I vow to taste the truth of the Tathagata's words. Good morning. Good morning. In one of those really rare but wonderful instances of serendipity, I found that when we came in for service this morning, we were celebrating Dogen's 797th birthday. And so on the altar we had tea as an offering and rice, and over on the side we had a little bitty birthday cake of chocolate, which Dogen didn't know, but it was our way of saying happy birthday to Dogen. And this is his picture you see before you on the altar. So I actually didn't know this when I started to work on this lecture,

[01:07]

but in fact this lecture also is about Dogen and how he came to practice. So I'm giving a kind of way-seeking mind lecture on Dogen. Not exactly for him, because I don't think I can do that, but more about him. Dogen, as I'm sure most of you know, was the founder of the Soto Zen Center in Japan. And our own approach to this path was taught to us by Suzuki Roshi as one which always incorporates the freshness of beginning mind. But his teachings in turn were based on his training at Dogen's monastery, Eheji, and his understanding of Dogen's spiritual path. We, reading or listening to Dogen's mature works today, might have some difficulty in remembering that Dogen started as a novice, just as we did.

[02:08]

His introduction to the religious life was somewhat dramatic, but in keeping with that of many other great teachers, no matter of what religious persuasion. Okay, now if I turn my head, can you hear me? Dogen was the son of a political marriage. His mother, aged 34 at the time of her marriage, was joined to a much older husband, who was in fact in his middle 60s, in an attempt by her father to regain political prominence. Dogen's father survived Dogen's birth by only three years, and his grandfather then attempted to adopt him.

[03:11]

However, his mother, who had seen in her own life the results of political manipulation, took him back to her family, and it was there that he spent his early childhood. Though both his mother and his father were of the aristocracy, and connected to the emperor's family, was significant in his early life. Dogen was raised as a member of the Japanese court, and had the educational advantages and connections that went with his social class. The family trained him to assume political power. In fact, he had an uncle, also aged 13, who was a minister of the right. So, it wasn't so much the age as it was the position that was important. And Dogen was certainly expected to assume a high political position. In fact, he was well aware of his grandfather's ambitions through and for him politically, and found him distasteful. In addition, Japan itself was going through major changes during Dogen's life.

[04:12]

Power was shifting back and forth between court factions, and his family's fortunes rose and fell. The changes of his life and his cultural context must have influenced his decision to leave the world. His mother died when he was eight years old. Now he was a double orphan, without protection, and even more subject to family demands. His mother, to whom he was close, had encouraged his religious leanings from the beginning, and apparently early pointed him towards a monastic life. There is a story that sitting by her body, watching the incense smoke rise and disappear, he realized the impermanence of life, and vowed to enter the path. There are also reports that he was studying advanced Buddhist philosophies by his ninth year. How true these stories are, we cannot know. In some ways, it is not surprising that he, as so many others have done, turned to religion to find a home, even in his earliest years.

[05:17]

On the other hand, there are those for whom the religious life is a compelling call, circumstances notwithstanding. Following his mother's death, Dogen became a foster child. I put this in our terms so we can understand the emotional and social consequences he was dealing with after his mother died. Having talked with many people who passed through our system of foster care, I can testify that no matter how good and kind the care, they all mention a feeling of deep loneliness, grief at separation from their families, and a sense of life's uncertainty, which permanently colors their perceptions afterwards. Dogen was eight years old. It happened actually during the week that I had occasion to see an eight-year-old, and she was about this big. And she ran up and down the stairs twittering, talking like crazy, dragging her little moose bear behind her. And I thought, this is how old Dogen was when this happened to him.

[06:18]

How awful to lose your mother and your father. And feel that there's no one there for you. An eight-year-old who was left alone like this might well feel that there was nothing permanent that he could depend on. Dogen was fostered to his older half-brother and remained with him for five years. He was fond of his brother, but the relationship did not afford parental protection. As he approached his teenage years, remember, he had a 13-year-old uncle who was minister of the right, his maternal family must have become more insistent about their political aims, because at age 13, he ran away from his foster family and went to his uncle's monastery, where he begged his uncle to let him ordain. And in connection with this, I want to say that it was not uncommon for children

[07:20]

not only to go to the monastery this young, but in some instances to actually be given to the monastery as infants. And they were raised in a monastic context, so they never actually had a lay life. Well, his uncle was understandably taken aback at Dogen's request, mostly because Dogen had other expectations, right? But he was persuasive, because Dogen entered the novice ranks at the monastery where his uncle taught. He would not fully ordain until he was 20, but he felt that he had entered the way. Although it was commonplace for aristocrats who had misfortunes to become monks, Dogen had not waited for a misfortune beyond that of his mother's death. That and his own inclination brought him to the way. During the next ten years, Dogen studied first Tendai Buddhism, which at that time was flourishing as a philosophy in Japan, but languishing as a practice.

[08:21]

There were two major monasteries, which were Tendai, and they were so hostile to each other that there were monk soldiers who were fighting battles. One of these was the monastery that Dogen was at. This was a far from desirable situation to culture Dogen's aspiration towards enlightenment, and his abbot uncle was equally unhappy with the situation. His uncle left to settle at another temple, taking Dogen with him. Dogen's immersion in both state and temple politics really taught him the instability of human affairs. The angry, hostile atmosphere of his first temple probably joined with other experience in his mind to produce intense doubt about Buddha nature, which all beings were described of as having in the Mahaparinirvana Sutra. If we all possess this nature, why do we need to develop the aspiration for enlightenment and follow ascetic practices to become enlightened? Another way of putting this might be, why are all these supposedly enlightened beings warring amongst each other, greedily reaching for position

[09:24]

and ignoring the spiritual nature which they possess? This was a question he asked repeatedly, first of the Tendai teachers, and then of the Japanese Rinzai teachers. From neither did he receive an answer which satisfied him. It must have seemed to him that there was no one in Japan who could teach him. Turning from Tendai Buddhism, after his uncle's death, he left his temple at the age of 19 and went to a Rinzai teacher, Miao Zhen. During the next two years, he studied with Miao Zhen and formed the goal of traveling to China to seek out a true teacher. His will to follow the way had been forged hard in an unstable world. When Miao Zhen's old teacher asked him to wait for his death, Dogen advised Miao Zhen to leave anyway, placing the Dharma above attachment. Miao Zhen, Dogen, and two other monks left for China in Dogen's 23rd year.

[10:24]

This was incidentally not an easy trip. The Strait of Japan between Japan and China is a notoriously stormy sea and ships were lost all the time. So he was really, you know, entrusting his life to the waves, which he comments on a couple of times in some of his shorter lectures. Okay. Well, anyway, they got on the ship and Dogen said that he suffered diarrhea, which isn't too surprising. But then he also said, when a really bad storm came up, he forgot about it, which I think gives you some idea of what the Sea of Japan was like. During Dogen's lifetime, Buddhism had been a living religion in China for over a thousand years. Despite purges and times of persecution, Chinese Buddhism was going strong. Chinese monasteries were certainly viewed by 13th century Japanese Buddhists

[11:26]

as a source of true teaching and true teachers. In this instance, it helps to remember the Japanese scholars all studied and knew Chinese characters, and this could communicate in script, even though they might not share a common language. Although Dogen actually, I believe, did have some Chinese. At the time Dogen left for China, he had been studying Buddhism for ten years. He had a lot of intellectual knowledge, but was aware that something was lacking. He felt he had not yet met an authentic teacher or a dormant companion. On the other hand, he had the kind of superiority which is endemic to advanced graduate students, in whom knowledge has not yet been mixed by and tempered with experience. He was argumentative, as his own journal shows. When he first entered a Chinese monastery, he was angry at being ranked with the beginning novices, and he went to considerable trouble to try and change this, even going up as far as the Emperor of China, who refused to do anything about it. On the other hand, his search for true understanding was sincere,

[12:30]

and in fact circumstance, as we shall see, constantly pointing him towards the answer to his questions. Dogen, being already somewhat advanced, had advanced questions. His biggest question was, if we are already actually in possession of Buddha nature, and we are already enlightened, why do we need to practice? Why doesn't Buddha nature simply and automatically manifest? If we are originally enlightened, why do we have to work so hard? There may be those among you here today who have pondered exactly this question, who have meditated for years and feel you are no closer now than you were ten years ago. Perhaps you read how-to books to find the way. Perhaps you went to teachers to get a hint of how to proceed. Maybe you went to the Zen Dome, determined to concentrate until something, anything happened. If you felt like this, or had some intensity of despair, because you couldn't seem to get inside to happen, you have some idea of how Dogen felt

[13:33]

at age 23 as he approached the source of China. There's a story which shows the way. This isn't an especially Buddhist story, but it's one that illustrates what's needed. There was once a boy whose father taught him archery. Him and some other boys. Every day they went out to the woods to practice their archery. Over the course of time, the boys got to be fairly good, and the son was the best of all. But try as he might, he could not best his father at either target shooting or hunting. The father observed the boys and patiently corrected their aim, their stance, their draw. At the end of every session, he would point towards the target and say, what do you see? The son would look around. He saw the woods, the grass, the sky, the birds, the target, the other archers, his father.

[14:34]

He suggested all these things to his father, who always shook his head. The son got very impatient with the father. It would stalk off, muttering and sighing to himself. Time went on. One day, when the son was not far from adulthood, his village was attacked. Without hesitation, he took his bow and began to fight. As he did, his concentration was totally one with the target. Suddenly, he realized what his father was asking. He saw nothing but one thing, and seeing that became one with it. After that, he never missed. Dogen was in the same situation. He had been asked constantly what he was seeing, but what he saw was books, temples, levels of seniority, and these occupied his mind. Yet his intuition and his instinct told him there was more.

[15:36]

That which he was seeking was driving him to seek. Circumstances respond to the sincere seeker. Though not always as he has in mind. Sometimes we expect and hope that angels and visions will come down and tell us the way. But you know, often it's some ordinary thing. Dogen's journey was interrupted at his point of arrival because he had not yet taken the full ordination which Chinese Buddhists required to travel on to the monasteries. He waited for a full three months on the ship while Miao Zen and the other two monks went on ahead of him. Naturally, he occupied his time studying sutras. But he was not totally unaware of the merchant activities which were going on aboard the ship. The ship carried Japanese mushrooms as part of its cargo. And one day, Dogen saw an elderly Chinese monk on board buying mushrooms. Dogen approached the monk and asked him where he was from.

[16:38]

The monk named his monastery and mentioned that he was the chief cook. Tenzo in Japanese. And he had come some 14 miles to the ship that day to buy mushrooms as a treat for the other monks. The monk was quite elderly and he had made this trip so far in one day and still had 14 miles to go back. When Dogen asked him to stay overnight, he refused, telling him that he needed to return to the monastery so that the schedule would not be interrupted. . . . Then Dogen said to him, You can't imagine how fortunate I feel that we were able to meet unexpectedly like this. If it's possible, I wish you would stay a while longer and allow me to offer you something more. I am sorry, but that is impossible just now.

[17:40]

If I am not there tomorrow to prepare the meal, it will not be made well. But surely there must be others in the place as large as Ayuan who are capable of preparing the meals. They will not be that inconvenienced if you are not there, will they? I have been put in charge of this work in my old age. It is, so to speak, the practice of an old man. How can I entrust all that work to others? Moreover, when I left the temple, I did not ask for permission to stay out overnight. But why, when you are so old, do you do the hard work of a Tenzo? Why do you not spend your time practicing Zazen or working on the koans of former teachers? Is there something special to be gained from working particularly as a Tenzo? He burst out laughing and remarked, My good friend from abroad, you do not yet understand what practice is all about, nor do you know the meaning of characters. When I heard this old monk's words, I was taken aback and felt greatly ashamed.

[18:42]

So I asked him, What are characters? And what is practice? He replied, If you do not deceive yourself about this problem, you will be a man of the way. At the time, I was unable to grasp the meaning of his words. I was shocked at Dogen's mind. He was a cook who cooked, telling him that he did not understand. Cooks were low on the totem pole in Japanese society and monasteries. In fact, most monasteries hired people to cook for them. And yet, he certainly seemed to know what he was talking about. The old cook invited Dogen to meet again after Dogen left the ship. Eventually, Dogen got through to Dogen, followed all the bureaucratic requirements for his passport, and he left. First, he went to Mount Tiangtong, where he had yet another encounter with a cook. A monk called Lu from Qingyang Fu

[19:52]

was serving as tenzo. One day after the new meal, I was walking to another building within the complex when I noticed Lu drying mushrooms in the sun in front of the butsuden. He carried a bamboo stick, but had no hat on his head. The sun rays beat down so harshly that the tiles along the walk burned on his feet. Lu worked hard and was covered with sweat. I could not help but feel the work was too much of a strain for him. His back was a bow-drawn taunt, his long eyebrows were craned white. I approached and asked his age. He replied that he was sixty-eight. Then I went on to ask him why he never used any assistants. He answered, Other people are not me. You are right, I said. I can see that your work is the activity of the Buddhadharma, but why are you working so hard in this scorching sun? He replied, If I do not do it now, what else can I do it?

[20:56]

Once again Durden was forcibly reminded that meditation and study, as he had learned, were not the sole practices of the religious. He was beginning to understand that there was another form of practice, one which embraced his whole life and all of his actions. Then the first good came back like a comet into his life. This time he came to the monastery to see Durden. He said, As the summer practice period has ended, I shall be retiring as Tenzo and plan to return home. I heard that you were here and wanted very much to talk with you and see how you were doing. I was indeed happy to see him and received him cordially. We talked about various things and finally came to the matter he had touched on on board ship concerning the practice and study of characters.

[22:04]

He said, A person who studies characters must know just what characters are, and while intending to practice the way, must understand what practice is. I asked him again, What are characters? One, two, three, four, five. He replied, What is practice? There is nothing in the world that is hidden. Now Durden had gotten two very important things from his encounter. One, the discipline was necessary. The first cook returned to the monastery because he had a job and he had not asked for permission to be away overnight. The inner discipline is related to giving up the self. The cook was an alcoholic and was a very good drinker. He was not going to follow his own inclinations, but to do fully his job. The Tenzo at Mount Tiantan worked hard in the sun saying,

[23:09]

Other men are not me. If I do not do it now, when can I do it? This practice goes on day and night, every minute, giving everything, holding nothing back. The second thing for Durden was a new idea of practice. This was a new vital zazen, not the Koan study he had been taught in Rinzai Zen, but the fresh, immediate dropping of body and mind to meet Buddha face to face. What are characters? Durden asked. The cook replied, One, two, three, four, five. What is practice? There is nothing in the world which is hidden. How do you understand this? There is nothing in the world which is hidden. Can you get there by counting? One, two, three, four, five.

[24:13]

Durden was working hard in beginning to get right, but he wasn't quite right yet. So circumstance, that mysterious thing, conspired again. He had left Mount Tiantan to travel, hoping to meet a teacher who could fully resolve his questions. He traveled China for around one and a half years and had a lot of experiences which served to tantalize him spiritually, but he had still not yet met his master. Just as he was on the verge of planning his return to Japan, he was told that the former teacher at Mount Tiantan had died and a Zen master named Jucheng had taken his place. Going back to the mountain, he found a master in whom he could repose full confidence and began to train under him. You might ask yourself, how did he know Jucheng was a master and the other men he met were not?

[25:17]

This is what Durden himself said. The authentic teacher does not question the age or the degree of learning. He has realized the authentic Dharma and has attained the seal of approval as the authentic teacher. He does not consider words or the ability for comprehension to be the most important. He is a man of extraordinary strength and unsurpassed vigor. Without preoccupation with his view of self and without indulging in his emotion, he devotes himself to training and enlightenment. Such is the authentic teacher. There is another level of recognition which Durden doesn't discuss but which rings throughout his journal. This is what the Tibetans call knowing. This knowing is of the heart and is immediate and clear. Not only did Nogen know Jucheng, but Jucheng also knew Nogen. Recognizing each other, they entered the way together.

[26:21]

Now Durden's practice entered an interesting period. He practiced Zazen intensively. Monks at Jucheng's monastery got up and began to sit at 2.30 or 3 a.m. after having finished sitting at 11 p.m. the night before. We are pretty easy here to get up at 5. Jucheng was imperious and insistent. He said, birth and death are vital matters. The impermanent world passes swiftly away. With time so short, how foolish it is to fail to practice the Buddha Dharma and to waste your time in sleep. This is what brings the decline of the Buddha Dharma. For those who have the mind for the way and the determination to discipline, the longer the sitting period, the greater the enjoyment they find in their training. Because the abbots in all the corners of the world are lenient towards sitting,

[27:24]

the Buddha Dharma is declining. All the more, we must strike them hard. Jucheng's emphasis are the importance of sitting for the attainment of enlightenment was actually unique in his time. Other monasteries had, in his opinion, less rigorous training in sitting. And generally, this was true. Usually, I believe they began to sit around 4 o'clock in the morning. That would be the first watch of the night. And perhaps they went to bed around 11. So, at Jucheng's monastery, they were getting an average probably of about three hours sleep a day. And working hard in addition to sitting because there was a work practice besides their Zazen practice. Dogen was finally fulfilling the cook's teaching. He had a mind for discipline and a mind for the way. Furthermore, he had met a man who could decisively answer any question he asked. And he did ask questions, many of them.

[28:26]

Most of his Chinese journal is about the questions he asked and Jucheng's answer. At the same time, something else was happening. Dogen's heart was melting. Over and over again, he records, Dogen was deeply moved and the tears moistened his sleeve. Sometimes he said, the tears ran down my face into my collar. In any case, he spent a lot of time crying. At the beginning of the journal, his interactions with Jucheng were described very matter-of-factly. By the middle of the journal, Jucheng is always described as speaking and teaching with compassion. He would say, Jucheng compassionately said. And then he would say what he said. And then he would say, Dogen humbly bowed. Dogen's tears wet his sleeve. So there was clearly, there was something going on. He was writing, it was deep joy hearing the teaching. He was regaining the faith he lost as a child.

[29:29]

And in the process, the walls of the sutra and the intellect were coming down. Like the boy archer of the story, his eye was focused on one thing only, the true intuitive knowledge of the Dharma, which Jucheng bore witness to in his own being. Since we're even here with Jucheng's teaching, as well as Dogen's and Suzuki Roshi's, let me give a brief synopsis of it. Jucheng felt that the Dharma had decayed significantly in China due to the common philosophical position that Taoism and Confucianism and Buddhism were identical. He thought that identifying Buddhism with these other schools diluted the Buddhist teachings. He was also very critical of sectarian development within Chan Buddhism itself, that is the particular sect he belonged to, which at that point had split into two or three different schools. And there was squabbling to a certain extent going on between them. He believed that the Dharma was undivided and that Chan was based on wisdom and discipline

[30:31]

as well as meditation. He taught the essential unity of the teachings and he deplored the craving for rank and fame, which he felt other abbots displayed. The heart of his teaching was a relentless insistence on single-minded intense sitting, what has come down to us as shikantaza. Furthermore, he practiced what he preached. Darwin records him as saying, Since the age of 19, there has not been a single day or night when I did not sit on the meditation cushion. In my mind, I always had the Buddha sitting in meditation as a model. There were times when I suffered from piles. Then all the more did I exert myself to sitting in meditation. Darwin customarily referred to Ju Ching as the old Buddha, and it's not hard to see why. One night, Dogen was sitting next to a monk who was sleeping on his cushion. Ju Ching came up behind the sleeping monk and shouted, When you study under a master,

[31:32]

you must drop the body and mind. What is the use of single-minded intense sleeping? At that moment, Dogen woke up. He dropped body and mind. Awaking was decisive. From it flowed a Dharma stream which has come down to us in great abundance. Suzuki Roshi said, talking about this event, When Dogen said, No body, no mind, all of his being in that moment became a flashing into the vast phenomenal world. A flashing which included everything which covered everything and which had immense quality in it. All the phenomenal world was included within it in absolute interdependent existence. Starting from the lonely feeling

[32:33]

of the evanescence of life, he attained the powerful experience of the quality of his being. Ten years after leaving China, Dogen wrote, To study the Buddha way is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be actualized by the myriad things. When actualized by the myriad things, your body and mind, as well as the bodies and minds of others, drop away. No trace of realization remains and this no trace continues endlessly. After this experience, Dogen became the Dharma he had sought for so long. We, the students of his school, have the same potential, the same Buddha nature. With a will to discipline and a mind for the way, we too can drop body and mind.

[33:35]

Let's give Jucheng and Dogen and Suzuki Roshi the thanks of a few moments of Zazen. As we sit, they walk among us, walking us with slippers and endowing us with the Dharma. Zazen

[34:42]

Zazen Zazen

[35:42]

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