Constancy

Shunryu Suzuki (1904-1971)

 “People who know the state of emptiness will always be able to dissolve their problems with constancy.”

The message for us today is “Cultivate your own spirit.”  It means not to go seeking for something outside yourself.  This is a very important point, and it is the only way to practice Zen.  Of course, studying scriptures or reciting the sutras or sitting is Zen; each of these activities should be Zen.  But if your effort or practice does not have the right orientation, it will not work at all.  Not only will it not work, but it may spoil your pure nature.  Then the more you know about Zen, the more you will become spoiled.  Your mind will be filled with rubbish; your mind will be stained.

It is quite usual for us to gather pieces of information form various sources, thinking in this way to increase our knowledge.  Actually, following this way we wind up not knowing anything at all.  Our understanding of Buddhism should not be just gathering many pieces of information, seeking to gain knowledge.  Instead of gathering knowledge, you should clear your mind.

If your mind is clear, true knowledge is already yours.  When you listen to the teaching with a pure, clear mind, you can accept it as if you were hearing something which you already knew.  This is called emptiness, or omnipotent self, or knowing everything.  When you know everything, you are like a dark sky.  Sometimes a flashing will come through the dark sky. The sky is never surprised when all of a sudden a thunderbolt breaks through.  And when the lightning does flash, a wonderful sight may be seen.  When we have emptiness we are always prepared for watching the flashing.

In China, Rozan is famous for its misty scenery.  I have not been to China yet, but there must be beautiful mountains there. And to see the white clouds or mist come and go through the mountains must be a very wonderful sight.  Although it is wonderful, a Chinese poem says,

“Rozan is famous for its misty, rainy days,

And the great river Sekko for its tide,

Coming and going.

That is all.”

That is all, but it is splendid.  This is how we appreciate things.

So you should accept knowledge as if you're hearing something you already knew.  But this does not mean to receive various pieces of information merely as an echo of your own opinions.  It means that you should not be surprised at whatever you see or hear.  If you receive things just as an echo of yourself, you do not really see them, you do not fully accept them as they are. So when we say, “Rozan is famous for its misty, rain days,” it doesn’t mean to appreciate this sight by recollecting some scenery we have seen before:  “It is not so wonderful. I have seen that sight before.”  Or “I have painted much more beautiful paintings! Rozan is nothing!”  This is not our way.  If you are ready to accept things as they are, you will receive them as old friends, even though you appreciate them with new feeling.

And we should not hoard knowledge; we should be free from our knowledge.  If you collect various pieces of knowledge, as a collection it may be very good, but this is not our way.  We should not try to surprise people by our wonderful treasures.  We should not be interested in something special. If you want to appreciate something fully, you should forget yourself.  You should accept it like lightning flashing in the utter darkness of the sky.

Sometimes we think it is impossible for us to understand something unfamiliar, but actually there is nothing that is unfamiliar to us.  Some people say, “It is almost impossible to understand Buddhism because our cultural background is so different.  How can we understand Oriental thought?”   Of course Buddhism cannot be separated from its cultural background; this is true.  But if a Japanese Buddhist comes to the United States, he is no longer a  Japanese.  I am living in your cultural background.  I am eating nearly the same food as you eat, and I am communicating with you in your language. Even though you do not understand me completely, I want to understand you.  There is always the possibility of understanding as long as we exist in the utter darkness of the sky, as long as we live in emptiness.

I have always said that you must be very patient if you want to understand Buddhism, but I have been seeking for a better word than patience.  The usual translation of the Japanese word nin is “patience,” but perhaps “constancy” is a better word.  You must force yourself to be patient, but in constancy there is no particular effort involved—there is only the unchanging ability to accept things as they are.

For people who have no idea of emptiness, this ability may appear to be patience, but patience can actually be non-acceptance.  People who know, even if only intuitively, the state of emptiness always have open the possibility of accepting things as they are.  They can appreciate everything.  In everything they do, even though it may be very difficult, they will always be able to dissolve their problems by constancy.

Nin is the way we cultivate our own spirit.  Nin is our way of continuous practice.  We should always live in the dark empty sky.  The sky is always the sky.  Even though clouds and lightning come, the sky is not disturbed.  Even if the flashing of enlightenment comes, our practice forgets all about it.  Then it is ready for another enlightenment. It is necessary for us to have enlightenments one after another, if possible, moment after moment.  This is what is called enlightenment before you attain it and after you attain it.

 Excerpted from Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind – Informal Talks on Zen meditation and practice 1970

From: Daily Zen

Life As A Cinema

By Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse Rinpoche

Just suppose that we have been born in a cinema hall. We don’t know that what is going on in front of us is just a projection. We don’t know that it is just a film, just a movie, and that the events in the movie aren’t real, that they have no true existence. Everything we see on that screen—love, hate, violence, suspense, thrills—is in fact just the effect of light projected through celluloid. But no one has ever told us this, so we just sit there watching, fixated on the film. If somebody tries to attract our attention, we say, “Shut up!” Even if we have something important to do, we don’t want to do it. We are completely engrossed and blind to the fact that this projection is completely futile.

Now suppose that there is someone in the seat next to us who says: “Look, this is just a film. It’s not real. This is not really happening. It’s really just a projection.” There’s a chance we too might understand that what we are seeing is in fact a movie, that it is unreal and essenceless.

This doesn’t automatically mean we get up and leave the cinema. We don’t have to do that. We can just relax and simply watch the love affair, the crime thriller or whatever. We can experience its intensity. And if we have a certain confidence that this is just a projection, then we can rewind, fast forward or play the film again as we like. And we have the choice to leave whenever we like, and to come back at another time to watch again. Once we are certain that we can leave any time we like, we may not feel compelled to do so. We can choose to sit comfortably and watch.

Sometimes a sequence in the movie can overwhelm our emotions. A tragic moment might hit our soft spot and we are carried away. But now, something in our heart is telling us that we know it’s not real, that it’s not a big deal.

This is what the dharma practitioner needs to understand—that the whole of samsara, or nirvana, is as essenceless or untrue as that film. Until we see this, it will be very difficult for dharma to sink into our minds. We will always be carried away, seduced by the glory and beauty of this world, by all the apparent success and failure. However, once we see, even just for a second, that these appearances are not real, we will gain a certain confidence. This doesn’t mean that we have to rush off to Nepal or India and become a monk or nun. We can still keep our jobs, wear a suit and tie and go with our briefcase to the office every day. We can still fall in love, offer our loved one flowers, exchange rings. But somewhere inside there is something telling us that all this is essenceless.

It is very important to have such a glimpse. If we have even one glimpse in the whole of our life, we can be happy for the rest of the time with just the memory of that glimpse.

Now, it could happen that when someone whispers to us, “Hey! This is just a film,” we don’t hear them because we are distracted. Perhaps just at that moment there is a big car crash in the movie, or loud music, so we just don’t hear the message. Or else maybe we do hear the message, but our ego misinterprets this information, so we remain confused and believe that there is something true and real in the movie after all. Why does that happen? It happens because we lack merit. Merit is incredibly important. Of course, intelligence, or prajna, is important. Compassion, or karuna, is important. But merit is paramount. Without merit, we are like an ignorant, illiterate beggar who wins a multi-million-dollar lottery but does not know what to do with the money and loses it straight away.

But suppose we do have a little merit and we actually get the message from the person whispering to us. Then, as Buddhists, we have different options. From the point of view of Theravada Buddhism, we get up and leave the movie hall, or we close our eyes, so we are not carried away by the movie. We put an end to suffering in that way. On the Mahayana level, we reduce our suffering through understanding that the movie is unreal, that it is all a projection and empty. We don’t stop watching the movie, but we see that it has no inherent existence. Moreover, we are concerned about the others in the cinema. Finally, in the Vajrayana, we know that it is just a movie, we are not fooled, and we just enjoy the show. The more emotion the movie evokes in us, the more we appreciate the brilliance of the production. We share our insights with our fellow viewers, who, we trust, are also able to appreciate what we see.

But to implement this in real life, we need merit. In Theravada Buddhism one accumulates merit through renunciation. We see that the movie is making us suffer and we have the sense to stop watching it. In the Mahayana we accumulate merit with compassion. We have a big and open mind that is more concerned with others’ suffering.

On the other hand, this transformation—from being caught up in the movie, to seeing the emptiness of the events in the film, to caring solely for the welfare of others—might take a very, very long time. This is why in the Vajrayana we move into the fast lane and accumulate merit through devotion. We trust the person who is whispering to us, and who has an understanding that has set him free. Not only do we assimilate the information he is giving us, but we also appreciate his freedom of mind and the depth of his being. We know we have the potential for such liberation too, and this makes us appreciate him even more. A single moment of such devotion, just a split second, just a little bit of such devotion, has immense merit. If we are in tune with the person whispering to us, he might help us discover the true inner movie-lover. He might make us see how the rest of the audience is caught up, and how unnecessary it all is. So without our having to rely on our own confused struggle to understand the path, this person brings us to an understanding of what it is we are seeing. We then become someone who can sit back and enjoy the show. And maybe we might whisper to some others as well.

Life as Cinema, Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche, Shambhala Sun, November, 2003

Return to Your Original State!

By Sokei-an Sasaki

Teachers of Zen have a favorite saying, “Return to your original state!” To return to the original state means, in a word, “Go back home!” “Original state” signifies “original state of mind.”

What is this original state of mind? Buddha spoke of the original state of mind, calling it avidya - original darkness. Of course Buddha did not say, “Return to your original darkness!” He said, “Emancipate yourself from original darkness! Come forth from original darkness to the enlightened state!” And he taught that this emancipation was to be attained by attaining Nirvana.

The state of original darkness and the state of enlightened Nirvana are one and the same. It is like looking at a bronze gong. From the bottom it appears to be a bell; from the top it seems to be a gong. In reality, however, it is only one gong.

Nirvana is a reaching-point, a goal. But Nirvana is also the home to which we are returning. We use the words “original state of mind” to denote both our home and our destination.

The teacher says, “Go back to your original state!”

The student puzzles over the words, saying, “What is this original state? Man’s original state was idiocy. Do the Zen teachers mean that I must go back to the state of idiocy? How can I? I must attain enlightenment!”

The next day the student returns to the temple. “How can I be an idiot?” he asks.

“Don’t speak! Be dumb!” his teacher cries.

“But teacher, my teacher...”

The teacher loses his temper and strikes the student. “Go back home, you idiot!”

And the student does not know what to do.

Today our state of mind is that of civilized man. But once we were primitive men, living in caves. If we trace back through more and more primitive states, we shall reach the period of inorganic life, when we were air, fire, water, earth, empty sky. In the most primitive state of all, however, there is no motion, no time, no space; there is no existence of any kind. That is the truly primitive state. Do you think that to go back to that state you must first become a caveman, then an amoeba, then ether? If you think thus you are indeed an idiot.

When a Zen teacher says, “Go back to your original state!” he does not ask you to become a caveman, an amoeba or ether. He asks you to become mind by itself, without words, without images, without any kind of notion. He asks you to root out from your mind all thoughts and the many names of many things. He asks you to get rid of all padding, to clear away all debris, to make your mind pure as pure water. This is the mind’s original state.

Keep only this pure mind in the 'four dignities’ of your daily life: sitting, lying, standing, walking. To sustain it you will come naturally to the practice of correct meditation. Dismiss all the thoughts which bother your mind. Train yourself during many days, many months, many years, to retain this pure mind. One day, when your empty mind has become crystallized, suddenly it will be illumined by its own intrinsic wisdom. At that instant you will realize the state of pure awakening.

“Intrinsic wisdom” I have said, for wisdom is intrinsic. It is intrinsic to us, it does not come from without. Keeping our mind pure like pure water all of a sudden we awaken to the fact that mind by itself is pure intrinsic wisdom. Then the entire world shines, all the universe is enlightened. In that moment we attain the state of 'Nirvana with No Remainder.’

From; Tricycle Magazine

Seven Delights

Gyalwa Götsangpas (1189 A.D. to 1258 A.D.) Tibetan Master of the Drukpa Kagyu

Namo Ratna Guru!

When thoughts that there is something, perceived and a perceiver,
Lure my mind away and distract,
I don't close off to try to meditate to be free of them,
But plunge straight into their essential point.
They're like clouds in the sky; there's this shimmer where they fly.
Thoughts that arise, for me sheer delight!

When my negative emotions get me going, and their heat has got me burning,
I try no antidote to set them right.
Like an alchemistic potion turning metal into gold,
What lies in my negative emotions' power to bestow
Is bliss without dis-ease, completely undefiled.
Negative emotions arising in my mind, sheer delight!

When I'm plagued by powerful negative forces or demonic interference,
I do not drive them out with rites and spells.
The thing to chase away is egoistic thinking,
Built up on the idea of a self.
This will turn the ranks of demon-like energies into your own special forces.
When obstacles arise, sheer delight!

When samsara with its anguish has me writhing in its torments,
Instead of wallowing in misery,
I take the greater burden down the greater path to travel
And let compassion set me up
To take upon myself the sufferings of others.
When negative karmic consequences bloom, delight!

When my body has succumbed to the attacks of painful illness,
I do not count on medical relief,
But take that very illness as a path and by its power
Remove the obscurations blocking me,
And use it to encourage the qualities worthwhile.
When illness rears its head, sheer delight!

When it's time to leave this body, this illusionary tangle,
Don't cause yourself anxiety and grief.
The thing that you should train in and clear up for yourself is
There's no such thing as dying to be done.
It's just Clear Light, the Mother, and Child Clear Light uniting,
When mind forsakes the body, sheer delight!


When the whole thing is just not working, everything is lined up against you,
Don't try to find some way to change it all.
Here the point to make in your practice is reverse the way you see it.
Don't try to make it stop or to improve.
Adverse conditions happen; when they do it's so delightful.
They make a little song of sheer delight!