Living by Vow

by Shohaku Okumura

  This third kind of nirvana is the basis of our practice. We don’t practice to reach the other shore. We always practice on this shore. In fact, we don’t separate this shore from the other. Both shores are right now, right here. If we separate this shore from the other, we generate dualism and contradiction. There’s no way to escape this shore and attain the other. In reality there is no separation. We practice in this world, in this society; to carry out the bodhisattva vow, to walk with all living beings, to help and support each other. Then we can find nirvana right here within samsara. We vow eventually to transform samsara into nirvana without escape.

  Our practice is not an escape from a worldly life of desire and delusion. It is not a method to “attain” enlightenment or wisdom. We just sit in the absolute reality that is before separation into enlightenment and delusion. They are both here. We negate nothing. We accept everything as reality and work together with it. There is no one to attain enlightenment and no enlightenment to be attained. The Heart Sutra says this is wisdom or prajñā. To see that there is no separation between delusion and enlightenment or between ignorance and wisdom is true enlightenment, true wisdom. This prajñā is often called the wisdom of nondiscrimination. It means to see both sides as a whole and create our own way of life based on this absolute reality. This is what Dōgen Zenji called shikantaza, just sitting.

  Shikantaza doesn’t mean that we are okay as long as we are sitting or that we don’t need to do anything else. Just sitting really means just sitting, with no attempt to escape from or chase after anything. Just settle down right now, right here. This is just sitting. It doesn’t mean we should sit exclusively, without doing anything else. Just sitting means just settling down right now, right here, and working on the ground of this absolute reality before the separation of samsara and nirvana. Samsara and nirvana are one. That is prajñā. That is wisdom before separation or discrimination. It’s easy to talk about but very difficult to practice.

  I first studied Buddhism at Komazawa University. I liked studying, but studying books about Buddhism is like studying recipes without cooking or tasting. When I decided that was not what I wanted to do, I visited Uchiyama Roshi and asked to become his student. Since I had studied hard in school, I knew a lot about Buddhism. When I started to practice at Antaiji we sat a lot. We sat three fifty-minute periods in the morning and two in the evening. We had five-day sesshins every month. During these sesshins we sat fourteen periods each day. We did nothing but sit—no chanting, no lecture, no working, nothing but sitting. I believed that this practice of just sitting, taught by Dōgen Zenji, was the Way. I kept up this practice for many years until eventually I was unable to continue. Zazen became very painful for me. I had no money. I was thirty-one years old. I had no place to live. My body was broken so I couldn’t work. I had no group to practice with. I was completely alone.

  It was a really good situation in which to see myself. It was a very hard time, and I thought a lot about what I had been doing. I could no longer devote myself to practice as before. Dōgen Zenji taught there’s nothing to attain. Sawaki Roshi said our practice of zazen is good for nothing. I knew that I shouldn’t expect anything from practice. I had thought I was practicing without expectation, but when I couldn’t practice in the way I had, I felt I was good for nothing. I thought I had been doing things without desire, but when I was unable to continue I felt useless and empty. I finally realized that I felt worthless because I was unable to fulfill my desire to practice in a certain way. I finally understood that the purpose of our practice is not to fulfill our desires, even our desire for the dharma.

  If we practice in order to fulfill our desires, sooner or later we lose those things that fulfill our desire. We all lose our youth and eventually our health. If we believe that a certain style of practice is the Buddha’s true practice and makes a person a real Buddhist, we are not good Buddhists. This is samsara. Sometimes we are good, sometimes we are not. I realized that to the extent my practice was based on a distinction between good and bad, there was no nirvana for me. The way I practiced before I was thirty really was good for nothing. I was practicing in samsara, not nirvana. I was unable to continue practicing, but if I stopped and started doing something else, I would create another samsara. So I tried to just stop everything. I started doing takuhatsu to survive. I lived on about three hundred dollars a month, just enough for food. I had to give up any treatment for my body. I quit everything. I also quit practice based on desire, on my idea of what practice should be. I practiced as much as my physical and financial situation allowed. I found that I didn’t need to compete with other people or with myself. I didn’t need to compete with who I was or who I thought I should be. I had to accept reality with a half-broken body in a very hard situation. When I did, there was nothing to seek after, nothing to escape from. I didn’t need to sit fourteen periods a day for five days. I simply had to settle down in the present moment.

  This was the turning point of my practice. I became free of my own practice. I became free of my teacher’s teaching and the Buddha’s teaching. I just settled down in the reality where I was and practiced as much as possible. This is a really peaceful practice. You don’t need to compete. Just settle down. If I hadn’t had physical problems, I don’t think my practice would have changed. I thought I was a great Zen master, but fortunately or unfortunately that didn’t happen. Adverse experience gave me a broader perspective on the dharma. I am really grateful for that. This is bodhisattva practice. Although our capability is sometimes severely limited, we can find the compassionate Buddha that allows us to practice, even if only a little. That is enough. I think this is real nirvana. We don’t need to find nirvana in a special place or state of mind. Nirvana is right now, right here.

  This nirvana is not something special, just an ordinary way of life. I think the Heart Sutra is trying to show us this way of life. Just accept the reality of this body, mind, and world as it is and practice as much as possible. This is bodhisattva practice.

  NO HINDRANCE

  “The bodhisattva depends on prajñā-pāramitā

  And the mind is no hindrance.

  Without any hindrance no fears exist;

  Far apart from every perverted view the bodhisattva dwells in nirvana.

  “In the three worlds all buddhas depend on prajñā-pāramitā And attain unsurpassed, complete, perfect enlightenment.”

  The sutra up to this point has talked about the emptiness of all beings. Emptiness means everything is impermanent, so there is no unchanging self-nature. Seeing impermanence and egolessness is the wisdom called prajñā-pāramitā. A consequence of this prajñā is there is no one to see reality. No one is there. There is nothing we can gain through wisdom. Actually there is no wisdom. If wisdom existed, our practice wouldn’t be really empty. The conclusion of wisdom, of prajñā, is that there is no one who gains and nothing to be gained.

  This section of the Heart Sutra talks about our wisdom and the practice of that wisdom. It says, “With nothing to attain, the bodhisattva depends on prajñā-pāramitā.” The present translation says “the bodhisattva” but doesn’t specify a particular bodhisattva. Rather, it refers to each one of us as a bodhisattva. As we see in the longer version of the Heart Sutra, Avalokiteśvara here is responding to Śāriputra’s question about how people who wish to practice profound prajñā-pāramitā should train themselves. And this sutra is Avalokiteśvara’s answer. Therefore, “the bodhisattva” refers to any person who has aroused bodhi-mind, including ourselves. Originally, “the Bodhisattva” referred to Shakyamuni before he became the Buddha. Shakyamuni aroused bodhi-mind, Way-seeking mind, or aspiration to find the truth. When he attained the Way or enlightenment, he was called the Buddha. Before he became the Buddha he was called the Bodhisattva, the person who is seeking the truth. Later in the Buddhist literature, especially in Mahāyāna Buddhism, there are many bodhisattvas, such as Mañjuśrī and Avalokiteśvara. They are very great bodhisattvas. Avalokiteśvara, who is preaching th
is Heart Sutra, is not seeking to attain enlightenment, and not choosing to become a buddha. Out of compassion for others Avalokiteśvara stays in this world as a bodhisattva and yet is considered the teacher of buddhas. So in Mahāyāna Buddhism “bodhisattva” doesn’t necessarily mean a person who is practicing to become a buddha. There are bodhisattvas who vow not to become buddhas because of their compassion.

  The important point in Mahāyāna Buddhism is that all of us, not just great bodhisattvas like Mañjushrī, Avalokiteśvara, or Maitreya, are bodhisattvas if we awaken the bodhi-mind that seeks the Way or reality. As bodhisattvas we try to see the emptiness in which there is no one who sees reality and nothing to be seen. No wisdom: this is the meaning of “nothing to attain, no one who attains, and nothing which is attained.” The Japanese for “with nothing to attain” is mushotoku. Mu means “no” or “nothing” and shotoku means “income,” so mushotoku means “no income.” We have no income. This is prajñā—no gain and no loss. There’s nothing coming in or going out because there is no place where anything can come to or go from. There is no border, no separation, just a flow of energy. This is reality beyond our conceptual and calculating way of thinking.

  We are born as human beings and we gain nothing. We will die sooner or later and lose nothing. We are born with nothing but this body and mind. While we are living we think we attain, gain, or accomplish something. But when we die we leave everything behind, so only this body and mind die. We really attain nothing and lose nothing. This is the reality of our life. But we don’t see this because we are always calculating our income and expenditures. When we have more coming in than going out we think our life is secure and successful. But if we understand that nothing comes in and nothing goes out, we actually have a much more secure foundation for our lives. We don’t need to worry so much about income and expense, success and failure, poverty and wealth. It’s not a real problem. As bodhisattvas we rely on this wisdom.

  A bodhisattva’s mind has no hindrance. “Hindrance” here means something that covers our mind, or an obstacle that prevents us from seeing reality as it is. A hindrance is something that makes it impossible for our mind to be natural. The Chinese expression is keige. Kei and ge both mean difficulties through which we can pass. These impediments are within us. Something covers or constrains our mind so we cannot be free. We are limited and made rigid by our knowledge and ways of thinking. Life is always moving. It’s soft and flexible. When you put a big rock on a plant it tries to move through or around the obstruction and continue to grow. This is the flexibility of the life force. If we have an idea that we have to be this way or that, we have something very heavy sitting on our life. We cannot grow. We think our life is a failure and that we’re in trouble. But the life force is flexible. There is always some other way to live, to grow, and to manifest our life force.

  We should try to see the hindrances in our minds, the obstacles that block our free growth. As bodhisattvas we are freed from hindrances by seeing emptiness. We see that nothing exists as substance, so there is nothing to prevent our growth. Obstacles are illusions, delusions, and creations of our thought. We fear because of our desires. We think they must be fulfilled, and we’re afraid that’s impossible. We think there is only one way to live even though there are many ways. So our desires, our ideas, our values become hindrances, and we are not free. This is the meaning of fears. But if we remove our imagined obstacles we can grow in many different ways.

  The sutra tells us that the bodhisattva dwells “far apart from every perverted view.” The expression in Japanese is ten dō musō. Here mu means “dream” and sō means “thinking.” Musō then literally means “thought in dream.” Tendō means “upside-down.” Our attitude, or understanding of our thought, is upside-down. We cannot wake up. We are thinking in a dream. We create our own picture of the world depending on our karma or experience. Our experience is very limited, and yet we think it is the whole world. So we are like the frog in the well. We can see only a small circle of sky, but we think we are seeing the whole universe. Even seeing emptiness doesn’t allow us to see the whole universe, but it enables us to realize that our view is limited.

  In our zazen we see that we are deluded. This is enlightenment. We see that we are deluded and limited, so we let go of thought. We become free from our limited views. This doesn’t mean we can see the whole universe. That’s impossible because we always have a particular position or point of view. When I look in this direction I can see this side of the world. I cannot see the half behind me. I know it’s there because of my memory. But it’s just a memory. We are seeing only half the world, but because of our assumptions and memory we think we can see the whole. We even think that we can see how other people see the world. But since we each have a unique perspective, we can never see the world in the same way. In fact, each of us has a different perspective, a unique way of seeing, thinking, feeling, and valuing things. We become flexible when we free ourselves from our fixed views. This is prajñā.

  “Perverted” literally means “upside-down.” We usually assume that our thoughts operate our body and mind. Our body and mind serve the emperor, thought. This is really upside-down. Thought is just one part of our life, but we so often live on the basis of our thinking. This is really an upside-down way of seeing things. If we turn it over, then we are living. We all have life force. Part of it is our power of thought. We don’t need to discard this power, but we should realize that what we think is not reality. Once we really accept that thought is only a part of our life, most of the fear and other problems caused by our thoughts will disappear. We want to be secure. If we can’t support ourselves we are afraid. It’s very natural. But we can think too much. We can think about ten, twenty, or thirty years in the future. We even worry about the world after our death. It’s okay to think about the future, but if worrying about it prevents us from living in this present moment, it’s too much. Bodhisattva practice is about this present moment.

  Within this present moment there is a direction to the future. We usually think what we are doing right now is a preparation for the future or a step to accomplish something. But this is an upside-down way of seeing things. Our effort, work, or study at this present moment brings about the future. We can think about it but we don’t need to worry. Worry dilutes our effort and it’s not healthy. So just be right now, right here, and put your whole energy into what you are doing. This is prajñā. It is very difficult. Moment by moment we have to let go of worry and fear and return to this moment. That is our practice of mindfulness, sitting in zazen, letting go, and coming back to this moment. This letting go is the practice of prajñā.

  The next two lines of the sutra are:

  “In the three worlds all buddhas depend on prajñā-pāramitā

  And attain unsurpassed, complete, perfect enlightenment.”

  The three worlds here are the past, present, and future. The Japanese for “three worlds” is sanze. San is “three” and ze means “generation” or “time.” “Unsurpassed, complete, perfect” means “absolute.” There is nothing relative. There is no separation between self and others or between self and all beings. That is enlightenment. Here the Heart Sutra tells us that through prajñā-pāramitā we can liberate ourselves. We can transform ourselves from slaves of thought, slaves of the ego, into bodhisattvas. We use our thoughts, delusions, and desires as the seeds of prajñā, which we nurture with our practice. We make them function as the Buddha’s work. Prajñā is called the Buddha’s mother. This is the way of life the Heart Sutra and Mahāyāna Buddhism encourage us to follow.

  To become free from all perverted views or upside-down ways of seeing things means to turn the foundation of our life over, to see reality and live based on it. Reality means impermanence and egolessness. Nothing stays forever unchanged. There is nothing substantial. Everything is changing, and everything is supported by everything else. We are all connected, one universal life force.

  As we’ve seen, in Dōgen’s teaching m
ushotoku—no income, no attainment—is essential. In Shōbōgenzō “Zuimonki,” a record of his informal talks, he says:

  Now if you wish to practice the way of the buddhas and ancestors, you should practice the way of the previous sages, as well as the conduct of the ancestors with no (expectation of) profit; expect nothing, seek nothing, gain nothing. Although you should quit seeking and give up expectations of buddhahood, if you stop practicing and continue engaging in your former evil deeds, you will still be guilty of seeking and will fall back into the old nest.

  Without having the slightest expectation, maintain the prescribed manner of conduct. Think of acting to save and benefit living beings, earnestly carry out all good deeds, and give up former evil ones. Do this solely for the sake of becoming the foundation of happiness for human and heavenly beings. Without stagnating in good deeds of the present, continue practicing your whole lifetime. An ancient called this practice “breaking the bottom of the lacquer pail.” The way of the life of the buddhas and ancestors is like this.92

  Here Dōgen admonishes us to be mushotoku, without expectation of income. It’s very strict. Our zazen, study, work, all the activities of our daily lives are our practice. We should do them as the practice of this moment without expectation of result or reward in the future. Just put our whole energy into this moment and results or fruits will grow naturally. We simply need to trust the life force itself.

  When we hear this teaching we might think to practice is to seek after enlightenment. If so, it sounds like Dōgen Zenji is saying you shouldn’t practice. He, however, continues, “Although you should quit seeking and give up expectations of buddhahood, if you stop practicing and continue engaging in your former evil deeds, you will still be guilty of seeking and will fall back into the old nest.” Evil deeds mean karmic deeds, activities based on our personal desires. So if we stop practice to avoid seeking buddhahood, we are still seeking. We become just ordinary human beings. So we have to continue practicing without expectation. It’s really difficult.