Tag Archives: Zen

New article by Okumura Roshi in Dharma Eye

— • —

Okumura Roshi is a regular contributor to Dharma Eye, the journal of the Soto Zen Buddhism International Center, providing translation of and commentary on fascicles of Dogen Zenji’s Shobogenzo. Numerous articles are available free online. For a full listing, and the latest article on Shobogenzo Kannon, which we have just posted, please see our DI page dedicated to these articles.

— • —


Copyright 2023 Sanshin Zen Community

The problem of the “self” in Buddhism

[An extract from Okumura Roshi’s new e-book:
The Structure of the Self in Mahayana Buddhism.]

— • —

In Opening the Hand of Thought, Uchiyama Rōshi wrote about a conversation he had with a Western businessman who was very successful in his life, but had deep feelings of loneliness and dissatisfaction. He had come to Japan to study Zen Buddhism, hoping to find a way to alleviate his feeling of inner emptiness. He asked Uchiyama Rōshi about this. Uchiyama Rōshi answered his question by saying:

“Did it ever occur to you that this feeling of dissatisfaction or emptiness might be caused by your searching for the value, the basis or recognition of your existence only in things outside yourself such as in your property or in work or in your reputation? This empty feeling of yours probably comes up because you haven’t yet found this basis within the reality of your own true self. In other words, you feel a hollowness in your life because you have always lived only in relation to other people and things, and haven’t been living out your true self.”[1]

Uchiyama Rōshi told the man that he would never be able to resolve the uneasiness in his life by “drifting along seeking something outside yourself.” I think the empty feeling of this businessman is not a unique problem only for him. It has to do with the basic problem for all people living in the modern civilization. Uchiyama Rōshi understood that this person’s loneliness came from self-alienation that is common everywhere in these modern times. When I use this expression “self-alienation” in the context of Buddhism, it might be different from its meaning in Marxism, Existentialism, or Western psychology.

In the 1960s, when I was a teenager and began to read many books and think various things about human life, civilization, and social and political matters, this word “alienation” was widely used. But for many years I did not understand what it really meant in my own life. After I got a permanent visa to live in the United State, I found that my status in this country is that of a resident “alien.” It was then that I first discovered what “alienation” really means. I live in this country, work here, live here with my family and friends, pay taxes, and yet I don’t have “citizenship” in this country. I am not able to participate in the process of important decision making for anything happening in the USA. “Alienation” is a feeling that I am here, but I do not completely belong to this country.

A photographer once said that, as an artist, he knew what kind of photography he really wanted to make as an expression of his sense of beauty, love, justice, and above all as an expression of himself. But it was difficult to make money with that kind of work. He also knew how to make another kind of photography, which he could sell, and make money to support himself and his family. When he made sellable works, he felt that he was not really there in his work. Even though such photographs were in fact produced using his own talent, ideas, and skills, he felt those works were made by order of his clients to attract people’s attention. They were not his art as the expression of himself. He and his work became strangers to each other. When he became well known in the world because of the latter kind of work, he became very busy and did not have time to make what he truly wished. He felt that he was not there in his work, but that he was producing “commercial goods,” what the market asked of him. He sometimes felt that he did not live his own life.

I suppose the photographer’s feeling is the same kind of hollowness that the successful businessman felt. There is a separation between who he really is or who he wishes to be and his business in the society, even though he is successful. If he were not successful, his question would be much more serious. I have heard many people said that their jobs are not what they really want to do, but just a means to make money to support themselves and their families. Some people do what they really want to do in their spare time or as a hobby. Other people give up living as they would wish to, but just try to enjoy their lives when they don’t need to work. I think many people in modern times have this kind of hollowness in their lives. This is what I mean when I use this expression “self-alienation” in this article.

In order to be released from this sense of hollowness caused by separation between who we are in daily life and who we wish to be, or the separation between who we are in our relations with other people and who other people think we are, we need to understand what the “self” is.

In Sōtō Zen Buddhist tradition, to study the self is the essential matter. As Dōgen said in Genjōkōan, “To study Buddha Way is to study the self.” If we fail to fully understand what this self is, we may misunderstand the entirety of Buddhism, and our zazen practice can be simply escaping from a busy life and sitting quietly for a short while in the zendo (meditation hall). Uchiyama Rōshi writes, “Only after taking a fresh look at self and at the self/other relationship, will we be able to encounter the fundamental teaching of Mahāyāna Buddhism and the true attitude of zazen.”[2]

In Buddhist teachings, I think, there are three perspectives of the self: the individual self as one opposed to other (1); the self (or no-self) as emptiness (0); and the self that is connected with all beings in the entire universe (∞). It is essential to understand the structure of the self not only to study Buddhist teachings, but also to fully live out our own life as true “self.”[3]

— • —

[1] Opening the Hand of Thought, p.21.
[2] Ibid., p.75.
[3] When using the English word “self” in this text, I use the symbols 1, 0, and ∞ to help differentiate these three perspectives. However, sometimes translators write individual self (1) with the capitalization as “self,” and universal or all-pervading self (∞) with the capitalization as “Self,” even though that is not permanent substance. When I quote such translations, they appear as the author wrote them.

— • —

Translation and commentary by Shōhaku Okumura Roshi.

— • —

For further study:

> Other publications


Copyright©2022 Sanshin Zen Community

Just published! In his new e-book, Okumura Roshi writes: “In my original dharma talks on Opening the Hand of Thought, I mentioned no-self, but the relation among these three perspectives of the self (conditioned self, no-self and universal self) was not clearly explained. That relation, within the context of Mahāyāna Buddhism, became the focus of this article.” 78 pages

Balancing practice, study, and work in the world

Rock balance” by kingzoot is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

After you have encountered a guide and teacher, you should cast off the myriad distractions and, without losing a moment, devote yourself energetically to pursuing the way. You should practice, be it by using the mind or by using no-mind, or by using half-mind. Therefore you should learn to practice with the same sense of urgency that would drive you to put out a fire on top of your head or to stand with one leg raised [in order to pay homage to a Buddha].[1]

—From Shōbōgenzō Raihai Tokuzui

Okumura Rōshi:

In this quote from Shōbōgenzō Raihai Tokuzui, Dōgen says that to find a teacher is most difficult, so first you need to find a teacher. Then he says when you find a teacher you have to practice diligently, following the teacher’s example. After you have encountered a guiding teacher, “you should cast off the myriad distractions.” “Myriad distractions” are all the different kind of objects associated with “me.”     

Of course, this is a teaching for monks. To become a Buddhist monk or home-leaver means to cut off all kinds of worldly relations and focus on studying and practicing Buddhist teachings. Lay people cannot cut off all associations. As you know, I’m a Buddhist priest—yet I’m kind of a lay person. I have a family and a job, so I cannot cut off all those kinds of associations. But another meaning of this “cut off all associations” is not to think those people and things and affairs around me are something separate from me. This is part of me. If I am in this network, these ten thousand associations are part of me. So actually, we cannot cut ourselves off. But traditionally to be a home leaver means to cut off all responsibility or duty in society and become a member of a Buddhist monastery. So if we understand this phrase “cut off myriad distractions” objectively, it’s not possible for us. But at least when we sit in the zendo, and let go, we can “cut them off.” So we need to interpret this in a way that we can practice.

You know, time is really precious. When we waste one moment, we never regain that moment. We have to really focus on this practice. Dōgen says, “Without losing a moment, devote yourself energetically to pursuing the Way.” And yet again, when we have family and work as a member of the society, the time we can use for practice is really limited. People are so busy today, including myself. There are so many things we have to do. But again, if we think these are outside of myself and I want to practice in the zendo, then this is an obstacle. But if we understand that my practice includes all these other things besides what we do in the zendo, then it’s not possible to waste time. That means our family life, our life at work, or our life as a member of society can be a Buddhist practice, if we keep the same attitude. We have to think carefully. If we think all the things happening outside of the zendo are meaningless and that doing such things is waste of time, then there’s no time to practice. But if we think this entire network is the dharma, is myself, then anything we do can be practice.

Then Dōgen says, “You should practice, be it by using the mind or by using no mind or by using half mind.” Usually, when we try to do something, we use our mind. That means I want to do this, I aspire to do this. We practice using our mind. We have to make a plan. In order to find a time to sit in the zendo, we have to reorganize our entire life—using our mind—to find a time to come to the zendo and sit quietly. But from another side, our practice is concerned with not using our mind. As far as we are using our mind it’s not practice, it’s not a dharma practice. But our mind is a part of the dharma. We cannot control dharma but we cannot practice dharma without our planning or our strategy. Yet we have to give up our mind. So there are two sides. We have to make a plan or organize our life to find a time to practice. But from another side, as far as we are doing such a thing, our practice is part of our life, or part of our concern. But even half way between these two, whatever the condition of our mind, we have to use all the minds: u mind, mu mind, and half mind. Whatever the condition of our mentality, somehow, we have to find skillful means to practice. If you don’t have time to come to the zendo, you can sit in a room, or you can even sit in an office. Walking on the street can be a meditation. If you have time, go to a quiet place and take a walk; it can be a meditation.

Student:

Can you live a proper lay life, without having spent serious time practicing and studying? If you had to choose, would you study all Buddhism, have a monastic practice, or a practice where everybody has their outside life?

Okumura Rōshi:

I think all of them are necessary. But one person cannot do everything. In my case, because my teacher’s style of practice is to really focus on sitting zazen, and his vow was to create texts about Buddhism and zazen practice for modern people, I took this vow also. I focus on sitting with people and sharing my understanding by working on translation and writing books and giving lectures. Those are the only things I can do. We need many people working in different ways. I think because I have been focusing on just sitting and studying, I could understand what Dōgen is saying to a certain degree. But because of this, I couldn’t do many things in society, of course. In a sense, I have to walk on a very narrow path. But to me this is helpful. In order to understand what Dōgen is saying, I had to really focus on sitting and studying. I didn’t have time to do anything else, and I feel really fortunate that I could. But in order to do so, I had to give up so many things. And sometimes I feel sorry for my family. Much of the time I’m not with my family. You know, at least five days a month I am facing the wall, and I couldn’t do anything else.

To really develop Buddhism and Dōgen’s tradition we need different practice places and different people working in different ways. We need some people who focus on sitting like Sawaki Rōshi and Uchiyama Rōshi. We need some people who focus on studying Dōgen and Buddhism. We need some people who work in society. All of those types of work or practice are necessary to develop Buddhism in this society. One person cannot do everything. To do little bit of everything and focus on one main thing might be the best way of practice. You have to make the choice of one main practice—studying, sitting, or working in the society. And yet it’s helpful to have some experience of monastic practice and studying dharma. So each person needs to do one main thing, and other things as much as possible. That is kind of the ideal condition to create for the future.

—•—

[1] Shōbōgenzō Raihai Tokuzui, translated by Stanley Weinstein, from Dharma Eye; The newsletter of the Sōtō Zen Buddhism International Center, # 10, 2002.

— • —

Commentary by Shōhaku Okumura Rōshi

The Dōgen Institute offers an occasional series of questions from students with responses from Okumura Rōshi about practice and study. These questions and responses are taken from Okumura Rōshi’s recorded lectures, and are edited to provide continuity and context.

— • —

For further study:

> Other Questions and responses


Copyright 2022 Sanshin Zen Community

Can you acquire the dharma?

Nine talks on Shōbōgenzō Raihai Tokuzui
Photographer: User:Justinc {{cc-by-sa-2.0}} This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license.

In acquiring the dharma, all acquire the dharma equally.
All should pay homage to and hold in esteem one who has acquired the dharma.
Do not make an issue of whether it is a man or a woman.
This is the most wondrous law of the Buddhadharma.[1]

得道はいづれも得道す。
ただし、いづれも得法を敬重すべし。
男女を論ずることなかれ。
これ仏道極妙の法則なり。

—From Shōbōgenzō Raihai Tokuzui

Student:
What does “acquiring the dharma” mean? It sounds like the dharma is something concrete that you can attain.

Okumura Roshi:
This word “attain” is a problem. Toku (得) means to “attain.” Conventionally, this means we get something we don’t have or didn’t have before. So this is something new that is attained. But actually, nothing is attained. That is what the Heart Sutra says:

With nothing to attain, a bodhisattva relies on prajñā pāramitā, and thus the mind is without hindrance.

The first phrase of this sentence reads mu chi yaku mu toku. Mu chi means “nothing who (as a subject) attains,” and mu toku is “nothing that is attained.” Because there’s no such attainment. If we think there’s something called “dharma” that can be attained, then that is a mistake. We usually say, “I attained enlightenment.” Even Dōgen sometimes used the words, “attain the Dharma.” That is a mistake, I think.

When we use the word “attain the dharma” it means we awake to the reality that there is nothing to gain and nothing to lose. But this word “attain” itself is contradictory. When we read the story of someone who attained so-called enlightenment, that process of attaining enlightenment is a process of losing.

There is a famous kōan story about someone whose name was Kyōgen Chikan. He was very eminent, a very bright person. He knew everything about Buddhist teachings. One time his teacher asked him, “Say something about the dharma without using what you have studied” from the scriptures. That means, don’t use any word you studied from somewhere else. Kyōgen tried to say something about the dharma. But everything he could think of was something he had studied, either from the texts or from the teachers. He tried very hard and finally he said, “I can’t say anything without using something I learned from others.”

He said to his teacher, “I can’t say anything without using something I studied. So please say something for me.” Now the student asks the teacher to say something. But the teacher rejected his request. So Kyōgen lost his pride about his knowledge. He was rejected by the teacher. He said he gave up hoping to become an enlightened person in this lifetime. He made a determination to become a working-class monk, to serve people instead of trying to become enlightened. He spent some time in that way. Then, sometime later, he left the monastery and lived in a hermitage near a certain Zen master’s grave. So he lost the monastery also. And he had lost his teacher.

When he was cleaning the road to that Zen master’s grave, he swept a stone and the stone hit a stalk of bamboo. He heard the sound of the stone hitting bamboo. At that time, the story says that he “attained” enlightenment. But what had he attained? He had lost everything. And when he heard the sound of the stone hitting the bamboo, he lost even himself. He swept the stone, and hitting the bamboo it made a sound. This sound is made by everything, this entire universe. So what he understood is… well, we have to say what he “understood” or what he “awakened to” or what he “attained,” but actually there’s no such thing called “he” or “me.” We are simply a part of this network of interdependent origination. “We” are not “living,” but we are… how can I say? All beings allow me to live, to exist. There’s nothing called me. So, that is called attaining enlightenment. What did Kyōgen attain actually? He lost everything, even himself. So the process of attaining enlightenment, so-called enlightenment, is a process of losing everything.

What kind of word can we use about this? Somehow, we have to say “he attained.” But actually, he lost. He attained awakening? He awakened to wisdom? You know, somehow, we have to use a positive expression or word when we talk about it. If we always use negative expressions, then our mind somehow doesn’t work. So even in the case of Shakyamuni, when he attained awakening and became Buddha, we have to say he attained buddhahood. But what did he really attain? He didn’t attain anything. But somehow, we have to say “he became Buddha” or “attained buddhahood.” I think this is a problem of language. We need to be careful not to be deceived by the language we use to express the real things that happen. What do you say? Attain? Do we attain or do we not-attain? If we say I attain that is a mistake. But if we say I don’t attain anything, then how can we express this transformation?

—•—

[1] Okumura’s translation.

— • —

Commentary by Shōhaku Okumura Rōshi

The Dōgen Institute offers an occasional series of questions from students with responses from Okumura Rōshi about practice and study. These questions and responses are taken from Okumura Rōshi’s recorded lectures, and are edited to provide continuity and context.

— • —

For further study:

  •  

> Other Questions and responses


Copyright 2022 Sanshin Zen Community