Welcome. Welcome to the San Francisco Zen Center. And my name is Jordan Thorne. I'm a resident at the Zen Center. I'm a priest at the Zen Center. And I'm pleased to have this chance to talk to you. Thank you. One of the things that I go through every time I have the opportunity slash challenge of giving a talk is what to talk about. And there's a broad parameter I feel like I've been given, but then that, how to enter a topic.

[01:01]

And last Sunday, I was invited to give a talk at the Gay Men's Buddhist Sangha over in the Castro District at Hartford Street Zen Center. They meet there. They're a non-affiliated sangha. It means that they have students who are Theravajan practitioners, Tibetan and Zen students, miscellany. So they have different speakers from different traditions come. And along with the invitation I received to give a talk last week came a title for the talk, which I was grateful for. Simplified the whole process. The title was Why Zen? It had a colon. The benefits of Zen practice. And I made a stab at it.

[02:05]

And I'd like to do so again today. And I think one of the things that needs to be said up front, as I get going, one of the things that has to be said in answer of the question why Zen is Well, nobody has to practice Zen, actually. And, you know, especially Zen with a capital Z in boldface. I really believe that there is no need for anybody to practice Zen. But I do believe that

[03:05]

that there is a value for us, or there's a value for myself, and maybe for you all, and I'll say for us, in making the effort to understand how to live a useful life, how to face ourselves and face other people in a straightforward, healthy, appropriate way. And while this effort is not something, this effort to live helpfully and usefully and wholeheartedly is not something that Zen practice can claim any patent to or any special kind of ownership of. At the same time, it is something that we talk about in Zen. Kategori Roshi, who was a Japanese priest who came in the 60s to help San Francisco Center, and Suzuki Roshi, and then moved to Minnesota, and has now passed away.

[04:09]

Category Roshi wrote a poem called Peaceful Life, and in it, he has the line, a few lines, knowing how to live, knowing how to walk with people, demonstrating and teaching, this is the Buddha way, or this is the Zen way. Making this effort of knowing how to live, knowing how to walk with people, is really actually the common effort, I believe, across the world, of all cultures, of all spiritual health, spiritual traditions. And that's something that Zen owns. But here we are at the Zen Center. Here I am as a person who is committed to practicing Zen and to using the stories and history of Zen as a way for myself to figure out how to walk with people, how to talk with people.

[05:20]

So I'm going to use some Zen, some Zen stories. And I hope, I hope modestly that they make sense. There was, some years ago, a Zen teacher named Guishan. And he was a very important ancestor to our tradition. He was a student of a Zen master named Bai Chang, who was famous for... many things amongst them, the expression, a day of no work is a day of no food.

[06:24]

And Bai Cheng also, it is said, that he was the first person to codify roles of conduct that were unique to Zen centers, to create what we call shingyi, monastic roles that were specific to a Zen center. Bai Cheng, a very important teacher, and Guishan was one of his primary students. as a symbol of Baicheng's trust and faith in Guishan. When Guishan left Guishan to become, to teach on his own, he received the Hosu, the sort of horsehair whisk of Baicheng, as an implement of authority and a recognition of his transmission and understanding and continuity with Baicheng's mind. He, Guishan started to practice Zen, when he was 15. He was born in 771, a long time ago.

[07:28]

He was born at a time that was especially fertile, rich, and kind of important to the development and foundation of this traditional renasophy. And he lived for 82 years. He was ordained at 15, and when he was 22, He was studying at Bai Chiang's temple and he had a great experience of cause and effect. He had a moment when he felt transformed and made fresh. Bai Chiang recognized this and understood then that he was not just a student but someone to carry the Dharma forward. After that moment of what I'll call a great awakening, Vaichang spent the next 20 years as the head cook. Excuse me, not Vaichang. Guishan spent 20 years as the head cook in Vaichang's monastery.

[08:35]

And then he left on his own and started a temple that grew to have 1,500 students, which would be a very, very important temple. And in this, amongst these 15 students, it said... whatever this might mean, it said that he had 43 fully enlightened Dharma heirs, whatever that might mean. And one of those, amongst that temple population, there was one student that Guaixian had named, and excuse me if my Chinese is maybe not exactly right, Xiangyan. Xiangyang had beginners training under Bai Cheng, and when Bai Cheng passed away, he had moved to Guishang's temple. And he was known for being a brilliant student, very intelligent, very deeply versed in the sutras.

[09:37]

It was said that he had ten answers for every question. And when he met Guishang, And it was interviewed by Goethe said, I understand you're known for your remarkable intelligence, for your remarkable mastery of the Buddhist sutras. So I have a question for you. And you know, it's always a tricky moment when you get praised. So I have a simple question for you. The question of birth and death is the most fundamental of all, yes? Well then, tell me, who were you before you were born? And Shang Yan. And he went back to books and he looked it up.

[10:47]

But he couldn't find the answer. to this question. And he spent some time in meditation, and he spent some time in reflection, and he looked in commentaries, and he could not find an answer to this question. And this sent him into maybe a kind of funk. Finally, he returned to Krishna, and he said, Master Guishan, I'm very ashamed to say that I cannot answer your question. Please tell me, who was I before I was born? And Guishan said, I could easily give you an answer, but later you would reproach me if I did so. After this, upon hearing this, Yishanyin said, making reference to all of his studies and everything, his intellectual mastery, he said, a painting of a rice cake does not satisfy hunger.

[11:56]

And he resolved to give up practice and surrender to a very simple life. He, at that moment, understood that there was nothing about Zen that could help him, actually. because a painted rice cake does not satisfy either. The question wasn't a problem with Zen, it was a problem with himself. So he withdrew to a hermitage, to a hut. I think not so far from Wajjan's temple, but he withdrew to a distance. And spent his days caring for the cemetery plot of Zen teacher who had passed away. And it's said that for company, he planted a stand of bamboo.

[12:58]

So this Zen student who couldn't answer his teacher's question maybe has some connection and... We might recognize something of ourselves in this. He was a precocious youth. He was someone who had figured a strategy out for how to take care of his life and to present himself on top of things. And after the precocious success of his early years, he reached a point in his midlife where these bluffs and feints that he'd used to meet people stopped working. Maybe they might have continued to work for other people, but he saw for himself that they weren't working, which is the key part of this.

[14:07]

As the record of his... life says, he had ten answers for every question. What sort of Zen fool was he with his ten answers? And reflecting on this crisis that Shang-Yen had when he couldn't answer his teacher's question, when he said the painted rice cake cannot satisfy my hunger, I thought of the opening lines of Dante's great poem, Divine Comedy. These words are, In the middle of the road of my life, I awoke in a dark wood where the true way was wholly lost. In the middle of the road of my life,

[15:14]

I awoke in a dark wood where the true way was wholly lost. And one day, when we least expect it, when we're in the middle of the road of our life, if we're lucky, if we're lucky, we're asked a question. And this question can take various forms. It's not one question. We're asked our question. And it could be nothing more than the look in the eyes of our children at a moment when we can't be with them. Or it can be a question that our partner

[16:15]

friend asks us, wondering how we're doing. It can be a question that no one asks us, but we realize in our heart that no one is asking us because we haven't let people become close to us, that we're walled away. That can be a question. How did that happen? How did you reach that point? For each of us, not a very question that can shipwreck us is unique. For each of us, when we go to bed at night and lay our head on the pillow, what we worry about is our worry. Knowing how to live, knowing how to walk with people, demonstrating and teaching. This is the Buddha way.

[17:16]

And how are we going to live? How are we going to walk with people? How are we going to demonstrate and teach? How are we going to pay back the debt that we owe for the opportunity of our human life? Thomas Merton, the great bodhisattva Thomas Merton wrote, in order to be remembered, or even wanted. I have to be the person that nobody knows. We have to become the person that nobody knows. We have to take what sometimes is called the backward step. We have to turn the light in and pitilessly look at ourself. Later in this poem of Dante, in canto three, as the hero approaches hell, he sees written over the gates of hell.

[18:29]

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here. Abandon hope. As Thomas Burton said, in order to be remembered in order to be wanted. We have to be the person that nobody knows. And this process of becoming the person that nobody knows can start in many ways. It's already started in every way in all of us. And yet, somehow, and also start with the moment when in the road of our life, in the middle of our life, we await and find that we are wholly lost, that we cannot answer the question of our teacher, of our life, of our relationships.

[19:36]

This dark place, which is a good place, because it's a necessary place and because it's an honest and true place. This is like what in the 1930s, a French Jew, wrote about the beauty of the world being the mouth of the labyrinth. This is the place where after we take some steps forward, we don't know necessarily whether we have in fact gone forward or turned around on the spot. like when we're lost in the woods and we find after hours that we have circled back to the place we began and we're still lost. And this is a place where we can't circle around and find ourselves after some hours back again to the place where we began which is the place where we didn't know where we were is something that I think you

[20:46]

Those of us who practice meditation practice us and maybe are familiar with. Because regrettably, but I think honestly, for many people in meditation, we're not facing the raw moment of now as much as we are being comforted by it. the daydream of how we want our life to be, or where we think we're going. Not where we really are, but where we hope to be. Which is a daydream. Which is a story. Which is a solace that we give to ourselves that in fact is no gift.

[21:51]

There is, in the Buddhist tradition, in the Buddhist ordination ceremony, at the very heart of the ceremony of ordination, a metaphor of leaving home, of starting anew, of entering Buddha's way, where we take on a new family, a new name. refreshing our commitment to the vow. And this is sometimes can be an opportunity for us. But let me come back. Let me get back to Guishan's disciple. Xiangyan, the one who could not answer the question of who he was. One day, Years and years have passed and he is sweeping the ground in front of his hut. When a pebble, a pebble, a stone, swept up and sort of catapulted by his broom, flies briefly through the air and strikes a bamboo and makes a small noise,

[23:09]

instant when he heard that noise, he broke out in laughter and joy. His life suddenly made sense at that instant, and he rushed back to his cavern, to his hut. He changed his clothes, put fresh clothes on, he lit a stick of incense, offered incense, and he bowed in the direction of Guishan's temple, said, Master Guishan, your kindness was greater than I understood. If you'd answered my question years ago, I never would have come to this joy. And then he wrote a poem that he gave to Guishan. A poem of testimony to replace that pebble in the air striking bamboo had taken him. And the poem went like this. It said, One sound dissolves knowledge.

[24:15]

Struggle no longer needed. Noble conduct beyond sound and form to trace anywhere. Those who have pastored the way may call this unsurpassable activity. One sound dissolves knowledge. Struggle no longer needed. Noble conduct beyond sound and form and trace anywhere. And he presented this poem to Guaishan, who said in response, This fellow has gone through. This fellow has gone through. This fellow has gone through. What might that mean? where might he have gone through to? This is not a casual question.

[25:21]

This is a question that is about the essential heart of Zen's aspiration. Understanding this question of where this fellow went through to is also understanding how to answer the question Who were you before you were born? I said Guishan had many luminous disciples. Another one, another student of Guishan was a student, was a Zen student named Ling Yun, who had been practicing for 30 years without success. Continuing to practice but still unsatisfied.

[26:23]

And one day he walked out into the mountains and rested in a meadow. And sitting in the meadow he looked across a valley and saw on the hillside across from him peach blossoms in full bloom, besides a house. And at the sight of these peach blossoms, it's said, it is written, that he was suddenly awakened. And he also wrote a poem. He wrote a poem about this. And he presented this poem to Grishon, which went like this. For 30 years I've looked for an answer. Many times leaves fell, new ones sprouted. Today, one glimpse of peach blossoms.

[27:25]

Now, no more doubts. Just this. Just this. And when Guishan read this poem, Ling Yun's poem, he said, One who enters with ripened causes will never go away. He proved Ling Yun in this way. Ripened causes. What is it to enter with ripened causes? Are those words like another painted cake? Or are they food that can nourish you? Practice is a mysterious gate. It's one that directly responds to cause and effect, causes and conditions, and one that opens in least expected. After 30 years of doubt and uncertainty, a sudden glimpse of peach blossoms on a distant hill, and all doubt disappears.

[28:35]

After giving up and surrendering completely to the modesty of a caretaker's life with only a sangha of some bamboo, plants. Without a claim, without reinforcement, without any much fuss, suddenly a stone hits a bamboo. And at that moment the struggle of his life seems settled. Noble conduct beyond form and sound So these are Zen stories that I've shared. And it may be that these are Zen stories of unsurpassable activity. It might be that these are lovely couragements.

[29:41]

But also, I have to ask, I have to wonder, whether these stories also might be a kind of thing that stinks a little bit of Zen. Because these moments of revelation that we know about because they were written about and not forgotten and brought to this day, these moments of revelation are not really about what happened in 782 Tang Dynasty China. They are about what has always been in front of us. Always been in front of us. And in full respect and love and affection for the practice and tradition of Zen,

[30:43]

It is really true that a painted rice cake cannot feed us. That the practice of Zen, Zazen, of Dharma study means nothing unless we bring it alive in our breath, in our heart, in our life, in our actions. Bring it alive in a way that stops the daydream of our life. even if only for a moment. And after all of this, after all of this, these fancy stories about 1,500 disciples, whatever, it's kind of a little bit humbling to realize that really, What it all comes down to is nothing more than making the effort to be a bit more kinder, a bit more open, a bit more generous about the limits of every moment.

[31:58]

Because this very mind is Buddha. And this very moment has no end. thank you very much

[32:28]

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