We say
to practice zazen
without any gaining idea,
without any purpose. Let things work
as they do, supporting everything as your own.
Real practice has orientation or direction, but it has
no purpose or gaining idea, so it can include everything
that comes. Whether it is good or bad doesn’t matter.
If something bad comes: “Okay, you are a part
of me;” and if something good comes,
“Oh, okay.” Because we don’t have
any special goal or purpose
of practice, it doesn’t
matter what
comes.
Dogen Zen-ji says,
“Even though it is midnight, dawn is here.
Even though dawn comes, it is nighttime.” This kind
of statement conveys the understanding transmitted from
Buddha to the Patriarchs, and from the Patriarchs to Dogen,
and to us. Nighttime and daytime are not different.
The same thing is sometimes called nighttime,
sometimes called daytime. Nighttime
and daytime are one thing.
Zazen practice and
everyday activity are one thing.
We call zazen everyday life, and everyday life zazen.
But usually we think, “Now zazen is over, and now we
will go about our everyday activity.” But this is not the
right understanding. They are the same thing. We
have nowhere to escape. So in activity there
should be calmness, and in calmness
there should be activity. So
calmness and activity
are not different.
Our
understanding is not just
an intellectual understanding.
True understanding is
actual practice
itself.
There are
paths which ought not be
taken, forces who shouldn’t be struck,
cities to which siege should not be laid,
positions better left uncontested.
When the sovereign’s orders
fly in the face of this, it is
wiser not to carry
them out.
from The Art of War, Chapter VIII
ebooks & apps of the Tao the Ching, I Ching,
Hua hu Ching, and Art of War for
You
can now buy
The Art of War as part of a
five-app bundle of Taoist classics
for iPhone or iPad for less than
the cost of one hardcover
book.
With so much on my mind
It’s hard to express myself in letters.
How long has it been since I left home?
Old friends are no longer young.
Frosted leaves fall into empty bird nests;
River fireflies weave through open windows.
I stop at a forest monk’s,
And spend the night in “quiet sitting.”