Day 3 Practice Is Not Limited to Sitting Meditation | The Sword of Wisdom

Walking is Ch’an, sitting is Ch’an;
Speaking or silent, moving or still, the essence is undisturbed.
Remain composed even if facing a sharp weapon,
Be at ease even if given poison.

In this stanza, Yung-chia explains that a practitioner is never separate from Ch’an, no matter what he does or where he is. Ch’an is everywhere. Whether you practice or do not practice, you are never apart from Ch’an.

People sometimes ask me: “Do you teach Japanese Zen or Chinese Ch’an?” It is a ridiculous question. In 1976, during the first retreat I held in the United States, I said to the participants, “I didn’t bring Ch’an with me from the Far East. Ch’an is not something I can carry and give to you. Ch’an has always existed in the West.”

Through the ages, people have asked masters what Bodhidharma brought to China from India. One master replied, “Three pounds of flax;” another answered, “Just a big bowl;” still another replied, “A large turnip.” One master looked at his robe and commented that it was made in Chin-chou. Trying to analyze these answers would be as foolish as asking the question in the first place. These are nonsensical answers to an inane question. Ch’an was not exported from India when Bodhidharma went to China, and Ch’an was not brought to the United States when Ch’an masters started coming here. Whether or not Buddhadharma, practice or Ch’an masters exist makes no difference: Ch’an is always present.

Ch’an is everywhere, even in places where no one has ever heard of Buddhadharma. When a dog barks, that is Ch’an; when a cat catches a mouse, that is Ch’an. But this does not mean dogs and cats are enlightened, or that they can attain enlightenment. Ch’an is one thing, practice is another.

There is a second meaning regarding Ch’an and the practitioner. Ch’an and meditation are not necessarily the same. Ch’an is not confined to meditation. Walking, sitting, eating and sleeping can and should be Ch’an. In Buddhist teachings, walking and sitting, as well as standing and lying down, symbolize all activities that humans perform.

Yesterday, one of you said to me, “I want to leave. All I do when I sit is daydream. I’m not making any progress. I’m just eating the Ch’an Center’s food.”

I replied, “Eating is Ch’an. It is practice if you eat with a focused mind. Stay on the retreat, and eat as well as you can.”

A student who had just begun to practice visited a master and asked him for a method. The master asked, “Do you know how to eat?”

The student replied, “Sure. As a matter of fact, I’ve just eaten my fill.”

The master asked, “Do you know how to sleep?”

“Even babies know how to sleep, ” the student answered.

“I’ve slept most of my life away. I sleep too much and don’t practice enough.”

The master asked, “Apart from eating and sleeping, is there any other method you would like?”

The student became worried. “Please don’t joke around. I know how to eat and sleep. I want to know how to practice.”

The master answered, “You really don’t know how to eat or sleep.” The student argued with the master, pointing out that he’d been eating and sleeping his entire life. The master continued, “When people eat, they really don’t know what they’re doing. They eat with confused minds; and when people sleep, they really aren’t sleeping at all. Most of the time they’re lost in dreams.”

The master told the student that when he ate, he should do so with single-mindedness, with total attention and concentration, and no other thoughts. The same with sleep: When the student slept, he should just sleep, with a single mind ─ complete attention and no confusion. This itself is practice. As soon as the student heard these instructions, he was able to practice smoothly.

During retreat, you should be completely focused on whatever you are doing. There should be no other thoughts in your mind. Does that mean that when you are eating, sleeping, or going to the bathroom, it is Ch’an? It depends on whether or not you have scattered thoughts. If your mind is not concentrated, it is not Ch’an. If your mind is not clear, it is not the proper practice. However, any of these things can be Ch’an for someone who is truly practicing.

When you clean a room, if your mind is on the hand that holds the dust cloth, and no where else, that is practice. Why, then, do we emphasize sitting meditation, and not eating, sleeping, or working meditation? Because sitting meditation is a structured way of practicing single-mindedness, whereas the other methods, which are embedded in our daily life, are easier to perform automatically. We forget we are eating and sleeping, and become lost in wandering thoughts.

A member of the Center recently brought in a cartoon depicting a meditation hall. In it, a Ch’an master slept soundly behind a lifesize cardboard replica of himself sitting in meditation while his disciples practiced hard. But it was the master, sleeping single-mindedly, who had entered the door of Ch’an, not the disciples.

An old Ch’an story tells of a practitioner who was on a pilgrimage with his older Dharma brother. Whenever they stopped, the younger brother immediately dropped his bags, assumed the sitting posture and began to meditate; but the older brother dropped his bags, lay down and went to sleep. The Dharma brother who meditated became more annoyed at every stop. Finally, he could stand it no longer, and threatened to leave. The older brother asked why, and the younger brother replied, “We went through so much trouble leaving home and becoming monks. Time is limited. We should be using every minute wisely, but here you are sleeping your life away!”

Rubbing his eyes, the older brother asked, “What’s wrong with sleeping?”

“We should be practicing, and the proper practice is sitting meditation.”

The older brother picked up the Song of Enlightenment and read the stanza I am commenting on now.

The younger brother admitted, “Perhaps you are at the point where sleep can be practice, but I am not at that level yet. it doesn’t work for me.”

“What is it that doesn’t work?” asked the older brother.

The younger one answered, “My mind hasn’t settled down yet.”

“And where does your mind want to settle down to?” inquired the elder.

When the younger brother heard these words, his mind became clear and radiant. He had been trying to force his mind to settle down, but the energy he expended only made him tense. His brother’s words made him realize that his effort had been in vain; it was disturbing rather than settling his mind. He let go of his forced determination and his mind settled by itself, becoming clear and radiant.

If, in a particular activity, you can settle your mind to a point where it does not move, that is good. If your mind is silent and unmoving in all activities and every situation, then it is truly settled. In such a mind-state, how do you think you would react if someone approached you with a sharp knife, intending to kill you? You would recognize that someone was approaching you with a knife, but you would not feel fear. For the truly settled mind, there is no sense of fear because such a mind lacks the idea of a person or self that can be killed.

If I took a knife and slashed water, would you be afraid? If you have entered the gate of Ch’an, a person attacking you with a knife would disturb your mind no more than would a person slashing water. If you feel fear when you are in a life and death situation, then you can be sure you have not entered the gate of Ch’an.

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