A little more on sitting as surrender

Seated meditation is very prominent in Western Buddhism as a practice and as an iconic image. The prominence of (seated) meditation has been discussed and debated recently on Jeff Wilson’s blog as referenced in my last writing on this topic, which also included the perspective of sitting as surrender. The description of how and why it makes sense to see sitting this way, and what is meant by surrender, was also covered. Why this attitude may be helpful or even interesting, however, was not addressed. Because I spent so much time on the “set up” and background material, I felt more should be said about other views of seated meditation and how seeing seated meditation as surrender is significant.

Part of the mix of cultural and assumptions that go with the popular conception of Buddhism is the notion of contemplative spiritual practice, which is found in every world religion. This practice in the West is associated strongly with the idea of an erudite, gray-haired (or if bald, wrinkly) man with an extremely sharp mind which can pierce mysteries the rest of us are barely conscious of. In our culture, a sharp mind is often associated with analytic skills and laser-beam powers of concentration, much like the type of cognitive capacity measured on IQ tests. In the case of the wizened, aged mystic this intellect has simply been turned toward the esoteric.

Another part of this mix is the idea of the devotion of the religious zealot who mortifies his body and spirit through fasting, physically demanding rituals, and other forms of asceticism. He uses pain and sacrifice as a way to cleanse impurities, whether it is defined as sin or desire or delusion. This dualism encompasses the impure and the pure, the defiled and the undefiled, the sinful and the holy, non-deluded and deluded. It is akin to the expression “no pain no gain”, which suggests that if it isn’t hard to achieve, it probably isn’t worth much.

Applying this cultural lens to something like Zen, I believe it is frequently assumed that sitting is some combination of these two images. When seen this way, sitting becomes an endurance test of will and concentration and discomfort becomes a currency to credit to our development towards a less imperfect state. Koans become tests we must pass to enter in to deeper and more rarified forms of insight. Even though book titles, magazine covers, and blog posts all remind us that such practice is not about achievement, that there is no yardstick for “good” or “bad” sittings, and on and on, the image of seated meditation as an engine to “reach” enlightenment which requires the fuel of our concentrated intellect and the lubrication of our physical discomfort persists.

The preceding take on seated meditation is distinct from the idea of surrender. It focuses on the physical state or the mental state as being in some relation to the right/wrong or pure/impure dichotomy. Are you comfortable or not? Is there mental chatter or not? Are you stressed or not? To repeat from my previous discussion of this topic, surrender as I am referring to it here is not about being physically or mentally subdued. Nor is it about being apathetic towards the physical world or aloof or non-empathetic toward the problems and suffering in your own life or the life of others. It is about knowing that deep down it is OK. Beyond everything else that has, is, or will happen, it’s already OK. So you can surrender to that and still be physically active, or intellectually active, or engaged with your own life and the lives of others.

Hence, from my humble and meager perspective, developing concentration is worthwhile and it helps us to become more aware, which is really an important aspect of practice, but just developing attention alone leaves a lot out – how are we using it? Also, there is an element of sacrifice associated with surrender, but it isn’t about quantity or quality. To take one example, for may this kind of surrender is about sacrificing a kind of neurotic inferiority complex when it comes to our true nature which is compensated for by a superiority complex of the ego. Nor does this apply only to ego-maniacs. Even though we may have low self-esteem, how often is that just a manifestation of a self-centered idea of how great we ought to be versus how crappy we feel or how bad off we believe we are? This kind of deep existential dissatisfaction is the kind of thing being sacrificed or jettisoned.

And I personally feel that it is this type of dissatisfaction that Buddhism, via the example of the Buddha, is supposed to be addressing. I think it is this type of dissatisfaction that, from what I have gleaned from the various accounts of his life, the Buddha himself shed when he finally sat. When he sat and, we might speculate, when he realized something that awoke an infinitely sublime quieting and peace beyond the deepest doubts of his life, a tranquility not apart from any particular thing but which embraces all things. I obviously cannot know this, but I sense that this is what the imagery and teachings of Buddhism point toward. We can debate whether this really reflects the original intent of the Buddha himself, but regardless, such a tranquility amidst suffering, or nirvana within samsara, is worth knowing. At least it is to me.

******
Clarification: I am not suggesting there is nothing else “to do”. In fact, it would be closer to the other way around. That is, such meditation, whether done while seated, while standing, while walking, while brushing our teeth, etc, doesn’t get us anywhere, it just reminds us where we are. The result to which I am alluding then, the peace in the turmoil, is not “the end” either (a concept which, when related to our practice, we could all do without). Again, that is about remembering what, who, and where we are. Nor is it escapism – it is not a static blissed-out obliviousness to the world around us.

There is still work we can do, but not for the “sake of” attaining such abiding confidence. The work of the Bodhisattva path, as this ego-centric, un-ordained, and overly outspoken lay Buddhist currently understands it, rests on this all-embracing affirmation that is beyond any concepts like attainment. That work rests on it, it abides with it, and the Bodhisattva finds the will and energy to do this work through it: to cultivate ethics, concentration, and wisdom through the Eightfold Path, to embody the six paramitas, to uphold the foundation of the three Pure Precepts.

[edited to correct typos and add clarification]

Sitting as surrender

Just because the story of Siddhartha Guatama says he realized enlightenment while sitting under a pipal tree, does that mean that we must also literally sit if we want to do the same? As far as I can tell, his teachings do not suggest this. Yes, seated meditation is one form of practice in which many Buddhist engage, but what else is there to it?

First, I want to revisit something that made a bit of stir at Jeff Wilson's blog on Tricycle. In a post on copying sutras, Jeff remarked:

Japan and America are often held up as countries with very different cultures. And because of these cultural differences, the Buddhisms of these two countries are often contrasted. Even when they share traditions, such as Zen and Jodo Shinshu, the way in which these traditions are practiced are often widely divergent. For instance, Americans think of Zen as a meditation tradition, but meditation is quite uncommon in Japanese Zen.

Based on a reply to that post asking about the admonition to practice meditation in Zen Mind, Beginners Mind, a very popular book among Western Buddhists on the topic of Zen Buddhism, Jeff followed up with a post about meditation being a rare practice for Zen Buddhists in Japan, commenting:

In America, many people are interested in meditation and that is one reason that Zen teachers discuss it. Also, some of the first generation teachers were unusually interested in meditation and felt uncomfortable in Japan where Zen does not generally perform it, so they looked elsewhere. Another reason many of the early Zen teachers emphasized it is that their English language skills weren't perfect, and it was easier to teach people to sit quietly than to try to discuss the already difficult concepts of Zen Buddhism.


Asian teachers who like to have Western students talk a lot about zazen to them. When they teach in Japanese, most do not emphasize zazen unless it is in a monastic situation. If you read Japanese, you will quickly see the reality of this. The same goes for Tibetans, I am told, but I don't read Tibetan so I'm relying on the reports of colleagues who focus on Tibetan Buddhism. When speaking in Tibetan, teachers emphasize receiving empowerments and blessings from the lamas, and chanting mantras. If they teach in English, they spice it up with lots of talk about meditation because they know that is what Westerners like.


Westerners only hear from a tiny minority of Asian teachers and even then the parts of their overall works that are selected for translation are often only those that fit the Western convert meditation-oriented worldview, so they really get a very skewed idea of Buddhism. That doesn't mean that Westerners who like meditation are wrong, so long as it works out for them. It only means that people who think meditation is a necessary practice of Buddhism are in the extreme minority. Again, that doesn't make them bad, just statistically-speaking very unusual...


In fact, Buddhist laypeople do not do regular meditation practice in any Asian country. They have never done regular mediation practice in any historical tradition in any part of Asia at any point in time, and they have always been the overwhelming majority of Buddhists. For that matter, the average Buddhist in America is not a meditator either. 75% of American Buddhists are Asian-Americans, and just as in Asia, they are not typically involved in meditation. Many converts do not meditate regularly either, for that matter.


Likewise, within the Buddhist monastic sangha, meditation has often not been a strongly encouraged practice--adherence to long lists of rules and chanting sutras have always been the main activities, with the most respect often going to great scholar monks who know and understand the traditional sources and commentaries...

The topic generated so much interest, Jeff wrote a new post just to reply to several major comments visitors had left. Here is an example:

Dogen is a fascinating character, one of my favorites. I've been exploring Dogen's thought longer than any other Buddhist master I admire (other than the Buddha himself, that is). Because he's had a significant impact on Japanese history, it is important that we look at him historically, i.e. that we consider how his thinking and teaching evolved over the years. In his earlier years he did indeed recommend zazen to all people, and taught some laypeople as well as monks. But as his experience deepened and his understanding matured, he revised his opinions about the laity. By his later years he believed that laypeople could not achieve enlightenment, and advocated full monastic ordination as the only viable path of practice. He also contextualized shikantaza with a wide range of other practices that he considered non-optional, such as adherence to precepts. His was anything but a "meditation only" approach, as some people seem to imply.

I think we misunderstand the situation when we proclaim things like "saying Soto Zen practitioners don't meditate is like saying Christians don't pray," since we all know that Christians do indeed pray, at least some of the time. In the USA, Soto Zen converts (as opposed to Japanese-Americans) do often meditate. But in Japan where Soto Zen is strong, ordinary practitioners rarely meditate—certainly their meditation participation is nowhere near the frequency of prayer among Christians. It isn't that you can't find Soto Zen practitioners that meditate, it's just that it is very uncommon among the laity and hardly frequent among the clergy as well. This is not something that Soto Shu has a gripe about--if you read their Japanese publications for the laity you find that they typically advocate morality and uprightness, rather than significant amounts of meditation practice. Nor is this a secret in Japan--ask any Japanese monk and he'll readily tell you that for most of his peers zazen isn't something they do a lot of every day.

One of the underlying issues here is that As those with a little depth in Buddhism know, different practices are often considered forms of meditation. Meditation can refer to many things, from a form of concentration to a state of mind to a particular activity intended to produce or reveal either or both of these. Then there is the potentially contentious issue that many words frequently used in Buddhism are open to (mis)translation, as Robin Beck recently discussed on a blog of the same name.

I tend to see meditation as remembering and thereby realizing our true (M)ind. It simultaneously involves acting and not acting - which makes more sense and sounds less mysterious when we consider the over-used phrased "letting go", in which we choose (under "self-power") to surrender (into "Other-power"). I am intentionally mixing the terminology and imagery of different schools here to keep attention on what is being said rather than what we tend to "hear" when we come across terms we find familiar. In this usage meditation involves becomes becoming aware and also resting in that awareness. I do not intend to imply physical or mundane mental passivity, for what is "resting" there is neither of those. I tried to capture this recently when I wrote that "{e}ven when you are experiencing or considering other things, just remember that these thoughts and experiences are transitory, and they cannot 'take away' this profound sublime affirmation of your existence (and indeed all of existence as experienced by all beings)..."

So does clarity, focus, and insight come from realizing enlightenment or are they necessary in order to realize enlightenment? Well, your guess is as good as mine, unless you are Fully Awake, in which case you would probably just smile at the question. My response would be - "Yes and no...to both." Which then brings us back to whether one set of guidelines or practices for awakening are universally more effective, or if their usefulness is context dependent. Which brings us back to the discussion about whether meditation, which in our culture is associated primarily with silent, seated meditation, is or should be a primary or foundational Buddhist practice (or even whether it is or should be a primary or foundational Zen practice). I am not going to attempt to answer that question. I can give my opinion, but I am neither interested or qualified to speak to the question on anyone else's behalf.

However, all of this did get me thinking about the image of the sitting Buddha and the context of his sitting in the mytho-historical depiction of his life. He experiences on extreme of lavish material and sensual wealth, and then the other extreme of severe material and sensual deprivation, and then he finds a cool comfortable spot under a tree and sits down. What is often emphasized here is the avoidance of extremes and the importance of the Middle Way. I am not writing against that, but as far as the imagery goes, I see something else. He tried to find happiness and fulfilment by his own efforts and false expectations going in one direction, and then he did the same thing in the opposite direction, and then he finally just let go. He submitted. He surrendered. I am not suggesting he wimped out or just gave up in exasperation, but after all of his searching, he simply came to experience something very profound and yet very simple. Would he have figured it out had he not tried so hard? I don't know - possibly not. It may have been a case of realization by negation and deduction (it ISN'T this, ISN'T this, and ISN'T that, so it must be...AHA!). Or maybe it was simply when he stopped trying and started simply being that he finally "got it." I don't claim to know - who can?

But image-wise, that is how I tend to see seated meditation. It isn't about who can be the best statue or focus the longest on a particular spot or bodily function. Nor is it a complete practice unto itself. It is creating what some theologians refer to as thin places, or circumstances under which the reality and presence of the Divine are more readily apparent even to the less attuned. Sit, stand, chant, or pick your nose - am I still struggling? Not physically, not mentally - beyond that. Relax. Let go. Surrender.

Differences, again

I had a recent post called Differences where I posited that in many ways several Mahayana schools and traditions (and by implication other forms of Buddhism as well) are really talking past one another. In other words, their views of the other schools are often based on caricatures, although to be fair I wouldn't necessarily say they are always strawmen because there may be folks who do think/practice in certain ways. Plus, let me repeat what I said then about "true Buddhists" or true Buddhists of any particular tradition--I am not suggesting what a "true" this or that should think or say or do in light of their cultural and historical associations with various rituals, stories, etc.

I think the "talking past one another" phenomenon is especially prevalent among East Asian Buddhism, particularly the Japanese-based varieties. I mentioned before that Zen, Nichiren, and Shin all have their version of "all existence in a thought-moment", which is the result of the implications of dependent coarising and emptiness. They all talk about some form of "not two, not one". And they all try so hard at times to distinguish themselves from the others.

From one of the newer listings on the blogroll, Jeff Wilson's blog at the American Buddhist Study Center, we have a story which is supposed to sum up the differences between the "Path of Sages" (typified by Zen) and the Path of Pure Land (in this case Jodo Shinshu). Two priests auditioning to be the new clergy of a village each take turns demonstrating what they have to offer. The Zen monk sits in a pot of boiling water without being harmed, owing to his Self-Power cultivated through years of mindfulness training. The Shin priest, on the other hand, uses his boiling pot to make soup and feed the village, showing that he had no special powers other than true entrusting to Amida and through this limitless compassion for all sentient beings. Hence the Shin priest's own limited Self-Power was encompassed by and transformed though Other Power for the benefit of all.

Yet I can just as easily imagine reading a similar story on a Zen or Chan Buddhist blog. It would go something like this: The Shin priest goes first, chanting "Namandab namandab namandab namandab..." and telling people to simply trust in Amida and they will be reborn into the Pure Land upon their death where they can find the right conditions to realize their enlightenment. The Zen monk, however, simply sees what needs to be done in the village and takes action in the present rather than delaying concern for others until another lifetime or relying on a mantra to set things right.

(CONTINUE...)

Now, a Shin Buddhist can argue that this is more like a traditional Chinese forms of Pure Land than Jodoshinshu, which does focus on the hear and now. And she or he could also argue that the nembutsu is not a magical invocation or spell but a means of appreciating/valuing their connection to and inclusion in the greater whole of reality linked through dependent coarising and emptiness. Yet a Zen Buddhist could take issue with the idea that they are all about "Self-Power" or acquiring superhuman abilities. He or she could make the case that it isn't about attainment but realization and acceptance, born from awakening the great doubt, i.e. challenging the ego-centric view of the universe. He or she could point, for example, to the Ox Herding pictures, in one of which after the seeker finds the Ox and is riding it both disappear in the next panel (signifying nonduality and emptiness). The sitting and walking meditation is used to help focus the practioner, not to provide amazing superheroic abilities. Just as the Shin practioners develop "deep hearing" through their practice, so to do the Zen students through theirs. The sitting and walking in Zen are just training for the real practice which is everyday life, much like the chanting and contemplation of Amida functions in Shin.

Now, it is true that Zen and other traditions like Tendai still incorporate the monastic model, but I also know of ordained monks who live in regular houses and have wives but who have shaved heads and wear the robes during formal practice and ceremonies. Maybe this is more of a Western thing, but they seem to generally be using the robe and bowl (and bell and drum) as a way of setting a mood and honoring a tradition/teaching rather than substituting these symbols for that to which they pointing (which would more or less be a form of idolatry). I've written before that for me, when someone shaves their head and/or dons the robe, sets up an altar, etc, its value isn't in showing some "higher rank" or "personal authority". Rather it is in recreating the objects of refuge--the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. It is in a sense an act of servitude, eschewing one's own identity for a time to represent something greater. On the other hand, I don't have a problem with those Buddhist clergy who want to just dress like everyone else.

And of course, if you've read much of anything by Nichiren or his followers you will notice the same kinds of critiques as the above-mentioned stories highlighting the differences between Zen and Shin. One thing I did like about some Nichiren Buddhists' perspective was that based on the chapter in the Lotus Sutra on expedient means, they don't see the other traditions as totally misleading or wrong-headed just outdated provisional teachings. Of course, that's not the only conclusion one can draw. One can also simply see how in the end many different Buddhist schools, while superficially (in ritual, phrasing of doctrine, etc) different, have at heart the same core teachings regarding the Noble Truths and the Dharma Seals. So then...

Namu Amida Butsu.

Amitabha!

Namu Myoho Renge Kyo.

Namo Dai Bosa.

Om Mani Padme Hum.

Gassho.

Namaste.