The Zen Studies Podcast

Sometimes it's difficult to relate to the goal of "awakening" or "enlightenment." Especially if we've gained a hard-won sense of peace with ourselves and our lives, it can seem counterproductive to dwell on some experience or understanding we don't yet have and then drive ourselves to achieve it. I want to share an alternative way to frame your practice that might kindle your Bodhicitta in a different way.

For many years now, people have been asking me how to deepen their Zen practice. They wonder, "What's next?" Some lay people are perfectly content guiding their own practice, but others long for more structure – some kind of program to which they can apply themselves. I have long desired to meet such requests, but I wasn't clear how. After teaching Zen for over 15 years, I have developed a clearer sense of what to require of my students if they are asking me to personally guide their practice. I share my practice agreement for formal students here.

How can we practice without ignoring the world, but also without being overwhelmed by it? We can learn something from a koan involving the 9th century Chan master Zhaozhou (Joshu): A monk asked, "When a great difficulties come, how should I avoid them?" Zhaozhou said, "Just right." We can include great difficulties in our perception of this life without being destroyed by them, letting our hearts break without rejecting this world or becoming consumed by anger or grief.

This is a teisho – like a cross between a Dharma Talk and guided meditation. Teisho are sometimes called "encouragement talks," and they are meant to help listeners connect with the Dharma in the spaciousness and silence of zazen. Teisho are not about explanations or the imparting of information, and they generally are not recorded. They are offered spontaneously, just for the moment, just for those listening. Although you may not be sitting zazen while you listen to this episode, I thought I would offer you a teisho as if you are.

In Part 2 of this episode, I continue giving my "2,500 years' worth of Buddhist texts in a nutshell," an overview of texts in my Zen lineage. In Part 1 I explained what makes a Buddhist text considered legitimate enough to be passed down through the ages. I also introduced the idea of a Buddhist family tree and discussed the original Buddhist canon, the rising of the Mahayana, and the Mahayana sutras. In this episode I cover Mahayana philosophers, Chinese Chan literature, and the writings of two of the main Japanese Zen ancestors in my lineage.

In Buddhism, we have three treasures: Buddha, teachers or our own awakened nature; Dharma, the teachings or the truth itself, and Sangha, the community of people who practice and maintain the tradition together. From the beginning of Buddhism, then, community has been considered essential – but in what sense? We may think of Sangha primarily as an impersonal institution providing access to Buddhist teachings and practice. It certainly fulfills that function, but I believe it's equally important that our Sanghas be welcoming, loving, joyful, mature communities: A place where everybody knows your name, and they're always glad you came.

In Buddhism, we have three treasures: Buddha, teachers or our own awakened nature; Dharma, the teachings or the truth itself, and Sangha, the community of people who practice and maintain the tradition together. From the beginning of Buddhism, then, community has been considered essential – but in what sense? We may think of Sangha primarily as an impersonal institution providing access to Buddhist teachings and practice. It certainly fulfills that function, but I believe it's equally important that our Sanghas be welcoming, loving, joyful, mature communities: A place where everybody knows your name, and they're always glad you came.

You may have discovered there are lots of Buddhist teachings and texts. Jews have their Torah, Christians their Bible, Muslims their Quran, and Hindus their Vedas, but Buddhists have no divinely-inspired central text, or even collection of texts, to serve as a definitive source of orthodox teachings. The texts considered authoritative in at least one sect of Buddhism would fill a library. This episode (along with Part 2) is meant to be a brief and broad overview of 2500 years'-worth of Buddhist texts in the Zen lineage. Hopefully, it can give you some context for whatever text you might find yourself reading.

In Buddhism, we are guided by the ideal of a Buddha, or awakened being. One of the characteristics of a Buddha is unconditional and selfless generosity, and when your generosity is blocked, you can be sure that some part of you still needs understanding, healing or liberation. On the other hand, when you're able to set aside your self-doubt and imagine yourself as a Buddha, when you look on other beings as if they were your children, you may find your generosity flows more naturally.

In koan #6 from the Blue Cliff Record, Yunmen says, "Every day is a good day." I explore this koan, including the way we sometimes imagine our real life is going to happen after something, and the various ways we can experience "good."

Since the term arose in 1950's, "self-care" has referred to a number of different things. If we consider self-care to be things you do to remain physically and mentally healthy, then Zazen – simple, goalless, Zen meditation – can be seen as excellent self-care. In these troubled times, such self-care can even be seen as defiant – refusing to be broken down by challenging circumstances. Other forms of meditation can also be seen as self-care, of course, but Zazen can be a little difficult to get your mind around. Framing it as self-care may help you appreciate what it's all about.

This a Q&A episode based on questions I've received from listeners: Does Zen have anything to say about human relationships? Can we learn anything from the cultural popularization of the term "Zen"? If we have no independent self-nature, what about our sense of enduring self? Do Buddhists practice confession like Catholics?

Viewed historically, Zen is a form of Mahayana Buddhism that evolved from the original forms Buddhism that were established in India after the Buddha's death around 2,500 BC. Many aspects of original Buddhism are retained in Zen, including respect for Shakyamuni Buddha and his teachings. However, the degree of transformation Buddhism underwent when it took root in China and evolved into Chan (later called "Zen" in Japan) is difficult to overestimate, resulting in a path of radical nondualism. Both the ultimate goal of practice and the means to achieve that goal changed so radically that it's legitimate to question whether Chan is even Buddhism. If you want to walk the path of Zen/Chan, it's essential to understand how it differs from original Buddhism.

Zen Buddhism exemplifies practice based in self-power, or jiriki. Pure Land Buddhism exemplifies practice based in other-power, or tariki. These are very different entry gates, but when we examine self-power and other-power more closely, we see that the ultimate goal of practice requires both.

This is one of my unscripted Q&A episodes, where I answer questions submitted by listeners. If you have a question, go ahead and send it to me at zenstudiespodcast.com. I discuss: What does Kosho Uchiyama mean in his book Opening the Hand of Thought, when he talks about "settling as universal life?" Isn't the Zen emphasis on monastic practice and self-liberation at odds with the Bodhisattva Vow to free all beings? What can we learn from practicing with other Buddhist traditions than our own, and is this recommended if we don't live near a Zen center?

Unlike Jesus, the Buddha didn't explicitly instruct us to "love our enemies." However, he did instruct us to extend goodwill, or Metta, to all beings unconditionally – including, of course, our enemies. In this time of growing divisiveness, what does it really mean to follow this teaching? Most people will admit that nurturing resentment and hatred is probably a bad idea, but on the other hand it feels completely unacceptable to capitulate to – surrender to or stop resisting – those who we perceive as causing harm. Fortunately, there are many benefits to loving our enemies, and doing so does not mean capitulating to them.

In this episode I read and reflect on Chapter One of Keizan's Denkoroku: Record of the Transmission of Illumination. In it, Shakyamuni Buddha holds up a flower and blinks. Keizan says, "No one knew his intention, and they were silent." Then Mahakashyapa gives a slight smile, and the Buddha acknowledges him as his Dharma heir. What is going on in this koan? Keizan challenges our ideas about awakening, time, causation, and the nature of self.

When should Buddhist communities take public stands on issues that could be seen as political? If politics is about how we make decisions in groups (local communities, towns, cities, states, nations), are Sanghas really be free from politics when they are embedded in these larger groups? Silence can function as tacit approval, so is maintaining neutrality in keeping with our Buddhist values? On the other hand, there are many good reasons for Sanghas to avoid bringing discussions of politics in their places of practice, and I discuss them.

The form of meditation we do in Zen, unless we're working on a koan, is called shikantaza – nothing but sitting – or silent illumination. It's been called a "method of no method," in which we let go of any striving whatsoever – even to control our meditative experience. So can we do "bad zazen?" Theoretically, there's no such thing, and yet it sure feels like there is! What is this about?

How do you find comfort in the precepts? What is the relationship between anger, forgiveness and justice? What about anxiety due to abrupt insight into emptiness? This is one of my unscripted Q&A episodes, where I answer questions submitted by listeners.

This is the third part of three of my episodes on "Learning the Self," one of my Ten Fields of Zen. In the first episode I discussed why we "study the self" in Zen, and what "self" we're talking about if – according to the teachings – the self is empty of any inherent nature! In the second episode I talked about what is meant by "studying" or "learning" the self. I also explained the idea of Karma and discussed why it's valuable to work on it. In this episode, I cover how we do Karma Work.

Part two of three of my series on "Learning the Self," one of my Ten Fields of Zen. Last episode I discussed why we "study the self" in Zen, and what "self" we're talking about if the self is empty of any inherent nature! Now I move on to what is meant by "Learning the Self." This part of our practice has two essential aspects. Karma Work is taking care of your Phenomenal Self - becoming intimately familiar with your own body and mind and learning to live in accord with the Dharma. Realization of your True Nature involves seeking out, questioning, and seeing through your belief in an inherent self-nature, thereby awakening to your True Nature. In this episodes I begin my explanation of Karma Work.

Ultimately, if you want to experience Realization and have it transform your life, you need to commit yourself to Learning the Self. This means becoming intimately familiar with your self - your mind and your body. A lifetime path of practice becomes deeply personal, asking you to face your Karma, take responsibility for it, and use it to find your gateway into awakening. This isn't just about transforming yourself into a Buddha through your Zen practice, it's about awakening to how your very body - your unique, imperfect, human manifestation - is Buddha.

Since the Buddha's time, certain practitioners have chosen to leave the household life to dedicate themselves completely to formal Buddhist training. Undergoing a ceremony of ordination in which they took monastic vows, these monks and nuns lived the remainder of their lives within a Sangha – community – of other ordained people. In modern Western Zen, you will find a thoroughly confusing situation where ordained people who live fully monastic lives are rare, most ordained people are called "priests" and live householder lives, and practitioners who are not ordained often teach the Dharma and lead lay Sanghas (functions historically reserved for ordained people). What is the use – if any – of continuing with a tradition of "ordination?" I discuss the value of monks, priests, and lay practitioners in the context of Zen as it is currently manifesting in the United States.

I discuss the oldest source of Buddhist teachings on Dana as a bodhisattva perfection – the Jataka tales, or stories about Shakyamuni Buddha's remarkable actions during previous lifetimes. Such stories inspired people to follow the bodhisattva path in both Theravadin and Mahayana Buddhism, so I spend some discussing the Theravadin paramis, and particularly the parami of Dana.

In this episode I answer listener questions: How do you address the dharma and practice with young kids? If I'm trying to be mindful on work breaks, should I just go cold turkey and not look at my phone at all or maybe try a more moderate approach like eating my meal and then looking at my phone? Is it even possible to be mindful while looking at social media, checking email, etc.? And: When sitting in meditation posture, what should I do with my stomach?

Dana, generosity or giving, is the first Mahayana Buddhist paramita. Generosity is where the journey to self-transcendence begins. In this first episode on Dana, I give an overview of the Buddha's teachings on the virtue of giving. These teachings are from before Dana was defined as one of the paramis or paramitas – that is, perfections cultivated by someone on the bodhisattva path. In the next episode I discuss Dana as a perfection.

This is a teisho - kind of like a cross between a Dharma Talk and guided meditation. I hope my words will point you toward how the Great Matter - that which we seek to awaken to and manifest - is never apart from this very place. Ordinary mind is the Way, and is buddha itself. But what does this really mean? Not that we can't hope for relief from the turmoil of our minds as we usually experience them! Mind-with-a-capital-M is not equivalent to our thoughts, feelings, emotions, and concepts. Mind is the undisturbed space within which everything arises, so it is always available to us - never apart from this very place.

Religions and spiritual paths are meant to give you strength and help you find meaning. Many people derive strength and meaning through faith in an all-powerful God who works in mysterious ways but ultimately has your best interests in mind. Buddhism doesn't teach this kind of faith, but it does call attention to many truths upon which we can rely for strength and meaning, no matter what happens to us personally or in the world. For the purpose of this discussion, I'm going call the truths we can rely on "Dharma Foundations." 

In this episode I make the case for accommodations for people with physical challenges, even in sesshin, and then describe a number of tried and tested ways Sanghas can do this. I finish by talking about how to negotiate with a Sangha if you are someone with physical challenges and hope to be accommodated, particularly in the practice of intensive retreat.

People with extra physical challenges - disabilities, chronic illnesses, or advanced age - often find it impossible to participate fully in Zen practice without special accommodations. Seated meditation (zazen) can be painful, and the demands of silent meditation retreats (sesshin) can be prohibitive. However, an important part of Zen practice - especially sesshin - is how everyone follows the forms together, doing the same things at the same times. The whole idea is to minimize the need to exercise personal choice, and to use a certain amount of physical discomfort to bring us up against the existential matter of our lives. How can Sanghas support the Zen practice of people with physical challenges while preserving what is supportive to those without them?

In this extemporaneous Q&A episode, I address these questions: What is the responsibility of Buddhists to stand for what is right? What is the difference between the Buddhist goal of "detaching from clinging and aversion" and the pathological states of detachment from reality called "dissociation?" How would you describe the desirable level of overlap between shikantaza (the zazen of just sitting) and trance?

This episode is a Teisho, an encouragement talk that's meant to be listened to while you are sitting quietly. Zen teachers give Teisho during sesshin, and this amounts to a more formal kind of Dharma talk, almost like a meditation. It's not meant to be educational. I'm curious as to how it will come off if you listen to it while walking or driving or doing something else. Maybe it'll be cool. But I recommend sitting still if you're able. Teisho are generally only given during sesshin and not recorded, but I recreated one from the sesshin I led last week for you.

The teaching of the Trikaya, or Three Bodies of Buddha, is challenging. It may seem to be metaphysical speculation or surprisingly theistic for Buddhism. However, it offers a unique and valuable framing for the mystery of awakening, the palpable presence of the Ineffable despite its ungraspable nature, and the relationship of all phenomena to the Ineffable.

In this extemporaneous question-and-answer episode I address a listener's comment on my answer in a recent Q&A episode about the relationship between Buddhism and eating a plant-based diet. Then I respond to two different questions about the practice of shikantaza, or just sitting.

Chances are, whether you're aware of it or not, you have a certain way of framing your Dharma practice. That is, you function using a conceptual framework that defines your relationship to your practice, the intent of that practice, and what is supposedly being transformed by that practice. When you're centered in the moment, you can practice without framing, but most of the time you'll be framing things whether you mean to or not. It's good to be conscious of your framing and choose a framing that's helpful.

Almost everyone who practices meditation or mindfulness encounters the phenomenon of the wandering mind – when, despite your conscious intention, your mind is filled with thoughts that have nothing to do with your current experience. You can employ various techniques to let go of the thoughts and "bring the mind back" to your meditative object or to the present moment, but often these techniques are applied as if all mind wandering was of the same nature. I investigate different reasons your mind wanders and how they call for different responses.

This is an extemporaneous question-and-answer episode. Do you know the difference between a parami and a paramita? Do I still like to think of mindfulness as "undivided presence?" What about when Buddhists use the idea of karma as an excuse not to take compassionate action? Why can't our practice include more activities aimed at the cultivation of joy, creativity, and other positive experiences?

Equanimity is a powerful state of being that not only reduces our stress and suffering but also enables us to respond effectively. However, in our efforts to achieve some measure of equanimity, we may end up stuck in the tentative calm of denial or in the coldness of indifference. True equanimity is clear-eyed, undefended, compassionate, and inclusive – but how do we cultivate it? I explore the virtue of equanimity from a Buddhist perspective.

The tenth Field of Zen is Connecting with the Ineffable. Zen is not based on a belief in God in a theistic sense. However, at its core there is a strong emphasis on a much more profound, inspiring, significant, and hopeful Reality than the bleak, mundane, and discouraging one people sometimes experience in their ordinary daily lives. Call this "greater reality" anything you like – God, the Divine, That Which is Greater, Other Power, the Ineffable, the Great Mystery, the Great Matter of Life and Death – but you have tasted it at peak moments of your life. Zen encourages you to explore and deepen your relationship with the Great Matter.

In this episode I extemporaneously answer questions listeners have submitted by email, including: Why aren't Buddhist vegan if the first moral precept is "do not kill?" What does it really mean to "let go" of a thought? And: Isn't taking action - including compassionate action - always the result of being dissatisfied in some way?

Bodhisattva Activity is enacting vows to free all beings as well as yourself. This is an acknowledgment that you are interdependent with all beings and things, and such an aspiration can give a sense of purpose and direction to your whole life. Of course, it's impossible to fulfill this vow literally, and when you try to put it into action it is no easy matter! It requires tangible engagement with the world, including other people. If you hide out in comfort, you're unlikely to transcend self-centeredness. If you rely only on your own resources, you're likely to exhaust yourself and limit your impact. How do you even decide what Bodhisattva Activity to undertake? There is much to be learned by practicing in this Field of Zen, which inoculates you against the delusion that you can attain true peace of mind by ignoring the suffering of others.

In Episode 272, I discussed the third chapter of Zen Master Keizan's book The Denkoroku, or the Record of the Transmission of Illumination. In the interest of thoroughness, I figured I'd start back at chapter one, with Shakyamuni Buddha's "I and All Beings." This text explores the nature of enlightenment and the tension between individuality and non-separation.

The eighth Field of Zen Practice is Realization, gaining a direct, personal experience of the truth. Realization helps you respond appropriately, allowing you to live by choice instead of by karma. Even more importantly, it gives you a larger perspective that can result in equanimity, even joy. There are different levels of truth, and the Dharma – Reality-with-a-Capital-R – is the biggest truth of all. Fortunately, it is a wonderful and liberating truth to wake up to. However, it's important to understand that there is no "Realization" you can attain that means you know everything. The truth is infinite and there is always more to awaken to and embody.

This episode is the second half of the seventh chapter of my book-in-progress, The Ten Fields of Zen: A Primer for Practitioners. Listen to/read the previous episode (288) first, where I talk about the importance of Opening Your Heart and how that effort is viewed in the Buddhist tradition. In that episode I also discussed the four Brahmaviharas – goodwill, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity. I finish the chapter in this episode by covering self-acceptance, practicing with the real, human relationships in your life, and Opening Your Heart in Sangha.

The seventh Field of Zen Practice is Opening Your Heart. Working explicitly to open your heart not only benefits other living beings, it puts you in accord with the Dharma and supports all other aspects of your practice. You work on radical self-acceptance to make Awakening and compassion possible.  You work on real and personal relationships with other beings – overcoming your social fears, becoming more willing to be seen and known, learning to be authentic, and recognizing the Buddha-Nature manifested in others. Ultimately, self and other are not separate; in practice, you seek to manifest and realize this simultaneously.

In a time of political divisiveness, many of us look to the three treasures of Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha for solace, strength, and guidance. I offer a few Dharma teachings I have found useful for practicing in tumultuous times.

In the last episode, I offered seven points about the role of Dukkha in our life and practice and discussed the first five points. In this episode I'll finish the discussion with point #6: Buddhism offers a holistic approach to alleviating Dukkha, including maximizing our overall spiritual health, working with our karma, and curing its ultimate cause, and point #7: Even when our Dukkha is not extreme, it is a sign of lingering false views, so we continue to pay close attention to it and seek to end it.

While physical and emotional pain, discomfort, and longing are an inevitable part of human life, Dukkha is existential angst we add to such experiences, ranging from subtle uneasiness to acute anguish. It drives our unhealthy or harmful behaviors, so we seek to end Dukkha for the sake of self and others. Buddhism offers a holistic approach to doing this, including maximizing our overall spiritual health and working with our karma. However, Buddhism's radical teaching is that Dukkha is a symptom of underlying spiritual illness caused by false views - so, through practice, our spiritual illness can be cured, and Dukkha ended.

It's challenging to make our Dharma practice continuous – maintaining awareness and appropriate conduct each moment of our lives. In his essay Gyoji, or "Continuous Practice," Zen Master Dogen doesn't offer practical tips for mindfulness and pure conduct in everyday life, but instead challenges our limited ideas about what practice is. In this episode (part 2), I continue discussing four points I think Dogen makes about Gyoji.