I vow to taste the truth of the Tathagata's words. Morning. Some of you I know, lots of you I know, some of you I don't know. I'm Grace Shearson and I was ordained here at BZC and I've practiced here for many years. And sometime maybe after 1995 when I was just so here I began what I've come to learn is traditional in Zen practice which is an unsui practicing clouds and water. in that I left to live in the mountains and so I come back from time to time to account for my wanderings and to share practicing with you. Recently I've done some other changes which has been to retire from my formal work as a psychologist

[01:02]

and through no help of my own to become a granny, a Zen granny, such as we've seen described in the literature, nameless tea ladies and now Zen grannies as well. So now that I have a grandson here in the Bay Area, I return more often to visit and play, so that's the accounting. Last I was here I spoke some about another practice I have besides up there with chickens and down here with grandson, and that is in Japan in a Rinzai temple, and I talked about the quality of the practice there, but I don't think I quite summed it up, nor did I contrast it well enough with what we do here, so I thought I would do some of that today and talk about how our sessions do just what we need them to do here at Berkeley, since today is a one-day sitting where we're sitting all day together

[02:12]

sharing our practice in this stew pot. And I think it's going to get a little hotter later on in the day. So the practice that I encountered in Japan in the Rinzai temple was very severe, and when I had done it several times, I realized that they had actually institutionalized something that we'd read about in Zen history, which is the kind of practice that masters did sitting on the edge of a cliff. or rigging themselves to sit at the top of a well, where if they lost their concentration for a minute, it was the end. So what they do there is make the sashin so scary that it brings on that same kind of concentration. However, I don't think it's our way here in America. Maybe we do enough of that just in our everyday life with each other.

[03:15]

You know, it seems like when we're on the street, we have to really pay attention, you know, or some violence may come our way, so maybe we have enough of that. But what we have here at BZC is this choice when we come to Sitseshin, this kind of, even though the schedule is very rigorous, we have this choice with each breath and with each moment to let go. We're not looking the tiger quite in the eye every moment and we're not hanging from our fingernails on a cliff every moment. So there's this kind of responsibility on the sitter to find one's determination and to find one's clarity. rather than to let the mind wander, to wonder about what's for lunch, to think about the way the person's breathing next to you and all the various distractions that are available during Sashin.

[04:22]

They don't sound like much, but believe me, they can fill up the whole period and the whole day. So here we have a choice in each moment to find our true self. and to let go of what we've been clinging to. And there's something else that's a little different about what we do here in that we do it with much more variety. Of course, that's characteristic of our culture anyway as compared to the Japanese. We're very creative in finding ways to continue our session. I'm always encouraged when I come to Sesshin and see people sitting in chairs and laying down and finding the way to continue their practice, even in adversity. And so this is something that we can practice for our whole lives. I often joke and just did with my Jisha.

[05:25]

Now I have a brace on my knee. I have a special cushion for the nerve damage, and I have special foods that I need because of my digestive system, but still we continue, and it becomes rather small, actually, all these problems. As we sit in Sesshin, the context of the Sesshin, like a school of fish, we find ourselves just being moved along with it. So I thought I would talk about that particular quality of mind that we develop in Seshin, of letting go, and I must say in Zen we talk about the relative and the absolute, but in Zen we always most often emphasize emptiness or the absolute side. It's a little bit of sticking to that side, because without some awareness of that side, we're totally caught up in our own habits, in our own habits of mind.

[06:32]

In terms of my ranch practice, this really became clear to me with one of my hens, who I've named Broody. I have usually around a dozen hens, and about this time of year, actually, when the light gets longer, they're laying hens, so they're not supposed to be interested in sitting on eggs. All of that has been bred out of them genetically, but at this time of year, when the light gets longer, one of them overcomes all of her genetic training, and she becomes very broody. and when I go in to get the eggs she attacks me. She has no fear. It doesn't matter what comes near her at this time, all that matters is hatching something that she doesn't understand. So whatever conditioning or training has

[07:34]

been put upon the hand, she finds her way back to something that's quite invisible. She finds her way to something that she doesn't understand, something that will become something magnificent. So she begins doing her Seshin, it's a three-week Seshin, and she sits on these eggs with this, I call her Broody Dharma, that's her full name. My husband made a sign for my hen house which says, Hendo. And he made it, he built the hen house for me when I was at Tassajara because he didn't want me to come back to the mountains and have to sit by myself. So I have the companionship of my hens sitting. So she starts sitting and she has this kind of intensity that we don't... Where does it come from?

[08:40]

It's like our own bodhicitta. Where does it come from? What would possess you to come on a beautiful day and instead of listening to music or spending time with friends picnicking, what would possess you to come sit on your cushion like Birdie does, sitting on her eggs? So for three weeks, She just sits there and she gets up maybe once or twice a day for 10 minutes or so, like our breaks between periods. And she has a little water and food. She eats very little. And in fact, it's very urgent that you leave the eggs there for her to sit on and segregate her, because she would starve to death. The power of her mission is so intense. So she sits there for three weeks and knows exactly when to peck and release the chicks. And then when they come out, somehow she knows what to do with them.

[09:42]

And just like in the storybooks, she teaches them how to scratch. And then at some point, just like in the storybooks, she takes them for a tour in the henhouse, all following behind her in the line. And it's really a beautiful unfolding of this deep nature that's available to her, if only. she can let go of what she's been conditioned to become. And this is a little bit about what we're doing. All of our life, we are told who we are and what we should be doing. And we have many factors, cultural and psychological. that we cling to and that we say, oh, this is who I am and this is what I'm supposed to do. And yet there's something in us, like Brutti, there's something in us that knows that there's a miraculous stream that we may enter, although we can't see it, not in the beginning anyway, but something tells us that it's there.

[10:55]

And so we begin our search for it. I thought I would talk about, it's always good, I feel, to talk about what teachers in the past have said and how they've found their way in this practice. So the founder of our sect, Tozan, when he was nine years old, was studying the Heart Sutra with his tutor. And when they came to the part, no eyes, no ears, no nose, no tongue, no body, he went like this. And he said, but I have eyes, and I have ears, and I have a nose. What does this mean? And the tutor said, I can't help you. You're not my student, you'll have to go to a Zen monastery."

[12:00]

And so it's this search that begins saying, well, yes, I know that there are these senses, and yes, I know that there's this body, but what is this other that I'm going to explore? What is this other? And so he began his spiritual journey with that question all along, and of course now studying Tozan, his work was to define this realm of the absolute and the realm of the relative, which I know Sojin has given classes on here. But this was the original question that came to him as a nine-year-old. Well, there is this realm, you know, it's there, so what do they mean about it not being there? And that's what I meant when I said that in a certain way, Zen emphasizes the emptiness side, because we know that this is there, but we're talking about no, no eyes, no ears, no nose, no tongue.

[13:06]

There's something that's beyond that, that includes that but transcends it. And this is not, when we talk about this kind of emptiness, it's not an emptiness of negation. but really an affirmation of a kind of a current, an underground stream that we need to find our way to. And this is what we do in Zazen, when we let go of the thoughts, when we let go of the feelings, when we let go of the sensations, when we let go of the perceptions. We don't repress them, and they don't go away, but we're finding our way to this underground current in the same way that Bruti has. Another example of the exploration of no eyes, no ears, no nose, no tongue came from a female teacher, Ryonan Genso.

[14:08]

And Ryonan was actually born into a family that was somewhat aristocratic. but she very much wanted to study the way. And she lived from 1646 to 1711. And during her lifetime, she served as many women of her class did in the court of the emperor, because she was very cultivated, came from a cultivated family, so she taught the daughters of the emperor. And then later she entered an imperial convent in Kyoto. But still there was something in her, like Brutti, that longed for a very deep stream. And so she began to question Zen teachers. And the first one she went to turned her away because she was a woman and because she was too attractive.

[15:14]

So she went on. to another teacher actually of the Obaku sect of Zen. It's not so well known here that there are actually three sects still functioning in Japan, the Soto, Obaku, and Rinzai, and Obaku is a little bit between the two in terms of strictness, Rinzai being the most intense than Obaku, and Soto more gentle. So she went to an Obaku teacher and she said that she wanted to study, and she expressed all of her desire, and he said to her, I'm sorry, I understand that your way-seeking mind is very strong, but because of your appearance as a woman, I can't have you in my temple. So Ryonan took an iron to her face, and disfigured herself.

[16:16]

When this case is presented, there's a strong reaction from women, from feminists, in terms of, well, what does this mean about the practice? Of course, we know that there's this side of the practice by Bodhidharma's disciple who cut off his arm. So sometimes extreme measures are called for. Fortunately, we're practicing in a time where our extreme measures are about you not moving during a period of zazen or you spending seven days eating gruel. So this is a kind of sacrifice. that you may be called on to make. But this was what she needed to do. And she made a choice. She said, I'm not going to be able to practice unless I do this. And my life, finding this current of my life, finding truth in my life, matters to me more than anything.

[17:25]

There's really not much point in my living unless I can do this. So she made her choice. And she wrote a poem about what she did. Formerly, to amuse myself at court, I would burn orchid incense. Now, to enter the Zen life, I burn my own face. The four seasons pass naturally like this, but I don't know who I am amidst the change." So, this self, this underground current, that we don't yet know is what she wanted to contact and this is what we do in Sashin. The teachers, as they've written, have all pointed to this, that there's something about our everyday way of life that we have to let go of.

[18:30]

And when we come to Sesshin, we find the way to contact this wellspring, this true self. And we find the way to do this by letting go of clinging to ourself. When we chant, we chant as one voice, and when we eat together, we eat as one mouth. And when we walk and kin-hin together, we walk as one body, a caterpillar with many legs. And when we don't make eye contact, it means that we've let go of looking for the reflection of ourself in another's eyes. All of this helps us to let go of this conditioned self so we can find our way to our true self. There was another teacher that I'd like to talk about.

[19:33]

Find her. Who said, her name was Zhe Yuan Xing Gong. and she was a Linji or Rinzai teacher in China and she lived from 1597 to 1654. And her teaching was about turning this conventional view on itself the way we usually seek pleasure and true joy in our life. She said, there is no greater suffering than to be caught up in the bustle of worldly affairs there is no greater joy than cultivating the way with a one-pointed mind. The way is no other than the greatest joy in this world. Abandoning the way in order to seek out pleasure is like throwing away food and seeking hunger. So when we first come here, to sit, maybe our experience is something like birdie, you know, we sit down and it's hot and our joints ache, and we kind of wonder why we're doing this, because we think our comfort is elsewhere.

[20:48]

But later, and as we continue sitting, we realize that this is our true comfort and our true joy, finding this true deep self that is something that is bequeathed to us, it's something that's already there, it's something that we just need to step into. And it's only our clinging to our habits and conditioning that keeps us from enjoying it. Engyur Yuan had more to say about how, how is it that we realize this self? She said she actually had carved into her chair, she was an abbess, and she had carved into her chair, if by opening the mouth and moving the tongue we don't benefit others, don't speak. If by lifting the feet and going somewhere we don't benefit others, don't go. If by applying the mind and directing your thoughts

[21:53]

we don't benefit others. Refrain. So this is more instruction about this job we have to let go of our conditioning and how exactly to do that. One way is this opening over and over with each thought, letting go of each thought, each feeling, each sensation, with each breath and zazen. And the other thing that happens in sashin is letting go of concern for oneself and really looking at how we can benefit others with our practice. You know, when we first come to practice, we think, oh, I'm gonna be a better person, this is going to improve me, and we think in this way. But then later, we realize that we're really coming to the Zendo to support other people's practice. Otherwise, we could just sit at home. But when we come, we help everyone else to practice.

[22:57]

And this is one of the ways we realize our true nature. is by living our lives to benefit others. At the end of Tozan's life, there's a story about how his life ended. And I thought it was interesting to look at how he began with this question of, well, what do I do about this eyes, ears, and nose, and how he ended his life. When the Master was about to enter perfect rest, he addressed the assembly saying, I've had a worthless name in this world. Who will get rid of it for me? When none of the assembly replied, a novice monk came forward and said, Please say what the monk's Dharma name is." The master said, my worthless name has been eradicated.

[24:01]

In this story, as I take it, he knows it's time to die. And even though maybe he's let go of the attachment to eyes, ears, and nose, there's something he's still attached to. His name, will it be remembered in history? So he asked the Sangha to help him. Who will eradicate my name, my worthless name, the thing I'm still clinging to after, as I'm about to die, I'm still holding on? Of course, it's what we hold on to in the last. You know, as maybe we enter the dying process, we may be afraid of the pain, but then, maybe, will anybody remember me? So all through our life, we struggle at different stages with this clinging to self. And this is where he is, still, after all these years of practice, knowing that there's more to let go of. So,

[25:04]

None of the monks in his monastery can help him. They are clinging, as he is, to his famous teaching, his powerful teaching, and yet there's a brand new beginner's mind right there in the monastery who doesn't know the teacher's Dharma name. He knows what calling him Abbot or whatever his formal name is or his given name, but doesn't know the Dharma name. So he says, please say what the monk's Dharma name is. Then maybe I can help you eradicate it if I know what it is. The fact that he is unknown to another eradicates his fame. And he says, ah, my worthless name is eradicated. And so we see from this story how throughout our life we find something to cling to, even up to the last minute.

[26:12]

But he was a very generous teacher, and as I was describing the way always being to benefit others, as he prepared to die, the story is, the master had his head shaved, bathed himself, and put on his robes. He struck the bell and announced his departure to the assembly. Sitting solemnly, he began to pass away. Immediately, the large assembly began to wail and lament. This continued for some time without stopping. The Master suddenly opened his eyes and addressed the assembly, saying, For those who have left home, a mind unattached to things is the true practice. People struggle to live and make much of death, but what's the use of lamenting? Then he got up from his deathbed and ordered a temple official to make arrangements for a delusion banquet.

[27:14]

However, the assembly's feeling of bereavement did not go away. So, preparations for the banquet were extended over seven days. The master joined with the assembly in completing the preparations, saying, You monks have made a great commotion over nothing. When you see me pass away this time, don't make such a noisy fuss." So even as he had resolved his clinging to his fame and he was ready to go, he realized his students were not well prepared for him leaving. So while he had made his peace, he came back for their benefit to enjoy the seven days of preparation in the delusion banquet. Accordingly, he retired to his room, sat correctly, and passed away in the third month of the ten year of Shantung era 869.

[28:18]

He was 63 and had spent 42 years as a monk. His shrine was called the Stupa of Wisdom Awareness. Well, he probably wouldn't have liked that very much. but maybe it was all right as long as he let go of the clinging to his fame. So I think that it's very important that we realize what we're doing is not getting something, but it's not a noun, it's a verb, and it's something that we do throughout our whole life. on the cushion, off the cushion, by oneself or with others, catching ourselves, clinging to these last scraps of whatever we can cling to out of fear of letting go. And even though we have the experience of letting go and the liberation that it provides, it doesn't stay. These habits of the body are very strong, so it takes a long time

[29:25]

to settle with this letting go and allow it to deepen. Just like Broody begins the sitting, it takes three weeks for them to hatch, which is a long time in a hen's age. And then she takes the time, once the eggs have hatched, the experience still deepens further. in that the chicks become something themselves. And the Tibetans talk about this very clearly when they say that to have an awakening experience is not realization, and to have realization is not yet enlightenment. Because even though we know what it is, and even though we even experience it, Until it stays for a while, until we keep returning to this as our true self, it doesn't take roots and really blossom. So I hope all of you find your way of coming to Sesshin, sitting in a chair, laying down, knee braces and whatever you need.

[30:37]

It's a long time and maybe you have some questions for me now. Yes, Kelly? Oh, that. You missed an earlier talk. The schedule is 3 to 11. It's not 3 p.m. to 11 p.m. Yeah, yeah. Seven days of 3 a.m. to 11 p.m. And the sittings are 50 minutes most of the time, but sometimes they're longer. and the rapidity with which they practice, that if you turn around for a minute, the whole crowd will have left the zendo. So there's no time for your mind to wander, even when you get up from your cushion. And the scariness that occurs during the sitting is how violently they're hitting the novice monks. And so it's pretty terrifying.

[31:40]

But somebody said, I think it was Miriam, said, because I'm such a hard nut to crack that I've had to go there. But actually, we're all hard nuts to crack, but so some people have it, you know, get it all in one tough sitting and some people struggle with it in different ways. Yes? The first time that I went there, I cried the whole session. Actually, I thought about Rionan quite a lot on my way there because I also cried for two days before. I cried on the train all the way from Tokyo to Kyoto because I was so terrified of going. And then when I lived through the first time, I said, okay, well, that's enough of that. And the second time, then it really got tough because I did dokusan. So all of those other terrifying practices were nothing like facing Fukushima Kato Roshi when I knew I didn't know.

[32:51]

What? So that was done five times a day. But by the third or the fourth time, five times a day of dokusan, so by the third or the fourth time that I've done sashin there, I got it that it was just that my concentration had to go deeper to go under that terror. I think the Buddha said, if you're life-dependent on it, could you carry a jar of oil on your head through a busy marketplace without losing a drop if you're life-dependent on it? So once your concentration gets to that point, then at least I didn't cry as much. Yes? I'm wondering about Rionan and if her teachers, or those teachers that she asked, if they would have remembered about, or if they would have understood what no eyes and no nose and no face meant, if they would have had a different outcome.

[33:55]

Yeah, well, I think they remembered that, but... Or understood it. Yes. You know, it's a tough one. You know, I go through the same thing in a different way at Tofuku-ji, because Even though we understand that we have no bodies, we still have bodies, and there's these monks trying to practice, and we've kind of gotten used to it here a little bit maybe, and maybe sometimes our sexual interactions take people out of the monastery, you know, and they lose their way on account of it. And we've come to accept that as part of our co-educational practice together, but they didn't really have any experience with it. So when I go to Tofuku-ji, I noticed, you know, the hierarchy. The ordained monks in order of the seniority from the Japanese, the Japanese laymen in order of seniority, and then the women.

[35:01]

There are no Japanese women who go there, just men and other American women. And the foreign men before the women. So there's this long, the lineup, we always line up for meals and for kin-hin and for dokusan in that order. And I think about that hierarchy in terms of, you know, where is the man of no rank? This is Rinzai, right? And this was Rinzai's question, where is the man of no rank? But when it settled with me, I thought about these poor monks, you know, who had just, in the Rinzai tradition, they don't go to university. So they come maybe at the end of high school. They're 16 years old and they have their own struggles with their bodies. So why would we add another struggle, you know, to their load? You know, having a woman in the monastery. It's more for them.

[36:03]

It's a lot more. I think that the Roshi appreciates it being a lot more and pushes his monks that way by having women there. But I think that This is a really difficult area, and I know that the fact that we practice together in America has its casualties. You know, there are people who lose their way on account of it, and I think that that teacher was trying to take care of his monks. Well, what comes up for me is that it speaks to interdependence, that we each have responsibility, or we all have responsibility for our own selves. We do, and Riona took responsibility for herself, too. And knowing, I mean, there was quite certainly some pain in the burning itself. But the fact is, we all know, however lovely we may look, when we're dead, it doesn't matter.

[37:04]

You know, as we age and die, it doesn't really come to much. It was a very strong action, a very liberating action for her to say, well, I'm going to lose my looks anyway, so how about now when they're not helping me? So this is a big problem, a good koan. You know, but we all do this. We all have to make sacrifices at times that we consider unfair based on gender or other reasons. And our ability to see clearly what's at stake and make the move that's right for us is a big deal. I felt myself that maybe, maybe there were some sexist preference when I was going away to Tassajara Monastery when I wanted to be a priest, because my teacher kept asking me, well, what does your husband think?

[38:06]

What does your husband think? Is your husband ready for you to go to Tassajara? What does your husband think? And I thought, I wonder if he's asking his male students the same question. I wonder about that. I kind of doubted it. In the long run, one of the things is I've been studying women's traditions both in Japan and China. In the long run, women don't use the monastery as a way to run away from their life and their family. They use the practice differently to deepen where they already are. So for me to work out in my own relationship in my own marriage, what it meant for me to be a priest, and to take care of my husband instead of rushing ahead and saying, I'll see you later, was a very important step for me. And I'm glad, even if it wasn't fair, that I had to step up to that.

[39:13]

So sometimes it can look unfair and it just, you know, you have to work it out. Each person has to work out the sacrifices that they're willing to take on. Yes? The Buddhist talk about it, I think, most clearly for me is in talking about the Trikaya, the Dharmakaya, the Sambhogakaya, and the Nirmanakaya, the three elements that were made out of, so to speak. And Mel describes Dharmakaya as Buddha nature. and sambhogakaya as your enlightenment nature, and nirmanakaya as your manifestation, as the Buddha's manifestation in this lifetime, therefore your manifestation in this lifetime. And I've seen those three terms described in terms of the Self, the true Self, in this way. The dharmakaya has the essence of emptiness.

[40:24]

The sambhogakaya means that the emptiness, the true self, is not some dark void, but is luminous clarity. And the nirmanakaya is unobstructed, uninterrupted flow of energy. So the true self has an essence that's empty, has a nature that's luminous and clear and an energy that's unobstructed. So if you bump into those things, then you'll know, oh, that's it. I'm in this dream. And That's because it's been described in that way by people who've had the experience, then as you find it, you know you've come home. Yes.

[41:31]

A Zen granny. Yes. How does a Zen modify granny? How does granny modify Zen? I think everyone's my grandchild now. even people who are obstructing me in traffic. So that's how we're interacting, Zen and Granny. It's different when you have a child. Your relationship is so personal, you know, in that you carry them in your body and then you see them and it's this very intense personal thing. When the grandchild comes from the heavens, I mean, you didn't go through labor, then you recognize, oh, this is everybody. Everybody's like this. And it's pretty wonderful. So maybe we're done. Beans are numberless.

[42:39]

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