To Forget the Breath - To Forget the Breath — first there is a mountain, then there is no mountain

"Don't think about your breath, just let it come naturally." All right — and how exactly does one do that? It is like being told not to think about a pink elephant. Nothing complex is ever learned whole. I spent years training search and rescue dogs, and the road to a dog who could work a scent for hours began with one small thing: engagement. Look at me. Everything else was built on top of it. Breath meditation works the same way. Zhiyi, the Tiantai master, set out the sequence most of us have met — count the breaths one through ten and begin again; when counting steadies, drop it and follow; then let following go and simply sit. Fifteen centuries later it has not needed improving. And the third step is the entire point of the first two. You count in order to arrive somewhere counting is no longer needed. A person who has never counted a breath in his life is also not counting. He is not, on that account, meditating. That leads to the line most people know from Donovan and almost nobody knows from its source, the Ch'an master Qingyuan Weixin: mountains are mountains, then mountains are not mountains, then mountains are mountains once again. Qingyuan ends the passage with a challenge that usually gets left out — are these three views the same or different? Can you tell the black from the white? He is asking whether you can distinguish his first mountain from his third, because from the outside they are indistinguishable. This episode takes up two consequences of that. First, that the middle stage is a passage and not an address: emptiness is an intoxicating place to live, a position that cannot lose an argument, and holding it permanently is its own attachment. Second, that the third stage has an imitator — the practitioner who hears that the destination is ordinary and arrives at plainness by never having left it. You cannot tell the two apart by listening. The difference shows when the ground moves. The last section applies this to chanting Namu Myoho Renge Kyo across nearly fifty years: the same seven syllables met three times, the third looking exactly like the first from across the room, with nothing added and a great deal removed. And a caution offered mostly to myself — the third mountain is not tenure. Some dry morning you may find yourself back at the base of the first one, counting breaths, one through ten, beginning again at one. Which is not failure. It is the road. Read the essay: https://www.twobuddhas.org/post/to-forget-the-breath Mark Herrick (Nichiryu) is an independent Nichiren Buddhist dharma teacher and cofounder of Myokan-ji Temple and the Two Buddhas Meditation Community in Oakland, California. Essays, podcast episodes and talks at twobuddhas.org. Namu Myoho Renge Kyo