Rohatsu 2022 -- The Day of the Buddha's Awakening

Kamakura Daibutsu from Wikimedia Commons

So I'll try to join a Rohatsu sesshin from December 1 through December 8 as a celebration of Shakyamuni's "awakening"under the Bodhi Tree oh so long ago. 

Our text for this sesshin is a translation of the Avatamsaka Sutra called "The Flower Ornament Scripture" that attempts to describe the Buddha's enlightenment. Oh well, good luck with that!

The initial descriptions actually parallel something I experienced -- was it Enlightenment? I don't know -- many years ago, nigh on fifty years back, I think. I may have mentioned it somewhere in these blog pages. I was sitting zazen in my apartment in San Francisco. Something happened. A Void opened up as it were and I was no longer a  sitter in a room in an apartment on Geary. I was no longer "I" but All. The Void was the ground of Being. Which encompassed Everything. The Void was not perception, could not be perceived, was not part of the Material World but spontaneously gave rise to it as well as many other Material Worlds simultaneously. The Void was Nothing -- No Thing -- but gave rise to Everything. All Things and much more besides.

Understanding, was this the Awakening that Buddhists yearn for? Oh, I don't know. No one can actually say, for when the Awakening comes, there are no words; it just Is. 

So this happened while I was sitting zazen in a semi-dark room in my apartment on Geary in San Francisco some fifty or so odd years ago -- I don't remember the year -- and when I ended the sit, my perceptions had changed in ways I had never encountered before. The semi-darkened room appeared to be glowing with crystalline light of many colors, not the drab gray I knew it to be. The main room to the apartment had a view to the garden behind the building where a jungle of plants and flowers flourished. I briefly glanced at the garden -- now glowing with an inner light as well --  as I passed by on the way to go outside.

As I went through the lobby, every step and wall and decoration including the wrought iron gate to the old building I lived in glowed with auras of many colors, and the sky outside was a color I'd never seen before, and the color changed as I walked down Geary toward Union Square a few blocks away. Every thing and every person on my way had multi-colored auras. 

I won't describe the whole experience because when I have tried to do so in the past, I've been accused of either "being on drugs" -- I wasn't and did not use drugs in those days (nor do I now) -- or reporting a dream, not something that actually happened.

"Not something that actually happened..." Well, wait. What does "actually happened" really mean?

What I experienced was an altered perception that grew out of Non-Perception, the Void as it were, and I saw it as a means to recognize the Illusion (or Delusion) of what our Minds tell us is Reality.

What we see and think we know in the Material World is all Illusion, a construct, we're told, of the Mind. And it has no real existence at all. 

Our thoughts and feelings and perceptions are all Mind-created, not Reality. By experiencing an altered perception I was able if only for a moment to recognize the Ground Truth both of the Mind and of the spontaneous arising from Nothing. 

And so it was. Is this what the Buddha experienced after sitting under the Bodhi Tree? I don't know, but it could be. Is it what the Avatamsaka Sutra is attempting to describe? I can't say for certain, but sure, why not?

Sparkling jewels figure heavily in the Sutra; fragrant flowers, multicolored silks, everything and more that an East Indian adept might treasure; all were revealed and made manifest after Enlightenment. Well, yes. Of course! But is that what Enlightenment is? Of course not!

No, I see it as a metaphor -- a long and beautiful metaphor -- for something ineffable that cannot be described in words written or spoken. Beyond the jewels and silks and fragrant flowers, beyond the multitude of universes which figure as prominently, there is... No Thing. Or...? What? No, the question is wrong. 

One of the principal tenets of Buddhism is that we are already Awakened. We are already Enlightened. It is our natural state of being. We don't have to go on a quest to find it -- as the Buddha did. We don't have to yearn for it. We already have it; we are already there. 

What we -- usually -- lack is recognition of the fact. Gaining recognition may take enormous effort and lead to many wrong turns along the way, or it may come in an instant with no effort at all. We all follow different paths. But once we gain the recognition, we're essentially unified on the same path, and in Zen and Mahayana Buddhism in general, it's a Bodhisattva path, then we're all chopping wood and carrying water together. Even as we go our own ways.

The translation I have of the Avatamsaka Sutra is over 1,600 pages long. Now that's absurd. 1100 pages is the Sutra itself, the rest is commentary.  

Buddhists love to speculate on Meaning and write commentary on the Sutras. Thus to possess and explain that which cannot be possessed or explained. 

Of course I'm doing it myself!

So Rohatsu is coming up shortly. I already have some scheduled events during that week, including doctors' appointments and possibly appearing at the trial of the man who assaulted me a year ago in July. I won't have any teeth, either, as all are scheduled to be pulled next week, and nothing is to replace them until January.

What fun. 

Since the Rohatsu is online, though, it will be possible to catch up. I suppose.

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Koan:

What did the Buddha perceive as he Awakened under the Bodhi Tree?

 

Mountains and Rivers 4 -- Reflections on Rohatsu and the Waters (Updated with a Tassajara Story of Mountains and Waters Sutra)

I haven't participated in rohatsu in the past so this sesshin was part of my education in Zen forms and rituals that I missed back in the early days of my practice, when, if I recall correctly, Richard Baker or whomever I was in communication with at the San Francisco Zen Center made clear that Zen practice did not require shutting oneself away in a monastery or even following any particular form or rituals or necessarily even knowing what they were. 

I've seen some documentaries on Zen in Japan -- where it has never been popular -- and among laypeople that's the essence of the practice. You sit. That's really all you have to do to practice Zen. None of the rest of it is essential, and there is a lot of "the rest of it."

Sitting is the key.

Rohatsu is the commemoration and celebration of Sakyamuni Buddha's enlightenment more than 2,500 years ago in Bodh Gaya, northern India. In the practice I participate with, rohatsu lasts 8 days, and during that time, there is much sitting. Oh my yes! There is chanting (which I don't do aloud) and liturgy and study. Whether we, the lay practitioners, are to achieve Enlightenment thereby, I don't know. I would say, given what I witnessed, that some certainly thought they'd be Enlightened and were Enlightened by the conclusion of rohatsu, but... well, I'll say no more about that.

I would go back to the mantra I was given when time was: "The Buddha is within you; the Dharma is you; the Sangha is with whomever you find on the Dharma Path."

(Buddha, Dharma, Sangha = The Three Jewels of Buddhism)

This mantra actually gives the practitioner lots of leeway and freedom. It's not necessarily an easy or straight path to Enlightenment (ha!) but one way among many to become enlightened. Buddha says basically, "You're already Enlightened. You just have to discover and recognize it."

The World of Illusion obscures your Enlightenment. Let go.

Many years ago, I had the physical experience of what may have been Enlightenment but probably wasn't. It's not a physical thing. Or... well, no, I don't want to get into the mystical/physical conundrum in this essay. Let that go, too!

But I would say that once there -- wherever -- I never left. I never went back there because I am there all the time, and I've mentioned to some of my teachers in the last year or so that my life is practice. 

In other words, sitting zazen is a minor part of my practice, as it forms a few moments of my daily life that is in its entirety practice.

Imperfect as it is. 

And that's a key to understanding. Our material lives are totally imperfect. It's OK. It's the nature of Being/NotBeing. 

In the midst of our imperfections, however, we adopt vows and set goals -- not necessarily material goals, not at all. To become what we really are. 

That's the hard part, the struggle that Buddha and all Buddhists go through. Who are we? What are we? 

What should we do about it?

Buddha taught, and that was the full expression of his Being/NotBeing. 

Zen, I think I mentioned in an earlier post, grew out of Japanese Samurai culture, as an expression of and adaptation of Chinese Chan Buddhism, for the needs of the medieval Japanese higher warrior aristocracy. It wasn't for the common people at all. 

It was also adopted by the Imperial and some Shogunate households. 

The Zen practice I was introduced to came from Japan in the late 1950s, through the agency of Shunryu Suzuki, a Zen priest from the time of his youth early in the 20th Century, descended from a line of Zen priests. He was deemed roshi by his US followers, and it made him laugh. But then, many things made him laugh. Especially American things.

There isn't a lot about today's Zen practice in America that I identify with the more or less "pure" Zen Suzuki Roshi brought to America. There are forms and rituals that trace back to Japan, certain costumes and physical properties of zendos and such, but not much else. Very little understanding of where this practice came from and why it was important in the context of a particular culture at a particular time and how it has had a profound influence beyond that culture and time. 

I see in the context of every US Zen center I've looked into a deep seated urge to change it, change the practice to more Americanize it, decouple it from Japanese practice, especially from the rigors of Japanese monasteries. Or rather practicing some of those rigors as forms and rituals only.

Make it more like Catholicism or Orthodox Judaism. In other words, familiarize it to American notions of Religion...

When participating in the various practice periods and sesshins I have this year, I've noticed strong -- sometimes overwhelming -- resemblances between the Americanized Zen practice and say Catholic and/or orthodox Jewish observances. Why is that? Is it in part because so many influential American Zen priests and roshis and such come from those backgrounds? I would think so. Is it because so few have had an elemental experience of Japanese Zen Buddhism -- which is of course the origin of American Zen practice -- though they may have gone on pilgrimage to the sites in Japan where the practice was formulated.

And I think about these origins in the context of Gary Snyder and his epic "Mountains and Rivers Without End," a kind of Zen-ish gloss on his life and practice and relationship to mountains and rivers.

As I've said, I didn't get along with Gary Snyder, though our meetings were social and very brief. I think there was an immediate repulsion. I'm trying to get over it. I should have gotten over it decades ago, but instead, I held it in me all this time, though I obviously didn't think about it or him until returning to Zen practice, picking up Kerouac again and observing his near-worship of Gary in "The Dharma Bums." 

A worship which, by the way, was not and is not reciprocated. If anything, Gary shows little regard for Kerouac at all. Borderline contempt. The barest of acknowledgement that they ever knew each other. 

Why is that I wonder? There may have been more of a repulsion -- on Gary's part -- toward Kerouac than might have been the case if Kerouac had not been an alcoholic/drug addict, and not shown Gary such puppy-dog admiration and followership/worship for the few months/years they palled around.

A key passage in "The Dharma Bums" is their climb of the Matterhorn of the Sierras, something ordinarily objectively impossible, but they do it, survive it, revel in it.  Gary (Japhy) has magic powers. He practically flies up the mountain and then flies back down while Kerouac (Ray) must trudge and struggle. Kerouac is tied to the Earth; Gary is a free spirit in a jockstrap, so pure he can merge with and walk within the mountain.

In "Mountains and Rivers Without End," Snyder doesn't even acknowledge it happened, and to some critics, Kerouac's description of their climb, and perhaps the climb itself, was fiction. Who knows? Kerouac drank himself to death many years ago, and Snyder isn't saying -- well, not in any detail.

Kerouac is not a wizard. Snyder, apparently, is.

I recall -- barely -- a mountain-climbing adventure I went on years ago. I came "that close" to losing my life due to an allergic reaction to warm trail mix. Anaphylaxis is no fun, and that's primarily what I remember from the adventure. There was also the attempt to hike up to a peak but getting mired in a mysterious bog not on the hiking map. Wondering if it was possible to cross it -- no -- or find another trail -- no. It was barely possible to get out of the bog without sinking ever deeper and getting stuck. There was no surface sign the bog was even there...

Nude swim in a lake. Camping under the stars. Having no real fear despite the hazards encountered or imagined. In fact, from this distance of fifty years or more, that mountain climbing adventure seems more and more imaginary. Did it happen at all?

In going through some of the stuff we moved and brought back from California, that sense of an imaginary past, adventures that never happened, and very faulty memories of what did happen came up again and again. But in Zen, of course, everything is illusory. Delusory. 

There's not much "water" in this reflection. I was born a stone's throw from the Mississippi River, Father of Waters, so there's that. And I've pretty much always been or lived near the ocean or a river of some sort, except for where I live now. Plenty of mountains, but no surface water at all.

There's only what we call 'The Swamp' in the back of our place, a small wet-ish region where there must be water close to the surface, where plants grow lush in the spring and summer, and the ground is soft. There's no water on the surface, nor does it seem like any water is flowing. But it must be there.

Phantom water.

But then, isn't everything a phantom of one sort or another?

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Here is a podcast by David Chadwick about Dogen's Mountains and Waters Sutra. Much consideration of Gary Snyder's "Mountains and Rivers Without End." And very much in tune with my own thinking about the sutra...

Rohatsu Sesshin

Ah well. Here we go again with the Buddhist retreat thing. Yah. This time a "silent retreat" -- right -- meant as a celebration/commemoration of the Buddha's Enlightenment. A week of meditation and consideration focused on Dogen's text of Mountains and Waters Sutra translated by Kaz Tanahashi.

Mountains and Rivers... Meditating yesterday with a rotten old text, wonders of the world as it is or was back in the '30s when the text was written ostensibly for young people, explaining the world and history while admitting vast ignorance about just about everything. Mountains and Rivers were brought into the picture with the acknowledgement that the mountains which seem so rooted and permanent -- because our lives are so short -- are worn away by the waters until in time they disappear as if they never were, and then are reborn by forces deep within the Earth that force and twist and uplift the very living rock into new mountains that are then worn away by the waters. Over and over in an endless repeating cycle.

And that is the theme of this Rohatsu sesshin.

Dogen says mountains walk, and they do.

The realization is a step toward Enlightenment. This realization is Enlightenment. But in Dogen-speak there is neither Enlightenment nor non-Enlightenment. The Koan of the Ox Through the Latticed Window, no?

And yet our ancestors knew for a fact that mountains walk and you could say they run, given the right perspective and time scale. Our perception is too limited to witness it in its entirety, but it happens just the same.

Now I could go on and on about the limits of perception compared to the vastness of reality, but now is not the time for that. Been down this road before, however. Trodding it one more time.