1. THE CH'AN RETREAT | Getting The Buddha Mind

Clack! Clack! Clack!
Clack! Clack! Clack!
Dawn breaks hard on the sleepy practitioner.

It is 4:15 A.M. and the clapping of the morning boards signals another day of retreat. “Is it already four hours since I eased my aching body ─ this figment of my mind ─ into the sleeping bag? Will I make it through another day? I? I? But who am I? To whom does this sleepiness and confusion belong? Better get up. Bathroom will be busy. Shih-Fu didn’t seem pleased with me yesterday. Must pull myself together today!”

This avalanche of mindstuff, though imaginary, typifies a kind of mental state that grips many a practitioner, especially during the early days of a Ch’an seven-day retreat. It is a mind confused, and distracted by pain and suffering, but basically not unlike the mental states experienced daily by the average person. It is a state of preoccupation with one’s private predicament, ruled by an army of doubts.

The difference is that the self-confrontation of the retreat brings into focus the distractions of an entire lifetime; indeed, in the teachings of Buddhism, the accumulated delusions of eons of rebirth. What is the source of these delusions? On a superficial level, it is the belief in the overriding importance of one’s private predicament. This is no great revelation. All the great ethical and religious systems address the question of self and selfishness in one way or another.

But the unique spirit of Buddhism is to challenge the fervent belief in the reality of that predicament itself, especially its private nature. Buddhism does not deny existence, or that existence is problematic. The central teaching is that the belief in a private predicament, a focus of interests and attitudes called the self, is itself the seeding ground of the problems of existence.

Master Sheng-Yen tells us, “Where there is a body, there is vexation.” Recognizing this poignant truth would lead one straightaway to the path of practice, if one’s sense of bodily existence were keen enough.

Practice to escape having a body? Of course not. Practice to learn that the possession of a body need not lead unalterably to delusion, minute after minute, day after day, life after life; practice to begin unravelling the threads of karma that knot us to our yearnings.

It is the phenomenon of having a body with sense faculties that is the root cause of vexation. And what is vexation? It is pain and suffering, but it is also pleasure and joy. At its most subtle level, vexation accompanies any change in the mind/body state, for it is the nature of the organism to avoid pain and adversity, and to prolong pleasure and comfort. As phenomena, our bodies undergo change constantly, so that subliminal as well as overt vexation are constant facts of life. Disease, unhappiness, and death may sometimes seem to come as chance events, but in reality are climaxes to hidden dramas long in the making. We are vexed even as we remain ignorant of vexation.

While the mind/body aggregate leads to a notion of self, and all the consequences that flow from that, it also contains all the possibilities of awakening to the Buddha mind, the true self-nature. “You must start with grasping the narrow sense of self. You must know this self in a very clear and solid manner.” So says Master Sheng-Yen to those starting on the path of practice. And again, “The self is not to be despised; it is your vehicle to selflessness.”

This pragmatic recognition of the need to start at some graspable level of certainty typifies the method of Master Sheng-Yen, and that of his spiritual lineage, Ch’an Buddhism. At the same time, the method of Ch’an deliberately cultivates in its practitioners a driving sense of urgency. This radical earnestness of Ch’an is exemplified in the story that the First Partriarch of Ch’an, the Indian Bodhidharma, sat in meditation for nine years facing a blank wall.

Still, it would be a mistake to confuse this earnestness with asoeticism or fanaticism. (The austere and zealous style of Ch’an is balanced by a gentle tolerance for human frailty, and an exquisite wit.) The intensity of Ch’an is a product of a precise method, animated by a deep faith in the example and the teaching of Sakyamuni, the Buddha of the current epoch. Again, it would be a mistake to make a mechanistic interpretation of the precision of Ch’an, and practitioners without a qualified master may fall into this error.

The paradigm of Ch’an, that which most reveals its intensity, precision, and spiritual ardor, is the relationship between master and disciple. The intensity is the result of the dynamic interplay between master and disciple in a game having the highest stakes, the eventual enlightenment of the disciple. This is crucial in a retreat because the disciple’s presence there is a signal that he accepts the master’s guidance. By coming to retreat, the student also accepts the challenge, unmistakably defined by the master, of bringing to bear all his physical and mental resources to progress to spiritual awakening. From the moment retreat begins, to
the moment it ends, the relationship of both master and student is defined by this understanding. To go on retreat with notions less rigorous than this, is to start with an extra burden.

The relationship of master and disciple may be likened to that of patient and doctor. That the patient is ill is not in dispute. The illness is the patient’s inability to abandon the delusions he has been harboring since birth. This inability is ultimately due to a deeply imbedded craving for form and existence, a desire for experience, carried as a karmic burden from one life to the next. Form and existence, when coupled with sentient faculties, lead eventually to the invention of a new and very sophisticated form, the self or “I”. If left unrestrained, the “I” soon becomes the overlord of our conscious life. The belief in the self-entity is the root delusion which proliferates new delusions without end, and seemingly without regard to their consequences. If health means abandoning the habits of falling into delusion, then a radical re-education towards the idea of I/self is needed. The course of cure begins with the patient’s recognition of his state, and his submission to the ministrations of his doctor, the Ch’an master.

The single most important qualification of the Ch’an master is that he has himself completed the same course of cure under his own master. In this sense he is not like the cancer specialist who has never had cancer, or the psychiatrist who has never been psychotic. He has himself travelled the path out of delusion on which he now guides his students. Beyond that, his level of attainment, his style, energy, eloquence, the qualities of his master, are individual matters. In any case, the significance of this qualification has to do with the notion of transmission.

Master Sheng-Yen says, “Transmission means that the student has had a Buddha-mind experience and the experience was recognized by a master.” On one level, the transmission certifies the student’s achievement; on another level, it certifies the method and lineage of Ch’an masters; on the highest level, it certifies the way and teaching of the Buddha.

What is the significance of the Buddha-mind experience? At a low level, it means that the practitioner has at least momentarily broken through the wall of delusion that prevented him from seeing his original nature, which is that of a Buddha. He discovers that this wall is really the old habitual ways of thinking and acting, which have been gradually eroded by patient and rigorous practice and meditation under a master. At a high level, it means that the disciple has become enlightened. At any level, it is only a beginning, for the path is without limits.

From the moment retreat begins, the zealous practitioner will make a determined effort to gain the Buddha-mind experience. To aim lower would be disrespectful to his master and a disservice to himself. Yet, the conscious evocation of such a goal is fraught with problems, and may become an enormous distraction. It has been said that to travel the spiritual path is to walk on the edge of a razor. On one side, the disciple may fall into indifference and indolence, on the other, into frustration and despair. The student must develop and maintain an exquisite balance, a concentrated detachment, to stay on course and make progress.

In most cases, and certainly with beginners, this is impossible without the strict guidance and intimate involvement Of the Ch’an master. To bring students to a plane of consistent and productive effort, the master applies the meditative methods of Ch’an to help them cut off their clinging to private concerns, to settle their minds, as a precondition for an awakening. Master Sheng-Yen says, “When the mind is settled, it opens up.”

When the student’s mind becomes calm and concentrated, it can be further refined and concentrated until it reaches a deep state of absorption, or samadhi. From there, one can make progress towards the experience of awakening.

In Master Sheng-Yen’s words, we “start with the scattered mind, bring it to samadhi, and using the method of Ch’an, dissolve the unified state. The scattered mind lacks focus and energy. The student’s energy must be collected and concentrated.” This statement suggests that besides being spiritual guide and meditation teacher, the Ch’an master is also a psychologist who must be very perceptive about the mental states of his students. Because it is not possible to achieve such intimate rapport with a large group, Master Sheng-Yen limits his retreats to a small number of participants.

The spiritual ardor of Ch’an is faith in action. It arises out of a state of mind based on a collaboration between master and disciple. The energy source from which both draw is their faith in the teaching and method transmitted from Sakyamuni, down through the patriarchs and masters. The state of mind that is created is one in which the conditions exist to allow, in Master Sheng-Yen’s words, “a cataclysmic experience” to happen.

For most students, the only context in which this can happen is the Ch’an retreat. While the retreat experience is a matter of individual effort and interaction with the master, it is also a profoundly shared collective experience. As participants settle into the practice and surrender their private outlook, the boundaries of their sense of identification gradually soften, and in so doing, widen. The retreat routine dictates that everybody does the same thing at the same time, foregoing distractions such as conversation and socializing. The schedule is filled with meditation, interviews with the master, preparing meals, working, reciting morning, afternoon, and evening services, and hearing Dharma talks by the master. There is no surplus time for pursuing private interests. Even time in the bathroom is minimal because of the limited accomodations. Finally, there are frequent reminders from the master to maintain the practice even during rest periods after meals.

All this has a powerful effect on mood and feeling. There is a collective mind from which all draw strength and encouragement. While struggling with their private drama, all find in this common well some comfort and energy to help them move forward. Setting the tone and tempo, is the Ch’an master. His words, actions, gestures, even silence, provide the focus and the motivating energy. To those who have stilled their minds and attained deep concentration, there may come feelings of great peace, exhilaration, bliss, and awe. Their samadhi and composure in turn affect the others, lifting all to higher dedication.

However, such feelings may become distractions, ends in themselves, easily mistaken as genuine realization. Now, the Ch’an master’s work becomes one of midwifery. He must guide and inspire the student, whose mind has ripened, to the more arduous effort that will be needed to give birth to the Buddha-mind. Before this can happen, the student must develop “a great ball of doubt.” Master Sheng-Yen says, “getting the Buddha-mind depends on developing a great ball of doubt which drives the student to energetic and diligent practice. This is not the everyday kind of doubt, but doubt that comes from great faith and determination.” The Ch’an master’s skill is most revealed in how he brings the student to this state, how he causes the “ball of doubt” to grow in the student’s mind. While we call this “skill, ” it is actually a spontaneous expression of the master’s compassion, which is not a sentiment, but a function of wisdom.

When the disciple’s response to the master’s compassion is intense spiritual ardor, or faith, this allows the “doubt mass” to gather great energy. The conditions being right, ultimately there may come a sense of surrender. When the sense of surrender reaches the extreme, when seeking, clinging, and conceptualizing are left behind, the mind is free to open. When the mind opens, the disciple crosses a threshold and enters “the door of Ch’an.” This cataclysmic experience is “wu, ” or emptiness. It is seeing self-nature; it is getting the Buddha-mind.

PREVIOUS: EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION | Getting The Buddha Mind
NEXT: II.THE BOOK | Getting The Buddha Mind