What a friendly looking group. It's very nice. Lately, I've been asking myself quite a bit about what it is to practice and what it is to practice Zen. And it seems that in the Zendo, that's relatively clear. Of course, if we go into it, all the answers. evaporate, but at least on one level, we seem to have some sense of what that means. And we even claim to give some instruction, provisionally, but we do say that we give some instruction in Zen practice. But what does it look like outside of the Zendo? What happens when we leave this meditation hall?

[01:13]

when I'm at home or in my car or going out for dinner or walking down the street or in the garden. What does that look like? And I don't think I'm alone in asking that question. It seems like something that comes up quite a bit around here. And it's... pretty hard to answer. I think one reason why it's hard to answer is that as soon as we, if we describe it, then it seems like there's some limitation, some fixed thing. But it sometimes is easier when we think in terms of what it doesn't look like. So I wanted to bring up a scene in a film that I saw recently that struck me very deeply and that I've been going over and over again in my mind.

[02:25]

So the scene is a small Japanese house in the 19th century just before the beginning of the Meiji period. And some kind of low, lowish ceilings. And the house has a small home altar in it, butsudan, that has a little, I think, standing figure of Buddha and a small bell, like this bell, but much smaller, a little bell and a striker and a covered cup, a little maybe Saladan cup with a cover. And a samurai approaches the altar, picks up the striker and hits the bell, seemingly a respectful act toward the Buddha.

[03:35]

And then, with a slight, almost flick of his wrist, he throws the striker down. An almost deliberate or willful lack of care. He abruptly bows to the altar, picks up the cup, takes the lid off. And then as he walks across the room, he starts to pick out little bits from the cup and crunch them in his mouth. And he tells his visitor, another samurai who actually has been sent there to kill him, that these bits that he's putting in his mouth and eating are the bones of his daughter. The cup has the bones and a small amount of the bones and ashes of his daughter who died at the age of 16 from illness along with his wife.

[04:46]

So this is an intense and horrifying scene. He sits there picking these little bits from the cup and eating them with a gaunt and ravaged face. And the movements, each movement that he makes is absolutely riveting. And it's clear from these actions that he's somewhat deranged. He's not in his right mind. But it's this earlier movement that really caught me and that I've been pondering. This very small movement of simply the way that he threw down the striker after striking the bell, rather than putting the striker down carefully, the little motion in which he threw it down is what really seemed to me to be an expression of the fact that in some sense his humanity is broken.

[06:00]

Actually, earlier someone had referred to him as having become a beast. So in this scene, we also, we see a tokenoma, an alcove, with a wonderful, very strongly calligraphed scroll. And even though I couldn't read the calligraphy, there was some feeling of uprightness and integrity. in this calligraphy. And then seeing the altar with the Buddha on it, I felt a very strong kind of positive life force in this scene. So the Buddha, the altar, sacred objects, the ringing of the bell, there's a kind of formality there and a bringing up the presence of Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha.

[07:04]

So even though we know, I mean, this is a samurai, and we know that there's going to be some fighting going on, that probably someone is going to die. For a moment, as the samurai approaches the altar and picks up the striker, we... we think that there's going to be some kind of peace, some respect, some expression of gratitude, some evoking the presence of the Buddha. But after hitting the bell, the way that he throws the striker down, that is shown to, we know that that's not going to happen. Someone is going to die. And maybe I should add that the actor playing the scene is a buto dancer.

[08:05]

So every movement that he makes is incredibly expressive, really shows what his inner state is. And to me, it was clear that this little of throwing down the striker was a kind of renunciation of the Buddha, a renunciation of himself. From this contrast of the way that we would want this object to be handled and the way that he did handle it, we know that this man is actually doomed. On the other hand, there's some sense that he wants to live. We know, we've heard earlier that he had been ordered to commit seppuku, to kill himself, and he had refused.

[09:12]

And to the man who was sent to kill him, he suggests that maybe he could just flee, maybe he could just leave, and they wouldn't have to fight. So I felt that his walking toward the altar, walking toward the Buddha, was an expression of this life force. But then at the last minute, there's a kind of disconnect between his mind and his body. So although he wants to connect with himself, with Buddha, with his daughter, he wants to be fully present in that moment, but he can't. His confusion and pain are just too deep. So rather than taking refuge in Buddha, all he can do is sit there chewing his daughter's bones. He's eating death rather than seeking life.

[10:15]

He's sitting there with death. So somehow in the midst of this despair, I actually find this scene to be strangely encouraging, strangely inspiring, perhaps because it really illustrates for me what the human body is capable of, what the connection is between our body and intention. and how we need to practice in order to realize this and how our intentions can be expressed in each little movement that we do. So in the Vimalakirti Sutra scripture, an early Mahayana scripture about a householder bodhisattva who

[11:29]

teaches the doctrine of the middle way, neither grasping at existence nor believing in the non-existence of things. The layman, Vimalakirti, gives a teaching, gives instructions to a group of householders, a group of young people, merchants, townspeople, country people, people who have not yet begun to practice. And he... exhorts them and encourages them to practice by pointing out the suffering inherent in our lives, the suffering of having a physical body. He says, friends, this body is so impermanent, fragile, unworthy of confidence and feeble. It is so insubstantial, perishable, short-lived, painful, filled with diseases and subjects Thus, my friends, as this body is only a vessel of many sicknesses, wise men do not rely on it.

[12:58]

these people to turn away from their usual avenues of trying to find satisfaction and turn toward liberation. Excuse me. So this might be seen as kind of a first step in practice, recognizing that we have to seek elsewhere And I think that this is, in fact, how many of us come to practice. We see some difficulty in our life, and then we hear a teaching about a way of finding relief. But over and over again, we may hear this message and then forget it. We hear it and then forget it. Vimalakirti tells these people Friends, the body of the Tathagata is the body of Dharma, born of gnosis, of wisdom.

[14:03]

The body of a Tathagata is born of the stores of merit and wisdom, of morality, of meditation, of the liberations, and the knowledge and vision of liberation. It is born of love, compassion, joy, and impartiality. It is born of charity, discipline, and self-control. So his basic teaching to these people is that the strategies that we tend to use to try to bring happiness are actually not working very well. We do get old. We do get sick. The body is impermanent despite all our efforts to disguise or ignore this. There's nothing that we can grab onto to save us. So we should practice. We should turn toward liberation. And we can do this through practicing mindfulness, beginning with mindfulness of the body.

[15:10]

In zazen, we are aware of our breath, of our posture. We begin in entering the zendo. paying attention to how we step over the threshold, how we hold our hands. So just the smallest of actions like holding a striker, hitting a bell, taking care of it, being aware of how we're doing this. Not just to take care of the striker, but to take care of ourself. This kind of practice is what calms us, centers us, and enables us to begin to examine our lives. Perhaps one reason why, or another reason why, this particular image was so interesting for me is because as a student of the way of tea, of tea practice, for years I've paid attention to, or tried to pay attention to, how I pick things up

[16:20]

and how I put them down, noticing lack of respect, noticing impatience, noticing that I'm not noticing what I'm doing. And occasionally, in the midst of all that, noticing love and gratitude. So there's in an essay on the way of tea that really expresses this for me. The instruction here says to immerse your heart and mind fully in picking up something, whether it's a small bamboo tea scoop or a valuable ceramic bowl, no matter what it is. Immerse your heart and mind fully in it alone and give no thought whatever to other matters.

[17:24]

When replacing it, do so conveying your heart and mind from their depths. As in the beginning, when putting down a utensil, you release it and withdraw your hand. Do so without in the slightest dismissing it from your awareness. and shift the mind just as it is to the next utensil to be practiced, to be treated. This is the kind of practice that I want to do. So this is my intention and the question then is then how to remember, how to keep carrying it out, how to be able to express in each moment this kind of integrity, this responsibility. So in the same sutra, later in the Vimalakirti Sutra, there's another teaching where Vimalakirti is talking with bodhisattvas.

[18:42]

This time he's talking with people who are already practicing. And his teaching to them is a little bit different. This time he again points out the teaching that the body is permanent and that there is suffering. And then he goes on to say, through your own suffering, you should understand the suffering of others and in this way develop compassion for them. This is how to develop wisdom, the non-dual understanding that there is no separate self. So understanding your own suffering, you should be inspired to work for the benefit of others, understanding that this is not separate from working for your own liberation. So the sutra here is recognizing

[19:43]

that usually we begin from looking at our own suffering and trying to find a way to deal with that, to get away from it. But actually, working for the benefit of other suffering is not a separate practice. It's already included in that. Vimalakirti says, on account of his own suffering, his remembrance of suffering experienced from beginningless time, and his consciousness of working for the welfare of living beings. Rather than aspiring to enlightenment for their own sake, they should try to alleviate the suffering of others. But it's not a question of choosing one or the other. It's the same. It's only the delusion of having a separate independent self that produces the apparent dichotomy.

[20:48]

Actually, to have the goal of attaining liberation for oneself without also helping others will fail because it is based on the false understanding of the relationship of self and others. Recently, I heard a Tenshin Roshi told some of us a story about practicing with Suzuki Roshi at Tassahara. And he said that Suzuki Roshi told him that his disciples were those who were practicing for the benefit of others, not for themselves. And... I was very struck by this. So Suzuki Roshi didn't say, talking about the students at Dasahara, he didn't say, well, these people are my disciples and these people aren't my disciples.

[21:53]

He simply said, the ones who are practicing for the benefit of others, those are the ones who are my disciples. So I've been wondering for myself Am I Suzuki Roshi's disciple? Could I be his disciple? Whose benefit do I think I'm practicing for? What is my intention? And what is the difference? And I came across a little line in Zen Mind Beginner's Mind where Suzuki Roshi quotes Dogen Zenji as saying, Teaching which does not sound as if it is forcing something on you is not true teaching. And that's kind of how I felt about this, that this statement was kind of forcing itself on me.

[22:56]

The idea that only those who practice for the benefit of others are the true disciples was a teaching that was kind of forcing itself on me. not one that I really wanted to take up. So in trying to look at this, it seems to me that all we can do really is to try to take care of each thing as it arises and passes away. And to see that There are only processes, not immutable things. Things that we think of are permanent are not actually permanent. So we're looking, we're constantly looking for perfection. But the perfection that we look for is an illusion.

[23:59]

It doesn't actually exist. And we suffer because we can't find it. Suzuki Roshi said we should find perfect existence through imperfect existence. We should find perfection through imperfection, which since that's what we tend to find, I find is rather helpful. Some time ago, I was working at City Center, cleaning a room, doing something for someone else that I didn't really want to be doing, just kind of trying to get through it.

[25:12]

And in the midst of it, someone asked me in a very sweet voice whether I was enjoying it. what I was doing. And I think it was because of the way she asked that I actually was able to hear it. That it wasn't, you know, there was no, there didn't seem to be judgment or irony or taunting or, you know, it was a real question. It was really, it was like it was like she was asking herself how she was doing, how she was living at that time. And so for me also, it was that kind of question. Are you finding perfect existence and in this imperfect existence at this time?

[26:14]

Are you alive now as you're doing this cleaning or are you waiting for some later time when things are going to be okay. So I keep coming back to that and finding that as a helpful question. Just, you know, are you finding perfect existence right now in this imperfect existence? Or are you still thinking about the perfect existence, the fantasy perfect existence that's going to happen later. So recently I heard on the radio about a scientific study that was done about the capacity of the brain to expand

[27:19]

You know, we tend to think of the brain as something fixed, as intelligence. Maybe some of you heard this also, a study about, is intelligence something fixed or does it grow? And in this study, some school children were taught about, basically, they were taught neuroscience about how the brain expands and grows as we learn. And you know, they actually learned how the brain works. You know, not how we think it works, but what science has actually found, that the brain forms new connections when you learn things, that as you develop, the brain actually develops more neurons and expands and grows, and that this makes you smarter. that you can become more, that you do become more intelligent through this process.

[28:22]

So the children, these are young children, and they learned that this was the case. And then having learned it, the children in this particular study actually became more intelligent when they dropped their idea that they had a fixed amount. They dropped their idea that, well, maybe I'm not so smart, so I'm not going to be able to learn anything. They saw that they actually could learn, and then they started to study. They studied harder. They were motivated to study harder, and their intelligence actually increased. So it occurred to me that that something along these lines might also be happening as we practice. That taking up the practices of mindfulness, making offerings, paying respect to our teachers and ancestors, studying our connections with others, that we actually start to make these connections.

[29:38]

That we actually, as we start to see that we're not separate, we drop our belief in a separate independent self and then acting from our new belief, acting for the benefit of others, the truth of it becomes more and more apparent. So if I think that I'm alone and unsupported, if that's my belief, if I actually think that that's true, probably that's what my life is going to look like. I'll probably actually carry that out in my life. But just like these children were able to actually change their behavior and change the way that their minds worked, I think that we can also change and develop our own capacities for love and compassion. So when we think like this samurai in the film, that we're alone with our loved ones dead and our clan out to kill us, we may become really incapable of even a very small, simple act of respect.

[31:01]

But if we can see that this separate self is an illusion, a misunderstanding, Then we're joined by the Buddhas and ancestors, and we see that there is no one who doesn't support us. Even someone sent to kill us is revealed to be our own reflection, someone just like us, someone who shares our suffering and who wants to live and wants to support us to live. So just like Vimalakirti's famous house, which was only 10 feet square, but expanded to have room for innumerable lay people and householders and Buddhas and bodhisattvas who came to visit, our lives also are not limited. There is actually no real fixed limitations.

[32:03]

The more that we study these apparent boundaries and limitations, the more that we will see that they expand and dissipate and actually vanish. Thank you very much.

[32:29]

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