zen and the body

Body/mind practice is at the very root of Zen. Here’s a synopsis of the historical and doctrinal background by Prof. Steve Heine, a respected authority in the West:

“Zen does not appear to put an emphasis on the body, as it is generally referred to as the ‘mind’ school of traditional East Asian philosophy. In its early development in Tang China, Zen was closely associated with textual studies … which asserted the inseparability of mind and reality, or of subjective response and external phenomena. Later Zen thought, especially in medieval Japan, developed the doctrine of the One Mind, which encompasses all aspects of existence, including humans and nature, being and time, and truth and illusion ….

“However, the very emphasis on the unity or nonduality of mind and reality indicates a focus on the role of the body. In that regard, Zen can be considered a ‘body’ school — or a ‘mind/body’ school — because it maintains that mind and body do not exist in opposition but are interrelated on every level.

“Zen maintains the inseparability, identity, and equalization of mind and body, which invariably and inextricably interact and interpenetrate one another.  … The Zen doctrine of identity is … firmly rooted in a life of religious praxis in which a specific bodily posture — sitting in meditation (zazen) — takes priority over and serves as the basis of philosophical reflection. The word zazen refers to ‘sitting meditation’ with an emphasis on the somatic component or on composure of the body that fosters the ability to discipline and concentrate the mind.

“According to the Zen approach, zazen is the fundamental, all-encompassing spiritual activity that vitiates the need for following precepts, prayers, ritual, iconography, and so forth, although many of these elements of religious life are incorporated into the monastic routine. Zazen is not merely the act of sitting but is associated with the practice of walking, standing, sitting, lying, whereby all gestures and postures of the body throughout the 24-hour daily cycle are considered a form of meditation.

“Eating is an opportunity for contemplation and the hours of sleep are referred to as ‘reclining meditation’. The discipline of zazen serves as the basis for the composition of poetry, the actor’s performance in Noh theatre, the training of the samurai warrior, or the ceremonial etiquette of the tea and flower ritual.”

source: Dr. Heine is Professor of History and Asian Studies at Florida International Univerity.

reuniting that which is inseparable

In preparing for the body-mind workshop (see posting below) I turn to Ken Wilber, one of the most widely-read and influential American philosopher of our time:

“There are, as one would expect, all sorts of reasons why we abandon our bodies, and why we now fear to reclaim them. … On a superficial level, we refuse to reclaim the body because we just don’t think there’s any reason to–it seems a big to-do about nothing. On a deeper level, we fear to reclaim the body because it houses, in a particularly vivid and living form, strong emotions and feelings which are socially taboo. And ultimately, the body is avoided because it is the abode of death.”

In “I sing the body electric,” Walt Whitman (1819-1893) concludes his ode to the human body with these lines: “O I say these are not the parts and poems of the body only, but of the soul, / O I say now these are the soul!” 

source: Wilber, K. (2001). No boundary: eastern and western approaches to personal growth. Boston: Shambala, pp. 526-528.

pronounced at 13:50h

The patient I’ve been telling you about (see post boundaries on Monday) died yesterday afternoon. I sat with his widow, daughter, and son-in-law; we prayed and they wept. Meanwhile, the staff phoned the funeral home, the priest came and went, and forms had to be signed. Once everyone was gone, I went into the patient’s room, closed his eyes (which kept opening) and for five minutes sat at the foot of the bed looking at his big hands arranged with care across his abdomen. I noticed that his body, which for so many days had been curled up in pain and discomfort, was lying at ease.

Some time in February of 1360, shortly before his death at age 77, Japanese Zen master Kozan Ichikyo called his pupils together, ordered them to bury him without ceremony, and forbade them to hold services in his memory. He wrote this poem on the morning of his death, laid down his brush and died sitting upright.

Empty-handed I entered the world

Barefoot I leave it.

My coming, my going–

Two simple happenings

That got entangled.

source: Hoffmann, Y. (1998). Japanese death poems: written by Zen monks and haiku poets on the verge of death. Boston/Tokyo: Tuttle, p.108.

Merton’s prayer

In his book Thoughts in solitude, Thomas Merton (late Trappist monk, Catholic priest, poet, and social activist) explores the meaning of interior solitude and its role in bringing every life to joyous fruition. “What is said here about solitude is not just a recipe for hermits,” he writes in the preface, “it has a bearing on the whole future of [us all].” In the following prayer, Merton expresses faith in that which is unknown. He also speaks to the fear of being abondoned by God which Rabbi Kushner referred to in yesterday’s post.

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

source: www.mertoninstitute.org/merton_prayer.php.

God’s job

On Monday (see boundaries) I prayed with a hospice patient and his wife. I certainly didn’t enter their room to pray, nor is it my practice to pray. But pray I/we did and it was welcomed. Now I want to learn about the nature and purpose of prayer across faith practices. When asked about the power of prayer, Rabbi Harold Kushner explained:

The essence of prayer, as I understand it, is the cure for feeling alone. Martin Buber once said, “Jews don’t pray to God for anything. Jews pray to God for God.” For example, when I pray with a person who is in hospital, I explain that we’re not just praying for a miracle cure or good outcome to surgery. We are praying to for the presence of God. I don’t want patients to feel abandoned. I don’t want them to feel they are sick because God isn’t taking care of them. I don’t want them to think God has written them off.

I want patients to know that God is sending doctors, nurses, and researchers to help them with their illness. God is sending friends to sit with them and pray with them. I don’t want them ever to feel alone. To me, presence is the essence of prayer. That is what I have in mind when I pray.

I don’t pray for specifics. I don’t pray to win the lottery and I don’t pray for the good fortune or good health. I simply and openly pray for the presence of God because I am a different person when I feel I am in the presence of God. I behave differently. I stand straighter. I am more circumspect. I am braver. That’s all I ask for in prayer. [...]

Honestly, God’s job is not to make sick people healthy. That is the doctor’s job. God’s job is to make sick people brave.

Harold S. Kushner has served his congregation for 30 years and is now Rabbi Laureate of Temple Israel in Natick, NJ. His best-known book is When bad things happen to good people (2002).

source: Sacred Journeys: a journal of fellowship in prayer, April/May 2008, p.3-14.

in memoriam

 

Feng Jun carries a portrait of her dead son through the rubble of a collapsed school in Juyuan, in Sichuan. The boy was one of many students killed when the May 12 earthquake toppled the building. (Eugene Hoshiko/AP)

A letter posted at CBC News:

“This may sound silly to some, but I hope people realize they can do something very beneficial, very easily … on Saturday may 24, when all my friends were frantically trying to purchase tickets to the upcoming Madonna concert, I went into a local [bank] and donated my $200 ticket money to a Sichuan Earthquake Relief Fund.

“I can do without one evening of musical pleasure, but there are tens of thousands of people in China, and Myanmar, that are suffering without food and shelter. My money has better use in China than it does elsewhere! I post this just so people who read it can think about donating money they would otherwise spend needlessly.”

Kindly check my post on May 21 for list of aid organizations ready to receive your donation.

all one

Once more I’m able to shed light on a lived experience by seeing it through the lense of ancient teachings. The following is an excerpt from a book by Ellen Birx, a Zen teacher and professor of nursing (see also previous posting).

When Zen masters speak of nonduality, they often say, “Not one, not two.” Not one means distinction remain, and are appreciated more than ever. Not two means you can, at the same time, experience the oneness of the whole. This simultaneous experiencing of the universal and each particular thing, frees you to act with the energy, power, and beauty of the whole.

[...] Nonduality means that there are no boundaries whatsoever. Even the smallest think like a hair is one with everything. Each person, likewise, is not separate. You are one with everything and one with the whole. This experience is vast and boundless like the sky.

In Christian terms, Jesus is speaking of nonduality when he says, “I and my father are one.”  … Rabbi Don Singer, who is also a Zen teacher, speaks movingly about the Jewish view of atonement. He points out  that the broader interpretation of atonement includes not only guilt and forgiveness, but also opening of your heart to the realization that you are “at-one” or one with everything. This insight eases your sorrow and fills you with wisdom and love.

source: Birx, E. (2002). Healing Zen: Buddhist wisdom on compassion, caring, and caregiving–for yourself and others. New York: Penguin, pp.111-113. image: www.metatronics.net

boundaries

Spent a while in room 724 yesterday. Lying in bed and facing the ceiling is Bert*, with his eyes half-shut, skin clinging to jaw and skull, mouth open with lower teeth missing, breathing irregularly. Except for chest and head, his body is barely noticeable below the blanket, little more than a shadow.

 

Sibyl* stands in the middle of the room, looking lost, distraught. We connect quickly as she tells me of their life together, the worsening of his condition, bringing Bert to hospice “because I can not longer lift him;” thirty years caring for a disabled child; being at wit’s end. “I hope he’ll die soon, this is not quality of life,” and a little later “maybe I have another ten years to live; I’d like to go on a cruise before I die.”

 

As I listen, she weeps; we both do. Silly tissue papers all bunched up, too small to absorb the tears. She speaks of guilt, naturally: how could I wish him to die … but … it would be best for him. Am I being selfish? she wonders. Taking care of yourself is healthy and right, I offer.

 

We move to Bert’s bed, I touch his feet through the covers. “God willing, he won’t suffer much longer,” Sybil whispers. Instinctively, I take the cue and offer a prayer: “Dear God, keep an eye on Bert, make his pain go away and call him home. Please bless Sibyl and give her strength as she cares for him.” To which she adds, “and Peter as well.” Unaccustomed to praying, I listen as the words flow through me, tokens of comfort and reassurance. We remain standing a while longer, looking at her dying husband. “I feel a little better now, thank you!” says Sybil, “rich or poor, old or young, we’re all together.”  

 

Leaving the room my feet barely touch the ground, my heart overflows with joy. Turning down the hall way, the first person I meet receives my embrace. No boundaries. 

 

One of the classics in Mahayana Buddhism, The Way of the Bodhisattva, is a personal meditation in verse written in the 8th century by the Indian scholar Shantideva. At one point he says:   

All the joy the world contains,

Has come through wishing happiness for others.  

and a few lines later   

To free myself from harm

And others from their sufferings,

Let me give myself away,

And cherish others as I love myself. 

* names are fictitious; source: Shantideva. (Padmakara Translation Group). (1997). The way of the Bodhisattva. Boston: Shambala, 8-129, 132.

slip sliding

Norman Zoketsu Fischer, long-time teacher, poet, and former abbot of San Francisco Zen Center, writes about the impermanence of time and body: 

“Dogen, a 13^th Century Japanese Zen master, asks, ‘What is that appears?’ This is also my question. What is that appears? Who is it who is alive, in this body, in this world?

“Time is strange. We live within it, depend on it, take it for granted, yet it relentlessly passes, and our lives slip through our fingers moment to moment. Where does time come from, and where does it go? How is it that every moment we are different, we grow, we develop, we are born, we die? What are we supposed to be doing with this life?

“After many years of grappling with these questions during the course of my long spiritual practice, I have come to have a feeling for their answer. We don’t really know what appears, what time is, where it goes. But we are here to understand. And we all have our own way of understanding, and of expressing that understanding through the living of our lives.

“Each of us has a place in this world. Taking that place, I have come to feel, is our real job as human beings. We are not generic people, we are individuals, and when we appreciate that fact completely and allow ourselves to embrace it and grow into it fully, we see that taking our unique place in this world is the one thing that gives us a sense of ultimate fulfillment.”

* Fischer, N. (2003). Taking our places: the Buddhist path to truly growing up. Harper, pp.1-2). As guiding teacher to several Zen groups, including Mountain Rain Zen Community in Vancouver, BC, Norman regularly gives public talks and holds retreats. Click here for his website.

a friendship blessing

by John O’Donohue (1956-2008), Irish mystic, former Catholic priest, scholar and poet, who died unexpectedly this January. May he rest in peace.

May you be blessed with good friends.

May you learn to be a good friend to yourself.

May you be able to journey to that place in your soul where there is great love, warmth, feeling, and forgiveness?

May this change you.

May it transfigure that which is negative, distant, or cold in you.

May you be brought in to the real passion, kinship, and affinity of belonging.

May you treasure your friends.

May you be good to them and may you be there for them; may they bring you all the blessings, challenges, truth, and light that you need for your journey.

May you never be isolated.

May you always be in the gentle nest of belonging with your soul friends.

source: O’Donohue, J. (1997). Anam cara: a book of celtic wisdom. Harper Perennial, p.36.

sourcing compassion

Where does compassion come from? How is it that, in the afternoon of life, being of service and developing loving-kindness (metta) have become such central issues in my life? [see also my postings over the previous three days.]

“Compassion,” writes Jungian psychotherapist Rob Preece, “does not arise from ideals of perfection but from a recognition of and concern for our own fallibility. … The spiritual search and the quest for personal growth is often an attempt to transcend this fallibility.”

My vow to alleviate others’ suffering is grounded in a growing comprehension of my own pain. Like many of us, I carry old wounds, past difficulties, unresolved relationships within; that’s the human condition. D.H. Lawrence speaks of deep-seated soul pain and points to repentance as the way in and the way out:

… I am ill because of wounds of the soul, to the deep emotional self
and the wounds to the soul take a long, long time, only time can help
and patience, and a certain difficult repentance …

My motivation to serve flows from a yearning to repent, to heal, to make good the injuries I carry deep within. The words “heal,” “whole,” and “health” are etymologically related. John O’Donohue sees all this as “a slow and painful task to break free from the wounded and wounding circle of one’s own anxiety. As always in the world of the mind, recognition is a huge transformative force.”

Such is the revolving point of departure and return as I get to know and accept my woundedness, fallibility, and vulnerability. Seeing them not as handicaps or unfairly dealt cards, but as sources for spiritual growth, delineates my new (and rightful) place in community.

sources: O’Donohue, J. (2004) Beauty: rediscovering the true sources of compassion, serenity and hope. HarperCollins, p.173. Preece, R. (2006). The wisdom of imperfection. Ithaca, NY: Snow Lion Publ., p.57.
.

the way of the heart

Henri Nouwen: “Let us not underestimate how hard it is to be compassionate. Compassion is hard because it requires the inner disposition to go with others to the place where they are weak, vulnerable, lonely, and broken. But this is not our spontaneous response to suffering. What we desire most is to do away with suffering by fleeing from it or finding a quick cure for it.  … And so we ignore our greatest gift, which is our ability to enter into solidarity with those who suffer.”

source: Nouwen, H.J.M. (2003). The way of the heart. Ballentyne. image: soulterminal.com. see also: my posting on Monday, May 19 “hugged a dictator today?”

Myanmar: for your donation

World Vision - has assessment teams on the ground and wants to raise $3 million from Canadians. The organization is already assisting more than 100,000 people in Rangoon and the Irrawaddy Delta region by providing rice, water, and critical supplies. 

Canadian Red Cross - Funds raised will be used to provide survivors with basic supplies and emergency shelter, and to ensure people have access to health care and clean water. Donate on-line, call 1-800-418-1111 or contact your local Canadian Red Cross office. 

Samaritan’s Purse Canada - Working with indigenous partners in Burma (also known as Myanmar); the Calgary-based organization has been working in Burma for nearly a decade. 1-800-663-6500.

Salvation Army - Has been on the ground in Burma since 1915, with children’s homes, shared farms, pig loan programs, 60 well projects to deliver clean water, education and tuition programs as well as several health clinics. 1-800-725-2769 or visit the website. 

Humanitarian Coalition - CARE Canada, Oxfam Canada, Oxfam-Québec and Save the Children have formed the Humanitarian Coalition. Donate online or call 1-800-464-9154.

UNICEF - which has been in Burma since 1950, currently has about 130 people working in the country, providing emergency supplies, clean water, food and shelter. Online or 1-877-955-3111.

Médecins Sans Frontières - teams are delivering medical care, food and essential supplies. Medical teams are travelling to remote areas hard hit by the cyclone. 1-800-982-7903 or donate online.

Mennonite Central Committee (MCC) - The 88-year-old organization is working with trusted partners within the country who are responding to the tragic aftermath of cyclone Nargis.

source: CBC; image: SPIEGEL

metta practice

The word metta comes from the ancient Pali, meaning “love” or “lovingkindness.” Its roots are “gentle” and “friend.” Sharon Salzberg decribes metta as ”the ability to embrace all parts of ourselves, as well as all parts of the world. Practicing metta illuminates our inner integrity because it relieves us of the need to deny different aspects of ourselves.”

Now that I’m working four days a week at a hospice, the practice of lovingkindess re-emerges as central to my way of being in the world. Over the next few postings I’ll look more closely at this practice (how to). To begin, I’m reminded that practicing a non-romantic, non-sentimental, and non-possessive loving must begin at home. I know this to be true from my lived experience. Sharon Salzberg: ”Love for others without the foundation of love for ourselves becomes a loss of boundaries, codependency, and a painful and fruitless search for intimacy.”

The bud

stands for all things,

even for those things that don’t flower,

for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;

though sometimes it is necessary

to re-teach a thing its loveliness,

to put a hand on the brow

of the flower,

and retell it in words and in touch,

it is lovely

until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing

…

–Galway Kinnell

source: Salzberg. S. (1995). Lovingkindess, the revolutionary art of happiness. Boston: Shambala, ch.1. image: www.seenobjects.org

yes to dialogue

Speaking in Berlin, the Dalai Lama repeated his call for non-aggression to resolve international conflicts. He reiterated his wish for a peaceful China and called for the suspension of all Tibet/China protests as a sign of respect for the victims of the earthquake catastrophe in Sichuan Province.

“We don’t want separation,” he explained once more; Tibetans ask only for religious and cultural autonomy within China. “We support the great country represented by the red flag of China. The flag of Tibet is not a protest flag.”

Standing in front of Berlin’s Brandenburg Gate, a symbol of Germany’s non-violent reunification in 1989, the Dalai Lama called for the 21st to be a “century of dialogue.”

source: German news magazine DER SPIEGEL, my translation.