Author: dorakuan

I started this blog as a kind of travel diary when visiting Japan a few weeks after the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami in 2011. Later it became my major place to publish thoughts and experiences from teaching Zazen, Hitsuzendo (Zen-Calligraphy) and Aikiken (Aikido exercise with a wooden sword).

Now this blog exists for almost three years, and for various reasons I decided to move it away from it’s original blogspot location to a self-hosted wordpress platform. That transfer, which just completed today, was more work than it might sound (and much more than I originally expected!). I had to read through and fix links and formatting for each of the 164 articles (including images), which gave me lots of opportunity and time to think about impermanence.

Does it make sense at all to publicly preserve words and ideas from past years? Several things I wouldn’t say the same way today as I wrote them down a year or two ago. Much of the content is already out of date, and some topics are repeated several times in a slightly different fashion. Like everyone and everything, I am changing over time and my teaching is changing with me … why then save past words on-line? I kind of fancy the idea of keeping only a few most recent posts and delete all the older stuff, or at least I want to attach a “best before” warning to every post …

In the introduction to my seminars and Sesshin I usually speak about certain misconceptions of Zen which obstruct a healthy and fruitful practise. Beginners, and often even advanced students, bring along a rucksack filled with a painful set of prejudices concerning Zazen, which, if not put down, can cause them a tremendous emotional and physical pain.

The most severe bias I encountered through years of teaching are:

• Zazen and Zen practise in general is good for nothing!
• You must stop thinking!
• You must endure and sit through any pain!

and sometimes

• You must not question your teacher!

Let me discuss one by one:

Zazen and Zen practise in general is good for nothing? Often one can read in Zen-related texts that Zen has no goal, we must not strive for any effect or outcome through our Zen practise, Zen is good for nothing and so on and so forth. Is it now wrong when I begin Zazen in the hope to change my life, myself for the better? Not at all! Without a strong desire to change, to develop and leave the probably painful cycles of my current life I would most likely not start doing Zen. A regular healthy practise with a qualified teacher will have some very positive effect on your life for sure, and a strong confidence in a positive outcome is necessary to keep up a good practise!

The warning “Zen is good for nothing” addresses the frequent misunderstanding that Zen practise will give you some additional super-magic qualities you can add to your otherwise unchanged life, just another skill providing extra power you can use to boost your career as a martial artist or manager. And of course a few hours or week-ends spent on your pillow will most likely not show any lasting effect, especially if you are distracted from your practise by anticipating and eagerly observing any expected outcome.

You must stop thinking? How should we human beings possibly stop thinking, and why? Without thinking we’d never come to read such a text, not to speak of all the arrangements necessary to participate a seminar. Thinking is essential to maintain our life, and especially starting any new practise comes along with a lot of extra thinking. It would be a horrible misunderstanding for a beginner of Zen to force yourself to stop thinking, and probably get angry about the fruitless effort to do so.

To a “stop thinking” I want to add “all the time!”. Our super fast intellectual planning ahead all eventualities mind does not have to run on 100% all the time. During Zazen we may allow ourselves to let it go in a gentle way and leave our thoughts and thinking what they are, just thoughts. Once they come up, we cannot stop them. But we can let them come and go without following them, without allowing them interfere with our concentration on a proper posture and deep breathing

You must endure and sit through any pain? Pain is not the purpose of Zazen, and enduring pain has no benefit. Pain does not allow me to concentrate well, in the worst case it indicates my body is experiencing some damage. My advise for beginners is to avoid pain, and more experienced students to carefully examine it.

When I know myself, my body well I realise it is often not pain, it is just a slightly unpleasant feeling. And when our mind has nothing else to do, we amplify and over-exaggerate it until it becomes mentally unbearable. Ever experienced the pain is gone when the end-of-meditation bell rings? Even before relieving from a painful posture? That was the extra pain we add to our slight physical discomfort. Not to add extra mental pain to our physical pain, by this relieving and enduring the physical pain is meant by “enduring pain”. If it really hurts, please change your posture!

You must not question your teacher? All the good teachers I studied with encouraged their students to question a lot. If your teacher does not allow questions, better don’t ask … leave him or her alone and find a new teacher!

Depending on the cultural background of your teacher, of course it is polite to find a proper timing when to ask. Sometimes a beginner is too keen to show off and fire a half understood prejudice at the teacher even before he or she had a chance to begin with the most basic lesson (which might be to make you clean the Dojo). Once you decided to trust your teacher, I recommend a willingness to do without hesitation. And at the same time, while you do, fundamentally questioning your and his or her doing. Why? Why? Why? Not just copy, dig as deep as you can, see if you can get deeper than your teacher’s and his teacher’s and his teacher’s teachers’ roots …

Today is the 8th day of the 12th month of the lunar calendar, the day on which we celebrate the Buddha experienced his “ah, that’s me!” after sitting for seven days under a tree, some 2500 years ago.

When my daughter was little, she once saw me bowing to a small Buddha statue at home and asked “papa, are you praying to that doll?”.

I replied that this doll is how we imagine a person might have looked like who lived very long long time ago in far away India. And that this person understood how to live one’s life happier, and that he kindly taught it to other people. And those who learned from him carried it further on and on across the continents over many many hundred years, until today where I learned it from my teachers. So, when I bow I am not praying, but saying “thank you” to all these people who helped me to live happier.

My daughter curiously listened, and then, without hesitation, bowed towards me, saying “and you are making my life happier” … and after thinking for a second, “and now you must bow to me, because I make your life happier!”.

Sure, I did … and for me that’s all with bowing to people or statues, saying “thank you!”.

Years ago I lived with neighbours who shared their small flat with three huge noisy dogs. There was lots of growling and barking day and night, and even more human voices shouting at the misbehaving pets. One day my neighbours perplexed me by their request to sign a petition against noisy dogs – not their dogs, as I quickly learned, but another new neighbour’s dog which occasionally joined their own three dogs’ concert.

The Japanese folklore knows many distinct types of ghosts. I remember a language class where we spent more than an hour to distinguish obake (お化け) and yurei (幽霊). In a nutshell, obake are said to be local nasty noisy creatures which are able to perform temporary transformations, something like a poltergeist. The yurei, in contrast, is not fixed to a specific location, but often personally related to some human being, your personal ghost so to say.

Although my childhood days with being scared of ghosts and monsters under the bed are long gone, I like the concept of obake and yurei, especially when transferred into our everyday life experience:

The obake are the conditions (and people) I encounter at certain places, they usually make my life a bit harder. The noisy neighbour, people around a seminar house who do not respect our room and practice, the local baker shop who always sold out my favourite croissant at any time of the day.

The yurei are my very personal demons, I take them with me wherever I go. My aversion against noisy dogs and neighbours, my fantasy about how exactly everyone around me should behave, my craving for certain things and conditions.

Just imagine what happens when my private yurei meet some local obake, we are well on the way towards quarrel, fight and disaster! In the worst case, if my emotional life mainly consists of walking my yurei to engage with some really nasty obake, I might turn into a ghost myself: a gaki (餓鬼) or “hungry ghost”.

Sitting at a table laid with delicious meals, yet with a throat too thin to swallow enough to fill my big empty stomach and my arms so long that I can reach everything I am craving for, but too long to feed my mouth. A never ending emotional struggle and starvation, neither pleasant for me nor for those around me.

In Zen practice, I find compassion is the most important and most difficult thing to learn. Surrounded by gaki, thetypical inhabitants of our modern consume-based society, I meet and get to know my yurei when sitting on my cushion. Knowing them well helps me to enjoy a happier life with an obake next door, and eventually I even have some food left for the gaki.

Maybe your New Year’s resolution was to do something good for yourself, something from which also your family, friends and colleagues might benefit – you decided to give it a try on meditation?

Very good! Let me recommend how to save some money (you can donate for charity, if you are in a spending mood): try Zazen, it is cheap and easy!

A few weeks ago I saw a film which made me think. A world-wide institution (apparently rather popular and quite wealthy) was presented, which offers introduction to meditation: seven hours for about 1200.- Euro. Higher levels and ranks can be acquired, but it might cost you (up to) a few million …

I do agree, the basics of sitting meditation (Zazen) can be learned quickly, actually in much less than seven hours. Continuing this praxis is easier after joining a group and finding a good teacher … you might be asked to contribute to the group’s rent for a room, and maybe your teacher’s expenses. Unless you are without a regular income, the required sum will not be a notable fraction of your monthly spendings … so let me recommend to save your 1200.- and look for a friendly Zazen group with a good teacher nearby, you’ll be surprised how cheap a change of your life actually can be!

Don’t let you discourage from dramatic stories about Japanese Zen monks’ education. These professionals go through (more or less) considerable hardship and pain, much of it designed specifically for young Japanese men who will later take over their father’s temple … most likely not what you are up for!

And don’t be bedazzled by a shiny spiritual leader (or the Zen-specific black robed grim ascetic master look-alike). What shines on the surface (and may it be a shaved head) might lack content, a teacher who fulfils the neophyte’s prejudice about how a real master should look like, talk and behave, is more likely than not a fake. Trust your intuition and life experience to check out carefully if what is being offered is actually doing good for you!

Two films I highly recommend to watch: the one about the aforementioned institution, and one about a fake guru: David Wants to fly and Kumare. And just in case you want to see a real Zen teacher in action, have a look at the short video about my former teacher I made a few years ago (this one is available for free on youtube).

When I was a young Aikido teacher, we were running four beginner’s classes each year at my Dojo. The first day of a new class always was particularly interesting:

Some of the new students were shy and seemed to prefer hiding in a corner, nervous of what might be expected from them and anxious to do nothing “wrong”.
Others wanted to make clear to everyone their martial arts background by performing kata or exercises on the tatami before the class started, wearing colourful belts reflecting prior grades in Judo or Karate.
The intellectual sort gave uninvited lectures about the philosophical background of Aikido to interested listeners even before setting a foot on the tatami for the first time in their life.
And my more advanced students (including last quarter’s beginners) tried hard to make sure not to be mixed up with the newcomers … everyone was busy to be seen and recognized by the others and by the teacher.

After class, all of us sweating together for 90 minutes, joined for a coup of tea. By then, usually everyone was happy and relaxed, no sign of tension, no more insecurity and no more showing off. We all shared the same tea, sitting on the same floor, and it did not matter any longer who brought which package of wisdom or insecurity into the Dojo.

 Once two monks visited Joshu, the famous Zen master. He asked them both:
“Have you ever been here before?”
One monk said “yes”. Joshu said,
“Have some tea.”
The other monk answered “no”. Joshu said,
“Have some tea.”
Joshu’s attendant monk wondered about his master’s answer and asked him,
“Why do you say, ‘Have some tea’ to a spiritually advanced monk and then
say, ‘Have some tea’, to a monk who has still no understanding?” Joshu replies,
“Have some tea!”

Advanced student, experienced guest or beginner … please all enjoy a coup of tea!

Actually, I don’t care much. Who knows what he really said, the oldest written records still existing today were compiled hundreds of years after he passed away. Most likely, even calling him “Buddha” is a much later invention… said that, exploring ideas and ways of thinking can be a joyful activity, and the ideas of someone we still talk about 2500 years after he lived his life might well be interesting.

From a Zen point of view it should be noted that we must not put too much hope and expectations into such an endeavour: when I have a problem (or I am my problem), and someone explains it to me and tells me it can be understood and there is a cure and how the cure looks like and I listen and understand and nod my head … the problem is still there. It does not simply vanish by understanding, by reasoning … I cannot think essential problems away like I solve a mathematical question. All the words and thinking (of course including these words) can only point to a certain praxis, a way of living, by this making our thoughts and problems superfluous once we become familiar with the praxis. If we stick to words of wisdom, if we collect ways of thinking like books in a shelf and use them as tools for arguing this or that way, we miss the essential point.

O.k., after this note of warning, let me point you to the lectures and writings of a former monk and Buddhist scholar, who is kind enough to share his insights and enormous wisdom (and never forgets to remember the delighted listener or reader of the importance of practise), John Peacock.

A good starting point might be his six talks available via the webpage of the Insight Meditation Center:

Buddhism Before the Theravada

which are continued by:

The Buddha’s Teaching on Loving-Kindness: A Mature Path to Awakening

If you prefer reading, these two articles by John Peacock published via the Barre Centre for Buddhist Studies are an excellent primer:

Mindfulness & the Cognitive Process, Part I

Mindfulness & the Cognitive Process, Part II

During our Sesshin we recite the Hannya Shingyo (Heart Sutra), and I often interpret a few essential lines during the Dharma talks. Usually, I introduce this by pointing out that it is a mission impossible to give a detailed explanation of the short text, line by line, in just thirty minutes. A series of 16 talks (a bit more than six hours) by John Peacock concerning the Heart Sutra can be found here:

The Heart Sutra – John Peacock – Dharmagiri S.Africa 2011

It took me three days to go through all the material listed above just once, though maybe even a couple of months might well not be sufficient time to read and listen thoroughly … so I hope these links won’t distract you too much from your practise, but instead serve as an inspiration and motivation to continue!

During my last Sesshin one student asked me “which branch of Zen” I am teaching. She heard about Rinzai, Soto and Sanbo Kyodan and could not quite summarise what we have been doing under one of these. I replied we are practising Rinzai Zen minus Koan practice plus Hitsuzendo (Zen Calligraphy) plus Aikiken (Aikido Sword), without too many rules and too strict schedule but with lots of voluntary extra work for advanced students. A pretty long answer for a short question …

Another student asked me a day later if I won’t consider teaching Zen professionally, implying I had to shave my head, take the percepts and become a monk. I replied that we are all professional human beings and when our Zen-Practice is deeply influencing our life, we are 24 hours Zen professionals. Being an ordained monk or not has severe implications only in a culture where this profession comes along with certain duties and privileges, most of all enjoying the luxury of intense practise and access to Dharma-teaching, and the permission to collect donations as a base for living. I doubt the necessity to introduce Buddhist Monastic life in our Western culture (I even believe it is a dangerous idea, spoiling serious practitioners’ ego, but this is another story …).

After crossing the boarders of traditional branches of Zen and transcending any discrimination between lay people and professional monastics, I believe it is a good idea to give the Way of Zen I am living and teaching a distinct name. I like to call it 楽禅 (Raku Zen), where 楽 (raku) stands for joy, effortlessness, but also for the intense practice coming along with or preceding it (ask any skilled musician, calligrapher, martial artist or craftsman how they managed to master their art).

Looking at the etymology of the 楽 character, it is said to be derived from the pictogram representing a person dancing with chimes in both hands, according to some source (1) maybe a priest or shaman performing a kind of healing ceremony. I like this character, since it both reflects joy and easiness, but also serious activity beyond rational explanation.

Today it is December 8th, an auspicious day for Zen-Buddhist practitioners (at least according to the Gregorian calendar). A good day to re-consider one’s practise and teaching, I will call mine Raku Zen (楽禅) from now on – feel invited to join!
–
(1)「もとの字は樂に作り、柄のある手鈴の形。白の部分が鈴、その左右の幺は糸飾り。もと舞楽のときにこれを振って神を楽しませるように使用した。また病気のとき、シャーマン（神がかりの状態となって予言や病気を治すことなどを行う巫女）がこれを振って病魔を祓ったので、病気を治すことをりょうという。療はのちに作られた形声の字である。」

常用字解 by 白川 静 (Shirukawa Shizuka) published by 平凡社

After the end of session one student complained that time for finishing her meal was always too short and she felt stressed eating in a hurry. Another student complained he has to wait so long after eating until everyone else finished and he can leave the dining hall. The third student said the time was just right for him to finish his meal in his usual speed. All three did not yet understand what it means to share a meal … like little children we want all things go our way, or we feel uncomfortable.

During a Sesshin we practice together for many hours a day, not just for ourselves the 20+ minutes periods on our cushion. Of course things don’t always go my way during this time, even when leading the Sesshin … I cannot select my students, whoever registers is welcome. I cannot select the room either, the administration of the seminar house plans where my seminar will take place. And I have to handle any kind of incidents … students leaving, students oversleeping and even craftsmen coming to fix a water leaking problem from the upper floor, suddenly making our preparation room unavailable while producing lots of noise and dirt.

Like the stones in a river-bed we rumble and tumble with and against each other, and this process of social learning in a special atmosphere, protected by some rules and a tight schedule, is an important part of the Zen-training. In Japanese it is called  切磋琢磨 (sessa takuma), the Chinese characters evoking exactly the image of polishing stones by continuous interaction. Things are never exactly going my way. They go some way, maybe our way, yet after sufficient Zen-training I am totally free to merge in. My big ego, My Way of conducting every day life does not hinder me any more. Getting up early? Fine! Sleeping long hours? Fine! Eating fast? Fine! Eating slow? Fine! A cosy and warm room for Zazen? Fine! No heating in the Japanese temple? Fine! … life can be so easy, even with other people around and some rules to follow, but in the beginning of our Zen training the whole world seems to carry out a plot against me. A very childish attitude, isn’t it? Let’s grow up!

Possibly my understanding of Japanese Zen is not sufficient to allow commenting on something which on the outside very much looks like a family-owned business of funeral parlours with associated boot-camp and a few beautiful sightseeing spots.

But I have been long enough involved in “Western Zen” to observe my patience wearing thin. I wrote up a few questions, not even 95, and lacking a Zen-Temple’s door nearby to post them, I will just post them in my blog:

• Where is the truly homeless Zen-Monk, living in celibacy, having nothing more than a bowl and his robes made out of ragged cloth?
• When and where do the Master and the Beginner’s Mind meet as true human beings without rank (一無位真人)?
• How many are known to have received and passed on the Dharma and yet behaved like
  criminals?
• Which honest follower of the Zen Way abides with his Master, in spite of all his proven misconducts and crimes, striving not to put at risk the own Zen-career instead of standing by the side of his fallen teacher’s victims?
• Who pretends to hold ranks and titles authorised by this and that Masteror tradition, charges high fees from his students while it is all too easy to find out this is altogether fake and self-deceiving illusion?
• Who proudly boasts to be a Zen-Monk or Zen-Nun, dressed up in fancy robes from time to time, but usually just lives an ordinary lay person’s life with job and family, savings-account, insurance and pension-scheme, re-interpreting the once publicly received percepts into quite something else?
• Who got lost in endless rituals and routines year after year in the Temple or Dojo and became nothing but a 僧堂バカ (sodo baka), a “practice hall blockhead”, yet willing to advice other people who take responsibility for a family and society?

And all those Buddhists who now quickly point with their finger on Zen-Buddhism derived from a Japanese origin, I ask:

• Who flies far by plane to take the holy vows and already plans to keep them just for the time being, while living from the poor hard-working peasants donations – and yet calls himself the only true Buddhist Monk?

There is not so much anger in my questions as it may sound. I feel more sad, since I truly believe in the Way of Zen and yet find all wide open doors leading into a maze of darkness. A week or so ago I wrote:

It is up to us now. In the face of all these victims, we deserve a true Zen revolution, at least!

More than ever I believe this is true. We have to re-invent Zen from scratch, and that might be by going our own true way of life and practice.