Don't Expect. Just Bow.

Time after time, Master Obaku told his students: "Don't expect anything from the Three Treasures (the Buddha, the Dharma, the Sangha - roughly the enlightened one, his truth, and the followers)." Yet time after time he performed deep bows - so deep, in fact, that a large callus had grown on his forehead from where it bumped the hard floor. Finally, catching Obaku in the act of bowing, one of his students challenged him: "You always tell us to expect nothing from the three Treasures. And yet here you are, making deep bows. Please explain yourself!"
"I don't expect," Obaku said. "I just bow." - Zen Mondo from the Zen Calendar (June 25, 2007).

Day 237. Whew. Close call. On my first attempt to boot the dinosaur, I got nothing. Not even the dreaded Blue Screen of Death. I remained calm (we Buddhists are known for that), and administered several rounds of Hand to Power Button Resuscitation. Made empty promises like a thorough dusting and untangling the web of electrical chaos under my son's desk. Peak Experience! The current words are being produced on Old Faithful. The dinosaur is like most crotchety old beings. Things are done on his terms and at his pace. Since a laptop is nowhere in my budget's future, I comply. Who says I can't sustain a long term relationship?

In yesterday's blog I was so busy talking about how terrific it was to be hit with the stick, I didn't finish describing my experience at the retreat. To summarize: it sucked. On the drive home at six o'clock, I was mildly surprised to reach that conclusion. Tonight, I am flabbergasted I have chosen to write about it. That commitment I made to "honestly bog about my zazen experience for a year" comes around to bite me in the butt every once in a while. But I digress. I will write the "Be Impeccable in Your Word" blog another night.

Despite my effort to the contrary, I obviously carried some expectations into the retreat. They likely spilled over from the experience I had a month ago at the Metta Meditation retreat. I left that day feeling astonishingly centered, clear-headed, and grounded in a great and powerful love. The teachings by Arpita remain with me today, and very positively influence my meditation practice. No wonder I entered a retreat led by Nick with some preconceptions of what might occur. I harbor deep and forbidden attachment to Nick. Most of the attachment derives from my utter conviction that he is The Buddha. I realize we are all the Buddha, but somehow, in my mind, Nick is THE Buddha. Hmmm. Bet I'll be sitting with that for quite a while . . . .

I mentioned before that Nick's zendo is characterized by formal, traditional, Japanese Zen practice - much like my teacher Frank's. For me, sitting zazen with Nick in his zendo is like coming home. Like returning to all that is right and good and true. From my first bow as I enter the practice space, my Buddha nature blooms and flourishes. You can't necessarily tell from the outside; I just bow and take my place on a zafu. Inside, however, I am There. Even while recognizing there is no "There" to be.

I have no idea what I was expecting, but here is what I got. About a million opportunities to practice re-directing my Monkey Mind back to my breath, since I couldn't seem to keep my focus on breathing for two consecutive seconds. Pain in my knees and ankles that paralleled a century ride on hills with under-inflated tires. Swollen fingers (unprecedented!) from so many hours of holding a mudra. A belly ache after lunch from too much tofu in my soup. Bizarre thirst from unaccustomed long bouts of chanting. Dry eyes and prickly contacts from staring at the same gray speck in the carpet of the zendo. And I mustn't forget: Four loud smacks on my back with a stick. That was the good part. Kinhin went pretty well, although we spent precious little time practicing it. Seemed like we always stopped walking about the time feeling was returning to my legs.

So that was my day. No enlightenment, no insight, no Nirvana, no gratifyingly deep state of meditation. As positive time spent on my cushion goes - Zippo. As Zen time on my cushion goes - Perfect. Somehow, despite my physical torment and mental mania, I managed to approach each round of zazen with sincere intent. I bowed when it was time to bow, chanted when it was time to chant, walked kinhin when it was time to walk kinhin. Held a decent mudra and maintained a posture like I was holding the sky up with my head. Ate my lunch and washed my bowls. Drank my tea. Presented my back to receive strikes from my master. Sincerely tried to be a mindful Zen student.

Here is the best part. As I drove my aching body the 30 miles back home, I felt no attachment to the outcome of the day (though a little attachment to my lack of attachment seeped out around the edges. Damn my contumacious ego!) My sitting this year has carried me to the point of accepting (most of time!) What Is, even regarding something as significant as a whole day of sitting with Nick. I was there. I stayed the whole time. I learned and practiced some new things about zendo etiquette.

In the absence of any certain outcome, I sustained sincere intent. Over and over, in my (monkey) mind, I kept hearing the words of Suzuki Roshi: "The Bodhisattva's way is called "the single-minded way, " or "one railway track thousands of miles long." The railway track is always the same. If it were to become wider or narrower, it would be disastrous. Wherever you go, the railway track is always the same . . . We say "railway track," but actually there is no such thing. Sincerity itself is the railway track. The sights we see from the train will change, but we are always running on the same track. And there is no beginning or end to the track; beginningless and endless track. There is no starting point, no goal, nothing to attain. Just to run on the track is our way. This is the nature of our Zen practice" (from Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind).

It challenges every fiber of my being, but I am learning to just run on the track. At my next all-day sitting retreat, I won't expect. I will just bow.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc