It’s wonderful that in Zen practice people turn inward to reflect and contemplate. So many people simply look outward. They desire and grasp at this or that, only looking outside for satisfaction. But to turn inward during sitting and contemplate is to discover and gain insight into reality itself, giving us the wisdom of how false it is to grasp things merely from the outside. It’s not to say that we should avoid the outside. We need a place to live, we need to do this and that, we need money to live with. We live with all this as it’s our world. It’s not a matter of rejecting the world, but our practice is finding the right way to deal with it.

This comes about through contemplation and insight into how we are in the world,  how we relate to it, and to other people.

When we first start zazen we’re given various contemplation methods, such as listening or seeing, mindfulness and awareness, or breathing practice. All these methods help steady us – steadying our mind without stopping our mind. This allows us to see deeply, to hear deeply. The traditional analogy in Buddhism is a lake. When the wind blows, waves form and all we see are the waves or whitecaps. The wind is all the things that bombard us in life – advertising, being sucked into the Internet, e-mail, text messaging, near-constant phone communication. All this generates wind – unnecessary or misdirected energy – that creates waves in our mind. As we become steadier, the waves settle, and as the lake grows calmer we’re able to see into it, into ourselves, eventually down to the very bottom.

Consider the first method. In the beginning we just look at or listen to. But every now and then we dissolve into a sound and conversely the sound wells up into us. Or instead of looking at something, we find a sudden release in how the mind looks at things, and we find ourselves as an open space where things are already being seen.

All sitting methods help bring us to the experience of space. Practicing awareness or mindfulness, the second method, brings us into relationship with the present moment. But it doesn’t necessarily make us the present moment. Rather, it’s a subtle change in the mind where we let go and become what we were merely aware of that brings forth the experience of space.

The practice of breathing also leads us to experience space. We may start by counting the breath, thus disciplining the mind so that our mental energy isn’t scattered into thinking randomly about all sorts of things. As we become naturally focused, we can let go into breathing. This brings about a deeper experience where, rather than being aware of the breath, our whole body is breathing. Mind and body similarly come together during kinhin or walking practice. In breathing, mind and body merge together as we risk letting go into the body. It’s not a passive experience; we need to arouse the energy in our body. Inevitably the merging leads us to experience space.

There’s a lot of talk these days of being in the present moment. But we must be careful we’re not just looking at the present from the outside, standing on the edge looking in. To break into the present moment is to experience space. Sometimes space is experienced as limitless space, filled with everything and not limiting things by naming or reacting to them. But we also experience limited space. For example, here in the zendo we limit the zendo gong, putting a boundary around it, giving it a name or label – gong.

The change from limited space – making an object of things – to limitless space – where objects are not identified – is a subtle shift in our minds. Consider sounds that are already appearing in our mind. At first we are listening to something. But with a subtle shift in our mind, we find that space is experienced, and things are already being heard.
This present moment is sometimes experienced limitlessly and sometimes in a limited way. There’s just one reality, but it can be experienced either way. Neither one nor the other is better. The traditional terms in Buddhism for limitless and limited space are shunyata (emptiness) and form.

The subtle shift in our mind from form to emptiness and vice versa is very small, but when we start Zen practice it seems difficult and big. This is because all our life we’ve been educated only to limit ourselves, to see only the “I am.” Sometimes people with a weak sense of self will think they don’t have so much “I am.” But here Zen masters have long cautioned not to slip into quiet sitting, thinking this is emptiness. In quiet sitting there’s a separation between self and other.

So while there’s but a very small and subtle change of perspective in our mind from limited to limitless space, old habits of seeing just “myself” make it seem difficult to let go into open space, where things are already being heard and things are already being seen. Yet inevitably this experience arises. We needn’t grasp at this, but rather practice by turning inward. Babies obviously have a sense of the limitless. And so we’ve all experienced this early in our life. But somehow we gradually forget to recognize it as we grew up. Thus, turning inward is a matter of falling back into something we have forgotten rather then grasping at something unknown.

The Heart Sutra states that emptiness is none other than form and that form is none other than emptiness: in other words, form and emptiness are not separate from each other. This means we should practice both limited space and limitless space yet know they are two sides of one reality.
Let’s first step back and look further at this. Before we experience space, there’s just myself with the world outside. Here, we are grasping at this or that, following whims and desires, being pulled around by outside circumstances. However, when we experience space in some way, we experience a vastness or reality that forms the true ground of ourselves. This is further experienced and cultivated through ongoing practice. Experiencing limited space requires a belief in ourselves. Indeed we need a self – a self that resides in our body. Not having this self makes it likely that we just drift along with everything, lost in limitless space. 

Both types of space must be practiced. At times we dissolve into limitless space, and then reappear as limited space: limited not just in our mind but actively with our energy, our full being, together with others who appear as themselves with their energy and presence – self and other, facing one another. As we begin to experience both ways of being – limited and limitless, form and emptiness – we enter the path of the bodhisattva, an awakened being. A bodhisattva learns through their own experience and insight how to be in the world, how to be with others.

Let’s look more deeply at this interesting aspect of Zen. Before we experience space, we have only our own ideas and opinions in a self-centered, just-myself sort of way. However, when we begin to experience space – the ground of reality that we’re part of – knowledge comes another way. We know things through directly experiencing them. The experience of both limited and limitless space opens up the possibility of direct intuitive feeling. Before we start thinking about things, we already know them. Before we say “It’s cloudy, the weather is changing,” before we start thinking and verbalizing, we’ve already experienced it. In truth, we can only think and verbalize about something because we’ve already experienced it. Look into this; it’s very interesting. Like the calm lake, a calm mind can hear and see things that are already experienced.

We are all human beings. We have a body, head, two arms and legs. Yet we’re also different; we’re also limited. There are men and there are women, and we each also have our individuality. As we grow up, we become aware only of differences. It may seem men and women would have difficulty getting on unless they denied their own gender. But, in fact, we can get on when we allow ourselves to intuitively experience the other as ourselves. We can begin by imaging being in their body, acting out a mannerism, or imaging thoughts and feelings. Thus we come to know the other as ourselves. I don’t know a good English word for this. I recall Roshi using the expression “to ghost oneself as the other.” Without bringing in ideas, resistances and preconceptions, we begin to experience the other clearly and directly. We have insight, an intuitive knowing, of both ourselves and others, arousing a much broader perspective than just ”I am.” Then it becomes easier to find ways to be together in a common space. This is the path of the bodhisattva.

Old Zen stories point this out with simple examples of direct knowing. For instance, “Putting your hand under water you know for yourself if it’s hot or cold.” Perhaps this sounds too simple, but please practice carefully this direct knowing in the many situations that arise in your lives. Direct knowing occurs before thinking and verbalizing, but sometimes verbalizing can help you begin to see this more clearly. Later, a direct feeling is experienced before words arise.

As direct knowing deepens, we start taking genuine care of things in our lives. Awareness and intuitive feeling brings us into the present, and we arouse the great bodhisattva heart to do what needs to be done, overcoming resistances and old habitual ways. I can say for myself that it isn’t always easy to break free of the old “stuff” that blocks our actions and our hearts. So we must make a strong effort, and at the same time not get too strung out by trying too hard.

There’s a balance between situation and response. And our own insight and developing wisdom can guide us how to respond. Many Buddhist teachings, such as Sila, can help us. From the Zen standpoint, however, we shouldn’t take Sila as merely outside rules: for example, the three, five or ten Buddhist Sila. Sila means purity but is often translated as precept. If we take them as precepts, rules from the outside, we’ve given up our own insight and wisdom about how to be. The Sila or purities refer to the limitless ground of our being where others are ourselves, where we’re not one-sided, neither too full of ourselves nor too blindly and passively following the other. There’s a balance, a middle way, that embraces the whole situation.

From the standpoint of rules or commandments that must be followed, this may sound heretical. I remember once at a UBC Christian Students Association debate when I was the representative “Buddhist speaker.” The students reacted when I spoke of the wisdom deep within us: when standing on the ground of space, we already know what to do. The students thought at first that this would just lead to following one’s whims and desires. Certainly, when ordinary people do this we end up with all the problems that fill our world. Indeed, this is how problems come about: when people do not experience limitless space but only their limited selves. When space is experienced repeatedly, however, we naturally cultivate a deeper experience of the ground of our being, and we more strongly function in the path of the bodhisattva.

The experience of many generations of practitioners reveals that this deeper intuitive wisdom already knows what to do, because it arises from a place that includes others as well as ourselves. So while the Buddhist teachings of Sila can help guide us in how to practice, we shouldn’t take them as a rigid set of outside rules. Rather, they are the footprints of people who have practiced in the generations before.

Through day-by-day practice, we discover who we are by finding how to be in this world. Using the situations of our lives as they appear each day, wisdom gradually deepens though contemplation and insight and in a wonderful and creative discovery and unfolding of who we truly are.

Centre News

All sesshins are now being held at the centre. Gratefully the property is large enough although adaptations are made for cooking and some sleeping arrangements.

The next sesshin is August 15th– 21st, and the last one in 2009 is November 21st– 27th.

Construction and furnishing was completed at the new centre by the beginning of this year. It had been a difficult and trying year and a half prior to this time. Now practice comes to the forefront. All activities and programs are now held at the centre making it much stronger.

It’s likely a Zen Centre kitchen will be built easing the cooking at the one and seven day intensives. A room already has the gas, plumbing and electrical in place for this. The garden is slowly taking shape. It is a lower priority than the building. New bushes have been planted by the front white fence and three fruit trees are due in September for the back yard.

A Zen Studies group has formed, reading and sharing insights of Zen teachings. It is intended for people wanting to get deeper into Zen than the regular zazen. At present the Record of Lin Chi (Rinzai) is being studied.
The group presently meet every second Tuesday after evening zazen. If anyone is interested in joining please speak to Eshin. The meeting time and day could be changed if the group finds it more workable for everyone.

Myorei now has a thriving Reiki healing clinic on the ground floor. Please contact her if you are interested in a treatment or for Reiki training.

Jon and Risako were married on June 27th. They were among the first residents at the centre and worked hard in those early days. Best wishes for their new life together!

Eshin, Adrian and Laurissa will go to Rinzai-ji for Roshi’s anniversary sesshin this July.

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