This podcast is offered by the San Francisco Zen Center on the web at www.sfcc.org. Our public programs are made possible by donations from people like you. Ah. We breathe in the Earth's atmosphere. and by it we are refreshed and enlivened. We breathe out, falling into earth by the force of gravity, letting go of everything. Breathing in, we allow the breath to lift our body from the inside out. Breathing out, we let go of tension in our neck, shoulders, back, allowing it to fall away like falling rain, falling pebbles, falling leaves, falling into earth.

[01:18]

That's our meditation practice. You know, gravity... is an organizing principle for life on Earth. Our size, our muscles, our bones, evolved in this size and shape because of the Earth's gravity. You know, the largest land animal is the African elephant, which weighs a range of 5,000 to 14,000 pounds. That's as big as a land animal can get. After that, the physics don't work. But a blue whale that lives in the ocean ranges from 200,000 to 300,000 pounds because of the buoyancy of water.

[02:28]

That's like 20 to 60 elephants' weight. So the ratio of muscle to bone is a physical principle that limits or organizes life on Earth. A blue whale dies of gravity when it's beached. commercial airliner, by the way, weighs, I looked this up, 110,000 to 775,000 pounds. Now that's astonishing. Our body is not independent of this world of atmosphere and gravity. This body is of atmosphere and gravity. And this is our meditation practice.

[03:32]

So, for the past six months or so, I've been studying and pondering on the lives of the first Buddhist order of nuns. They were contemporaries of Shakyamuni Buddha, his friends, his Sangha. Many were his family. his harem, and the servants of his harem. And today I'd like to tell you about three of these women. There are several good books on the Teri Gata. Teri means women elders or wise women, and Gata means verse or song. So these are the songs of the wise women. Primarily today I'm using the book called The First Buddhist Women, Translations and Commentary on the Terrigatta, which was published in 1991 by Susan Mercott.

[04:43]

I met Susan Mercott in 1981 when Norman and I had just moved from Tassajara to Green Gulch with our four-year-old twin sons. She had come from Aiken Roshi Zen Center to visit Green Gulch and to talk about the newsletter she had co-founded called Kahawai, Journal of Women and Zen. I was the guest manager at that time, so I looked after her while she was here. After all these years, I'd lost touch with her, so after all these years, I looked her up and discovered this information about her. Susan Mercott was drawn to Buddhism as a peace activist in Boston in the late 1960s. She traveled to Japan, Australia, and Hawaii to study Zen and Buddhist philosophy and spent more than 10 years researching and translating this text.

[05:46]

She was a co-founder and editor of Kahawai, Journal of Women and Zen, for many years, and taught meditation at Wellesley College. while completing her graduate studies in environmental engineering at MIT. Today, Susan Mercott is a world expert on safe drinking water technologies for developing countries. How's that? The girl's got it going. So first, I'd like to tell you about Bada Kundalakesha. Bada Kundalakesa came to my attention through her death poem, which was shared with me and many friends by our dear friend and Zen teacher, Leila Bockhorst. Leila died about a year and a half ago of cancer. She was a Zen teacher in the Suzuki Roshi lineage.

[06:49]

We all lived together here at Green Gulch Farm when our children were young. Little Sarah Bockhorst, little Jesse Rudnick, son of Peter Rudnick and Wendy Johnson, and little Aaron and Noah, our sons. They're now 46 and 47 years old. There were more children at that time, and they were a wild pack. So we'd known Layla and the family for a long time. Layla decided to suspend treatment for her cancer, when it wasn't doing much good and it was making her very sick. Lele emailed to her friends and sangha Bada Kundalakesa's death poem upon choosing to discontinue her treatment and live her last days in peace with an open, trusting heart. Here's the poem.

[07:53]

Here at the end, Part of me still wants to go back and kiss every inch of every road I ever walked. But it's enough just to say thank you and goodbye. Here at the end, part of me still wants to go back and kiss every inch of every road I ever walked. But it's enough just to say thank you and goodbye. It was this poem that sparked my interest in learning about these earliest Buddhist nuns. So here is Bada Kundalakesa's story. She was born in the 6th century BCE in the kingdom of Magadha to affluent parents.

[08:56]

who were very protective of her due to her strong attraction to men. One day, looking out her window, she saw a man, son of a Brahmin, from a prestigious family, being led to his execution, and she fell instantly in love with him. She begged and convinced her father to save him, which she did by bribing the wardens to let the prisoner escape. The couple were immediately married, that is, after the father had him bathed and properly dressed. Soon after, the groom took a keen interest in his bride's jewelry, telling her he had vowed to make offerings to a certain mountain deity in exchange for avoiding the death penalty. He told her he wanted to show her this mountain with its high cliff. while actually intending to push her off the high cliff and take the rest of her jewelry.

[09:59]

But our bride was no fool, and she managed to push him off the cliff instead. He fell to his death. For this, it is reported that even the deity of the cliff applauded her, praising her keen presence of mind and saying, Wisdom is not always confined to men. A woman, too, is wise and shows it now and then. However, weighed down by the guilt of having murdered her husband, she lost her interest in sensual pleasures and became a wandering ascetic, joining the Jain order. By the way, can you hear me all the way to the back?

[11:03]

Everything's good. And if you can't, make some dramatic hand gestures and I'll notice you. As penance for her crime and to join the strictest of the orders of the order of gines, her hair was torn out by the roots. Her hair grew back very curly. So her name became Kundalakesa, which means curly hair. So just a word about Jainism, in case you haven't heard of it or don't know it. In many ways, it parallels Buddhism in practice and belief. It also arose at a similar time, a little earlier than Buddhism. One primary teaching Jains adhere to is ahimsa, non-harming, not harming. So they have strict dietary rules, such as not eating fruit or a vegetable with small seeds, because that would mean killing all the potential plants that could grow from that one fruit.

[12:11]

They also don't eat root vegetables, because that would require killing the whole plant. The giants probably were the founders of the practice period, which was held during the summer rainy season, because walking out to beg for food at that time would likely mean stepping on many creatures living in the puddles on the roads. Their practices were austere, extremely austere, and Kundalakesa was ordained in the most austere of the Jain lineages. And by the way, the Jains established the first order of of women renunciates, as far as we know, first in the world, as far as we know. So Bada Kundalakesa wandered throughout India for 50 years. She visited many teachers, acquiring great knowledge, and became famous as one of the foremost debaters of her time.

[13:18]

Public debates on spiritual matters was a thing in those ancient times. and we observe remnants of it to this day, such as in the Shuso ceremony. One day, Bhada Kundalakesa visited a town close to where Shariputra was staying. Shariputra, of course, had heard of this famous nun, so he showed up for the debate. He posed this question for her. What is the one? She was so impressed by the question that she didn't answer, therefore forfeiting the debate. She then approached Shariputra, asking to be his student. He said, no, you must go to the Buddha, asked to be his student.

[14:21]

The Buddha readily accepted her. and she attained arahantship faster than any other nun, it is said. Of course, she had been wandering and doing her practice for 50 years, so not that fast. She stayed with the bhikkhunis, the nuns, for a while, but then continued wandering, and wandered for the rest of her life. One thing I'm interested in thinking and talking about as I learn these stories is the teaching in them. So looking again at Bada Kundalakesa's poem, in which part of her wants to go back and kiss every inch of every road she ever walked, including the road where she murdered her husband. including where her hair was pulled out by the roots.

[15:23]

We hear in this radical and energetic equanimity she expressed. Radical and energetic equanimity. You know, in English, the word equanimity doesn't bring forth words like radical and energetic. Equanimity is kind of calm, you know. But for her, can you imagine? the practice of staying steady, regardless of what is happening around her, what is happening to her, what is happening to others around her. Radical energetic equanimity. So here we have the words of a woman facing her death, telling us how precious each and every moment of her life has been. and our contemporary Leila Bockhorst adding her name to these words. She's not diminishing any moment of her life, her mind, her time.

[16:30]

She's tending the mind, cultivating the mind of no judgment, the open and generous mind, the trusting mind, which, as such, offers love and encouragement to others. So that's Bada Kundalakesa and Leila. So the next woman I would like to tell you about is Patachara. She has a harsh story. So hold on to your seats. She was born into a banker's family in the town of Shabati. When she was a young woman, her parents arranged for her to marry a young man of equal rank. But one of the family's servants was her lover, and defying her parents' wishes, she ran away with him, and they set up a household in a remote place.

[17:32]

Months passed, and she became pregnant. As her pregnancy came to term, she wanted to go to her parents' home and have their care at the time of the birth. Her husband procrastinated until one day, while he was out, she left. When he soon discovered what had happened, he followed Patachara and overtook her midway to Shavati. There, labor came on, she gave birth safely, and together they returned to their own home. Later, a second child was conceived. Once more, Padachara wanted to return to her parents' home, and once more her husband was reluctant. Again, she left without him, taking their child, and again he pursued and caught up with her as her labor was beginning. But this time, a great storm rose up.

[18:36]

Patachara needed shelter, and her husband, while hurriedly cutting grass and stakes in the forest to build her a hut, was bitten by a poisonous snake and died. Thinking herself abandoned, Patachara gave birth alone and passed the night lying over her children, using her body to protect them from the storm. In the morning, she discovered her husband's body. and was paralyzed with grief for a day and a night. When the second day dawned, she again took up the journey to her parents' home. She came to a river, swollen with floodwaters. Too weak to carry both children across at once, she took the newborn first. On the far side of the river, she placed the child on a pile of leaves. but was so reluctant to leave him that she looked behind her again and again.

[19:40]

Halfway back across the river, she saw a hawk seize her newborn and carry him off. The hawk ignored Patachara's screams, but the older child, thinking his mother was calling him, came up to the riverbank, fell in, and drowned. In utter despair, All Patachara could do was to resume her journey. On the outskirts of Shabati, she met a town's man and asked him whether he knew her family. He said, don't ask me about them. Ask about anything else. And she said, but there is nothing else I care about. And he said, You saw how the god reigned all last night. Your family's house collapsed and fell on them, and they are all burning on one pyre, the banker, his wife, their son.

[20:48]

You can see the smoke. With that, Patatara went out of her mind. She wandered around in circles. Her clothing became ragged and fell off. Her name, which means cloak walker, refers to this. The townspeople drove her off with sticks and rubbish. One day, still mad, still walking around in circles, she entered the Jeta Grove where the Buddha was preaching. Those who had gathered to listen wanted to keep her away, but Gautama followed her. and put himself in her path. As she approached him, he said, Sister, recover your presence of mind. And she recovered her presence of mind. She saw that she was naked, and a monk threw her his outer robe.

[21:55]

Help me, she said to the Buddha, and in tears... She told him her terrible story. Buddha replied, Patachara, don't think you have come to someone who can help you. In your many lives, you have shed more tears for the dead than there is water in the four oceans. This made her grief less heavy. He went on to say, that when she herself went to another world, that is madness, no kin could help her, that even in this world no kin can help her. And he spoke to her of the Buddhist path in which she is her own helper. When he had finished, she asked if she could be ordained. Together they went to the community of nuns,

[22:58]

And she was accepted there. Later on, she became enlightened. And here's her enlightenment poem. The Therigata verses are, in general, enlightenment poems, which was a custom of Buddhist teachers from that time forth. So the enlightenment poems are interesting to read. Here is her enlightenment poem. When they plow their fields and sow seeds in the earth, when they care for their wives and children, young Brahmins find riches. But I've done everything right, followed the rule of my teacher. I'm not lazy or proud. Why haven't I found peace? Bathing my feet, I watched the bathwater spill down the slope. I concentrated my mind.

[23:58]

the way you train a good horse. Then I took a lamp and went into my cell, checked the bed, and sat down on it. I took a needle and pushed the wick down. When the lamp went out, my mind was freed. That's her poem. And taking another look at this stanza, bathing my feet, I watched the bath water spill down the slope. I concentrated my mind the way you train a good horse. These are some very good and very specific meditation instructions. And we're all good horses. We concentrate the mind in the body. With the eyes, we watch bath water spilling down the slope. With the ears, we hear the splashing of water down the slope, just sensing light and sound, thoughts, sensations, miraculous and ordinary.

[25:07]

Patachara, Susan Murkat tells us, probably had the largest number of followers other than Mahapajapati. She is referred to in the Terigata more than any other woman. with phrases like, I met a nun I knew I could trust. And she pulled out the arrow hidden in my heart. I met a nun I knew I could trust. She pulled the arrow hidden in my heart. So the third person, the third woman I'd like to tell you about, is Dhammadina. Dhammadina lived in 6th century BCE in India and was a contemporary also of Gautama Buddha. The Buddha considered Dhammadina to be the foremost among the nuns in the gift of teaching.

[26:12]

Since the Buddha chose to teach others rather than to remain aloof, enjoying his own enlightenment, the skill of teaching was held in very high esteem. Dhammedina was married to Rishaka, a person of high rank and means in the city of Rajagaha, the capital of the kingdom of Magadha. Rajagaha was said to have 36,000 merchant houses, half belonging to Buddhists, half to giants, and was at the height of its prosperity during Buddha's life. One day, Dhammadina's husband, Vishaka, returned home after hearing a sermon of the new religious leader, Gautama, the Buddha. But this time he did not smile as he usually did. He did not invite his wife to join him for dinner, as was customary. And after dinner, he announced that upon hearing the Buddha's teaching, he was considering becoming a monk.

[27:19]

Dhammadina responded, I wish to renounce the world also. So Vishaka sent her off in a golden palanquin to join the community of nuns. She retreated to the country, practicing intensively until she awakened. And soon after that, she returned to visit her former husband, discovering that he had changed his mind and did not go off to be a monk. Still, He was interested in what she had learned, so he questioned her. What is meditation? To which he answered, meditation is the focusing of the heart. Meditation is the focusing of the heart. Vishaka asked her many more questions, all of which Dhammadina answered, until the question about nirvana.

[28:23]

To that, Dhammedina said, you will never get to the end of your questionings, for in nirvana, the higher life merges to find its goal and its consumption. In nirvana, the higher life merges to find its goal and its consumption. That's kind of a mouthful. But for me, it brings to mind the work of Shirto, 8th century Chan teacher who wrote the Sandokai. The Sandokai is a fundamental Soto Zen text chanted each day in Zen temples all over the world, along with the Heart Sutra. Sandokai is translated variously, including the merging of difference and unity. which echoes the words of Dhammadina, the merging of difference and unity, nirvana, in nirvana the higher life merges to find its goal and its consumption.

[29:29]

So, that storied Buddhist image of the boat that takes us to the other shore, it's more like the other shore arrives under our very feet, in fact, was always there. So our practice is just about living our life, trusting our life as it is given, exactly as it is given. Like the radical equanimity of Bada Kundalakesa. Dhammadina went on to tell her former husband, Vishaka, that he should go talk to the Buddha about nirvana. He did that. Telling Buddha what Dhammadina had said, Buddha responded, Dhammadina possesses learning and great wisdom. Had you asked me, I would have answered exactly as she did. Her answer was correct, and you should treasure it accordingly. This is really unusual.

[30:35]

At that time, a man did not receive instruction at the foot of a woman. It was pretty much forbidden. So the fact that that happened with Dhammedina tells us what an elevated person she was, what an accomplished and wonderful person she was in her time. In fact, Dhammedina's words were declared the word of the Buddha, and as such are preserved in the Majjhima Nikaya, one of the collection of talks attributed to the Buddha. I believe she's the only woman whose words are included in the collection of the words of the Buddha. Here's her enlightenment poem. Eager for the end of suffering, full of awareness, that's the way.

[31:40]

When one's heart is not attached to pleasure, we say, that woman has entered the stream. Damadina and her two disciples, Kema and Upalavana, were the founders of the first community of Buddhist nuns. So in that last verse, notice that the operative word in the second stanza is not pleasure, it's attached. When one's heart is not attached to pleasure, we say, that woman has entered the stream. Of course we have pleasure. Of course we have pain. When we trust each moment, as it arises, full of awareness, that's the way. These teachings are like a message in a bottle. The way of radical, energetic equanimity passed down to us from 2,500 years ago.

[32:43]

to the present. Sometimes we have to poke around to find these precious words because the language is old. But it's right there for us. So, that's what I have to share with you today about those three wonderful women, Bada Kundalakesa, Dhammedina, and Patachara. May we fully enjoy the Dharma.

[33:38]

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