people and continue endlessly, yet not a single word was spoken.



The Main Case

Shakyamuni Buddha, seeing the morning star, realized enlightenment. He said, “I and all sentient beings on earth, together, attain enlightenment at the same time.”



Master Keizan's Vers

One branch stands out on the old plum tree.

Brambles come forth at the same time.



Dharma Discourse by John Daido Loori, Roshi

Master Keizan's Transmission of the Light, Case 1 Shakyamuni Buddha

Featured in Mountain Record 21.2, Winter 2002



The story of Buddha’s quest for enlightenment is a story about trust. Buddha, throughout his life, trusted himself deeply. He wasn’t a Buddhist. He simply practiced his life, and engaged it fully, convinced that he had what was necessary to respond to his questions and the challenges he encountered. His enlightenment confirmed that trust. In seeing the morning star and exclaiming, “I and all sentient beings on earth, together, attain enlightenment at the same time,” Buddha essentially declared, “Trust yourself.”

Buddha’s story begins some thirty years before the experience of seeing the morning star. The time was somewhere around 500 B.C. Sirus was preparing to invade Babylon. Greece’s experiment with democracy was flourishing. The Chinese civilization was being imbued with Taoist wisdom. Early tribes of the Native Americans were beginning to spread throughout this continent.





Buddha was born in a small tribal community in the northern part of Bengal, in the shadow of the great Himalayan peaks. The area was ruled by the Shakya family clan, of which Siddhartha Guatama was a member. Siddhartha was Buddha’s personal name, Guatama was his family name, and Shakya was his clan name. Buddha is the title given to him upon his enlightenment. It means “the awakened one.”

Siddhartha was a handsome, capable young man. He was a prince, born into a very wealthy family. He lived an ordinary aristocratic life up until the age of twenty-nine. It was a very comfortable but not very satisfying life. There was no literature, and the oral traditions of Vedanta were protected by the Brahmin priests. Very little information or knowledge about the world reached northern India. Siddhartha’s universe was bound to the north by the Himalayas and to the south by an endless expanse of desert. The city of Benares was a growing metropolis, but it was over one hundred miles away.





As a member of the warrior caste Siddhartha amused himself with hunting, partying, and lovemaking. Everything that the good life had to offer at that time was at his disposal. He married at age nineteen to his beautiful cousin, Yashodara. The couple remained childless for several years. There was ample time for a life of leisure and entertainment, life in a sunny world of palaces, gardens, groves, and irrigated rice fields. On the surface, everything seemed to be wonderful, with no signs of any problems.

Yet, it was in the middle of this idyllic life that a great discontent came upon Siddhartha. It was the unhappiness that surfaces within a mind endowed with a fine intellect, a mind that has nothing to engage when distractions turn vacuous. Everything can turn flat in an instant. In the middle of plenty and beauty, living a life fulfilling by any standard, deep in his heart Siddhartha wasn’t satisfied. He noticed that something fundamental was missing.





People come to Buddhism and begin practicing because life is suffering. That suffering can simply manifest itself as the question: Is this what it’s about? Is life about going from one gratification to the next? Is it about making a living, making love, and raising kids? Eating and sleeping? Although Siddhartha’s questions weren’t even well-formed and articulated, there was a growing uneasiness within him about how he was conducting and combusting his life. He suspected that the existence he was leading was not the reality of life, but a holiday that veiled something more important—a holiday that had gone on just a little bit too long. While he was in this state of mind, he experienced four events that brought his situation into a sharp focus.





The appreciation of dis-ease is the turning point for many, if not all, people who enter the spiritual path. It is clearly discernible in the lives of many mystics—Moses, Saint Francis, Saint Teresa, Ramakrishna, Thomas Merton. Merton was living a playboy’s life in Paris— attending parties, writing poetry, drinking heavily, when this whole lifestyle collapsed, becoming inconsequential and painful. Master Dogen encountered this tension earlier in his life. He grew up in a comfortable and protective household, catered to in his childhood with the finest education. Yet again, the questions arose, dissatisfaction crept in. All of these mystics had a deep spiritual itch that they couldn’t quite scratch and couldn’t suppress. The questions started pouring forth; the seeds of doubt started budding.





In the midst of this incipient discontent and darkening mood, Siddhartha came face-to-face with four realities of life that he had not seriously noticed or considered before. He saw an old man, dreadfully broken down by age, bent over and feeble. A little bit further on he witnessed somebody suffering from a horrible disease. Finally, he came upon an unburied body, swollen and eyeless, with birds pecking at its flesh. When he turned to Chana, his charioteer, asking for an explanation of these disturbing sights, Chana said, “Such is the way of life. To that we must all come.” The immediacy of disease, mortality, and ultimate insecurity descended on Siddhartha’s mind. Suddenly, all happiness became unsatisfactory.





While pondering these discoveries, Siddhartha saw a wandering religious mendicant, one of those ascetics who traveled throughout India at the time, living under severe rules, spending long periods of time in meditation and debates on metaphysics. These ascetics were seeking deeper reality in their lives. On seeing the mendicant, a passionate desire to abandon the worldly life arose within Siddhartha. He realized that he had to find out the answers to the questions of old age, sickness, and death. He had to put an end to suffering. Siddhartha had raised the bodhi mind.





While he was still thinking about all of this, the news came to him that his wife had given birth to a son. The whole village was rejoicing. There was a great feast to celebrate this new life and the arrival of the successor in the clan lineage. Yet Siddhartha, rather than being filled with joy, woke up in the middle of the night following the festivities filled with great agony of spirit. He was like a man who has been told that his house is on fire. He got up and paced through the palace, stumbling into the bodies of sleeping guests and dancing girls who were lying around in a drunken stupor. He called out to his attendant and told Chana to prepare his horse. He went into his wife’s chamber and looked in. In the aftermath of the celebration, the room was filled with flowers. There was an oil lamp burning, and in its glow he could see his wife’s form. His infant son was in her arms. As he stood at the threshold, he felt a powerful desire to take up the child in a first and last embrace before he departed, but he was afraid of waking his wife, so he turned away and went out into the moonlight. Chana was waiting with the horses. They mounted and rode off into the countryside.

They rode throughout the night. Mara, the tempter of humankind, traveled along side of Siddhartha, disputing with him. “Go back,” chided Mara, “Go back and be a powerful monarch. I’ll make you one of the greatest kings ever. Go on and you’ll fail. I’ll never cease to dog you in your footsteps. Lust, malice, and anger will betray you. Sooner or later, you’ll fail.” This Mara is the same doubt that visits us in our life, during our zazen, challenging our commitment to wake up and encouraging us to settle for less.

In the morning they stopped by the river marking the border of the lands that belonged to the Shakya tribe. They dismounted, and there, on the banks of the river, Siddhartha took off his royal ornaments and jewelry and cut off his hair with his sword. He gave his belongings to Chana and instructed him to take his horse and return home. He went on by himself. When he met a raggedy man on the road, he exchanged clothes with him, putting on the beggar’s rags. Having divested himself of all worldly entanglements, he was free to pursue his search after wisdom unencumbered. His formal search and practice had begun. And this search was to be no different from the search of any other person, before or after.





Siddhartha made his way south, to a place where several teachers and their disciples gathered in a hilly forest. They lived in caves there, occasionally venturing to local villages and towns to obtain basic supplies and food, and to speak with anybody who was interested in hearing what they had to say. Siddhartha joined these communities and quickly became learned in the metaphysics and meditation practices prevalent at that time. But his acute intelligence was not satisfied and he continued to question, even when his teachers recognized his clarity and discipline, and offered him a prestigious teaching position. He declined.

The Buddha was living in a period of time when extreme asceticism was seen as one way of obtaining spiritual power and knowledge. This attitude was present in other world religions and continues in one form or another to this day and age. I regularly see Zen students who really believe this, and practice accordingly. They don’t say that explicitly, but I notice that they’re sitting zazen so they hurt, because they can go deeper into concentration when they hurt. People come to me saying that they sit full lotus because the pain is excruciating. That’s practicing asceticism.





After leaving the religious communities, exhausting the forms and teachings he encountered there, Siddhartha turned to ascetisim. With five companions, he secluded himself in the mountain forests and began a very rigorous practice. He would fast and do without sleep for extended periods of time. And because he was fanatical about his practice, driven by his questions, his fame spread, and people all over started talking about this incredible sage.





Siddhartha continued like this for six years, yet he was not satisfied. The ascetic practices brought to him no sense of lasting truth. He could concentrate his mind into sublime states of bliss, but he could not resolve the question of the nature of the self and reality. He did not stop being completely honest with himself. Unlike many others on the spiritual path who fall into the pit of self-deception, he wasn’t ready to deceive himself and accept partial insights, or relax into fame that was offered to him.





One day, while he was walking in his weakened state, he staggered and fell unconscious. When he recovered and his mind cleared, the preposterousness of the magical ways of searching for wisdom became very obvious to him. To the amazement and horror of his five companions, he took food and abandoned the self-mortification practices. He rested and nourished his body, gaining strength. He regained his balance and acted on the insight that whatever truth a person may reach is reached best by a healthy body and mind.





To his companions, this was heresy. And so they deserted him. In their eyes, Siddhartha failed. He was no longer the great sage who fasted more than anybody else, did without sleep longer than anybody else, mortified his body more intensely than anybody else. Siddhartha stayed true to his appreciation and understanding, unmoved by the severe judgement of others.





Siddhartha was alone. There was nothing and nobody outside of himself that he could turn to. He was the loneliest man in the world, battling for light. He had a deep sense that it was there. And he was going to find it. He had the courage to trust his own insights, to acknowledge when something wasn’t working, to let it go and to keep going. Even though everybody else was doing something else, he had a sense of direction and he trusted that. He trusted himself.





Siddhartha wasn’t practicing Buddhism. He was practicing his life. He was exploring his mind, leaving no stone unturned, using every opportunity to see more clearly. I see a similar attitude in some students who enter training today. They practice their lives before they start formal practice. And there’s a big difference when a person comes into training and they’ve been practicing their life, in one way or another, studying themselves in martial arts, or psychotherapy, or creative process, or other religious paths. None of it is wasted when done in the spirit of honest self-appreciation.





I look back on my own life and I wonder how the long hours on the flying bridge of a destroyer in the middle of the Atlantic, looking for mines or submarine periscopes with binoculars, affected my awareness. There wasn’t a sound except for the waves slapping the side of the ship. There was just the horizon and attention. It was meditation. It was zazen.





Finally Siddhartha came to a quiet place near the river and sat down under a huge tree. He settled down with a simple yet unshakable vow to stay still until he realized the truth. Because of that diamond-sharp, solid, and clear commitment, the place he did zazen is called the indestructible seat. It’s the bodhi seat, the seat of enlightenment, the same seat you’re sitting on, that anyone doing zazen sits on. When the morning star appeared, he was suddenly enlightened and spoke the words, “I and all sentient beings on earth, together, attain enlightenment at the same time.” This was the first lion’s roar.





After that, for forty-nine years he never stayed in seclusion, but was always teaching to help others. With just one robe and one bowl, he lacked nothing. At over 360 assemblies he taught time and time again. Then finally he entrusted the treasury of the eye of the true teaching to Mahakyshapa, and it has continued to be transmitted to the present day.





Yet all of the stories, all of the parables, all of the metaphors, all the explanations—all the teachings—didn’t go beyond the primary principle of, “I and all sentient beings on earth, together, attain enlightenment at the same time.” In that statement, “I” is not Shakyamuni Buddha, yet even Shakyamuni Buddha comes from this “I.” It doesn’t only give birth to Shakyamuni Buddha; all sentient beings on earth also come from there. It’s like lifting a net; when you lift the net, all of the holes are lifted at the same time. When Shakyamuni Buddha was enlightened, all sentient beings on the great earth were enlightened too. It wasn’t only all sentient beings on earth who were enlightened; all buddhas, past, present, future, also attained enlightenment. While that is so, don’t think of Shakyamuni Buddha as having been enlightened. Don’t think of Shakyamuni

Buddha as outside of all sentient beings on earth.





Even though the mountains, rivers, and the great earth, all forms and appearances, are various and profuse, all of them are the eye of the Buddha. And each of us is standing in the eye of the Buddha. It’s not just simply that we are standing in the eye of the Buddha; the eye has become each of us. Buddha’s eye has become everybody’s whole body and mind, and therefore this clear, bright eye which spans all time and all space, is not only Buddha’s eye, but your eye, your body, and Buddha’s whole body.





Because of Buddha’s enlightenment statement, a question can arise: Is Buddha enlightened with you, or are you enlightened with the Buddha? If you say you become enlightened with the Buddha, or you say that Buddha becomes enlightened with you, this is not the Buddha’s enlightenment at all. It can’t even be called the principle of enlightenment. “I and all sentient beings on earth, together, attain the great way” are not one; nor are they two. Each one of us—skin, flesh, bones, and marrow—are together the lord and the host of the house. And this “I” does not have skin, flesh, bones or marrow.





On one side we have absolute; on the other side we have relative. On one side we have the individual; on the other side we have the unity. And they’re not two separate realities. This is the interpenetration of differences, the co-arising of differences. The first statement of the Buddha is mutual interpenetration and co-origination. And this principle is not only about Buddha’s enlightenment and the enlightenment of all sentient beings, but it applies to all existence, all things, the whole great universe and one’s self. In his very first insight, the Buddha spoke of nothing other than the great diamond net of Indra. This is the key to everything that followed—to the Four Noble Truths, to the endless sutras and scriptures and commentaries, to the endless generations that have moved over every direction on the face of the earth, and to the practices we do here now.





On his spiritual path, Buddha didn’t do koan study. He didn’t do shikantaza. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was just living his life and questioning it as he went, trusting himself in the broadest sense. At every step, he took up what he was doing with the whole body and mind. When he was an ascetic, he was the best ascetic on that mountain. Nobody could do it better than him. When he sat, he sat with the whole body and mind. Nobody could out-sit him. When he taught, he taught until he dropped in his tracks, combusting like a burning star in his total dedication of forty-nine years. He was not competing with anyone. He wasn’t measuring his accomplishments, testing himself against anybody. He didn’t retire after ten or twenty years, or after he transmitted to Mahakashyapa. He kept teaching until he couldn’t say another word, couldn’t take another step. Then, he simply died.





That’s the way we should live our lives. That’s the way we should practice our lives, straightforwardly, with the whole body and mind. What else are you willing to settle for? And that whole body-and-mind attitude includes everything that is your life. When you dance, dance with the whole body and mind. When you laugh, laugh with the whole body and mind. When you grieve, grieve with the whole body and mind. And when you sit, sit with the whole body and mind.





I recently received a letter from a student who couldn’t understand the teaching on the unity of cause and effect, and the responsibility that emerges within that realization. He was clearly angry, ranting in the letter about the ridiculousness of that teaching. If he’s flying in a plane and the wing falls off, how could he be responsible for the accident? He was in a desperate struggle to create a logical justification for his position, and he was attacking me as if this was my personal philosophy. The teachings are not my personal philosophy, nor the personal philosophy of anybody else, not even the Buddha. They are an experience of life. They are the experience of the Buddha and the experience of all the buddhas who followed, all the sentient beings who followed, who realized themselves, and verified that experience.

That’s what practice and verification is about. We don’t debate the taste of chocolate when we have not tasted chocolate. When we have tasted chocolate, we don’t have to debate the taste. We know it. We could debate the truth of reality for years and arrive at no conclusion. Or maybe arrive at a conclusion. We can even take a vote and get a consensus. We can do that with a koan: “Did this person see Mu or not? How many in favor?” The fact is that unless you’ve experienced the truth and seen it for yourself, it doesn’t manifest in your life. Saying it the other way around: if the truth doesn’t manifest in your life, you haven’t realized it.





This is a wonderful life. And the key to that wonder is sitting right where you sit. Find out about it. Trust yourself. It's the most important thing that you can do in this life. Realize it. Make yourself free.





John Daido Loori, Roshi died in 2009. The light he found continues to illuminate the tangled brambles letting each be fully complete.