Buddhism-Teachings and Practice

Buddhism:
Teachings and Practice
David Bradley
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Buddhism: Teachings and Practice

Author: David Bradley
First edition: December 2020
DOI: 10.6084/m9.figshare.13443500
Available in pdf format, free of charge, at Figshare:
https://dx.doi.org/10.6084/m9.figshare.13443500
About the Author

David Bradley studied Philosophy at the Universities of London (1972-5) and
Cambridge (1975-9). He was a student of the Venerable Myokyo-ni (posthumous title:
Daiyu Myokyo) from 1981 until her death in 2007.
Other Works
Buddhism: A Mahayana Perspective https://dx.doi.org/10.6084/m9.figshare.13443092
Buddhism: The Heart of the Matter https://dx.doi.org/10.6084/m9.figshare.25059785
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Table of Contents
Buddhism: Teachings and Practice ................................................................................... 2
About the Author .......................................................................................................... 2
Other Works .................................................................................................................. 2
Table of Contents .......................................................................................................... 3
Preface .......................................................................................................................... 6
Introduction .................................................................................................................. 7
Buddhism .................................................................................................................. 7
Teachings .................................................................................................................. 7
Teachers .................................................................................................................... 9
The Buddha..................................................................................................................11
Life Story .................................................................................................................11
Role......................................................................................................................... 18
Teachings: The Four Noble Truths ............................................................................. 20
The First Noble Truth: Suffering ............................................................................ 20
The Second Noble Truth: The Cause of Suffering ................................................. 21
The Wheel of Change ......................................................................................... 21
Motive force: The Three Fires ............................................................................ 22
States: The Six Realms ...................................................................................... 24
Dynamics: The Chain of Conditioned Arising ................................................... 27
Introduction .................................................................................................... 27
1 Ignorance (Avidya / Avijjā) ......................................................................... 29
2 Formations (Samskara / Sankhara) .............................................................. 30
3 Consciousness (Vijnana / Vinnana) ............................................................. 31
4 Name & Form - Individuality (Nama-Rupa) ............................................... 32
5 The Six Bases of Perception (Sadayatana / Salayatana) .............................. 34
6 Contact (Sparsa / Phassa) ............................................................................ 35
7 Feeling (Vedana) .......................................................................................... 35
8 Craving (Trsna / Tanha) ............................................................................... 37
9 Clinging / Grasping (Upadana).................................................................... 39
10 Becoming (Bhava) ..................................................................................... 40
11 Birth (Jati) .................................................................................................. 41
12 Decline and Death (Jacaranda) .................................................................. 41
The Third Noble Truth: The End of Suffering ........................................................ 44
The Fourth Noble Truth: The Path to the End of Suffering .................................... 48
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Introduction ........................................................................................................ 48
The Noble Eightfold Path ................................................................................... 49
1 Right Views/Seeing/Understanding ............................................................. 49
2 Right Thought .............................................................................................. 50
3 Right Speech ................................................................................................ 55
4 Right Action................................................................................................. 55
5 Right Livelihood .......................................................................................... 57
6 Right Effort .................................................................................................. 58
7 Right Mindfulness ....................................................................................... 61
8 Right Concentration..................................................................................... 63
The Arahant and the Bodhisattva........................................................................ 67
Practice ....................................................................................................................... 68
Introduction ............................................................................................................ 68
Requirements .......................................................................................................... 72
Favourable conditions......................................................................................... 72
The Three Great Roots........................................................................................ 72
The Aspiration of the Heart ................................................................................ 72
Faith in the Heart ................................................................................................ 74
Aspects: The Paramitas (Northern line) ................................................................. 77
Introduction ........................................................................................................ 77
1 Giving / Generosity ......................................................................................... 79
2 Discipline ......................................................................................................... 80
3 Patience............................................................................................................ 83
4 Devoted energy ................................................................................................ 85
5 Contemplation / Absorption............................................................................. 88
6 Wisdom ............................................................................................................ 90
Stages - The Bull Herding Analogy ........................................................................ 93
Preface ................................................................................................................ 93
Introduction ........................................................................................................ 93
1 Searching for the Bull ...................................................................................... 95
2 Finding the Traces ........................................................................................... 97
3 Seeing the Bull................................................................................................. 98
4 Catching the Bull ........................................................................................... 100
5 Gentling the Bull ........................................................................................... 102
6 Riding Home on the Back of the Bull ........................................................... 106
7 Bull Forgotten - Man remains........................................................................ 108
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8 Both Bull and Man Forgotten ......................................................................... 111

9 Return to the Origin, Back to the Source........................................................115
10 Entering the Marketplace with Bliss-Bestowing Hands ...............................117
Conclusion ................................................................................................................ 120
Works Cited .............................................................................................................. 121
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Preface
Anybody who has come into direct contact with a genuine teacher of the Way, and
who has had ‘eyes to see’, will testify to the effect of their living example on those
around them. Regardless of our preconceptions, fears, prejudices, reservations and
inhibitions, we are touched in the heart by their warmth, impressed by their wisdom,
and inspired to follow the path which will take us out of ourselves to be more like them.
How we explain and justify this to ourselves and others is something which evolves and
changes through time but is really only something added on by us later. The essential
thing is that warmth of heart tempered by wisdom which ignites and gives life to all that
comes into contact with it – the ‘inexhaustible lamp’.
But when, having heard or read about Buddhism, we finally have the good fortune
to encounter a genuine teacher and start to practise, it can be difficult to relate the
teacher’s remarks - always adapted to place, time and audience - to an ordered
exposition of the traditional teachings. So, this compilation is intended as a map to help
orientate the practitioner. The structure is that of the basic Buddhist teachings common
to all schools, but the exposition is oriented towards those in Zen training. It will not be
to the taste of those interested only in inventing, defending and propagating theoretical
systems, since it is the fruit of living experience in all its complexity and Life as such
can never be encompassed in a system. Nor is it comprehensive, since, being a map, it
only contains those details considered necessary to help orient those who follow only
one of many possible paths, the path of Zen Buddhism.
However, the very acts of selecting and ordering the elements of a compilation are
conditioned by, and a reflection of, the experience and depth of understanding of the
compiler. The resulting map should therefore be considered provisional, awaiting the
confirmation or necessary corrections and additions which each practitioner must
discover for himself as he actually walks the Way.
The teachings of any tradition only come alive in the dynamic living context of
practical training under a fully qualified teacher of that tradition. Such a teacher, in the
Zen tradition, was Daiyu Myokyo Zenji, in life the Venerable Myokyo-ni, born Irmgard
Schloegl. Those who had the good fortune to train under her guidance will hear her
voice throughout. To her memory, in deepest gratitude, this work is dedicated.
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Introduction
Buddhism
A philosophy is a response to a yearning of the mind to understand, a religion is
a response to a yearning of the heart to be at peace. Buddhism is today, and has been for
the past 2500 years, for millions upon millions of people, first and foremost, a religion.
Some religions have one god, some have many gods, and others have no gods at all.
The ‘gods’ in Buddhism have no special status. They are not worshipped. They are just
sentient beings who happen to have been born this time round in one of the heavens and
are at the moment enjoying a long happy existence, but who will sooner or later die and
be reborn as men, animals, or something else. The Buddha was a human being, an
extraordinary human being, who, it is said, was ‘teacher of gods and men’.
Religion is basically about emerging from our isolation and re-connecting. A
religion with a god understands it as a matter of reconnecting with that god, in
Buddhism it is a matter of reconnecting with the Dharma, the way things are.
According to Buddhism, religious movements, like everything else, have a lifespan:
they appear, develop, thrive, decline and disappear. And that applies to Buddhism too.
We have been born at a time when the teachings are available and in this, we are very
fortunate, for such times are few and very far between.
The great religions have many facets: the institutional, the symbolic, the social, the
political, the cultural, the philosophical, and the mystical, among others. They provide
refuge and comfort for ordinary people, teachers for the ignorant, nurses for the sick,
moral standards for society, inspiration for artists and poets, food for thought for
philosophers, guides for mystics. And, of course, as with any other dimension of human
life, they offer a wealth of opportunity for evil doers: seekers of fame, power and profit;
fraudsters; fanatics and the like. For any given religion, at a given time and in a given
place, some facets will be more prominent than others.
We will be concerned here with Buddhism as a religion: specifically, as a path to
be followed, a discipline to be voluntarily undertaken, with a view to attaining peace of
heart. That this will not appeal to everyone is only natural: even those who may
eventually be drawn to it may encounter too many hindrances in their present
circumstances to make it possible for them to take the first step at this time. And of
those who are drawn to Buddhism, not everyone will find the Zen Way to their taste.
Diversity is not a problem: each to his own. Tolerance and respect are values of the
highest importance.
Teachings
The teachings of the Buddha do not constitute a set of doctrines to be believed in
blindly. They are better seen as a set of experimental results together with detailed
instructions on how to repeat that experiment on ourselves. If we wish to confirm the
declarations of the Buddha, we need only follow the instructions. For over 2,500 years
people have been doing just that and testifying to the validity of the experiment and the
veracity of the result. Therefore, we can proceed with some confidence. Furthermore,
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the procedure goes by stages, and each stage produces intermediate results. As each
stage is reached and the corresponding result confirmed, so our confidence in the final
result grows.
But here there is a danger. We are easily tempted to suppose that all that is required
is an intellectual exercise, because
we are first of all convinced that if things are truly explained to us, we can
understand. And we are further convinced that we are capable of understanding
everything. And we are thirdly convinced that if we do understand everything, then
we are at peace and there is nothing further to wish for. And that just shows how
hopelessly we are running contrary to what is.
Daiyu Myokyo 1
And so Master Rinzai exclaimed,
I do not care whether you are well versed in the Sutras and Treatises. I do not
care whether you are Imperial ministers, I do not care if your eloquence is like a
mountain torrent, I do not care whether you are sagacious and wise; I only care
whether you have true and genuine insight. Followers of the Way, even if you know
how to explain and interpret a hundred volumes of Sutras and Treatises, better it is
to be peaceful and a master who has nothing further to seek….
When hungry, I eat my food; when sleepy I shut my eyes: fools laugh at me,
the wise understand.
Lin-chi I-hsüan (Rinzai Gigen) 2
So, what is required? We have glorified the intellect and devalued the realm of the
physical, the body. In doing so, we have blinded ourselves to the workings of the
emotions, whose effects are felt in the body but denied or deemed accidental in the
realm of the intellect. Yet the practice is essentially a matter of working with the
emotions and the energy which infuses them; and progress consists in their
transformation; and true understanding comes of the knowledge borne of experience.
But, of course, we need a framework of ideas to guide us. And …perhaps we
can say that without the framework it does not go. But then the framework is good
enough. The rest has to be filled up, or filled in, by our own practice.
If we do not practise wholeheartedly, if we do not work sufficiently to cultivate
that energy, then whatever we read is only intellectual understanding, intellectual
knowledge. And being foolish, deluded, we actually believe that we understand in
the head, what we have read and now believe that we know, that this really is true.
But it isn’t, because it leaves the body out. And therefore, when it really comes
down to it, when it comes to the point, it caves in, it will not hold. Only what is
learned in the body, what really is familiar, really becomes one’s own. And then that
cannot be forgotten any more.
1
Myokyo-ni, ‘Selected Sayings of Master Daie Soko - Commentary’, Vol. 28:1.
2
Rinzai, The Zen Teaching of Rinzai, Pt.1:39.
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And so what we want as our framework is only the basics: the Signs of Being,
The Fires, the Four Noble Truths, The Paramitas, and The Chain of Causation. The
rest we leave as frills and flounces, which do not really help us on our way. But in
our practice, we are diligent, so that the energy is cultivated and increases.
Daiyu Myokyo 3
The teachings of any religion are an aid to practice, not a substitute for it. However,
the depth of our understanding of them is a reflection of our progress in the practice.
This is not something we, in our intellectual arrogance, find it easy to accept. It would
be absurd to expect to be able to truly comprehend the deepest teachings before we have
even started out on the practice. Furthermore, the same teachings must be constantly
revisited in order that they may reveal deeper levels of meaning as we advance.
However, if we are really serious about doing the experiment, we should bear in
mind that it is all too easy to misinterpret the instructions, the evidence and the results.
Therefore, we should make an effort to find a good teacher and associate ourselves with
others who are trying to follow the same path. If we are successful in this, we should
celebrate our immense good fortune
Teachers
When we do come into contact with someone who is a genuine embodiment of the
spirit of the teachings of a religion such as Buddhism, we are touched in the heart and
inspired by their example. But we usually arrive with a lot of baggage: ideals, opinions
and fantasies concerning ourselves, teachers and the teachings. And then we set about
trying to package up what we are told and shown so that it can fit in comfortably with
the load that we are already carrying. And if we go beyond thinking, talking and
fantasizing to actually start the practice, as beginners, we cannot help seeing it as
something which we ourselves control, in wilful pursuit of a goal we have fabricated out
of all we have heard, or in flight from something we dislike about ourselves or the
world. For that reason, we need the help of a good teacher who can wean us away from
such ideas and guide us in the right direction.
However, trying to learn the Way from the free-wheeling expositions of a teacher
without having any knowledge of the basic teachings is like trying to learn music by
listening to Bach improvising on the organ without having any knowledge of the
principles of composition. Certainly, we will be moved and inspired to some degree, but
will we be transformed from audience into player? All the Zen masters were well versed
in the teachings.
But what should we be looking for in a teacher? What sort of person makes a
‘good’ teacher?
By virtue of walking the way, the childish ‘I want’, the passions or emotions,
are transformed. What in fact happens is that the energy (strength) loses the blind
compulsion of a drive and becomes amenable to conscious choice. In this lies the
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virtue of seeing clearly and of being able to act in accordance with that seeing. This
embraces all the truly human qualities, such as responsibility, justice, consideration,
warmth of heart, joy, tolerance, compassion, awareness of strength of personality
and its power and limits.
For nobody has the right to manipulate anybody with his stronger personality,
not even for the other’s imagined good, for nobody can know what that good is.
This is a courtesy rather than callousness, for the other’s dignity is thus
acknowledged, or the dignity of his grief is respected. If and when he is ready, the
other will of himself reach out for consolation, and feel free to ask for a hand to
point the way.
This is the place where the man of Tao and Te stands, and his way is ‘action by
non-action’ (Wu-Wei), refraining from all meddling in or interfering with things
small or great. He is acting rightly because he acts with the whole of himself just
when action is called for, instead of throwing himself like a spanner into the wheel
of things, blindly, for the sake of doing something. A meddler has no rest and is
prone to bring destruction in his wake. With whatever good will, to shout and
awaken a sleepwalker on top of the roof will not help. It is better to wait quietly till
he comes down and awakes. Then a gentle suggestion is in place so that precautions
can be taken, the arrangements being left to him. The other is not a baby; he has his
dignity, and he needs it sorely.
Daiyu Myokyo 4
That said, we should not fall into the trap of going around with a checklist, under
the illusion that we can intellectually judge who will be a good teacher for us. Or rather,
since we can hardly avoid doing it, we should prepare ourselves for a surprise when we
come into contact with someone whose warmth of heart touches us but who does not fit
comfortably on our list. Our intellectual arrogance can be a serious obstacle. It takes
faith and humility to follow the heart.
Since olden times people have not believed the old masters, and only after they
had been driven away did their greatness become known. He who is approved by
everyone, what good is he? ‘The lion’s roar shatters the brain of the jackal’.
But really good teachers are hard to find. So, what can be done in the meantime?
If a genuine seeker, who sets forth in search of a superior friend, does not come
into contact with such a one or an equal, then he should resolutely choose the
solitary course, for there can be no companionship with the ignorant.
The Buddha 6
When the time is right, the teacher will appear.
4
Schloegl, The Wisdom of the Zen Masters, Intro.
5
Rinzai, The Zen Teaching of Rinzai, Pt.1:16c.
6
Kaviratna, Dhammapada, ‘The Fool’ V:61.
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The Buddha
Life Story
In general, tales of heroes exist to inspire and instruct us, and tales of spiritual
heroes are no exception. The life stories of the founders of the great religions have all
been elaborated over the centuries in order to illustrate their teachings and inspire us to
follow them. Whether these tales were originally constructed on the basis of a real
person or not is completely irrelevant to the function of those tales within a teaching
tradition. Historical questions, though undoubtedly interesting, can be left to the
historians. Here we are concerned with the traditional elements of the story of the man
who became Buddha and what they are intended to illustrate.
The teaching tradition of Buddhism goes back over more than 2500 years, so we
may safely assume that the story has proved its worth. As the tradition extended and
was adapted to the needs of a wide variety of people with different cultural backgrounds
and in different historical circumstances, so different elements of its stories and
teachings were brought to the fore or relegated to the background. What was helpful to
an audience of Indians at the time of the Buddha, is not necessarily going to help a 21 st
century Westerner. On the other hand, all human beings, whatever their circumstances,
have a great deal in common and the heart of the teachings is concerned with this
common core.
We could begin the life story of the Buddha in what we may call the ‘natural’ mode,
for example by paraphrasing Walpola Rahula as follows:
In the 6th century BC in the kingdom of the Sākyas, in what is now modern
Nepal, there was born to the Queen Māyā and her husband the King Suddhodana of
the Gotama (Skt. Gautama) clan a son, whom they called Siddhattha (Skt.
Siddhārtha).
Rahula 7
This mode emphasises the future Buddha´s humanity. But it would be a mistake to
suppose that its value for us depends on its historical accuracy. Although ‘natural’, it is
still a story, albeit a story with a message.
On the other hand, we could begin in mythological fashion, paraphrasing Eric
Cheetham:
The story begins in the Tusita heaven where the great Bodhisattva examined
the world below and selected the proper time and place for his final birth. He chose
Queen Māyā and King Suddhodana as fitting parents and descended from the Tusita
heaven, fully conscious and aware and entered Māyā’s womb….
Cheetham 8
7
Rahula, What the Buddha Taught, ‘The Buddha’ Intro.
8
Cheetham, Fundamentals of Mainstream Buddhism, Bk.2, Pt.I:4.
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The mythological mode here emphasizes the special virtues and endowments of the
future Buddha. Now although it would be a mistake to suppose that a precondition for
becoming a follower of the Buddha were a belief in the literal truth of the teaching
stories concerning him, we should not be too hasty in dismissing the relevance to us of
such stories. Even if the stories in the mythological mode rub against our ‘down-to-
earth’ views, it must be admitted that they have the power to raise the hairs on the back
of our necks: a sign that they bring into play the numinous, which we ignore at our peril.
There is a legend that the infant Buddha, when born, took one step in each
direction and said: ‘In heaven and on earth, I alone am the World-Honoured One.’
We know that Prince Gautama became the Buddha, the Awakened One; that, like
us, he was a man who was born and died. How could a new-borne babe walk and
talk? Moreover, taken on the word level, his statement sounds aggressively
arrogant-had it been uttered by a man. But in the mouth of an innocent baby, how
direct the legend is, how correctly it points! ‘That? The peasant uses every day
without knowing it, as an old Zen saying has it. And the ‘awakened’ knows it - that
is all.
But with this realization one of the fundamental human problems is seen into –
death. And as a result, most other problems are also dissolved. In the old Buddhist
analogy of the ocean and the waves, if a ‘wave’ awakens to its ocean nature, is it
likely to be unduly upset by its rising and sinking back? Though the points of
emergence and re-merging are indeed momentous ones, the wave is ever contained
in the ocean, is of the ocean, can never be separated from it; its essential ground and
being is the ocean in all its vastness and strength.
This is what the legend of the infant Buddha proclaims loud and clear. What
the Awakened, the Buddha, taught was suffering, being caught in ‘wave only’, and
the way out of this suffering, opening the eye of wisdom, realizing the ocean
nature. It is not a question of something to be gained, but a genuine and valid
change of attitude. For this, training is essential. The mind has many notions. It is a
notorious windbag. Only a true change of heart is of itself productive of sufficient
energy for training practice. Old habits die hard. Hence the many analogies of
forging, hammering, or refining. The wave-‘I’ needs to be pruned, cut back, before
the ocean nature can become clear. A wave not blinded by itself, were it conscious,
would know of the way up and the way down; every rise and fall bring back new
experience- and so the rise and fall are meaningful.
What is important is how we live our lives. And the wonderful thing is that,
once this is realized, then our life has of itself taken on meaning and purpose, it has
become ‘full’, when it seemed empty before. And death, too, is a fulfilment. If there
is no fear of it, the way ‘down’ is as clear as the way ‘up’.
Daiyu Myokyo 9
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13
Each tradition in Buddhism has developed its own version of the Buddha´s life
story in order to highlight those points which are most helpful to its followers, but all
versions coincide on the fundamentals which illuminate the basic framework of the
teachings.
So the future Buddha was born a prince and, it is said, predicted by the ascetic Asita
to be either a great king or a great sage.
Naturally, his father the King, did everything in his power to incline him towards
the former path. He was given the best of everything the world could offer and was
shielded as far as possible from any direct contact with anything which might shock and
so disenchant him with the world and its doings. At the age of 16 he was married to the
beautiful and devoted young princess Yasodharā. And he lived a life of extreme luxury
until the age of 29 when his son, Rahola, was born.
The point of the story so far has been to impress upon us that the Prince Siddhārtha
is the perfect embodiment of the man who has everything. But now, at the age of 29, he
enters a crisis.
Most of us spend our lives pursuing and grasping after what we don’t have,
imagining that if only we could be, have and do everything we desire, we would be at
peace and content. But the man who has everything learns that it is not so. For what he
has, he clings to, in fear of losing it. And however many measures are available to him
to secure what he has, he ultimately has to face the fact of his own impermanence: the
inevitability of old age, sickness and death.
In the traditional story, then, this crisis is depicted as the over-protected, but uneasy,
Prince making four secret outings in his chariot. On first three of these outings he is
deeply stricken for the first time by the inevitability of old age, sickness and death. On
the fourth, he is impressed by the serenity of an ascetic which seems to offer hope for an
escape from his profound disquiet in the face of impermanence.
So the Prince shaved his beard and head and left behind home and family to begin
his search for that peace of heart which is truly unshakeable.
After leaving home, he submitted to training under two great meditation teachers of
his time. First, under Āļāra Kālāma, he mastered how to reach the meditative state
known as ‘the base of nothingness’. Later, under Udakka Rāmaputta, he learned how to
reach the highest meditative state known as ‘the base of neither perception nor non-
perception’. He excelled under both teachers, and each invited him to be their successor.
But the ascetic, now known as Gotama, refused because however blissful and long-
lasting such states may be, ultimately, they too are impermanent and therefore cannot be
the basis for unshakeable peace of heart.
So, he went off into the forest in the Magadhan country and dedicated himself to
the most extreme forms of ascetic practice, exploring the limits of endurance of both
body and mind. So extreme were they, that the discourse in which he described them is
aptly called the hair-raising discourse’. 10.
10
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, 12: 44-56.
14
But finally, realising he had attained the utmost in “painful, racking, piercing
feelings due to exertion”, and that nobody ever had or could suffer more in this respect,
he reflected:
… by this racking practice of austerities I have not attained any superhuman
states, any distinction in knowledge and vision worthy of the noble ones. Could
there be another path to enlightenment?
The Buddha 11
This is a crucial point in our story, for it is when the future Buddha finally discovers the
true Path.
The ascetic Gotama, having concluded that extreme ascetic practices were not
going to bear fruit, asked himself what the true Path could be. And then he remembered
an incident from his childhood:
I considered: ’I recall that when my father the Sakyan was occupied, while I
was sitting in the cool shade of a rose-apple tree, quite secluded from sensual
pleasures, secluded from unwholesome states, I entered upon and abided in the first
jhāna, which is accompanied by applied and sustained thought, with rapture and
pleasure born of seclusion. Could that be the path to enlightenment?’ Then,
following on that memory, came the realisation: ‘That is the path to enlightenment.’
I thought: ‘Why am I afraid of that pleasure that has nothing to do with sensual
pleasures and unwholesome states?’ I thought, ‘I am not afraid of that pleasure,
since it has nothing to do with unwholesome states.’
…. Now when I had eaten solid food and regained my strength, then quite
secluded from sensual pleasures, secluded from unwholesome states, I entered upon
and abided in the first jhāna, which is accompanied by applied and sustained
thought, with rapture and pleasure born of seclusion. But such pleasant feeling that
arose in me did not invade my mind and remain.
The Buddha 12
What Gotama realizes here is not that meditation leading to the states known as the
jhānas is the Path. He has already pursued that line to its limit with his first two
meditation teachers and concluded that it had not solved his fundamental problem.
What he does realize is that the key distinction to be made is not between painful,
pleasant and neither-painful-nor pleasant feelings, but rather that between the
wholesome and the unwholesome.
The extreme ascetic obsessively pursues, cultivates and clings to painful feelings:
the uninstructed wordling shuns them, lamenting his fate when they cannot be avoided.
The extreme ascetic fears and avoids pleasant feelings: the uninstructed wordling
obsessively pursues, cultivates and clings to them.
11
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, ‘The Mahāsaccaka Sutta’ 36:30.
12
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, ‘The Mahāsaccaka Sutta’ 36:31.
15
The Buddha’s Middle Way distinguishes between those feelings, be they pleasant,
unpleasant, or neither-pleasant-nor-unpleasant, which are wholesome, and those which
are unwholesome. Basically, the unwholesome is that which has its root in lust, hatred
and delusion (The Three Fires), and the wholesome is that which has its root in non-lust,
non-hatred and non-delusion. 13
A painful feeling arising from some wholesome circumstance or action is to be
patiently endured, not shunned. A pleasant feeling arising from some wholesome or
action circumstance is to be enjoyed while it lasts, but not pursued or clung to. Restraint
is to be exercised in regard to the unwholesome, whatever type of feelings is gives rise
to.
So, what the ‘Discovery of Path’ comes down to is the discovery of the nature of
Right Effort:
And how is exertion fruitful, bhikkus, how is striving fruitful? Here, bhikkus, a
bhikku is not overwhelmed by suffering and does not overwhelm himself with
suffering; and he does not give up the pleasure that accords with Dhamma, yet he is
not infatuated with that pleasure.
The Buddha 14
The Path steers the middle way between the obsessive pursuit of sensual pleasure and
the obsessive pursuit of self-mortification:
Bhikkus, these two extremes should not be followed by one who has gone forth
into homelessness. What two? The pursuit of sensual happiness in sensual
pleasures, which is low, vulgar, the way of worldlings, ignoble, unbeneficial; and
the pursuit of self-mortification, which is painful, ignoble, unbeneficial. Without
veerings towards either of these two extremes, The Tathagāta has awakened to the
middle way, which gives rise to vision, which gives rise to knowledge, which leads
to peace, to direct knowledge, to enlightenment, to Nibbana.
The Buddha 15
The Middle Way is later expounded in detail as ‘The Noble Eightfold Path’.
So, the ascetic Gotama realising that extreme emaciation was a hindrance to
progress on the Path, decided to eat some boiled rice and bread. The five ascetics who
had been accompanying him then abandoned him in disgust, thinking that he had
abandoned striving and taken to a life of luxury. 16
What then, has our story up to this point illustrated? We saw the young prince
Siddhārtha immersed in a life of sensual pleasure which led him to a crisis when he
realised the full implications of impermanence. Then we saw the ascetic Gotama first
attempting to find a solution through the mastery of the mind using meditation
13
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, ‘Sammādițțhi Sutta’ 9:5,7.
14
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, ‘Devadaha Sutta’ 101:23.
15
Bodhi, The Connected Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Saccasaṃyutta’ Pt V, 56:11.
16
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Mahāsaccaka Sutta’ 36:33.
16
techniques, and then attempting to find it through the mastery of the body through
extreme self-mortification. Neither of these paths having satisfied him, we now see the
future Buddha finally settle upon the Middle Way as the path to be followed.
At the age of 35, six years after leaving home to begin his search, sitting alone
under a tree on the bank of the river Nerenjarā at Buddha Gaya (near Gaya in modern
Bihar), the ascetic Gotama finally attained full and perfect enlightenment and became
the Buddha.
… it’s usually a sudden thing. Remember right from the beginning the Buddha,
educated as he was, with all his practices sitting in long meditation, so deep that
nothing, no circumstances, could take him out of it.
Do you remember that last night, when neither Mara’s daughters nor Mara’s
demons, neither lust nor fear, had any inroad anymore? Because he was not there
anymore. Or no ‘I’ was there anymore, nothing which could have been ‘got’ so to
speak by Mara. But in that condition, he did not become ‘enlightened’, which is in
any case a bad expression.
Enlightenment did not open whilst he was sitting there in meditation. It was in
that moment that he came out of meditation and looked up and saw the morning
star – with a completely empty heart, with no thought, before thought had arisen, in
that complete reflection which is the state of beholding and not ‘I’ focused or ‘I
seeing’. And in that moment, when the sense impression falls into such an empty
heart, that heart reflects it. And it is in that that the awareness truly arises. ‘When
you suddenly topple the key link, there’ll be no mistake about it’.
…When there is only a beholding, there is no seeing as I see; there is no
hearing as I hear and therefore things are truly heard and seen as they are. And with
that awareness, comes the response.
Daiyu Myokyo 17
The Zen account tries to give some idea of enlightenment in terms of perception. In
the Pali Canon, the emphasis is on the Buddha’s resulting insight into the Four Noble
Truths, and particularly into the Chain of Dependent Origination: how it has affected the
Buddha in the past, and how it operates on all beings. But whichever aspect we choose
to focus on, the basic fact is the turning of the heart which reflects the end of all
clinging.
Although Gotama had now become the latest in a long line of Buddhas, it was by
no means obvious to him what his next step should be. He first thought that nobody
would be able to understand something so subtle, so any attempt to teach it would be
‘wearying and troublesome’. But later he realised that there were at least some with
‘little dust in their eyes’ who might be receptive, and out of compassion decided to
teach. His two meditation teachers, Āļāra Kālāma and Udakka Rāmaputta, had recently
died, so finally he decided that his first students would be the five ascetic companions
who had abandoned him when he took solid food.
17
17
After resting for some time, he set out on the road to the Deer Park at Isapatana in
Benares where his five old companions were staying. As he was going along, he met the
Ājīva Upaka who was so impressed by his bearing and radiant appearance that he
inquired who his teacher was and what Dhamma he followed. But on being informed
that he was talking to the ‘Fully Enlightened One’ he said, “May it be so friend.” Then
shaking his head, took a bypath and departed.
…it is not the fault of the sun or moon that a blind man cannot see them.
Master Torei 18
Finally, he reached the Deer Park, but the five, on seeing him coming, determined
not to greet him on the grounds that he had taken to a life of luxury. But as he got
nearer, they could not restrain themselves from treating him with respect. However,
when they called him ‘friend Gotama’, he reproved them, saying that they were in the
presence of the Tathagata who had come to teach them. Three times they doubted him,
saying that he had not reached such a state with them, and a Tathagata could not appear
from the life of luxury he had been living. Each time he denied that he lived luxuriously
or had abandoned his striving, and finally he asked them whether they had ever heard
him talk like this before. They admitted that they hadn’t and, finally, he was able to
convince them. 19
From that day, for 45 years, he taught all classes of men and women – kings
and peasants, Brahmins and outcasts, bankers and beggars, holy men and robbers –
without making the slightest distinction between them. He recognized no
differences of caste or social groupings, and the Way he preached was open to all
men and women who were ready to understand and to follow it.
Rahula 20
Approaching the age of 80 he fell seriously ill during the rainy season at Vasālī in
Beluvagāmaka.
A severe illness arose in him and terrible pains bordering on death assailed
him. But the Blessed One endured them, mindful and clearly comprehending,
without becoming distressed: Then the thought occurred to the Blessed One: ‘It is
not proper for me to attain final Nibbāna without having addressed my attendants
and taken leave of the Bhikku Sangha.’
The Buddha 21
So he determined to suppress the illness and live on. When he had recovered, his
faithful attendant Ānanda expressed his relief that he had not passed on without making
‘some pronouncement concerning the Bhikku Sangha’. But the Buddha replied that he
18
Tōrei and Shaku, The Discourse on the Inexhaustible Lamp of the Zen School, ch.10,: Torei 537.
19
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Ariyapariyesanā Sutta’ 26:26-29.
20
Rahula, What the Buddha Taught, ‘The Buddha’ Intro.
21
Bodhi, The Connected Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Satipaṭṭhānasaṃyutta’ Pt. V, 47:9.
18
had held nothing back when teaching, so what more did they expect? He had no
aspirations to control the Sangha after his death.
Then realising that poor Ānanda was finding it difficult to accept the inevitable loss
of his teacher, he gently reminded him that not even a Buddha is exempt from old age,
sickness and death:
Now I am old, Ānanda, aged, burdened with years, advanced in life, come to
the last stage. My age is now turning eighty. Just as an old cart keeps going by a
combination of straps, so it seems the body of the Tathagata keeps going by a
combination of straps.
The Buddha 22
Master Sokei-An says of this moment:
‘When this comes, you can do nothing more. Close your eyes and join your
hands. Go with that which is not yours back to that original state whence you have
come!’
Sokei-An 23
The Buddha died at the age of 80 at Kusinārā (in modern Uttar Pradesh). His last words
were:
Now I address you bhikkus: Formations are bound to vanish. Strive to attain
the goal by diligence.
The Buddha 24
Role
How does a Buddha differ from an Arahant? Well, many people have climbed
Everest, so why do we honour the first? The achievement of the pathfinder is of a higher
order then that of those who follow his lead.
Therein, monks, what is the distinction, the disparity, the difference between
the Tathagāta, the Arahant, the Perfectly Enlightened One, and a monk liberated by
wisdom?….. The Tathagāta, monks, the Arahant, the Perfectly Enlightened One, is
the originator of the path unarisen before, the producer of the path unarisen before,
the declarer of the path undeclared before. He is the knower of the path, the
discoverer of the path, the one skilled in the path. And his disciples now dwell
following that path and become possessed of it afterward.
That, monks, is the distinction, the disparity, the difference between the
Tathagāta, the Arahant, the Perfectly Enlightened One, and a monk liberated by
wisdom?
The Buddha 25
22
Bodhi, ‘Satipaṭṭhānasaṃyutta’ Pt. V, 47:9.
23
Schloegl, The Wisdom of the Zen Masters, LXVII.
24
Bodhi, The Connected Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Brahmasaṃyutta’ Pt. I, 6:15.
25
Bodhi, In the Buddha’s Words, ch. X, 5:1.
19
He did not claim to have discovered a new path, only to have rediscovered an
ancient path. But not only was he a pathfinder: he was, and is, the supreme guide for
those of us who also wish to reach the summit. Not every climber capable of reaching
the summit of Everest makes a good guide. A guide needs to understand the strengths
and weaknesses of those he is guiding and advise them accordingly. Some routes are
more direct than others, but not everyone is equipped for them.
The goal, the summit, in question is the end of Suffering. But, to reach the summit,
it is not sufficient to trust the guide or to understand and have faith in his directions: one
must actually exert oneself to follow the path indicated.
A rather haughty Brahmin asked the Buddha, ‘How come that some of the
mendicant Gautama’s – he didn’t even call him the Buddha- ‘the mendicant
Gautama’s disciples reach the goal, and some do not?’
And the Buddha said as a counter question, ‘Do you know the way to’ the
airport, in our case, ‘Rajagriha?’ in the text. And the Brahmin said, ‘Yes, of course.’
And the Buddha said, ‘If someone asks you the way, how would you describe
it?’ The Brahmin said, ‘Well, I would say you go out and then you take the first
turning on the left and you go along until the third fork and there you have to go to
the left again and then you come to a little pond and then you go round that pond
and take the right fork away from it and then you come to it.’.
The Buddha asked, ‘And having carefully explained it to him, if he still takes
the wrong turning and does not go, does not find it, what then?’ The Brahmin
shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Well, that’s not my business. I have only
explained the way.’
And the Buddha said, ‘And this is exactly the same with me too. Buddhas only
show the Way.’
Daiyu Myokyo 26
26
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Teachings: The Four Noble Truths

The First Noble Truth: Suffering
The murderous demon of impermanence strikes in a single instant, without
choosing between high and low, old and young.
All things are impermanent: which is no problem. Unless, that is, we are clinging
passionately to whatever will eventually pass.
But why should we cling in this way to anything, rather than simply enjoying it
while it lasts and then bidding it a fond farewell? We do so because we have come to
identify with that thing in some way, such as being it or having it, so that its passing
would feel like a small part of us dying.
But then why should a small part of us, or even the whole of us, dying, be a
problem? Why can’t we simply live life to the full while it lasts and then just let go?
All living things cling to life in the sense that the survival instinct impels them to
fight for survival when necessary. That is quite natural. But suppose a perfectly healthy
young adult becomes depressed at the idea that someday in the distant future he will
inevitably have to die. The idea of himself dying repels him. The following thoughts
arise: “I can’t die”, “I mustn’t die”, “I refuse to die”, “I DON’T WANT to die!!”, and
with them a growing feeling of panic. He lusts passionately after life and the idea of his
lust being thwarted provokes a violent emotional reaction. His panic is due to his
identification with the untamed passion manifesting here as lust. This identification with
our untamed passions is deluded: the delusion is known as the delusion of ‘I’.
A good deal of the suffering which living beings go through is natural and
inescapable. And since a Buddha is a being who is overflowing with compassion, such
suffering will not leave him unmoved. If a man has to endure toothache over a weekend,
then a Buddha will certainly offer him an aspirin for the pain. But the Buddha’s teaching
is ultimately concerned with suffering of a different order, the type the young man is
going through, that which arises from the delusion of ‘I’: identifying it for what it is;
explaining its cause; assuring us that it can be brought to an end; and explaining the
path to that end.
27
Rinzai, The Zen Teaching of Rinzai, Pt. 1, 11b.
21
The Second Noble Truth: The Cause of Suffering

The Wheel of Change
28
The formula of the Three Signs of Being – Impermanence, No-I, Suffering - serves
to remind us of three basic facts: the impermanence of all things, the fact that ‘I’ is a
delusion, and the fact of our suffering under this delusion in the face of impermanence.
The Wheel of Change, on the other hand, explains the persistence of this suffering
by spelling out the psychological consequences of living under the delusion of ‘I’, but in
so doing also offers an insight into how this suffering may be alleviated and eventually
dispelled.
The Buddha’s profound insight into the way all things really are, hence also
into the human heart and its nature, has been worked into a most marvellous
psychology. Portrayed in the shape of a wheel and called the Wheel of Life, or the
28
Myokyo-ni, Living Buddhism, ch. III.
22
Wheel of Change, it is factually as unreal as is paradise, but as an intricate map it

shows the interconnectedness of how things happen.
Daiyu Myokyo 29
The Wheel is a symbolic representation of the dynamics of the Realm of Delusion,
Samsara. We are not concerned here with the literal interpretation of Buddhist
cosmology. To say that we ‘inhabit’ Samsara, the Realm of Delusion, is to say no more
and no less than that we are deluded.
Samsara itself is said to be comprised of three realms: at the bottom the realm of the
passions (Kamadhatu); next the realm of form with 17 heavens in four sections
corresponding to the meditative absorptions known as the four dhyanas (jhanas in Pali);
and finally the realm of no form (Arupyadhatu) with its four heavens which again
correspond to the four higher levels of meditative absorption – the bases of continuous
space, continuous consciousness, continuous nothingness and neither-perception-nor-
non-perception.
It is important to note that the Buddha explicitly urges the abandoning of, that is to
say not clinging to, not only the pleasures of the senses, but also of all the meditative
states from the 4 dhyanas up to and including the highest, the ‘base of neither
perception nor non-perception’.
Thus, I speak of the abandoning even of the base of neither-perception-nor-
non-perception. Do you see, Udayin, any fetter, small or great, of whose
abandoning I do not speak?
No Venerable sir. Laṭukikopama Sutta
The Buddha 30
So, even if we are in a state of meditative absorption, no matter how high and
refined, if we are clinging to it, we are still in Samsara, that is, still deluded and hence
still subject to Suffering. It is significant that enlightenment did not open for the Buddha
while he was in a state of meditation, it opened when he came out of that, with the
impact of seeing the morning star. Which is not to deny the importance of meditation for
training purposes.
Motive force: The Three Fires
The Wheel itself, ever turning, is kept in motion by the tremendous energy ...in
the Three Fires which constitute the whole elementary force of life, and in humans
is operative as the threefold aspect of Desire, Hatred and Delusion.
Daiyu Myokyo 31
Driven by the Three Fires - our main emotional roots - ‘I’ whirls on the Wheel
of Life, Samsara, with its Six States, from moment to moment and from life to life.
Or it imagines itself to do so, to be bound upon that Wheel. If clear seeing ensues
29
Myokyo-ni, ch. III.
30
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Laṭukikopama Sutta’, 66:34.
31
23
and in that clear seeing no ‘I’ is to be found, the Fires are extinguished and there is
deliverance from the Wheel, or from the ‘ocean of birth and death’ as the Zen texts
are fond of putting it.
However, we have to be careful when we read such statements. For it is just the
‘I’ which would like to be eternal, in other words secure, that has been seen through
and dissolved.
Daiyu Myokyo 32
Lust and Hate
The piercing cry of the hungry new-born infant, its grasping for and clinging to the
breast which feeds it, is no more and no less than an organism’s response to the pangs of
hunger which it feels. It is not a plea for help, for there is no thought behind it. This cry,
this grasping and clinging, is infused with all the energy and urgency of the survival
instinct. And it is effective in stimulating the instinct to nurture in the mother. Thus, may
a totally dependent being survive his introduction into a dangerous world.
Now the primal energy in these primitive urges, in itself, has no form or direction.
However, directed towards an object in the form of craving, it is known as lust and hate:
we crave the presence of that which attracts us, and the absence of that which repels us.
The Delusion of ‘I’
Lust and hate have direction: they are directed towards something. Since they are
towards something, we come to assume they must also be ‘from’ something: and that
something which they are from, their source, I take to be ‘me’.
In a trivial sense, of course, we are each the source of our desires. John’s desire to
be rich is John’s, not Jane’s. Jane is not interested in money; she only wants to be
famous. And, in themselves, there is nothing wrong with such desires. John might have
perfectly good reasons for wanting to become rich, and Jane for wanting to become
famous. The problem arises when the desire to become rich or famous becomes a matter
of life or death for John and Jane: the feeling that we must become and remain rich or
famous, or we are nothing. These particular cases are actually quite common: the
magnate who plunges to his death rather than live in ruin; the fading actress who ends it
all with a cocktail of drugs and drink rather than face life without the adoration of an
audience.
So the problem is not the concept of myself as a human being which at this moment
happens to be the source of love, hate or indifference towards something, but rather the
concept of myself as an entity which is essentially that source, which makes acting upon
such feelings a matter of life and death for this assumed ‘me’ and thus enslaves the
human being to the passionate urge to act on such feelings: the imperative feeling that I
must or can’t do, be or have such and such.
We do not hold this concept as a mere intellectual hypothesis, open to rational
argument, and which are quite free to abandon at will. It is the heartfelt conviction that
32
24
we are defined by our loving, hating and indifference: and this is a conviction which we
cling to passionately. This is known as the Delusion of ‘I’, and since it denotes
something with which we identify, any perceived threat to it arouses fear.
So, obviously, ‘I’ in Buddhism is not to be equated with the notion of a human
being. When Shakyamuni eradicated the last traces of ‘I’ and became the Buddha, he
did not disappear in a puff of smoke. He continued to eat, drink and sleep like the rest of
us; spent the rest of his long life teaching and eventually grew old, sick and died. Nor
does ‘No I’ mean the absence of an individual personality with its personal preferences.
The training in itself will not change or eliminate my preference for coffee over tea.
In fact, in the context of the Buddhist teachings, ‘I’ does not refer to a ‘thing’ at all.
It refers rather to our deeply ingrained habit of identifying with our desires. But what
does that mean? The problem is not desire, not even the intensity of desire. It is
perfectly natural that a man dying of thirst in the desert should feel that he must have
water. But if there are two men dying of thirst, and only enough water for one, what
then? If one feels not just ‘I must have water’, but ‘I must have water’, and so denies his
companion, he sets himself apart from the world, his highest value being the satisfaction
of his own desires.
‘And what’s wrong with that?’ asks the rugged individualist. ‘Isn’t it only natural?’
Yes, it is nature, but brute nature, in action. And the point is that nature can evolve and
develop beyond brutishness. If he cuts himself from all compassion towards his
companion, he may guarantee his own physical survival, but the resulting sense of
isolation is a heavy price to pay.
Delusion makes me think of myself as I, not just distinct but as quite separate
from everything else. With that arises bias towards ‘I’ and so fear of what is other.
Driven out of Paradise? With that the Life-Energy splits into two components-
attachment to ‘I, me, mine’ and fear of other than ‘I’. Insight into this and the
consequent ‘turning around in the deepest seat of consciousness’ equals
enlightenment.
Since I cannot see this, standing in my own shadow as it were, there is
inevitably the intimation of something lacking, something to be got which drives
me and gives me no peace. I project it outwards and see the world as unsatisfactory,
not coming up to my wishes and expectations, hence as held in the claws of a
demon, swirling it round and round, and we all whirling on it haplessly, without
redress and without end.
Daiyu Myokyo 33
States: The Six Realms
Any analysis serves a purpose, and since the purpose of the Buddha was to help us
understand and escape from the delusion of ‘I’, it would be reasonable to suppose that
33
25
his description of the predicament of beings suffering that delusion would have some
relation to the fundamental consequences of it.
The Buddha says, then, that we are ‘living in the Realm of Delusion, Samsara’, by
which he means no more, and no less, that we are suffering from the delusion of ‘I’.
He teaches that we are trapped in Samsara by our grasping for and clinging to that
which, in our delusion, we passionately crave; and that liberation comes with the
abandonment of such grasping and clinging. Craving is here understood to be double-
sided: either for the positive – creation, acceptance, possession – in relation to that
which we love, or the negative – destruction, rejection, throwing away - in relation to
that which we hate.
He then analyses our suffering into a broad classification of six specific forms
which it may take, according to circumstance and the action of the Three Fires. A being
who is trapped in any given form of suffering is said to be ‘inhabiting a realm’ (within
the overall Realm of Delusion). The key characteristic of each realm could be said to be
the following:
• insofar as we are lost in the pleasure of having what we crave, we are said to be
in the Heavenly Realm.
• insofar as we are lost in the misery of not having what we crave, we are said to
be in the Miserable Realm.
• insofar as we are lost in the craving for what we do not have, we are said to be in
the Realm of the Hungry Ghosts.
• insofar as we are lost in grasping and fighting for what we crave, we are said to
be in the Realm of the Fighting Demons.
• insofar as we are lost in a state of dumb resignation to our ‘fate’, we are said to
be in the Animal Realm.
• insofar as we are not lost or carried away in any of these ways, yet are still
deluded, we are said to be in the Human Realm.
Manifesting as an inhabitant of the Heavenly Realm is not a matter of entering one
of those heavens located above Mount Sumeru and said to be inhabited by the gods: it
is, rather, a matter of feeling like and assuming the characteristics of one of those gods.
And when do we typically feel like and strut around like a god? When do we say that
we are ‘in heaven’? Well, when we are lost in the pleasure of having what we crave and
be it a person, a new car, fame, holiness, a meditative state or whatever.
We should not think of the Six Realms as something like countries which king ‘I’
visits. Nor should we confuse manifestation in a Realm of the Wheel with the birth of a
human being in the world as usually conceived. Specifically, we should not confuse
manifestation in the Human Realm of the Wheel with the birth of a human being in the
world.
The birth of a human being in the world is rather like the source of a spring on the
mountainside, though the human being flows not through space, but time. If, on flowing
down the mountain, the spring flows over peaty soil, then it will acquire a peaty smell,
taste and colour. You might say, it manifests in the Realm of Peat. If a person spends a
26
fair time sitting next to a burning incense stick, he will carry the smell of incense; if he
walks through a cloud coming down a mountain, he will get wet; and if he wallows in
Ignorance Lust and Hatred he will manifest as a being of one of the Six Realms
according to the dominant mix at the time. It may be the momentary manifestation of a
fighting demon in a flash of anger, or the more enduring manifestation of a hungry
ghost in the long-running pursuit of something we lust after. Whatever the
manifestation, even one in the Human Realm, it is rooted in that Ignorance which
underpins the Chain of Conditioned Arising.
At this point we should draw attention to a distinction which will be important for
helping us understand the Chain of Conditioned Arising. Under certain circumstances,
the action of the Three Fires might induce one of the six types of suffering in a living
being: for example, a man might suddenly be carried away by a fit of anger over
something and be drawn into a conflict. This would be a case of someone ‘manifesting
in the realm of the Fighting Demons’. However, the fit might pass, and he might fall
into a state of self-pity, lamenting the absence of something he craves. Now he is
manifesting in the realm of the Hungry Ghosts. These states of suffering may last for
varying periods. However, let us suppose that his fits of anger become more and more
frequent, to the point where people habitually steer clear of him for fear of provoking an
unpleasant incident. This is now a case of a different order: he could now be said to be
‘trapped’ in the realm of the fighting demons, or to have, for all intents and purposes
actually ‘become’ a fighting demon. The teaching of the Chain of Dependent Arising
explains the dynamics of this process of ‘becoming’ an inhabitant of one after another of
the six realms and shows how we can escape from it.
Since the Fires are no more than the Buddha nature manifesting in the context of
the distorting delusion of ‘I’, the reduction of this delusion of ‘I’ through restraint leads
towards the manifestation of the Buddha nature undistorted by ‘I’. Such a manifestation
of the Buddha Nature cannot be characterised in terms of the realms of the Wheel, not
even the Human, since those characterisations take their colouring from the Fires,
which, by definition are absent. In fact, traditionally such undistorted manifestations are
said to be in the Four Sublime (The term ‘Divine’ might lead to confusion with the
Heavenly Realm of the Wheel) Abodes.
In all Realms of the Wheel, except the Human, we are overcome by our emotional
reactions of one sort or another which colour everything and make us incapable of
seeing clearly. Thus, it is said that only from the Human Realm is liberation possible.
And thus, the first objective of the training is to learn how to remain, though discipline
and restraint, in the Human Realm, come what may. This entails patient endurance of
those emotional reactions which would otherwise carry us away. One who can do this is
represented in the lay ideal of the gentleman or woman.
So, the first step on the path to becoming an arahant or bodhisattva or Buddha, is
simply to become gentle. This does not come easily to us at first, for it implies, as
already mentioned, the need to cultivate patient endurance of our emotional reactions
against it. Hence the analogy of Gentling the Bull, the Bull being the passions. Note that
27
it is not a question of suppressing or destroying the passions, but rather of gentling and
transforming them.
So we are here on the Wheel, and we suffer in the knowledge of our impermanence,
our inevitable decline and death. Are we, then, condemned to such suffering? The
Buddha’s answer is no. We can be liberated from this suffering. But our liberation
depends on our seeing clearly, and to help us towards this clear seeing he expounded the
Chain of Dependent Arising in order to demonstrate how manifestations arise and how
they may cease.
Dynamics: The Chain of Conditioned Arising
Introduction
The teaching of the Chain of Conditioned (or Dependent) Arising is either
interpreted as explaining the dynamics of our suffering from life to life, or from state to
state in this life, or both.
Here we shall limit ourselves to an examination of how, within a single lifespan,
while under the delusion of ‘I’, we are condemned to passing through the Six Realms of
the Wheel.
This interpretation serves, even for those of us to whom the idea of a succession of
lives is unconvincing, to gain a better understanding of the forces which move and
mould us day to day, and can thereby help reduce, or even eliminate, in this life the
suffering to which the delusion of ‘I’ condemns us.
Base
The pictorial depiction of the Chain as the outer circumference of the Wheel of Life
should not mislead us into thinking that as a whole it is a simple succession of discrete
states or events running in a circle.
The Chain is a hierarchy of conditions, with Ignorance as the base. The big wheel
known as the London Eye is built on a solid foundation. The Eye revolves, the
foundation does not. So too, the Wheel of Life revolves on the foundation of Ignorance.
Links
In the Commentaries dependent arising is defined as the arising of effects
evenly in dependence on a conjunction of conditions. This implies that no single
cause can produce an effect, nor does only one effect arise from a given cause.
Rather, there is always a collection of conditions giving rise to a collection of
effects. When, in the familiar formula, one state is declared to be the condition for
another, this is said in order to single out the single chief condition among a
collection of conditions and relate it to the most important effect among a collection
of effects.
Bodhi 34
34
Anuruddha and Bodhi, A Comprehensive Manual of Abhidhamma, ch. VIII:3.
28
Furthermore, since the arising of a particular effect is not an inevitable consequence

of the mere existence of a particular cause, escape is possible. For example, craving
gives rise to grasping, but not necessarily: restraint is possible under certain conditions.
Sequencing
The pictorial depiction of the Chain on the Wheel might mislead us into thinking
that all the elements in the Chain are discrete events or states which succeed each other
in time as the Wheel turns. But it is not necessarily so.
Just as nutrients and water are necessary for the whole life cycle of a plant, so too is
Ignorance a necessary condition for Suffering on the Wheel. Some conditions such as
Ignorance may persist, while others such as Birth and Death are passing events in a
temporal sequence.
The act of smoking is a necessary condition for addiction to cigarettes, but the
addiction is not a state which comes into being after one or many individual acts of
smoking: it is something which develops over the period of time in which those acts of
smoking occur. Just so with Feeling and Craving: the Craving for cigarettes develops
over a period of time in which the pleasant feeling the act of smoking produces is
experienced repeatedly.
Arising
In our Ignorance (Avidya) the I-oriented habits and tendencies we have acquired
(Samskara) persist and condition our general state of Consciousness (Vijnana), thus
leading us to persist in identifying with each and all of the Five Aggregates (Nama-
Rupa). This identification compromises the Six Bases of Perception (Sadayatana),
Contact (Sparsa) and Feeling (Vedana), which induces Craving (Trsna) and Grasping
(Upadana), leading to the formation of new habits and tendencies: all of which
contributes to the process of Becoming (Bhava), and eventually being born (Jati), as an
inhabitant of another realm, who will, in time, decline and die (Jamarana) when another
realm is entered.
Thus, it is like a Big Wheel with Ignorance as the foundation; Formations,
Consciousness and Name & Form the motor; Contact, Feeling Craving and Grasping
the fuel; and Birth and Death in the Six Realms the wheel itself.
In the pragmatic psychology of the Buddha the individual is seen as comprised of
Five Aggregates (Skhandas). This group of Aggregates manifests in a variety of Forms.
But in the context of the Wheel and the Six Realms, we are not concerned with the Five
Aggregates as such, but with the ‘Five Aggregates affected by clinging’, which is to say,
under the influence of Ignorance.
The Chain, then, describes the genesis of forms: to be precise, the genesis of those
forms which the Five Aggregates under the influence of Ignorance, and hence affected
by clinging, may take. These forms are classified into six types which correspond to the
Six Realms: thus when the Five Aggregates affected by clinging finally assume the form
of a Hungry Ghost, the individual is said to ‘inhabit the realm’ of Hungry Ghosts.
If you or your partner have ever been pregnant, did you notice how the world
seemed full of pregnant women? Or if you have ever broken an arm or leg, did you not
29
see people with limbs in plaster wherever you looked? Just so, when angry the world
seems full of people looking for a fight; when depressed and miserable, even the
brightest smile seems a mockery. In other words, the six realms are not physical places:
they are the same world seen through the prism of conditioned subjectivity.
Again, one might pass through such a conditioned state in a matter of minutes, or
may spend days, weeks or a whole lifetime entrapped there. Whatever the duration, the
principle is the same: one’s time spent ‘in’ a particular ‘realm’ is causally conditioned.
Nor should it be imagined that entering a particular realm for a short time, is
‘merely’ a matter of entering a particular ‘psychological state’. All Five Skhandas are
manifested according to the Realm. When someone passes from the realm of the
Hungry Ghosts (desperate to win the lottery) to the Heavenly Realm (realising that they
have just won the jackpot), do their posture and state of physical well-being, their
perception of themselves and all around them, their feelings and intentions, their state of
awareness remain the same? Do they continue to skulk around with a furrowed brow
and abrupt manner, plagued with ills? Not at all! Suddenly they are transformed -
laughing and dancing, overflowing with uncontainable joy.
So whatever the timeframe, be it minutes or whole lives, the picture remains the
same – due to causal conditions an ever-changing grouping of the Five Skandhas
reaches a point in its transformations where the predominant features together have a
recognisable form – that of an inhabitant of one of the Realms. Since nothing is static,
the changes in each and all of the Skhandas continue, until the group reaches a point at
which the overall form becomes characteristic of an inhabitant of another of the Realms.
Ceasing
The whole point of the teaching of the Chain is to help us understand our Suffering
and follow the Path to which puts an end to it. Therefore, it is pertinent to consider each
element as conditioned by our basic Ignorance, and also how this conditioning is
reduced in and by the practice.
1 Ignorance (Avidya / Avijjā)
Followers of the Way, the leaver of home must study the Way. I myself was
formerly interested in the Vinaya and diligently studied the Sutras and the Treatises.
Then I realised that they were only drugs suitable for appeasing the ills of the
world, only relative theories. At one stroke I threw them away, set myself to learn
the Way, started Zen training and met great teachers. Only then did my eye of the
Way begin to see clearly, and I was able to understand all the old masters and to
know the false from the true. Man born of woman does not naturally know this. But
after long and painful practice, one morning it is realised in one’s body.
A sick man will not improve his health by merely studying the diagnosis or the
prescription. To get better he must follow the course of treatment. The Buddhist
35
Rinzai, The Zen Teaching of Rinzai, I:20a.
30
tradition formulates its diagnosis and course of treatment in The Four Noble Truths
which concern the nature, origin, end and the path to the end of Suffering.
In this context ‘Ignorance’ refers to ignorance of the Four Noble Truths. We are all
born in ignorance of these truths. Consequently, no sooner do we start to speak and
think for ourselves than we find ourselves enmeshed in the delusion of ‘I’ and hence
subject to the effects of lust and hatred, in other words, suffering the effects of the Three
Fires.
Under the influence of the Three Fires we are trapped on the Wheel. Escape is
possible through genuine insight into the Four Noble Truths. But by ‘genuine insight’ is
meant not merely theoretical knowledge, but rather practical, direct knowledge, which is
reflected in our feelings and behaviour, in short, in the body.
Evidently then, merely studying, reading, listening to, theorising about the
teachings will not do the trick. Intellectual assent is not sufficient. The teachings must
be put into practice with our whole being, in thought, speech and action, and we must
willingly accept the consequences: a transformation of the individual on every level –
mental, emotional and physical.
So perhaps we should begin by asking ourselves seriously whether we are really
willing to change from the people we take ourselves to be, and not in order to become
‘more’ , but rather to become ‘less’, to be diminished – even a little bit. Think of what is
at stake: our self-importance, pride, smug satisfaction – and not necessarily for being
‘the best’, but even for being ‘the worst’ or even ‘middling’, one of the crowd. Such a
prospect frightens every ‘I’ and for this reason we need the reassurance of a reliable
teacher who shows the Way by living it and thus inspires faith in it.
2 Formations (Samskara / Sankhara)
The Samskara arise conditioned by Avidya. Our basic ignorance, and the
intoxication it implies, conditions our predispositions, tendencies and habits, which may
be conveniently classified as predispositions of thought, of speech and of action. These
are dispositions of the will and hence kamma.
Think of a magnet. A complete description should include its latent property to
attract and repel certain elements, and its indifference to others. The formations are like
mental magnets. Their latent potential is realised under the appropriate conditions. The
magnet is drawn to the metal bar, the alcoholic to the wine bar and the sweet tooth to the
chocolate bar.
Place a plastic comb in the midst of small pieces of paper and nothing happens. Run
the comb through your hair (karmic action) and you see no difference, but it has
acquired a latent potential. Now when it comes in the vicinity of the papers once more,
there is physical attraction. What should we do? Blame the papers? Abolish all papers
because they tempt your comb? No. All we have to do is knock some sense into the
comb, rearrange its constituents, and the latency is extinguished.
Now while Ignorance of the Four Noble Truths persists, and to the extent that it
persists, the Formations have a particular character: they are ‘I’ –oriented, tainted by the
delusion of ‘I’.
31
Lost in conceptual discriminations we are prey to the workings of our habits and
latent tendencies. We can work out and transform these habits and tendencies if we can
refrain from being caught up in such discriminations.
In any given situation, one thing or another will happen according to the extent to
which either Ignorance or Wisdom prevail. The aim of the training is to increase the
frequency and extent to which Wisdom prevails.
3 Consciousness (Vijnana / Vinnana)
Consciousness is conditioned by the Formations.
…with mental formations (Samskharas) and the resulting consciousness, if the
former are pure (not volitional, not I- biased), then consciousness is pure, unbiased
awareness (not I-biased, hence without the Fires, i.e. ‘cool’), and as that perceives
and functions naturally in context and in harmony with what is. The Northern
Schools would here add that ‘consciousness is not’, for, in blending in, all becomes
one – or naught! ‘The eye that sees but cannot see itself’.
But when I-centred, and so willy-nilly emotionally charged, mental formations
are partisans and thus volitional or intentional i.e. I-directed. Thus, they create
eddies which are perceived as upsetting/painful. The resulting consciousness will
then be ‘under stress’, labouring towards more pleasant conditions.
Daiyu Myokyo 36
If we try to sit quietly for an hour concentrating solely on counting the breath, but
on a morning when we have a busy day ahead with important meetings, deadlines on
which much depends etc., what happens? Our consciousness is invaded time and again
by our plans, intentions, worries, speculations and so on. We find it impossible to keep
to the count for long and spend the whole hour being dragged away time and again.
Like this, consciousness is conditioned by the Samskara.
Now when such an invasion occurs, to the extent that Ignorance prevails, we are
carried away and pursue each distraction until it exhausts itself, but to the extent that
Wisdom prevails, as soon as we become aware of the distraction, we disassociate from
it and return to what is being done – in this case the counting.
Consider the case of those soldiers who were selected for special training by the
Special Forces of the US to prepare them to fight and survive alone in the jungles of
Vietnam. The training was intense and thorough. Its aim was to convert these men into
what can best be described as Fighting Demons: that is, all normal social restraints on
violence and killing were systematically removed so that there would be no interference
with their lightening quick reactions.
It must be admitted that the training was highly effective, for these men survived
terrible ordeals. But the war was lost, and they were given no help to readjust to society.
They were simply sent home. In a TV documentary one veteran explained why he, like
many others, had taken to a solitary existence in the mountains after his return home.
36
Myokyo-ni, Living Buddhism, ch.III.
32
On his first morning back home, his mother had woken him, as she had when he was a
boy, by wiggling his big toe. Before he or she knew what was happening, he had jack-
knifed up and had his hands around her throat. Fortunately, he just managed to stop
himself before he broke her neck, but he got such a fright at what he was capable of
doing before he even had time to consider, that he ran off to hide in the wilderness.
Many such men ended up in gaol or worse because of their violent reflexes: an
outrageous piece of neglect on the part of the authorities, but a very instructive example
for our purposes.
It illustrates that if the seeds have been sown and the appropriate conditions arise,
there may be little that the good intentions of the individual at that moment can do to
stop them bearing fruit. Which is not to say that these formations could not have been
altered by careful treatment of the case.
As a result of their training (karmic action), extremely powerful formations (of
many elements, such as reflexes, changed priorities and so on) were induced in the
soldiers. The resulting general Consciousness was literally that of a Fighting Demon.
The consciousness to touch of the Vietnam veteran was not that of the little boy who his
mother remembered.
A Formation in itself is a latent potential for action or reaction under certain
conditions, basically habits and tendencies of thought, speech and action. And the
Formations taken together as in this context of the Chain, can be seen as conditioning
the general Consciousness of an individual in all its aspects.
4 Name & Form - Individuality (Nama-Rupa)
With his exposition of The Chain of Dependent Arising the Buddha is concerned
with explaining the dynamics of Suffering on the Wheel under the delusion of ‘I’, not
with giving a description of the physical generation of the world.
The world, as Consciousness knows it, is analysed by the Buddha into the Five
Aggregates (Skhandas) of: Feeling, Perceptual Recognition, Formations (habits and
tendencies accruing from wilful action), Conscious Awareness and Material Form. And
we, as individuals, like everything else in the world, are considered analysable in these
terms.
… the Five Aggregates simply describe the state of the human being as is,
which, whether deluded or enlightened, at ease or suffering, is of no concern, and
might be either.
Daiyu Myokyo 37
But the state of an inhabitant of Samsara, trapped on the Wheel, is described as ‘the
Five Aggregates affected by clinging’.
The fundamental problem for we who are trapped on the Wheel is not the content
of our fantasies of self-identity, but the fact that we feel the need to fantasize at all. This
need arises from the basic delusion of a separate ‘I’ which is prior to, and independent
37
Myokyo-ni, ch.III.
33
of, the precise content with which we flesh that delusion out. The delusion has its origin
in our identification with the untamed passions ranging from lust through cold
indifference to hate. This induces an insatiable feeling that something is lacking, and we
then proceed to fantasize about what that something must be, projecting onto the world
our pictures of what we imagine would satisfy this lack. These projections give Name
and Form to the identity we thereby construct in terms of ‘I, me and mine’.
’Venerable sir, how does identity view come to be?’
‘Here, monk, the uninstructed worldling…regards form as self, or self as possessing
form, or form as in self, or self as in form.’
The Buddha 38
And similarly with respect to the other four skhandas.
The endless pursuit of, clinging to and eventual disenchantment with these fantasies
is what keeps the Wheel revolving. An individual on the Wheel inhabits of one of the
Six Realms of Samsara by virtue of that basic Ignorance which conditions
Consciousness through I-oriented habits and tendencies (Formations) of thought word
and speech. Consciousness, thus conditioned, gives substance to and reinforces the
delusion of ‘I’ by projecting onto the world it knows an identity, constructed in the
following terms: this is mine; I am this; this is my self.
Liberation, then, does not consist in the destruction of the skhandas, but rather in
the end of clinging to any of these elements under the delusion that they constitute an
‘I’. Thus:
A bhikkhu, an arahant, with taints destroyed, one who has lived the holy life,
done what had to be done, laid down the burden, reached the true goal, destroyed
the fetters of being, and is completely liberated through final knowledge …..has
seen all material form - any kind of material form whatever, any kind of feeling,
perception, formations, consciousness whatever, as it actually is, with proper
wisdom thus: ‘This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self,’ and through not
clinging he is liberated.
The Buddha 39
Well almost. There remains one last step to becoming an arahant which is the uprooting
of the residual conceit ‘I am’, as pointed out by the Venerable Khemaka:
So too friends, even though a noble disciple has abandoned the five lower
fetters, still, in relation to the five aggregates subject to clinging, there lingers in
him a residual conceit ‘I am’, a desire ‘I am’, and underlying tendency ‘I am’ that
has not been uprooted…As he dwells thus contemplating rise and fall in the five
aggregates subject to clinging, the residual conceit ‘I am’, the desire ‘I am’, the
underlying tendency ‘I am’ that had not been uprooted-this comes to be uprooted.
The Buddha 40
38
Bodhi, In the Buddha’s Words, ch.IX, 4:1b.
39
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Cūḷasaccaka Sutta’, 35:25.
40
Bodhi, In the Buddha’s Words, ch.X, 4:2.
34
This residual conceit points to the fact that behind our clinging to the pictures with
which we construct an identity in terms of ‘I, me and mine’ is that original identification
with the untamed passions of lust and hate.
The cessation of clinging leads to the complete realisation of no-I, and with that the
behaviour of the individual no longer generates those Formations which condition
Consciousness in such a way as to condemn him to live as an inhabitant of the Six
Realms of the Wheel. But if no longer an inhabitant of any of the Six Realms, what type
of being has this liberated individual become?
The Tathagata has abandoned that form, that feeling, that perception, those
volitional formations, that consciousness, by which one describing the Tathagata
might describe him…. Liberated from reckoning in terms of form, feeling,
perception, volitional formations, consciousness, the Tathagata is deep,
immeasurable, hard to fathom like the ocean.
The Buddha 41
5 The Six Bases of Perception (Sadayatana / Salayatana)
The deluded individual is predisposed to act and react according to his
conditioning. But his actions and reactions arise in contact with the world as he
perceives it. So now we come to consider his gateway to the world, the Sadayatana, the
Six Bases of Perception. Six bases because, in the Buddhist schema, the relation of the
mind to whatever passes through it is regarded as another form of perception.
In our Ignorance we suppose that the world and our perception of it is objective,
that we see what there is to be seen, hear what there is to be heard and so on. This,
however, is demonstrably not the case: otherwise, professional magicians would die of
hunger.
Very often, what we think we see is not what is there to be seen, but rather what we
expect to see, are conditioned to see, or want to see. And so too with the other senses. A
certain lady once went for a week protesting about the taste of her coffee and
determining to give up coffee for tea. She asked her husband repeatedly whether he
found it disagreeable, but he couldn’t agree. Finally, she realised that she had put salt in
the sugar cellar. She only takes sugar in her coffee, not in her tea, and her husband
doesn’t take sugar at all.
Was there contact between her taste buds and salt? Yes, but she had persisted in
thinking that the problem was the coffee, and the unpleasant feelings arising from that
contact led to a craving to replace coffee with tea.
Clearly her notion of what she was experiencing was at odds with the way things
really were. Her relation to her ‘objective world’ – the sense faculties and their objects –
was compromised by her expectations. The point is how little inclined she was to really
pay attention to the taste, she was so convinced that it was coffee and sugar, and since
41
Bodhi, ch.IX, 5:6.
35
the taste of sugar never varies…. Can we say then that she perceived the taste of salt?
Yes, but she perceived it as the taste of sugar.
This true story is a trivial and amusing example, but if it costs so much to really pay
attention to our experience when the stakes are so low, imagine how little inclined we
will be when it is conditioned by expectations and opinions which concern our very
sense of who and what we are.
Love is blind, as is hate. Who has not marvelled at the inability of another to see the
least fault in the object of their affections, while those affections last? Doctors are not
allowed to treat the members of their own family. Police officers are removed from
cases where there is a danger that their feelings may impair their judgement.
Our faculties of perception as inhabitants of Samsara are not a transparent window
giving a clear view of an objective reality. They are conditioned and warped by our I-
oriented preconceptions, expectations and prejudices.
6 Contact (Sparsa / Phassa)
For the inhabitant of the Wheel, Sadatayana, the bases of perception, are already
conditioned and compromised before contact. For, habitually, I will only see, hear, taste,
smell, touch or cognize those things which fall within the perceptual framework of my
predispositions.
If, for me, you are a monster because of something you did or said in the past, then,
for me, your smile can be anything but friendly; your gestures anything but welcoming;
your words anything but gentle – despite all appearances to the contrary, because before
I even met you today, I knew you for a monster. Hence our contact is anything but
neutral, because it was bound to be, for me, contact between an innocent (me) and a
monster (you).
So, the feelings which arise from contact will be conditioned by the way we have
interpreted that contact. And the interpretation which inhabitants of Samsara put on
contact is tainted by the Three Fires.
7 Feeling (Vedana)
In the context of the Chain, we are concerned with feeling as something arising,
conditioned by the previous six links, and as something which one may or may not be
carried away by, over the following two links. But since the point of understanding the
Chain is to help us escape from the round of Suffering, what we need to focus on are
specifically three types of feeling: pleasant feeling, painful feeling and feeling which is
neither pleasant nor painful.
Of course, it is perfectly natural to prefer a pleasant feeling to a painful one. The
Buddha was not a masochist, nor was he unfeeling. But when an unavoidable painful
feeling arises the uninstructed worldling suffers doubly, for in addition to the
unavoidable pain he ‘sorrows, grieves and laments; he weeps, beating his breast and
becomes distraught.’ (Bodhi, 2000 p. 1264) The instructed noble disciple, on the other
hand, simply endures what has to be endured while it lasts, without any additional
mental suffering arising from an impassioned rejection of what is happening to him.
36
When a pleasant feeling arises in the uninstructed worldling, he revels in it greedily;

fears, resists and then laments its passing. The instructed noble disciple, on the other
hand, simply enjoys the feeling while it lasts without any additional mental suffering
arising from an impassioned grasping at and clinging to what is happening to him.
So in regard to each of these types of feeling there is an underlying tendency: there
is a tendency to lust after pleasant feeling, hate or feel aversion to painful feeling, or, in
our ignorance, crave the peace of a state of feeling in which we are undisturbed by
either pleasant or painful feelings. These underlying tendencies are sustained by our
continuing ignorance and conditioned by the samaskaras.
Lusting after the pleasant feeling we associate with an experience, a state of affairs,
person, opinion, ideal, or whatever, gives rise to craving for that thing. Hating the
painful feeling associated with something gives rise to craving its negation.
The third tendency may seem puzzling to us. Why should it matter that we crave an
undisturbed state of feeling which is neither pleasant nor painful? This state is often
mistaken for equanimity, whereas in fact it is a state of indifference. Consider the
behaviour of those who are indifferent to the suffering of animals, or of certain classes
of people: such indifference carries a value judgement – this inspires neither lust nor
hate in me, therefore it is nothing to me. Is not such distancing of oneself from others
regrettable? The indifferent heart, in the absence of lust or hate, stands apart from the
world, cold and unresponding. In equanimity, the heart at peace in all contingencies is
not overwhelmed by lust or hate, should they arise, but neither is it cold and
unresponsive in their absence: it is warmed by compassion, and tempered by wisdom.
I remember when Sesso Roshi first gave a commentary of the Rinzai Roku
(Record of Rinzai), and there is a passage in it which recounts what an enlightened
man can do: he can go into the wilderness and will not be attacked by wild animals;
and finally, he can go into the three deepest hells and play about in them as if it
were a fairground.
And when I translated that passage, trying to prepare myself for the teisho the
next day, because my Japanese was not very good at the time, and if I didn’t know
the text I wouldn’t understand, I thought ‘Oh my goodness me! Even in Zen
training where there is so much about compassion, but there ‘going into the three
deepest hells and playing about as if it was a funfair’ – where is the compassion
then? I was very curious to see what Sesso Roshi would say the next day.
And he picked it up at once and said, “If you look at it with our ordinary ideas,
then it is merely callousness. But if you look at it - and this is how these texts need
to be read, otherwise we do not understand – if you look at it with the Single Eye,
then it’s a question: nobody asks him to go into these three fearful places. If he, by
himself, wants to go there in order to help beings, if he is caught up in them, he
becomes only another inmate, and only increases the suffering; he is certainly not
capable of reaching out a helping hand to those who are there. He must remain free.
That is what is meant here; and we come again to the non-attachment. Do not
think that non-attachment means that there is no feeling left. Look at the Buddha,
37
who after his enlightenment wandered about until his death all over north-eastern
India, full of friendliness and compassion. And think of the episode of the woman
with the dead child. When she finally, having understood what the Buddha meant,
managed to lay that dead body down, though she was still crying, the resentment
was gone; and the Buddha laid his hand on her head, and there were tears in his
eyes too and he nodded.
The All-Compassionate One’s teaching: I am not alone in my pain. If not open
to the normal human feelings, that is definitely I trying to do something. But fully
opened, and experiencing them truly, but without attachment, and without being-
and this is the most important thing- without being carried away. As Master Rinzai
says: ‘To laugh, but not to be carried away by laughter. To cry, but not to be carried
away by tears.’
Daiyu Myokyo 42
8 Craving (Trsna / Tanha)
And then clever I says immediately, ‘But how can you live without desire? It’s
not possible. If you are hungry, you must eat.’ And you can’t help but have
preferences. And there it is also important that we look clearly into that. If desire is
something which I must have, when it is hot, that is a passion. When it is just a free
liking, a preference for something without any kind of heat, there’s nothing wrong
with that, and the same also with the other things. If I want to get rid of it an itch, I
scratch it. That’s all there is to it. The preferences, and then the heat of the Fire
when ‘I must have’ or ‘I must get rid of” - and we get mistaken between those two.
Daiyu Myokyo 43
It is perfectly natural for a doctor who has been working 48 hours without a rest to
crave sleep, or for an overstressed teacher to crave a holiday. But if on top of this there
is fear, indignation, anger, self-pity, lamentation and despair, then the natural craving is
overlaid with suffering of a different order – in a word, it is impassioned.
If we are driven by our impassioned craving towards grasping for and clinging to
whatever is the object of that craving, then we are lifted up and carried away by the
energy in it until that energy is dissipated. Then we are left exhausted and empty, ‘all
passion spent’, until the next craving arrives and the emotional roller-coaster sets off
once more. Here we are completely at the mercy of the passions, which arise when they
will and discharge their energy where they can.
On the other hand, if an impassioned craving is denied and repressed, then sooner
or later either a safety valve will open and the energy will dissipate, or their will be an
explosion. For example, since we don’t like to think of ourselves as petty, we may deny
that a petty incident at work has made us furious. We bite our tongue and say nothing,
but spend the rest of the day planning our revenge or lamenting our fate; or the culprit at
42
43
Myokyo-ni, Vol. 34:1.
38
work escapes our wrath but later our partner, child or dog at home receives a telling off
out of all proportion to their perceived misdeeds; or the energy discharges little by little
during a sleepless night’s fretting about it.
A third possibility is to identify with the untamed energy of the passions, inflating
ourselves with it. For example, suppose we have been sitting zazen a good while alone
and we find ourselves in pain. An almost irresistible urge to move arises, along with all
sorts of justifications for doing so. One way of dealing with this would be to grit our
teeth, almost snorting our defiance and forcing ourselves to sit it out. This strategy is
certainly effective in helping us do things which we would otherwise feel incapable of
doing. Special Forces training courses and the like are designed to push us to discover
it. And it certainly has its attraction for us - witness the popularity of the typical
American vengeance-seeking hero. It is always assumed that such heroes, though
beyond the law, act for a greater good. But what if they should disagree on what is
good? Then they are condemned to fight to the death, as the sad history of war
demonstrates. Such people are bull-men. Though impressively powerful, they bring
destruction in their wake, however ‘good’ their intentions.
The alternative is the way of the Buddha: passionate cravings, when they arise, are
not denied or repressed, but nor do we let them carry us away; they are contained in the
body. This requires strength, but that strength can be cultivated. Any reactions are
suffered through until they pass. Starting with small, apparently ‘insignificant’ reactions,
and with long practice, containing strength is accumulated and we become familiar
with, and less afraid of, the panicky imperative in our impassioned cravings. This is
known in the Zen school as the process of ‘gentling the bull’.
In Buddhism, the passions are referred to as the fires. But, of course, we naturally
cringe away from fire to avoid being burnt. So perhaps we might better think of them
rather as a hot bath. When we are tense and aching even the steam coming off the bath
has a certain relaxing effect which attracts us. But we can’t just jump in, because we are
afraid of getting burnt. So we start with our toe, and little by little ease ourselves in until
we come to that delicious moment when, although our face might flush or we feel a
little giddy, we realise that the body can take it, all our muscles relax, and we let the
heat suffuse us and do its work.
So we need to look carefully at the way we react in the face of the passions. Are we
truly relaxed into the churning emotion, letting its heat suffuse us, or are we secretly
tensed up against it? The standard formula which can help us here is, “The fires are
burning. I am still here. Precious energy arising, please burn me away.”
With each little act of restraint, where the energy infusing hot desire is contained in
the body and the consequent reactions are willingly and patiently endured, the habitual
tendency to pursue that which we passionately crave is weakened a little: which is to
say that the grip of the delusion of ‘I’ over us is weakened a little. Thus it is said that
with each act of restraint, a little of ‘I’ is burnt away.
This hot energy is not the enemy, it is the Buddha Nature itself and the burning is
actually a purification. Thus it is crucial that such burning be welcomed and willingly
39
and patiently endured. This is not a form of masochism. The masochist delights in pain,
whereas the practitioner of restraint patiently endures it, just as a sick man endures a
painful course of treatment, for the sake of the good it does. With time and long and
patient practice the energy manifests as warmth of heart and instead of entering another
of the Six Realms we approach the Divine Abodes.
This is how ceasing operates in the Chain of Dependent Origination. Acts of
restraint from grasping in the face of craving modify our habits (Samskaras) and
weaken the tendency towards becoming an inhabitant of another realm of the wheel.
9 Clinging / Grasping (Upadana)
We strive to give substance to the delusion of ‘I’ by identifying with things:
opinions, ideals, people, possessions, position, power or whatever it seems will fit the
bill. These are the attachments which impede clear seeing. We crave and cling to these
attachments and hate and reject their contraries. Note that the value the world places on
an object does not necessarily give the measure of someone’s attachment to it. As the
Buddha said, a poor man may be much more strongly attached to his miserable hovel
than a king to his palace.
The Buddha himself, on his awakening, exclaimed, ‘How wonderful, how
miraculous, all beings, but all sentient beings are fully endowed with the
Tathagata’s Wisdom and Power. But sadly, in the case of human beings, because of
their attachments, they are not aware of it.’
And then ‘I’ being a delusion and a fool, am now setting out to cut off all my
attachments. And even if I could, it would not change anything, because the arch
attachment is, of course, to myself.
Again, we come to the Daily Life Practice. I cannot eradicate myself, but I can
voluntarily give myself away, by giving myself into – not in something airy-fairy,
which is only another being carried away, but into this moment, this moment as it is
here, and now, now, which incidentally is also the only moment we have,
everything else is thought. And we think of the sixth Zen patriarch, who put it very
succinctly by saying, ‘Before thinking of good and bad, before a thought has arisen,
without thinking, what is the True Face?’ That ‘without thought’ cannot be thought
of, cannot be conceived, but certainly can be lived, and is lived whether we know it
or not.
Daiyu Myokyo 44
Craving something, we grasp for and cling to it. But not necessarily! There is the
possibility of restraint: of not grasping for, or of letting go of, that which is craved. Not
immediately and in the face of any craving, but, over time, the strength and mindfulness
necessary for restraint can be cultivated. It is cultivated moment to moment, all day
long, in what is known in Zen training as the Daily Life Practice. This practice consists
in giving ourselves into whatever the actual situation requires and that involves being
44
40
mindful of the arising of any impassioned craving which might carry us away, and
strong enough to contain it and patiently endure any emotional reactions which may
result from such containing.
Now Mara objects, ‘But what if the situation requires me to follow my craving?’
For example, should not a man dying of thirst in the desert give himself fully into the
search for water? Yes, of course. But this is a case of natural craving, not to be confused
with impassioned craving. An impassioned craving, being the product of a delusion –
the delusion of ‘I’, cannot be an imperative of the situation itself. The difference
becomes apparent when the craving is frustrated. The animal who fails to fail water and
reaches the end of his strength simply lies down to die. A man might do the same, but
not if, during his search, he has been consumed with anger about his fate, bitterly
lamenting the circumstances which have brought him to this pass. He has no choice but
to lie down and die like the animal, but he does so raging against the dying of the light.
So how we act at this point in the cycle will condition the type of being we are
becoming.
10 Becoming (Bhava)
One drink does not make an alcoholic. One angry outburst does not make a
Fighting Demon. But each occasion on which the impulse is given free rein contributes
to the formation and reinforcement of habits and tendencies typical of the inhabitants of
one of the Six Realms. So it is that Clinging/Grasping (Upadana) conditions Becoming
(Bhava).
Though from moment to moment we may pass through any of the Realms, on a
larger timescale things move more slowly and we may have a predominant tendency to
inhabit one or the other. When this predominant tendency is recognised as having
changed, we may speak of ‘rebirth’ in a new Realm.
The first step towards liberation is to become fully ‘human’, meaning, to become
and remain an inhabitant of the Human Realm
We do not really inhabit the human realm as such: we are too often thrown out
of it into all or any of the other realms. No wonder we find life contradictory and
full of problems and grievances. But if we listen to the Buddha’s teachings, by
getting to know them and practising accordingly, we can outgrow the old
compulsions that fling us constantly into the other realms. We thus become more
and more inhabitants of the human state, become truly human. And only then does
deliverance from the Wheel become possible.
Daiyu Myokyo 45
The inhabitants of the Human Realm are still on the Wheel, still subject to the
delusion of ‘I’ and its accompanying impassioned Desire/Hate which gives rise to
Craving. If that Craving leads to Grasping and Clinging then we are on our way out of
45
Myokyo-ni, Living Buddhism, ch.III.
41
the Human Realm into another of the Six, but if restraint is exercised with patient
endurance, then we are on our way off the Wheel.
Note that while inhabiting a particular Realm and undergoing the transformations
which life works on us, what are actually being transformed are precisely the
Samskaras. It is the sum of the transformations of the Samskaras which constitutes the
Becoming of an inhabitant of a particular Realm.
There is nothing mysterious about this type of process - we are all familiar with it in
everyday life: the gradual conversion of an apprentice into a master of his craft; of a raw
recruit into a disciplined soldier; of a naïve graduate into an efficient executive. All
these transformations take time and involve a multitude of changes – physical and
mental. Contrary to what Hollywood would have us believe, nobody becomes a master
of anything in a few weeks, however good their teacher. The prince Gotama, prime
material, only became the Buddha after 6 years of arduous effort.
11 Birth (Jati)
Here birth refers to manifestation as an inhabitant of one of the Six Realms of the
Wheel. These manifestations are conditioned by the processes considered in the
previous link, Becoming. But basically, they are generated by the action of the Three
Fires. It follows that when the Three Fires are extinguished, there is an end to such
manifestations.
12 Decline and Death (Jacaranda)
When the Buddha finally attained full enlightenment, Nirvana, the total eradication
of ‘I’, he did not disappear or simply lie down and die. On the contrary, he continued
eating, drinking, sleeping and teaching for another forty years.
But neither did he thus become a ‘god’, a spirit, an ‘immortal’ or anything else
above or immune to the natural run of things for any human being: over the course of
those forty years he aged, grew sick and finally died.
So let us be quite clear: even the attainment of full and perfect enlightenment will
not stop you growing old, getting sick and dying. In fact, the Buddha himself said so,
quite explicitly:
Even those monks who are arahants, whose taints are destroyed, who have
lived the holy life, done what had to be done, laid down the burden, reached their
own goal, utterly destroyed the fetters of existence, and so are completely liberated
through final knowledge: even for them this body is subject to breaking up, subject
to being laid down.
The Buddha 46
Yet we are told that the training leads to ‘the cessation of decline and death’, so
how are we to understand this?
46
Bodhi, In the Buddha’s Words, ch.I, 1:1.
42
The Chain of Dependent Arising explains not the life cycle of the psycho-physical
complex known as ‘the Five Aggregates’, but rather that of the psycho-physical
complex known as ‘the Five Aggregates affected by clinging’.
It is only in context of the Five Aggregates affected by clinging, that ageing and
death constitute a problem, for it is in that context that there is the delusion of ‘I’.
That suffering which consists of our fear, rejection and denial of ageing and death is
the inevitable product of our clinging to what we consider ‘I, me and mine’.
Now ‘liberation’ from this suffering does not consist in the discovery of a way to
make what is ‘I, me, mine’ eternal, but rather in the gradual reduction, and finally in the
complete eradication, of that clinging which is at the root of our inability to accept the
impermanence of all that is, including ourselves, with equanimity and peace of heart.
...a bhikkhu, an arahant, with taints destroyed, one who has lived the holy life,
done what had to be done, laid down the burden, reached the true goal, destroyed
the fetters of being, and is completely liberated through final knowledge …..has
seen all material form - any kind of material form whatever, any kind of feeling,
perception, formations, consciousness whatever, as it actually is, with proper
wisdom thus: ‘This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self,’ and through not
clinging he is liberated.
It is in this way that a bhikku is an arahant with taints destroyed, one who has
lived the holy life, done what had to be done, laid down the burden, reached the
true goal, destroyed the fetters of being, and is completely liberated through final
knowledge.
The Buddha (The Shorter Discourse to Saccaka v.25) 47
Seeing thus, a well-taught noble disciple becomes disenchanted with material
form, feeling, perception, formations and consciousness. Being disenchanted, he
becomes dispassionate. Through dispassion he (his mind) is liberated. When
liberated there comes the knowledge ‘It is liberated’. He understands: ‘Birth is
destroyed, the holy life has been lived, what had to be done has been done, there is
no more coming to any state of being.
The Buddha 48
By ‘no more coming into any state of being’ we understand no more manifestations
as an inhabitant of the Six Realms. Which, in effect, is to say that the key to the end of
suffering is the realisation and complete and utter acceptance of the truth of No-I.
The cessation of decline and death then, refers to the cessation of decline and death
and consequent rebirth as an inhabitant of one of the Six Realms of the Wheel: and this
ceases with the eradication of the delusion of ‘I’.
The question of what happens to the stream of the other four non-material skhandas
upon the break-up of the body is neither here nor there. We may think they go on to
47
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Cūḷasaccaka Sutta’, 35:25.
48
Bodhi, The Connected Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Mahāpuṇṇama Sutta’, 109:17.
43
associate with Material Form in another life, or that they do no such thing. The Chain is
concerned with the origin and end of Suffering – from life to life, or just in one life.
Even if we limit our horizons to one life, the reduction and eradication of the Suffering
attendant upon the delusion of ‘I’ remains a valid goal.
44
The Third Noble Truth: The End of Suffering

The suffering attendant upon the delusion of ‘I’ is not eternal: it comes to an end
when that delusion is seen through. And with the end of the delusion of ‘I’ comes the
end of that fear which always accompanies ‘I’.
The Four Elements have no master.
The Five Skandhas are themselves empty.
When the head meets the severing blade –
No more than a flash slicing the spring breeze.
The Death Gatha of Master Ho 49
Master Ho wrote this while he was awaiting execution for refusing to return to lay
life and enter the service of the emperor. He is expressing the sort of equanimity which
can fully appreciate the beauty of the sword flash which will cut off his own head.
The heart rolls with the ten thousand things. This rolling is truly mysterious.
Mahayana Sutra
Rolling with things does not mean letting oneself be carried along without regard to
right and wrong. Master Ho evidently felt it would be wrong for him to return to lay
life, and so refused to obey the emperor. On the other hand, as a loyal subject of a fourth
century Chinese emperor, he did not dispute the decision to execute him for
disobedience. He merely requested seven days delay in which to record the results of his
studies.
But where is a man who behaves like this ‘coming from’? A being who is free of all
of all impassioned craving and clinging, of the delusion of ‘I’, cannot be located in any
of the six realms. We cannot conceive of him in these terms, because he does not ‘take a
stand’ on anything, not even the teachings which he now embodies. Master Rinzai says
of him,
He has neither form, nor shape, neither root nor trunk; nor does he have a
dwelling place; he is as lively as a fish leaping in the water and performs his
function in response to all situations. Only, the place of his functioning is not a
locality. Therefore, if you search for him, he eludes you. The more you seek him,
the farther away he is. That is why he is called ‘mysterious’.
So, was Master Ho indifferent to dying? Apparently not: he still felt there were
things to be done, and, for that reason, requested seven days delay. Cold indifference
towards death, which even the hardened criminal may feel, is very different from
equanimity.
49
Tōrei and Shaku, The Discourse on the Inexhaustible Lamp of the Zen School, Intro: Daibi Comment.
50
Rinzai, The Zen Teaching of Rinzai, I: 14b.
45
It is a common misconception that, to the enlightened man, the world and its doings
are simply a play of forms, a dream, empty of any significance for him. If that were so,
the Buddha’s devoting forty years of his life to teaching becomes incomprehensible.
The man who feels that ‘everything is empty’ and rejoices in his ‘freedom’ has
simply managed
to get himself into a state where he has bludgeoned himself out, where he has
deadened everything inside – that is something quite different, firmly I-intentioned,
from actually I being really out of the way.
And this is where we have to be careful, we are only too easily tempted by
‘everything is empty’, ‘all is the same, everything is empty, all is the same’, and to
a certain extent we can, if we are strong and persistent enough, get ourselves into
that. But sooner or later something happens, and it recoils – our friend the Bull
breaks through with energy. That is not it, that is that empty emptiness…. That cave
filled with the slime of one’s own self-accredited achievement.
Daiyu Myokyo 51
So, Master Ho’s equanimity was not the fruit of some sort of cold, aloof,
detachment from the situation. On the contrary, he was fully engaged in the situation,
refusing to obey the emperor’s order to return to lay life, yet accepting his right to
execute those who disobeyed him, and yet again influencing the timing of that
execution by begging for a delay of seven days.
And now comes the real teaching, ‘As water conforms to the vessel it
accordingly becomes square or round, short or long.’…in other words, as we are in
our situations, being part of the situation and not standing outside, and not holding
myself aloof, and not refusing to take my part and play my role in that situation but
being part of the situation.
So, depending on what the situation demands, my part in the situation is:
sometimes this, and sometimes that, and sometimes still something else; sometimes
scolding, sometimes friendly, sometimes helpful, sometimes slapping, depending
on what it is. Say I then, ‘But this is surely not right, there is no consistency in it,
surely a person well-qualified, well advanced on the way, he must be consistent.’
Yes, consistent in conforming to the situation, not consistent in some kind of fancy
idea.
Daiyu Myokyo 52
It’s all very well to say that we will just conform to what the situation demands, but
it does rather beg the question, which is ‘What does the situation itself really demand?
For the ‘situation itself’ is hard to see through the mist of ‘I’-oriented opinions,
preferences and judgements which usually give rise to what Myokyo-ni calls ‘some
kind of fancy idea’ about the situation and what needs to be done.
51
52
46
So the point is that Master Ho’s perception of the situation and its requirements was
clear and undistorted by ‘I’ oriented considerations. Though he undoubtedly had his
preferences, he did not passionately cling to them in the face of what was required. This
absence of impassioned commitment to one outcome or another brings freedom and
equanimity.
But here, once again, we might suppose that an absence of impassioned
commitment, lusting after one possible outcome, hating and rejecting another, implies
that the state of No-I is one of emotional barrenness. Nothing could be further from the
truth!
The difficulty is that obviously no ‘I’ can imagine a state of ‘No-I’. The
Buddhist teachings most movingly define the latter as the Four Sublime States or
Abodes, sublime because in the absence of ‘I’ the energy is acting out of itself –
truly human in a human body and as that also aware. Hence the teaching of the
importance of the human state. These Abodes may be seen as interconnected like a
circle or a ring, and are Good Will, Compassion, Sympathetic Joy and Equanimity.
They are free of the Fires and thus from ‘I’.
Where there is no ‘I’ there is no antagonism, no fear. ‘I’ and fear are one, like
the palm and back of the hand. Only ‘I’ can fear, and out of fear ‘I’ becomes
aggressive and commits hideous mistakes, causing much suffering to myself and
others. When that isolating misconception of ‘I’ is gone, awareness of the
interconnection between all things arises. The Chinese Hua Yen (Kegon is
Japanese) school has best expressed this most profound Buddhist insight as ‘one in
all and all in one’ and ‘one is all’ and ‘all is one’. The point is not to just
intellectually grasp it as a concept, but to actually feel and live this insight. Even as
an intellectual concept it dwarfs ‘I’.
The first real insight into ‘no fear’ is tremendous, opening up into the inherent
kindness and warmth of the human heart. In that warmth there are qualities that we
only know the names of but do not know them ‘face to face’, in the sense of being
at one with them: The True Face i.e. what we really are, with its true human
warmth, true joy, an aspiration that carries, gratitude to the whole of Life and faith,
to name a few. Faith in what? I always feel that with ‘I’ the doer, nothing goes. But
it goes much smoother without ‘I’. With all these qualities of the heart, faith in the
heart as such is important, not faith ‘in what’ and ‘to whom’, for all the qualities are
themselves but the many facets of the human heart.
Yet to melt into this opening of the heart demands endurance and devotion and
also the strength to look at the terrible and dark side of life, the coming to be and
the ceasing to be, to see the pity of things and compassionately reach out a helping
hand without losing serenity. Hence the clarity of good will and right action, rather
than the heat of the zealot.
From the kindliness of good will then derives its active aspect, compassion to
endure and to help to endure the darkness, the sorrow and the terror which also are
Life. The mute ‘suffering with’ when there is nothing more that can be done except
47
staying with it. Sympathetic Joy arises out of compassion, the fellow feeling of at-
one-ness. It is sublime because it arises also in the endurance of horror and not only
the joy at other’s happiness. And so selfless equanimity looks serenely and in
wisdom and warmth at what is - ready to help, to point out, but never to dictate,
something of the quality of the sun, whose nature is to shine.
Coming into such an ambience our heart is moved. And with the heart thus
moved, we may realise that we are in the presence of an enduring value which in
turn may kindle the aspiration of the heart to strive after. This aspiration engenders
the first step with which the Way is entered. The great way is not a straight line, and
it does not lead from here to there but into the heart. The heart’s gratitude and
warmth are not directed either but are inherent qualities with which the full heart
flows over. They lift the heart and give the strength for continuing to walk the path
when ‘I’ would rather stop. So the source of that strength or energy to continue is
the human heart which is the Buddha heart.
To begin with gratitude needs to be somehow focused. We think of that long
line of all those who have followed the Way of the Buddha to this day so that it is
still open for us to see and to follow. In time there is just gratitude and gratefully
walking, and an increasing willingness to understand and to help each other, for the
love of it.
Daiyu Myokyo 53
53
Myokyo-ni, 28:1.
48
The Fourth Noble Truth: The Path to the End of Suffering

Introduction
Having considered the nature of Suffering, its origin and its end, we now come to
the path to that end.
The Noble Eightfold Path is a discipline, voluntarily undertaken, which involves
the cultivation of new habits of thought, speech and deed in he who submits to it. As
these new habits develop, they change the conditioning of this person in mind and body.
As this conditioning changes, the way he sees things changes, becomes clearer, and his
way of behaving also therefore changes.
The eight factors of the Path are not sequential steps to be followed, but are, rather,
aspects of the discipline which develop simultaneously, interplaying with and
supporting each other.
… the Way exists for one who actually walks it as best he can and keeps
walking whether the going is smooth or rough…When his strength and sure-
footedness are well developed, the Way ends-in nowhere. From now on he can be
trusted to make his own way. Well used to the Way and to himself, he is sure to find
one, making it as he goes along.
Daiyu Myokyo 54
The Path leads to liberation from that suffering which is attendant upon the
delusion of ‘I’ through the extinction of the Three Fires: greed, hatred and delusion.
Right Effort towards liberation consists in the cultivation of wholesome states and the
elimination of unwholesome states: unwholesome states being those rooted in greed,
hatred and delusion, and wholesome states being those which are not so rooted.
In the teachings we find mention of obstacles in the form of floods, bonds, knots,
cords, hindrances, fetters, defilements and so on (Bodhi, 2000 pp. 1563-1566), but in
the final analysis they are all varieties of unwholesome states rooted in greed, hatred
and delusion.
The path to liberation can, and usually does, consist in the gradual elimination of
unwholesome states and the underlying tendencies which give rise to them. These
defilements are eliminated by, and one’s progress is marked by, deepening insight
(prajñā) into the Three Signs of Being and the increasing strength and stability
(samādhi) with which that insight is sustained.
In the Zen tradition, the path is described in terms of the transformation of the
heart, and stages are described in these terms. But the obstacles to be overcome are the
same, and ultimately wisdom consists in the same full and direct realisation of the truth
of no-I, however that may dressed up according to the customs of a particular tradition.
54
49
The Noble Eightfold Path

1 Right Views/Seeing/Understanding
And what, monks, is right view? Knowledge of suffering, knowledge of the
origin of suffering, knowledge of the cessation of suffering, knowledge of the way
leading to the cessation of suffering: this is called right view.
The Buddha 55
We are trapped on the Wheel of Life under the delusion of ‘I’, and this delusion
persists due to our Ignorance of the Four Noble Truths. With direct knowledge of these
truths, ignorance is dispelled and the delusion of ‘I’ abandoned.
According to Buddhism, there are two sorts of understanding: anubodha,
which is an intellectual grasp of something; paṭivehda, or ‘penetration’, which is a
deep understanding only possible when the mind is free from all impurities and
fully developed through meditation.
Rahula 56
Right View, in one sense, arises when one comes into contact with the Dharma,
gains some conceptual understanding of it and gives one’s intellectual assent to it. In a
deeper sense, Right View refers to seeing things clearly, where “clearly” means
“undistorted by the delusion of ‘I’”.
But then how does one regard the khandas in such a way that there is no I-making,
mine-making or underlying tendency to conceit? With respect to any kind of material
form, feeling, perception, formation, consciousness whatever, one sees it as it actually
is, with proper wisdom thus: ‘This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self.’ …
Seeing thus, a well-taught noble disciple becomes disenchanted with material
form, feeling, perception, formations and consciousness. Being disenchanted, he
becomes dispassionate. Through dispassion he (his mind) is liberated. When
liberated there comes the knowledge ‘It is liberated’. He understands:
‘Birth is destroyed, the holy life has been lived, what had to be done has been
done, there is no more coming to any state of being.’
The Buddha (The Greater Discourse on the Full-moon Night: 17-18) 57
This clear seeing, which comes from ceasing to identify with the skhandas as ‘I, me or
mine’, is formulated by the Zen school as ‘seeing into one’s own true nature’.
‘Enlightenment’ has almost become a catchphrase, everybody projecting into
the term what he feels is most lacking, thus seeing in it a beckoning and almost
magical fulfilment. Such hopes are based on the delusion from which we all, every
‘I’, suffer.
55
Bodhi, In the Buddha’s Words, VII: 2.
56
Rahula, What the Buddha Taught, ch. V.
57
Bodhi, The Connected Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Mahāpuṇṇama Sutta’, 109:17.
50
The message of the Buddha, as appropriate today as it ever was, is a rather hard
and demanding one, but one that is concretely feasible. It requires more than an
experience of ecstasy, which as such, whatever its length of or frequency, is not
productive of a real change of heart, a transformation of energy and thus a re-
structuring of the total man as a result of a new way of seeing.
This ‘clear seeing’ is a change of attitude, and as such, is the first step with
which training begins; as the developed clarity it finally results in genuine insight
into one’s own nature, which is that of man.
Thus, two points emerge:
1 This genuine insight is not mere intellectual understanding, for it involves
also the emotional factors. It is doctrinally expressed as ‘the single eye’.
2 For just this reason, it is not possible for an ‘I’ to have this insight. Hence,
the restructuring process is not something that I can undertake; it takes place of
itself, is a move of nature to correct habitual one-sidedness, and constitutes a
becoming whole.
The difficulty, especially for a self-conscious, self-assertive and hence
aggressive-destructive Western ‘I’, is to set such a process in motion with ‘I’ having
the planning and controlling upper hand.
Daiyu Myokyo 58
Genuine insight into one’s true nature only emerges in the midst of Great
Doubt and Great Faith; it is not the result of accumulated learning and
discrimination. When the time is ripe, it appears of itself...
It is relatively easy to accomplish the important matter of insight into one’s
True Nature, but uncommonly difficult to function freely and clearly (according to
this understanding), in motion and in rest, in good and adverse circumstances.
Master Torei 59
2 Right Thought
Bhikkus, whatever a bhikkhu frequently thinks and ponders upon, that will
become the inclination of his mind. If he frequently thinks and ponders upon
thoughts of sensual desire, he has abandoned the thought of renunciation to
cultivate the thought of sensual desire, and then his mind inclines to thoughts of
sensual desire. If he frequently thinks and ponders upon thoughts of ill-will he has
abandoned the thought of non-ill will (loving kindness) to cultivate the thought of
ill-will, and then his mind inclines to thoughts of ill-will. If he frequently thinks and
ponders upon thoughts of cruelty, he has abandoned the thought of non-cruelty
(compassion) to cultivate the thought of cruelty, and then his mind inclines to
thoughts of cruelty.
58
Schloegl, The Zen Way, ch.IV.
59
Tōrei and Shaku, The Discourse on the Inexhaustible Lamp of the Zen School, Preface: Toeri IV.
51
The Buddha 60
The important point to note here is that, as a component of the path, Right Thought
is something to be cultivated. As we see in the Chain of Dependent Arising our habits of
thought speech and action condition us. But old habits of thought which are detrimental
in that they prolong our time on the Wheel can be broken; and new habits which are
beneficial in that they tend towards our liberation can be formed.
How, then, in practice, can we change our habits of thought? Well, we cannot stop
an unwholesome thought arising. But we can be mindful of its arising and then restrain
ourselves from following it into a chain of such thoughts.
Now it might be thought that since following chains of unwholesome thoughts is
detrimental, then following chains of wholesome thoughts must be beneficial. But this
is only true up to a point.
As I abided thus, diligent, ardent and resolute, a thought of renunciation arose
in me. I understood thus: ‘This thought of renunciation has arisen in me. This does
not lead to my own affliction, or to others’ affliction, or to the affliction of both; it
aids wisdom, does not cause difficulties, and leads to Nibbana.
If I think and ponder this thought even for a night, even for a day, even for a
night and day, I see nothing to fear from it. But with excessive thinking and
pondering I might tire my body, and when the body is tired, the mind becomes
disturbed, and when the mind is disturbed, it is far from concentration.’
So I steadied my mind internally, quieted it, brought it to singleness and
concentrated it. Why is that? So that my mind should not be disturbed.
The Buddha 61
So Right Thought has two aspects: firstly, mindfulness of the nature of the thought
which arises, whether it is wholesome and beneficial or unwholesome and harmful;
secondly, exerting ourselves to respond appropriately according to the nature of the
thought – restraining ourselves from being caught up in a chain of unwholesome
thoughts, and allowing wholesome thoughts to register but without letting them carry us
away either. This is Right Effort with respect to thought.
We can list thoughts which are wholesome, such as thoughts of renunciation, loving
kindness and compassion. But we can go deeper and say that, in general, wholesome
thought is that which is untainted, undistorted by impassioned notions of ‘I, me and
mine’. Thought which is so tainted, and hence unwholesome, is often described in the
teaching of the Zen school as ‘conceptual discrimination’. This is deeper because the
mere content of a thought, such as ‘renunciation’, cannot necessarily be relied upon to
decide whether it is wholesome.
An old and pious woman had built a hermitage for a monk, and for years
brought him his daily food and generally looked after him. One day she decided to
60
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Dvedhāvitakka Sutta’ 19:6.
61
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, ‘Dvedhāvitakka Sutta’ 19:6.
52
test him. She told her pretty niece to bring his meal to him, embrace him and then at
once to come back and tell her his reaction.
On being embraced, the monk roughly pushed the girl away, saying: ’Sap rises
no longer in the withered tree.’ The girl returned and told what had happened. The
old woman stormed up to the hut. ‘For years I have kept a block of wood!’ drove
the monk out and burned the hermitage.
Daiyu Myokyo 62
So, what would have pleased the old woman? Surely not his abandoning
renunciation and returning the embrace? When asked about this once, Myokyo-ni
replied that he could have just patted her gently and said ‘Now, now, my dear, run along
and get on with your tasks.’, and in so doing revealed quite clearly the difference
between responding from an empty heart and responding via the application of an
abstract concept which we are clinging to.
The problem here is that the monk has come to love the ideal of celibacy and
therefore hate sensual desire. His desires have been repressed for the sake of the ideal
and have reappeared as aggression in its defence. He has judged the situation to be a
threat to ‘his’ celibacy and angrily rejected the girl’s embrace, speaking harshly and
roughly pushing her away with no regard for her feelings.
If he had truly emptied his heart, no thought or impulse to respond to the embrace
would have arisen, or at least none which had would have posed any threat to his
celibacy, since he would be well accustomed to restraint. The idea of defending the state
of celibacy would simply have not arisen. Through long training, his desires would have
been contained and transformed into warmth of heart, and his only concern here would
have been how to deal wisely and compassionately with the apparently misguided
young girl.
And even if he hadn’t yet reached that state, he could still have contained himself
and at least outwardly treated the girl gently. Would this have been hypocritical? Not if
he did so without trying to deceive himself or anyone else that he was any better than he
actually was. Not deceiving himself here would mean accepting his negative reactions
rather than repressing them; containing them rather than giving them an outlet in either
action or streams of thoughts; and willingly and patiently enduring them while they last.
Not deceiving others would mean not trying to hide or deny the effort it was costing him
to behave gently.
So the monk’s thoughts and intentions about celibacy were right in content, insofar
as they concerned a wholesome subject, but wrong in mode, insofar as they were tainted
by thoughts of ‘I, me and mine’ and therefore impassioned.
Conceptual discrimination is present not only in the formation of ideals which we
cling to, it can distort our perception of anything we come into contact with.
Suppose a neighbour makes a loud noise all day Sunday using an electric saw to cut
wood in his garden shed, making it impossible for others to enjoy their day of rest in
62
Schloegl, The Wisdom of the Zen Masters, V.
53
their gardens. It is natural that we should find this unpleasant. But if it absolutely
infuriates us, it is because we hate being disturbed. Then we do not stop to consider
whether he might have a good reason for his actions, nor whether he is simply
thoughtless and might stop if asked. Instead, we begin to think of, form the concept of,
him as a selfish monster. A stream of thoughts starts up in which all sorts of ‘evidence’
is added to justify this view of him: look at how he treats his poor dog - locked up all
day, and so on.
Now we have a set of conceptions about this neighbour which will colour our view
of everything he does. There is nothing wrong with preconceptions as such: they are the
brain’s way of making sense of the world efficiently and helping us to think ahead. But
these are discriminatory because although they purport to be objective, under cover of
pious generalisations such as ‘good neighbours should be considerate’, the fact is that
we are by no means objective with respect to them. We get hot under the collar about
them: and that is because they are actually a rationalisation of our hatred of what is
unpleasant to us. This is not to say that such generalisations are necessarily false, only
that we are hypocrites in using them as cover to try and get our own way.
These conceptions which we are inclined to defend heatedly are ‘conceptual
discriminations’. We cling to them, build them up and act upon them again and again,
consolidating them into habits of thought, speech and action (samskaras) whose
pernicious influence we are barely aware of under normal circumstances. And even if,
under special circumstances such as a sesshin, we become fleetingly aware of them, we
cannot just cut them off suddenly. It takes long practice and skilful means to break such
well-established habits.
The obstruction of the Path by the mind and its conceptual discrimination is
worse than poisonous snakes or fierce tigers. Why? Because poisonous snakes and
fierce tigers can still be avoided, whereas intelligent people make the mind’s
conceptual discrimination their home. So, there is never a single instant, whether
they are walking, standing, sitting or lying down, that they are not having dealings
with it. As time goes on, unknowing and unawares, they become one piece with it.
And not because they want to either; but because, from beginningless time they
have followed this one little road until it has become set and familiar. Though they
may see through it for a moment, and wish to detach from it, they still cannot. Thus,
it is said that poisonous snakes and fierce tigers can still be avoided, but the mind’s
conceptual discrimination truly has no place for you to escape.
Master Daie Soko 63
’Since you are studying this path,’ says Master Daie, ‘then at all times in your
encounters with people and responses to circumstances, you must not let wrong
thoughts continue.’ What are those wrong thoughts? They are the ‘I’-connected
thoughts, the planning thoughts, of my liking and disliking this, that or the other.
‘Wrong thoughts’ are not only about harming anything, but thoughts that make me
63
Myokyo-ni, ‘Selected Sayings of Master Daie Soko - Commentary’, Vol 36:1.
54
feel separate, alienated from what is, take me out of life into an abstract realm,
filling the head with all kinds of notions. These are the wrong thoughts.
Master Daie says, ‘If you cannot see through them, then the moment a wrong
thought comes up, you should quickly concentrate your mental energy to pull
yourself away.’ Not let wrong thoughts continue, says Master Daie. He does not say
that you should not let them come up because that is not within our possibility. But
once up, whether we let them continue and are carried away by them, or whether
we do not let them continue, that depends on us. Those thought streams bubble
along, and we all know that. Either very concentrated in the planning or what I
want or am trying to avoid, or even when none of these at the moment concern me,
is the mind still without thoughts? Or does it go ‘bubble, bubble, bubble’, like a
constant under-current? Phiroz Mehta has called it the ‘chattering monkey mind’. It
is not quiet for a moment, has continuously to act in order to give me the feeling
that after all, ‘I am still there, I have not vanished’.
It carries us away from where we actually are. When that happens, there is no
awareness of being here now, in this place, in this chair, on that cushion, on that
train. When we are in that other realm, there is nothing that can be noticed. Not
being here, we do not notice anything, we cannot listen anymore, we cannot see
anymore. We are truly not here, but in a kind of never-never land. Then something
stampedes us out again and we are back again in this life situation, here and now.
These are the wrong thoughts. If you cannot see through them, says Master
Daie, then the moment a wrong thought comes up, recognise it. And you should
quickly concentrate your mental energy to pull yourself away. The moment a wrong
thought comes up, be aware. The awareness is almost physical. Either it comes up
with heat, the Fires, wants and dislikes, or it comes up as the bubbly stream. You
notice it particularly in Zazen. There you sit, alive, awake, all there. And then,
suddenly, hands loosen, the chin sags, and away we are. Now, at that moment, if
there is real being with it, the moment the hands lose their grip and the chin sags,
with an energetic breath to come right back into what is being done. This continued
and continued will make the awareness prevail and the wrong thoughts decline. Do
not try to go against them: that is quite useless. It is only just to jump right back
into the liveliness and awareness of this moment where our own feet stand. The
moment wrong thought comes up, quickly concentrate your mental energy-that is
what is necessary. Do not fight it. Whatever we fight against, that we actually give
power over us. Why is it so necessary to recognise wrong thoughts? Because if we
always follow those thoughts, and let them continue without a break, we miss the
living moment. Then what happens is that we feel that life is not really what we
hoped it to be, it is boring, uninteresting, unsatisfactory. This is what the Buddha
called Suffering.
Daiyu Myokyo 64
64
Myokyo-ni, Vol.26:3.
55
3 Right Speech
Right speech means abstention from:
1. Telling lies.
2. Backbiting and slander and talk that may bring about hatred, enmity,
disunity and disharmony among individuals or groups of people
3. Harsh, rude, impolite, malicious and abusive language
4. Idle, useless and foolish babble and gossip.
When one abstains from these forms of wrong or harmful speech one naturally
has to speak the truth, has to use words that are friendly and benevolent, pleasant
and gentle, meaningful and useful.
One should not speak carelessly: speech should be at the right time and place.
If one cannot say something useful, one should keep ‘noble silence’.
Rahula 65
It was said of Abbot Agatho that for three years he carried a stone in his mouth
until he learned to be silent.
Merton 66
Nowadays both public and private standards of Right Speech have greatly declined.
We seem hardly conscious of the great harm that is done to ourselves and others through
this neglect. Since physical violence is generally abhorred, verbal violence seems to
have increased to fill the vacuum. Lying, rudeness, sarcasm, abuse, snide remarks,
pettiness, backbiting, pointless gossip, trivial chatter are condoned in the name of ‘free
speech’ or ‘freedom of expression’.
When we know that a certain course of action is harmful to ourselves or others, we
at least admit the desirability of restraint. When submission to a discipline is seen as
conducive to our goal, we voluntarily accept it. Every elite sportsman submits himself
to a rigorous discipline of diet, exercise and training because he believes it is conducive
to his winning.
The mere urge to do something may explain the act, but it certainly does not
legitimize it. A society which considered it a basic ‘right’ to give free rein to one’s
urges, would be a very sick society indeed. In fact, it would be the very opposite of a
society. So appeals to one’s ‘right to free expression’ are spurious when invoked to
justify speech which harms.
4 Right Action
To do as little harm as possible, to do as much good as possible, to empty the
heart, this is the teaching of all the Buddhas.
The Buddha (Dhammapada, canto XIV: ‘The Enlightened One’)
The Buddhist meaning is ‘doing’ in deed, thought and speech. Even a fleeting
thought is already harming, is a thought of hatred already sent out. And so, if there
65
Rahula, What the Buddha Taught, ch.V.
66
Merton, The Wisdom of the Desert, Intro.
56
is a general cultivation of not harming, then slowly, slowly, there is just less and
less harming and more and more smoothly flowing with what is.
As this then, slowly becomes habitual, that is already the emptying of the heart.
It does not need an extra effort to empty the heart… I can try to empty my heart to
the extent that I will not do much harm and rather do much good, but this is still
intentional and may do harm. In fact, I cannot empty my heart by an act of will,
mentally. But I can cultivate this emptying by means of refraining from harmful
acts as much as possible and by means of being willing and attentive with things as
they are and responding to them as they are. This is the emptying of the heart, and
this is the teaching of all the Buddhas.
Daiyu Myokyo 67
But isn’t such cultivation and refraining itself intentional? If we stay at the surface
here, we seem to be trapped in contradictions. The masters are trying to explain what
they know from experience, but words only go so far. It is inappropriate to examine
their teachings as though they were rigorously systematic theoretical expositions, where
any variations in the meanings of key terms and expressions are expected to be
explicitly signalled and explained. Their writings and sayings are tuned to their
audience and expressed in a way which is suitable to the needs and level of
understanding of that audience: so much may be left unsaid, unqualified or unelaborated
upon, either because the audience is not yet ready for it, or because they can be assumed
to already take it as given. So, the same word or phrase may have quite different
connotations in different contexts.
With that warning in mind, consider the bad press that planning and intentional
action seem to get in writings on Zen. Misunderstanding, we get the idea that all
intending and planning are intrinsically bad; that right action is no more than a kind of
unthinking spontaneous response to the situation; and that we therefore have no way of
distinguishing it from acting on blind impulse. Thus arises the notion that anything
goes, that whatever comes up is sanctioned by virtue of its spontaneity. Nothing could
be further from the truth.
When the Buddha got up from his seat after his enlightenment, he did not start
wandering about aimlessly, encounter his previous companions quite by chance and
‘spontaneously’ start teaching them. He got up with the specific intention of teaching
those with ‘but little dust in their eyes’, starting with the five ascetics who had
previously been with him. This, however, is not to say that he felt he ‘must’ teach them
or anybody else. In fact, the Sutras are full of instances where the Buddha waits
serenely while those who are not yet ready for further teaching leave the assembly.
At times he had a very large following and they needed a place to stay during the
rainy season. Are we to suppose that no previous contact was made with the owner of
the land where they stayed in order to gain his consent and make the necessary
arrangements?
67
Myokyo-ni, ‘Selected Sayings of Master Daie Soko - Commentary’, Vol 27:4.
57
There is nothing wrong with intending and planning as such: the problem arises
when they are I-oriented, driven by the fires. And there is nothing intrinsically pure
about an act which is spontaneous in the normal sense of the word. The fully
enlightened Buddha himself intended and planned things; and any uninstructed
worldling suffering from the delusion of ‘I’ can nevertheless act spontaneously.
To say that an act was intended, is to say that previous thought was given to it. Now
although it may well be true that such previous thought is very often I-oriented, it is not
necessarily so.
On the other hand, though a spontaneous act may not have had any previous
thought given to it, it may yet be I-oriented inasmuch as it is the fruit of the actor’s
habits, perceptions and reactions which are conditioned by the delusion of ‘I’, by I-
oriented conceptions, and thus driven by the fires.
Right Action, then, is right insofar as it is not tainted, either directly or indirectly,
by I-oriented conceptual discrimination. Being not so tainted, its content will naturally
be in accord with the spirit of the precepts.
So rather than characterising the mode of right actions as ‘spontaneous’, it would
perhaps be better to describe them as a ‘direct’ response to the requirements of the
situation: ‘direct’ in the sense that they respond to the situation as it really is, rather than
through a cloud of discriminatory conceptions which can distort our response whether it
be intended or spontaneous.
Just act with a direct mind and have no clinging attachments to anything.
The Sixth Patriarch, Hui-Neng (Enō Daikan) 68
5 Right Livelihood
And Master Daie asks then ‘When has it ever been necessary to leave wife and
children, quit one’s job, chew on vegetable roots, and cause pain to the body?’ You
will say, “Well, but this is what monasteries are about.” Yes, this is what they are
about; but they are not necessary. It is helpful to train in the monastery, to go
through the earlier stages. But if our circumstances do not allow it, then we can use
the circumstances as they are.
…There are conducive circumstances, and there are, naturally also the
opposite, non-conducive circumstances. But there are no circumstances that
possibly can hinder somebody who really wants to do it. And, in a way, if it is not
so easy, it has an advantage, because more strength is needed. And more strength,
strength there to be gathered and gained in order to do it, comes out in the end
Daiyu Myokyo 69
People say…’It never works for me unless I am in this or that particular place
and do this or that particular thing. I must go somewhere remoter or live in a
hermitage or monastery.’
68
Hui-Neng, The Sutra of Hui-Neng, Grand Master of Zen, ch.4.
69
58
Truly, it is you who are the cause of this yourself, and nothing else. It is your
own self-will, even if you don’t know it or this doesn’t seem to be the case. …
Whatever we think – that we should avoid certain things and seek out others,
whether these be places or people, particular forms of devotion, this group of
people or that kind of activity – these are not to be blamed for the fact that you are
held back ….rather it is you as you exist in these things who hold yourself back, for
you do not stand in the proper relation to them.
Meister Eckhart 70
Although it is certainly true that the working conditions in certain professions are
not particularly conducive to the cultivation of the eight components of the path, in the
final analysis, what counts is the behaviour of the individual. A strong person can
cultivate good habits, and a weak person can fall into bad habits, which run against the
general culture of their professions. No doubt there is a sprinkling of generous people
among stock market speculators, and the church certainly has its fair share of greedy
priests.
So, it is good advice for us to seek a profession where the general conditions are
conducive to our practice. But if we are obliged to work in one where they are not, we
should consider it all ‘grist to the mill’.
But there is another aspect of Right Livelihood which concerns our attitude towards
the activity of earning our living rather than the specific way in which we do it.
Suppose, for example, that we have made a commitment to be at a certain place at a
certain time twice a week for meditation, but on one of those days we feel under
pressure to complete a certain task at work, and to do so would mean working late. Do
we stay or go?
Not for nothing does the devout Muslim, or the monk of any major religious
tradition, drop whatever he is doing at certain times of day to perform his religious
observances. It is not the observances in themselves which matter, but rather the
practitioner’s willingness and ability to let go of whatever he is doing and submit. This
act of submission is a testimony to his scale of values. Thus Jesus said:
For where your treasure is, there will be your heart also. 71
6 Right Effort
Defined
And what friends is right effort?
Here a bhikku awakens zeal for the non-arising of unarisen evil unwholesome
states, and he makes effort, arouses energy, exerts his mind, and strives.
He awakens zeal for the abandoning of arisen evil unwholesome states, and he
makes effort, arouses energy, exerts his mind, and strives.
70
Eckhart, ‘The Talks of Instruction’, Talk 3.
71
The Holy Bible / Luke 12:34.
59
He awakens zeal for the arising of unarisen wholesome states, and he makes
effort, arouses energy, exerts his mind, and strives.
He awakens zeal for the continuance, non-disappearance, strengthening,
increase and fulfilment by development of arisen wholesome states, and he makes
effort, arouses energy, exerts his mind, and strives.
This is called right effort.
Ven. Sāriputta 72
Focussed
Men of power, resolute enough, not moping about, but capable of pulling
themselves together and investigating this one great affair, the affair of birth and
death, to the end, to find out where we came from, where we go back to, who we
really are. This one great affair that lifts us out of the narrow confines of ‘I’ into
what actually is, and of which there is only a partaking, not a looking and a
speculating about. This one great affair, they want to investigate this one great affair
to the end.
And it is not possible to investigate this one great affair with thought and
reason and thinking about it, and making intellectual ideas about it, and having
notions about it. This is not the one great affair. The one great affair has to be
penetrated all through. And therefore, if they want to investigate this one great
affair to the end, they break down their facades and draw their spines up straight.
Their facades, the masks that we have, and in which and with which we confront
our surroundings, those facades – the businessman, the high official, the merchant,
the clever one, the humble one, the one that doesn’t understand anything – all those
facades, the roles that we play, all are broken down resolutely ‘ and with bold
spirits draw their spines up straight.’
Daiyu Myokyo-ni 73
Urgent
I was in hospital…they had few anaesthetics…. would I agree to have
chloroform?
Now, all I knew about chloroform was detective stories: you know, where you
drive with the villain in the car, and he puts a wad of cotton wool full of chloroform
on your face and you are out. And so, I happily said, “Oh, yes.”
That was that, and then they put the thing on me, and it was quite all right. And
then my breath began to be a little bit difficult, and then I could not breathe
anymore, and I very politely said, “Please take it away for a moment, I need to
catch my breath” and they didn’t take it away. And really, I didn’t think about it
anymore, my whole body rose up: “Grrrr!” – and that was the last I knew. So that is
the urgency. Whilst it goes fairly well, we don’t mind, but when it really comes to
72
Bodhi, The Connected Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Saccavibhanga Sutta’, 141:29.
73
60
an urgency, the whole thing rears up; and this whole thing, body as well as mind is
what Master Daie is talking about here.
Daiyu Myokyo 74
Single-minded
…. pulling the spine up straight and in the middle of things, whatever the
circumstances outside, whatever is inside – joyful, angry or whatever – just
diligently carry on. It’s not the circumstances that are in the way, it’s ourselves.
And here master Daie gives a few examples. ‘In the old days the military
governor Li Wen Fu was able to study Ch’an and attain great penetration and great
enlightenment while in the thick of wealth and rank.’ If we really have a mind to
work on it – meaning mind now in a general way – if we really do put ourselves
into it, then there’s nothing that can keep us from doing it, if we really want it. If we
do not really want it, if we have lots of things going on, spread all over, then it’s not
so easy; as a matter of fact, it becomes impossible. It’s not the lots-of-things
situations, it’s the single-mindedness; and so it’s useful for us to consider to what
extent we really want to follow the Buddha’s path. Is that the most important thing
in my life, or is it just among the various things that I would like to do? If we are
clear on that, then whatever our circumstances, and we know this is the most
important thing, then we carry it through.
Daiyu Myokyo 75
Unremitting
If we really look at it, is our effort unremitting in all our conduct, all day long,
or do we forget the daily life practice? Only too easily, only too often, either
because we are carried away by something or because we are just not sufficiently
constellated, not sufficiently interested, it is not always there. But if it comes to the
daily life practice, which is, after all, giving ourselves into what, here and now, at
this moment, is being done or is, that is all there is to it. But seemingly so easy, do
we really do it; or do we only do it when we remember it? Do we only do it when
we feel there is nothing more important or interesting to do?
These are questions that we might usefully ask ourselves and find out. Because
if we do not really put serious effort into, if we do not wholeheartedly give
ourselves – only half-heartedly or when the occasion is there for it, then nothing
will happen…. we are lazy, and we will not give ourselves wholeheartedly unless
we must, or unless something sufficiently interests us. If we must, that is when the
situation either seems so important to me that I cannot help it, or when it is
dangerous…
Daiyu Myokyo 76
74
75
76
61
Giving myself
If I pull myself together, then there is another pitfall, and that is that ‘I’ think I
must do it. And that ‘I’ must is also ‘I’ intentional and it will not answer. The Zen
proverb says, ‘All intention misses the target’ and the one thing that we do, even if
we are quite diligent as Westerners, the one trap we always fall into is that I think
that I must do or should do, and that is by no means the case. One thing that is
necessary is that I give myself, and I give myself, and I give myself and it is in that
giving myself that I also give myself away, although I do not realise it. And in being
given away, things look quite differently.
We all have the one or other interest; if really given into it, because it
fascinated me, because I like it, I forget myself – is it not so? Because I like it?
Then I come back again, and I say, ‘That was great!’ And I think it was the object or
the doing which was great, but that is by no means so. It is only that I have given
myself into it and at that moment, when I am given away, things do become what I
call ‘great’, because they are full and whole, and life is suddenly full too.
Daiyu Myokyo 77
Here, as in the discussion of Right Action, we should not take ‘All intention misses
the target’ to disqualify all intention whatsoever. That would be absurd. The problem is
with intention derived from conceptual discrimination and the passionate ‘I must’ or ‘I
should’ which it gives rise to. Of course, we find it impossible to understand intention
which does not arise in this way while we are convinced that ‘I’ am the prime mover
behind all our thoughts and actions. Only when we accept that this conviction may be
mistaken, can we begin to admit the possibility of intentional action which is not ‘I’-
driven.
7 Right Mindfulness
Mindfulness is just a matter of being careful about something. Examples of
mindfulness with respect to speech would be: when the population were urged during
World War II to be mindful of what was said in public, for fear of giving information to
spies; when the adults in decent families are mindful of what is said in front of the
children, for fear of exposing them to inappropriate language or ideas; when aristocrats
are mindful of what is said in front of the servants, for fear of scandal; when a teacher is
mindful of the audience’s capacity for understanding, so that the lesson does not go over
their heads.
Of course, mindfulness is required in all aspects of the practice as a facet of the
reverence which is to be cultivated for the Way. But in his description of ‘Right
Mindfulness’ as one of the eight aspects of the Path, the Buddha was concerned to
highlight something in particular which we are to discipline ourselves to be mindful
about.
And what, friends, is Right Mindfulness?
77
62
Here a bhikku abides contemplating the body (kaya) as a body, ardent, fully
aware, and mindful, having put away covetousness and grief for the world.
He abides contemplating the feelings as feelings (vedana), ardent, fully aware,
and mindful, having put away covetousness and grief for the world.
He abides contemplating mind as mind (citta), ardent, fully aware, and
mindful, having put away covetousness and grief for the world.
He abides contemplating mind-objects (dhamma) as mind-objects, ardent, fully
aware, and mindful, having put away covetousness and grief for the world.
This is called right mindfulness.
Ven. Sāriputta 78
This formula specifies what is to be contemplated and how. The ‘what’ is expressed
as body, feelings, mind and mind-objects, but this is just a Buddhist way of covering the
whole field of experience.
And the ‘how’? It’s very attractive, isn’t it, the notion of peacefully ‘abiding’ and
‘contemplating’ everything from some safe vantage point, well-removed from anything
we might find threatening. Needless to say, the Buddha is not referring to anything like
this.
So first let us consider what it means to contemplate the body as a body, feelings as
feelings, the mind as mind, and mind-objects as mind-objects? How else might one
contemplate them? Given the context, the alternative is clearly to contemplate them in
terms of ‘I, me and mine’.
The bhikku is exhorted to contemplate everything he experiences, as not ‘I, me or
mine’ by abiding in the following manner: ‘ardent, fully aware, and mindful, having put
away covetousness and grief for the world’.
‘Covetousness and grief for the world’ surely refers to our impassioned cravings
and aversions, which, as we see in the Chain of Dependent Arising, condition our
grasping and clinging. ‘Putting away covetousness and grief for the world’, however, is
not just a matter of forgetting, ignoring or suppressing them.
The abiding is ‘ardent, fully aware and mindful’. ‘Ardent’ is often understood as
zealous, and we are tempted to think of it as something like being really enthusiastic.
But if we consider the various meanings of ardent in the OED: burning; red-hot;
glowing with passion or desire, we get a better and more disturbing idea of what is
involved, namely, willingly suffering through the heated reactions resulting from
restraint.
So the discipline of Right Mindfulness involves the following: vigilant awareness
of whatever arises in experience; resisting the temptation to see it in terms of ‘I, me and
mine’ and thus exercising restraint, and patiently suffering through any heated
emotional reactions which may arise as a result.
78
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Saccavibhanga Sutta’, 141:30.
63
And when is Right Mindfulness to be practised? Is it something one only does on a

meditation cushion in a quiet room? Clearly not, for a bhikku is one who acts with clear
comprehension when
looking ahead and looking away...when bending and stretching his
limbs;...when wearing his robes and carrying his outer robe and bowl;...when
eating, drinking, chewing and tasting;... ; when defecating and urinating; when
walking, standing, sitting, falling asleep, waking up, talking and keeping silent.
The Buddha 79
Mindfulness needs to be practised in all situations all day long. But as with any
other discipline aimed at conditioning body and mind, if we really want to make
progress, we must regularly seclude ourselves in a controlled environment: martial
artists go to the dojo, footballers to the practice pitch, and practising Buddhists to the
meditation hall. In this controlled environment we can safely do concentrated work on
specific aspects of our discipline. The conditioning thus acquired improves our
performance when we have to respond to the demands which arise in our normal daily
lives.
In the case of Buddhist practice, the time spent in the meditation hall will hopefully
instil a certain state of collected quietness which will prove resistant to being swept up
in any emotional storms which might brew up in our daily lives, thus enabling us to
become familiar with our habitual mental and emotional landscape.
…once meditative calmness has set in, in this quiet I-less state, attentively
aware, the Four Foundations are reviewed: attentively aware of body, of
feelings/sensations, of mental activities, and of ‘mental objects’, thoughts. It cannot
be stressed too much that this ‘being aware’ is not I watching and observing myself,
which would be like a dog chasing its tail. Pinch your nose - does the sensation
arise into consciousness itself or is a commentator required to inform you of it?
This awareness acquaints with the habitual mental and emotional framework
and, as that, is all–important. Without it, full awareness of the habits and behaviour
patterns cannot arise and without such awareness the basic delusion
(Avidya, see Chain of Conditioned Arising) cannot be seen into and dissolved.
But just this dissolution is the condition for the heart-mirror to shine brilliantly and
to reflect clearly what is.
Daiyu Myokyo 80
8 Right Concentration
Meditation in Buddhism refers to something much wider than what goes on in the
meditation hall. But ‘Right Concentration’ as a component of the eightfold path refers
specifically to the practice discipline of seated meditation.
79
Bodhi, In the Buddha’s Words, ch. VIII: 8.
80
Myokyo-ni, Living Buddhism, ch. VI.
64
During such practice, a succession of meditative states may arise. These were well-
known to practitioners of Yoga before the Buddha’s time and indeed he was taught how
to attain them by his first two teachers. However, their attainment did not solve his
fundamental problem.
So although the Buddha recommended the practice of attaining such states for the
benefits it gives in burning off the obstacles to progress in the Path, he specifically
warned against clinging to these states, the jhānas, however pleasant they may be.
The commentators derive the Pali word jhāna from a root meaning ‘to
contemplate’, and again from another root meaning ‘to burn up’. Thus, the jhānas
are so-called because they closely contemplate the object and because they burn up
the adverse states opposed to concentration. The adverse states are the five
hindrances of sensual desire, ill-will, sloth and torpor, restlessness and worry, and
doubt.
The jhānas are attained by a method of meditation called the development of
calm or serenity (samathabhāvanā). This type of meditation involves the
strengthening of the faculty of concentration (samādhi). By fixing the mind on a
single selected object, all mental distraction is eliminated. The hindrances are
suppressed, and the mind becomes fully absorbed in its object.
Bodhi 81
’And your lines of reasoning are far too many whereas your power of stable
concentration is not enough.’
We can check it out at the sesshin here…. Can we peacefully sit in the zendo in
stable concentration? But we have to be careful with the term ‘concentration’
because we so easily fall into the trap that ‘I’ must concentrate. And what happens
if ‘I’ concentrate? What can ‘I’ concentrate on? Yes of course I can concentrate – ‘I’
can concentrate on this machine here, for example. But the more ‘I’ concentrate, ‘I’
concentrate, ‘I’ concentrate, the more focused this becomes. And the more it
excludes everything else, doesn’t it? With this ‘I’ concentration, everything else is
shut out.
But the Buddhist concentration, on the other hand, being Eastern, is to open up,
and, like a mirror, to take in just what is without any kind of exclusiveness. Such
concentration takes in just what is, and like a mirror when it turns away a little bit
to something else, it lets what was in it before drop, and takes the new picture in.
Please do not forget, the Buddhist concentration is the mirror. That’s why
Buddhism so often talks about the heart mirror. Whereas ‘I’ concentration is ‘I’
focusing and is totally exclusive. And so perhaps ‘concentration’ is not exactly the
right translation here, perhaps we could say your power of ‘stably beholding’,
‘stably remaining in the situation’ or ‘stable being’ is too weak.
Daiyu Myokyo 82
81
Anuruddha and Bodhi, A Comprehensive Manual of Abhidhamma, ch.I: 18-20.
82
65
For ‘seeing’ to be ever more refined and clarified and finally to effect liberation
from the Wheel, the religious discipline of meditation is essential. Equally essential
is to realize that even its preliminary practices are contingent on the inner strength
accruing from Daily Life practice, i.e., from the cultivation of patient endurance
and lengthening attention span. …Meditational practices are not religious
disciplines and ‘techniques’ that ‘I’ can ‘do’ or judge in terms of efficiency or
expedience or as to their degree of difficulty.
Buddhism, all Buddhism, is oriented equally towards insight (Prajna) into the
True nature – one’s own and that of all things being the ‘same’ – and to the correct
functioning or working of this insight which re-unites and harmonizes the
individual in the wholeness of what is. This enables him/her to wholeheartedly and
spontaneously respond to the demands of a given situation and to do so in a
specific, i.e., human way. Not because such action is intentional or judged to be
desirous, but because the appropriate response is elicited as natural to the human
being, specifically human. It follows then that meditation practices are geared to
evoke this response and so are really further refinements of the Daily life Practice,
leading it beyond the limits of ‘I’.
Daiyu Myokyo 83
The attitude of meditation, which in sitting meditation is simple quietness: that
is what we start with to work. Usually, to meditate, you ‘set your mind on a still
concentration point’, and that is what we do. To begin with we either follow the
breath, which is more the Southern School, or we count the breath, which is more
the Northern School. And you see we are already looking at it the wrong way: it is
again ‘I’ doing, is it not? I follow the breath, or I count. And at the moment it will
not go anymore, I can do that until I have artificially bludgeoned myself, but it is
not quiet. It is again the same, and this is why the daily life practice is so important,
it is I give myself to the count or to following the breath. I give myself into, which
means I become it. And the moment I am given into, and am given away, it is quiet
already, perhaps only for a moment, and then it comes back again. Give myself
again, patiently, without wanting to get quickly to something, or get something out,
just patiently on with it and on with it, until it truly and really becomes quiet.
And hopefully, as it has become quiet when I sit motionless on the cushion ‘I’
has fallen off, and then it gets up from the cushion and that moment I am there
already. So, in order to cultivate, and this comes to us as an important thing over the
Sesshin, in order to cultivate that quietness, we do Kinhin. Do not think that Kinhin
is now a rest from sitting and to stretch my legs and so on, on the contrary, this is to
see that the same quiet attitude also prevails in the walking. And in the fast walking,
and in the slow walking. That is what Kinhin is about, because as Master Daie quite
rightly says, ‘you must be able to use it right in the midst of the hubbub.’ What is
the use of sitting quietly in the Zendo, if the moment I am up and about in my job
83
Myokyo-ni, Living Buddhism, ch.VI.
66
when in daily life things begin to flare and burn again, I might as well have saved
myself and gone to the pub instead.
So, to learn that quiet attitude, first in the quiet sitting but then also to learn –
and to learn is not the right word, to get used to it – to get used to it also in
movement – not only just in stillness but in movement too. Then when it is
beginning to hold in movement, in other words, when ‘I’ am fairly well out of the
way, there is no particular difficulty anymore, because it is only ‘I’ who have
problems. In fact, there are no problems, things are as they are or the way they are.
And if they are seen the way they are there is no latching onto and no stemming
against.
Daiyu Myokyo 84
‘You are being dragged along by your daily activities as you respond to
circumstances.’
Being dragged along, we can’t let go, we must continue, and we get involved,
personally involved in circumstance and situations. That is what happens when the
power of stable being is not strong enough; we get pulled off our feet and dragged
along. Being dragged along by circumstances as they are, ‘thus you are unable to
make a clean break right where you stand.’ ‘To make a clean break’ means just to
let go, just to drop it. If the one who gets so easily dragged is dropped, then the
stable concentration or the stable openness or the stable being is there of itself; it
need not be learnt as it is in any case our natural state.
Daiyu Myokyo 85
84
85
67
The Arahant and the Bodhisattva

…in one of right concentration, right knowledge comes into being; in one of
right knowledge, right deliverance comes into being. Thus bhikkus, the path of the
disciple in higher training possesses eight factors, the arahant possesses ten factors.
‘Mahācattārīsaka Sutta’, 117:34
The Buddha 86
The disciple in higher training completes the Noble Eightfold Path and with the
attainment of Right Knowledge and Right Deliverance becomes an arahant. The arahant
has gained direct knowledge of every aspect of the Wheel, the suffering of all beings
trapped on it, and the path to their liberation from it. Thus he becomes dispassionate,
ceases clinging and is liberated.
When liberated there comes the knowledge ‘It is liberated’. He understands:
‘Birth is destroyed, the holy life has been lived, what had to be done has been done,
there is no more coming to any state of being.’
The Buddha 87
The arahant is delivered from clinging and hence is liberated from the endless
round of manifestations as an inhabitant of one of the six realms (states of being).
Which is not to say that he disappears, dies, and loses his personality or individuality as
a human being: simply that can he no longer be reckoned as an inhabitant of one of
those realms, since such inhabitants are characterised by the particular nature of their
suffering due to clinging, and the arahant, by definition, is free from such clinging and
suffering it gives rise to.
And how will such a being behave? With wisdom comes compassion, and with the
highest wisdom the heart will naturally overflow with the deepest compassion for all
beings still suffering on the Wheel. Such a being who thereby becomes a light and a
comfort for all is known as a Bodhisattva.
86
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Mahācattārīsaka Sutta’, 117:34.
87
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, ‘Mahāpuṇṇama Sutta’, 109:17-18.
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Practice
Introduction
This is not the place for the beginner to look for detailed guidance on the specifics
of Zen practice. For that, a good starting point is ‘The Zen Way’ by Irmgard Schloegl.
Then it is essential to receive help from a qualified teacher who can guide each
individual according to his needs. Here we are only concerned with giving the
practitioner a general orientation.
We have lost touch with the traditional values which supported us and gave
meaning to our lives, and a whole industry has arisen to fill the void with endless
distractions, while another fabricates dreams of wholeness based on the latest diet,
therapy, political or social movement, or a caricature of some aspect of religion. That
these industries thrive is evidence enough that we feel something is lacking. But what?
It can be, and has been, described in many ways, but here we shall simply call it peace
of heart.
Whatever our cultural background, we are all alike in that we are human beings
with a human heart. And the basic question relevant to all is whether we are
fundamentally at peace with ourselves and the world we inhabit or not. How that peace,
and the road to it, is pictured, represented in concepts, is culturally conditioned. But in
itself it is other than the pictures and its absence constitutes the suffering which impels
us to search for it. In fact, this picture-making of what we imagine will fill the void is
precisely the problem, since it entices us into a fruitless pursuit of mirages.
Master Rinzai says, 'If you can put to rest the heart that frantically seeks from
moment to moment you will be no different from old Shakyamuni Buddha.'
With the Buddha, having entered the state of I-lessness, there is no seeking
anymore, neither to become rich, nor to become holy, nor to become anything. And
it is all a question of putting ' the heart that frantically seeks' to rest.... As long as
you seek, and even if it is Buddha knowledge, it cannot be satisfied......
Master Daie says this seeking, the heart's not being satisfied, 'is called
affliction' - that is our basic affliction, not being satisfied, and therefore looking for
something, and whatever picture we make of that something, that we believe will
satisfy us. Of course, it does not, because what the heart really wants is to be united
with what is, and not dragged away by the affliction of ‘I’.
Daiyu Myokyo 88
For the heart to be re-united with what is, we need to cure the affliction of ‘I’. And
the first thing we need to be clear about is that this is basically an affliction of the
emotions. So, the practice is largely concerned with coming to terms with our own
emotional reactions: firstly, having the courage to recognise them for what they are;
then learning how to submit to the discipline which leads to their transformation.
88
Myokyo-ni, ‘Selected Sayings of Master Daie Soko - Commentary’ Vol. 33:2.
69
Bearing in mind that the Zen Way is a Buddhist Way, we may expect it to
concentrate on the basic principles, the awakening of the realisation of Not-I, by
means of a genuine transformation of the emotional household.
Daiyu Myokyo 89
And now, inevitably, before starting out, we try to imagine the end of the Path,
the state of No-I. But “what an I-less state is, we cannot conceive; even a state of
somewhat diminished ‘I’ is difficult to grasp unless some training has been
undergone to that end. Nor is it helpful to ponder what it is that is reborn if
basically there is no ‘I’.
A further and eminently practical point is that as long as I feel strongly ‘I’, it is
no good denying this ‘I’. Calling it an abstract proposition does not diminish it in
me, it merely makes me a hypocrite.
Daiyu Myokyo 90
Not only can we not conceive of where the Path leads to, but we also have to face
serious obstacles to our progress:
As the Buddha said – and we carefully repeat the Buddha’s teachings, but we
still don’t believe them – ‘Anatta’ – No I. And I cling to that ‘I’ with everything.
Therefore, it is very difficult for us, these days particularly when we haven’t got
anything but that ‘I’ to hold to. We have neither religious nor cultural values
anymore; we are only left with the dreary little ‘peeps’ of I, and to that we cling and
so we are easily frightened. And we cannot get away from it and the training
therefore has real difficulties for us. Because actually all the training does is to peel
one layer of I and another layer of I and another layer of I until there is nothing left.
I resist this becoming nothing, not realising that with this, the fullness opens.
Daiyu Myokyo 91
So not only can we not conceive of a state of no-I, but we actually fear it. How then are
we to deal with that fear?
When that fear arises, then look at that fear too. Open up to it. Do not close
against it and try to shove it away. The closing up against and trying to shove away
is our greatest enemy. Open up and look at it and give it house room. But don’t let it
carry you away. Give it house room, try to become acquainted with it. Make friends
with it. Then things begin to look different. And when that fear is gone, and the true
emptiness is opened up, in which there is a free flowing with everything that is, and
no obstruction at all, then things begin to look a little bit different.
Daiyu Myokyo 92
89
90
91
Myokyo-ni, ‘Selected Sayings of Master Daie Soko’, Vol. 34:3.
92
70
…’I’ and fear are like the palm and the back of the hand. To get away from the
fear is to get away from ‘I’. And since I cannot get away from ‘I’ by an act of will
or thought, it is necessary to do the practice. And we do the practice in order to get
the strength to look at what, in a way, we do know anyway and, in a way, have
always known, but what we have never had the courage to look straight at.
And the strength accumulates from enduring the practice, from getting on with
the practice, from not stopping with the practice; gradually a little bit more strength
and a little bit more strength accumulates. And suddenly it is possible to look at
what has always been known, but we have always refused to see. And then it looks
quite different. And with that there is a coming together.
And with that, all that in our best moments we genuinely, from our heart, want,
is also fulfilled. What we unrealistically want to do, what we think we should do, is
suddenly quite unimportant, because what really needs to be done has nothing to do
with ‘I’.
Daiyu Myokyo 93
So the erosion of the delusion of ‘I’ is a process which involves overcoming our
deepest fears and is therefore not to be taken lightly or engaged in without due
precaution. Genuine Zen training is directly concerned with this process.
Are we really capable of feeling awe and reverence towards something - names are
irrelevant - greater than us; something which attracts with its promise of liberation from
our petty obsessions with ‘I, me and mine’, yet induces trembling at the prospect of
leaving them all behind and dying to ourselves in order to attain peace of heart and
participate in a greater life? Quite frankly, the very idea of it scares us out of our wits –
or should do, if we have any sense: for to approach it unprepared is to risk disintegration
rather than integration.
But integration is what ‘peace of heart’ refers to, and it does not come cheap. Of
course, there are plenty of cheap imitations on the market, but they point either to
massive ego inflation or the total renunciation of individuality by absorption into the
mass.
But full integration is rare indeed. Sadly, the majority of us cannot realistically hope
to reach such spiritual heights, at least in this life. And for those of us who do not
believe in another life and consider ourselves, at best, mere pilgrims without much
chance of reaching our destination, the question arises of whether it is of benefit, and to
whom (ourselves, our nearest and dearest, humanity, all beings…), for us simply to be
walking in the right direction.
It does not matter to become a living Buddha in this life, though we are all
supposed to become one sooner or later, in the aeons to come. But even if we only
come to the state where we are always friendly and joyful in our workplace, and
among our family and nearest and dearest, that alone, considering what the world is
nowadays, is already a good enough way of showing that life can be lived not
93
71
entirely depending on ‘I’ and my likes, but that it can be lived truly for the sake of
all of us. Because it cannot be lived for ‘I’ only, nor only for the sake of others, it
can only be lived for the sake of all of us. And this ‘for all of us’ is what fulfils the
heart’s longing.
Daiyu Myokyo 94
Our motives for starting the practice, and for continuing it, will inevitably be
mixed. We need not dwell on them, for they will no doubt change over time. Nor need
we agonize about whether the Buddha’s Way is the right one for us. If there is an initial
attraction, we will try it. If there is a true affinity, we will stick with it. If not, we won’t.
And how do we know whether we have a true affinity for one Way or another? It’s not
something we decide in the head, it’s something we discover in the heart.
94
72
Requirements
Favourable conditions
The first, and most obvious, requirement to make training possible is to have been
born when the teachings are available. There are very long periods when they are not.
The second is to have been born as a human being. For it is only from the human state
that liberation is possible. The third is to come into contact with the teachings and to be
capable of responding to them: even meeting the Buddha in person did not inspire those
who were not ready to receive his teachings. The fourth is to enjoy circumstances which
favour our continuing the practice: for example, living in times of war, famine and
disease, certainly does not help.
So even as we take the first step, we have reason to be grateful that we are in a
position to do so.
The Three Great Roots
The first shock that comes to an ‘I’ wanting to start on the Zen Way is that I
cannot understand it. And if I want to do it, I need to take it on trust – the Great
Root of Faith. And as I start, I need to check and recheck every step, in order to
avoid falling back into long-established habit patterns without even being aware of
having done so – the Great Root of Doubt. And since the Way leads to what I have
always avoided, and indeed wish to avoid for good, it needs Passionate, almost
desperate Strength to face and endure.
Daiyu Myokyo 95
The Aspiration of the Heart
Suffering I teach, and the Way out of Suffering.
The Buddha
The heart of the Buddha’s teachings is the Buddha heart.
Master Daibi 96
Why do we even consider taking up the discipline in the first place? The answer to
this question is fundamental and should be constantly borne in mind as a spur to
maintaining the right attitude in each moment. When presented with the prospect of
undertaking the discipline, we tend to react against it with thoughts like: ‘Life is there
for enjoying. It’s hard enough without voluntarily adding more difficulties.’ But the
point is precisely that we, in our present state, are incapable of enjoying it to the full,
however much we indulge our impulses: and this, in our heart of hearts, we know. And
it is because, deep down, we know it, that we are open to the Buddha’s teaching.
For the fact is that, living as we do, we are not fundamentally at ease with ourselves
and the world we inhabit: our hearts are not at peace. Obsessed with ‘I, me and mine’,
we are constantly trying either to aggrandise ourselves or, haunted by fear and
95
Schloegl, The Zen Way, ch.V.
96
Tōrei and Shaku, The Discourse on the Inexhaustible Lamp of the Zen School. Preface, Daibi Intro.
73
insecurity, to defend desperately whatever we happen to identify with, be it things,

people, opinions, status, political creeds or whatever: there is no end to it. Of course, we
have moments or longer periods of happiness, even bliss, but they are tainted by our
sense of their fragility and our fear of their passing. The heart’s longing for peace and
the impossibility of finding that peace in possessing or identifying with anything in a
world which is essentially impermanent, constitutes our suffering.
We commonly assume that happiness is to be found in that which we like or love,
and unhappiness in that which we dislike or hate. Consequently, we dedicate much of
our time and energy to the active pursuit of whatever happens to have taken our fancy at
the moment, and energetic avoidance of whatever we feel to be disagreeable.
But, as we are all too painfully aware, in this world of constant change, any state of
happiness which depends upon clinging to that which we like and denying that which
we don’t, is intrinsically fragile, being contingent upon fickle circumstance. So, such
happiness, when attained, is inevitably tainted by fear: the fear of losing that which we
like or love, and the fear of becoming subject to that which we dislike or fear.
The restless heart gives us no peace. A heart at peace through all contingencies is
something distinct from, and independent of, transient states of happiness and sadness,
suffering and joy. The remedy for a restless heart is not happiness as we usually
understand it, but equanimity.
The basis of true equanimity with respect to our own impermanence, according to
the Buddha’s teaching, is quite simply the full awareness that there is no ‘I’ to die, ‘I’
referring here not to the identifiable person known to society, but rather to this
imaginary essence, in, but apart from, the world, which we conjure out of our untamed
passions and passionately cling to. So until the delusion of ‘I’ has been dispelled, we
will suffer disquiet in the face of impermanence.
The delusion of ‘I’ conditions our behaviour and our motives in ways which
support and strengthen that delusion, but what could support motives and behaviour
which tend to weaken and diminish this delusion. It seems unnatural to submit to a
discipline which deliberately grates against everything I consider ‘I, me and mine’. So
how can we understand, accept and willingly submit to a process which so goes against
the grain? Where do we find the motivation to start and the strength to continue? If ‘I’
is a delusion, then we need to ask what, if not ‘I’, acts through us? It goes by many
names, but in the Zen tradition it is called the heart.
Motivation comes from the heart and strength accrues through practice. But the
heart is not ‘my’ heart, and the strength is not ‘my’ strength.
Since ‘motivation’ is so strongly associated with ‘I’, ‘me’ and ‘mine’, it might be
better to speak rather of a natural ‘inclination’ or ‘aspiration’ of the Heart. This
aspiration moves and guides us along the way, but inevitably, as beginners, our motives
will be tainted by thoughts of ‘my liberation’, ‘my practice’, ‘my merit’, and so on. But
it is important to realise that this is not an obstacle to setting out on the way.
Consider someone who sees the Tour de France and starts dreaming of the glory of
winning it. He decides to become a professional cyclist and to that end has to start
74
training every day. The fact that his motive for getting out of bed on a cold, wet winter’s
morning to spend hours cycling up a mountain is a wild fantasy is irrelevant: the only
thing that matters at this point is that he actually gets on his bike and suffers in his body
those long hours of training. As time passes the fantasy may fade and be replaced by
other motives, but again they are irrelevant except insofar as they get him on his bike
and enable him to endure the required suffering, because something else happens over
time: his body and his mentality become conditioned by the training in ways he may be
completely unaware of at first; and the habits and routines he has acquired take on their
own dynamic as he becomes absorbed in the day to day effort. He may or may not win
the Tour, but he will certainly be transformed if he persists. So, the important thing is to
start cultivating new habits of thought, speech and deed by actually making an effort to
think, speak and act along the new lines.
But what is meant by ‘the heart’ which is not ‘my’ heart? It is simply the heart we
are all familiar with, the seat of our feelings. Yes, but in what sense is it not ‘my’ heart?
Well, when we think of our heartfelt feelings, many of them are certainly related to our
ideas of ‘I, me and mine’. But apart from these selfish, egocentric feelings, the heart is
also capable of generosity and compassion which transcend that boundary of ‘self’ and
‘other’ which we imagine under the delusion of ‘I’: ‘self’ here referring not simply to
the individual, but to whatever he identifies with, be it family, tribe, political movement,
race, nation or whatever. The generosity which transcends the boundary of ‘self’ is that
which is exemplified in the exhortation of Jesus to love our enemy. This is paradoxical
if our concept of love is limited to that which is conditional upon inclusion within the
scope of what we identify with, since, by definition, our enemy is excluded from such
identification. But love need not be so limited, and hence the heart can extend beyond
the narrow range of feelings associated with ‘I’. Consequently ‘I’ cannot claim the heart
as its own.
It is freely admitted that not everyone can or will, at least in this life, find sufficient
motivation and strength to endure to the end of the Path. On the other hand, though we
may not reach the end, just to be walking, or at least pointed, in the right direction, is in
itself beneficial.
Faith in the Heart
The main obstacle to eliminating old habits is our identification with them. Since
we identify with them, the prospect of losing them is seen as the prospect of losing part
of ourselves, being reduced towards being nothing, and this we fear.
Unthinkingly, we set off with faith in our own willpower, dreaming our dreams of
heroic effort. But when that falters, for example, when faced with the prospect of
getting through an hour’s sitting alone, how can we continue? The back and legs may be
aching; it is difficult to concentrate and the craving to stop and get up before time may
be very strong: all sorts of excuses and justifications arise feeding the impulse to move.
In the zendo various I-oriented considerations may outweigh these and carry the day:
the fear of public humiliation being a very strong one. But at home, alone, with no one
watching us, and when we have been in the practice long enough for the initial bravado
75
to have dissipated long before, what keeps us there when we finally and truly come to
feel that there is nothing in it for ‘me’? Merely opining that keeping to the discipline of
sitting the full half-hour is the wise thing to do here cuts no ice at all, for ’I’ can always
come up with a multitude of reasons why it isn’t in fact so in this ‘special’ case.
When we do this and experience it in our body, we discover a parting of the ways.
Sitting in great discomfort, ‘I’ whimpers that I cannot go on and wants to give up and
run away. When that is denied, the thought arises, “Well, I cannot do it, but the Bull can.
I will sit with the strength of the Bull.” Now the body fills out, the face assumes the
mask of a mighty bull, and breathing out takes the form of a snort of defiance. But,
though effective as a means of sticking it out for longer, this is a wrong path. For ‘I’ is
very much there – the power of the Bull has been appropriated, and what sticks it out is
a Bull-man – strong, proud and arrogant. Now the problem with relying on the Bull to
get us through is that he is by nature fickle: one day he may throw himself into sitting
still for hours, and another he may defy the gods and rampage off after new pastures.
So, if we do not follow the way of the will-power of little ‘I’, who is all too feeble,
nor the path of the Bull-power of big ‘I’, which, at heart, is wild, and will come to a bad
end, all that remains to us is the Buddha’s Middle Way of No-I. And to approach it, we
need a good dose of true humility.
But what we also need is some reassurance that there really is something operating,
capable of carrying the load, which is beyond ‘I, me and mine’. The Buddha, in his
earth-touching posture, is assuring us that it is a reality. So, fundamentally, what is
required to be able to continue the practice under these conditions is faith in that
carrying power, however we like to call it. In the Zen tradition it is called Faith in the
Heart.
Faith in the Heart gives us the courage to let go of ‘I’. The wave is not the ocean,
but the nature of wave is that of the ocean. If we can humbly admit that we are carried
by something greater and much stronger that ‘I’; and keep clear that this power is not
‘mine’ – the safeguard here being an attitude of reverence; yet at the same time maintain
our personal integrity and humanity, which ultimately means seeing clearly that this
power, though not mine, is also not ‘other’, then we can enter the gate of ‘awe and
wonder’ to the true path of no-I.
So physically it comes down to faith – the sort of faith needed to be able to float in
water: that which requires renunciation of control to the carrying power of the element
in which we find ourselves. And, physically, ‘renunciation of control’ comes down to
physically relaxing, releasing the tension in one’s muscles, and so allowing oneself to be
carried. In the water it is pretty clear whether or not this has happened, but in sitting or
daily life practice the tensing can be very subtle and we can in fact fool ourselves for
years that we are ‘given into’ whereas in fact we are subtly holding back.
Wisdom prevails, and the strength of the “I must” or “I can’t” which sustain the
delusion of ‘I’ is weakened, when we see things clearly from the perspective of the
Heart and are able to act accordingly. But the prevailing of wisdom is not the prevailing
of arguments in favour of wise action: it is, rather, the prevailing, in action, of Faith in
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the Heart over all considerations of ‘I, me and mine’ manifesting the form of the Fires.
In the Christian tradition it is expressed in the phrase, ‘Thy will be done’.
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Aspects: The Paramitas (Northern line)

Introduction
Even a journey of a thousand miles starts from right under one’s feet.
Chinese proverb
All of these (all sentient beings), if they but have faith in the Dharma and train
in it according to their ability, they will and can make progress. Nowadays, too, if
you but practise, first for only a short time, five or ten minutes even, it will always
prove effective. This is the virtue of actual practice. The experience of actual
practice, of actually doing it, soon turns into strength.
This promise was solemnly given to all sentient beings in the Six Realms, ‘All
will, in this life or in a life to come, attain Buddhahood.’
Master Daibi 97
Too much method robs the life. Too much analysis clutters the mind with
details. The dogmatic forms of religion are manifold. Their training ways have
much in common. And the mystics of all ages speak much the same language.
Daiyu Myokyo 98
The lack of peace that you feel can only come from your own self-will,
whether you are aware of this or not… Start with yourself therefore and take leave
of yourself.
Meister Eckhart 99
As we see from the Chain of Dependent Origination, what drives us on through the
Six Realms is the power of old habits of thought, speech and action, in short the
samskaras. So we need to put a brake on these and cultivate new habits which accord
with the path.
Northern and Southern lines of Buddhism formulated lists of six (sometimes ten)
virtues to be cultivated in practice. The lists differ slightly, reflecting variations in
emphasis rather than substance. Here we consider that of the Northern Line from which
the Zen tradition developed. These virtues are Paramitas in that their cultivation takes us
beyond ‘I’ to the ‘other shore’.
Clearly, this is a long and difficult task. Sadly, as we are all repeatedly reminded,
usually around the middle of January each year, good resolutions in themselves have
little power to overcome long ingrained habits. Even though we have moments of
clarity, the power of old habits to reassert themselves obscures our vision again and
again.
Some people have a very strong will and can therefore make a resolution to
suppress an old habit and impose that resolution through the sheer force of their
97
Tōrei and Shaku, ch.10: 535 Daibi.
98
99
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willpower. This method does not address the question of why they were clinging to that
habit in the first place: it is like cutting a weed at ground level rather than uprooting it. A
new habit will usually quickly establish itself in place of the old. Of course, sometimes
this is done quite deliberately with the aim of substituting a habit with less harmful
effects: the habit of chewing gum may be cultivated in order to displace the habit of
smoking. But religious disciplines are oriented towards the uprooting of certain habits
rather than their suppression. And the habit with the deepest root, the most tenacious of
all, is that of assuming an ‘I’ as an independently existing inhabitant, observer and
experiencer of, and actor upon, a separate ‘world’ which is quite other. And this
assumption of ‘I’ is not a coolly considered intellectual hypothesis which we free to
abandon in the light of any evidence which might arise against it. It is a delusion to
which we cling, passionately, fearfully.
‘I’ is worn down by the cultivation of new habits of restraint and discipline which
include learning to function smoothly in spite of any emotional reactions which might
come up, and this, not by repressing or giving vent to those reactions, but rather by
containing and suffering through them. The training is not a matter of nullifying
ourselves as human beings, as people with individual personalities, but rather of
wearing down the deeply ingrained habit of thinking and behaving as though the
satisfaction of our desires defines us. What is required is a change of attitude.
What does identifying, or not, with our desires come down to in practice? It is not
just a question of what we do, but also of how we do it. In a situation where something
has to be done, or should be done, yet we don’t want to do it, are we led by the needs of
the situation or our wants? Then, supposing we cede to the situation, how do we act? Do
we do the deed half-heartedly or wholeheartedly? It doesn’t matter what reasons or
justifications we may have for not wanting to do something, or for not participating
wholeheartedly: insofar as we refuse to obey the situation or to give ourselves
wholeheartedly into doing whatever is required of us, we are identifying with our
desires.
As this acceptance training continues, the habits sustaining the delusion of ‘I’ are
gradually weakened, and so the heart empties, the seeing clears.
If the heart is empty of clinging or aversion, of the emotions which are the film
of delusion engendered by I, this is the heart’s fulfilment. This is basic to Zen
practice, which takes the heart as empty unless or until the winds of passion stir up
emotional waves. Hence a strong component of Zen practice is the practice in
everyday life, shugyo, without which Zen practice cannot be fruitful. It is the
practice in everyday life, the ordinary work, which makes the student come to grips
with his emotionality…. If Zen teaches anything, it is the ability to be vitally alive.
The heart being empty, hence fulfilled, there is a free and adequate response to
changing situations.
Daiyu Myokyo 100
100
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1 Giving / Generosity
Of the Three Fires, the main one is delusion. And the delusion, what is the
delusion? That there is such a thing as a separate ‘I’ – which I think myself to be,
unrelated to anything, and therefore, underneath, of course, alone and frightened –
and therefore insatiably wanting, and aggressive if I do not get what I want. If I
forget myself then none of these troubles exist, and so the whole thing is a question
of forgetting myself. And we come back again and again to the daily life practice of
giving myself. I cannot forget myself by an act of will, but I can give myself fully
into the moment here and now….
Daiyu Myokyo 101
To give, we must let go. The paramita of giving, the giving which goes beyond ‘I’,
is that which involves letting go of whatever we are clinging to in the name of ‘I’. But
the other side of ‘I’ is fear, and so we cannot just let go of all we have invested in this
delusion by a single act of will. Each act of giving which goes against ‘I’ is felt to be, in
effect, a little death, and we must accustom ourselves to these little deaths in order to
strengthen our faith in no-I and overcome our fear. Faith grows with awareness but is
grounded and confirmed in action. In the practice, ‘giving’ means giving up; giving
into; giving ourselves away – which amounts to emptying the heart of our attachments.
In this world of impermanence, the delusion of ‘I’, in dividing the heart, brings
suffering, and it is only natural that the heart should incline away from this suffering
towards wholeness. The heart is divided inasmuch as we pursue and cling to everything
we desire, while refusing and avoiding that which we do not.
For example, when the windows of the house are dirty, we are well aware that they
need cleaning. But if we do not like cleaning windows, then we either find excuses not
to do it, or we do it half-heartedly. This half-hearted response to what is asked of us is
an attitude arising from our being conditioned by our identification with our desires.
The heart is divided insofar as we are half-hearted. Conversely, the heart is whole
insofar as we are wholehearted.
Daily life practice largely consists in training ourselves to respond wholeheartedly
to whatever the situation requires of us, whether we actually want to or not. So,
although we hate cleaning windows, when the windows are dirty we set to cleaning
them as thoroughly and vigorously as possible, putting everything into it. If we do this
really conscientiously, we may discover, to our surprise, that cleaning windows is not so
bad after all.
We find fulfilment in wholeheartedness. But, in our ignorance, we suppose that we
can only be wholehearted in relation to that which we love.
When chanting or counting the breath or washing the dishes, put your whole heart
into it. Put your whole heart into whatever the situation requires. If you can truly do
that, then you are a man who has nothing further to seek. For there is nothing to be
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sought beyond wholehearted participation in this very instant. He who gives everything,
lacks nothing.
Such giving requires: wisdom - a certain degree of wisdom in being able to see
clearly just what is required, which implies seeing through our own pettiness and
selfishness; discipline - the capacity for restraint from being carried away by our
passionate desire to something other than what is required; patience -the patience to
endure whatever reactions we may suffer as a result of containing these passionate
impulses; energy - the energy to persevere in the absence of ‘I’-oriented motivation;
absorption - the capacity to maintain the focus of the mind on what is being done
without being distracted by thought streams or waves of emotion.
Clearly then, the paramitas are cultivated together, not in sequence, each supporting
the others.
When ‘I’ am finally worn away, there is no more ‘giving’ or ‘trying to give’, since
there is no longer a ‘giver’: the path ends in wholeheartedness.
2 Discipline
The Way
While the walker follows the Way, the Way itself is the discipline which
produces clear seeing and the strength to act in accordance with it. Then the Way
ends; the walker is free of the Way, free of his own I-biased and deluded seeing. He
himself has become the Way. So he acts out of his own nature…
A ‘true man of the Way’ is another way of describing the ‘man who has nothing
further to seek’, the ‘independent man of the Way’ who leans on nothing and who
has the ‘single eye’ or has come to see clearly.
Daiyu Myokyo 102
Self-discipline
The first step along that path is self-discipline. I, by nature one-sided, will
either fight shy of discipline on the principle that it does not suit me; or I will load
on an arbitrary discipline which I either cannot keep in the long run-or the life spark
is lost in hypocrisy, a sullen smouldering under the ashes.
A discipline that is not I-controlled is inconceivable to ‘I’. Yet most of the
physiological processes that go on in my body are not I-controlled. Hair and nails
grow the heart pumps, the lungs function of themselves. Worse, moods seize me,
passions arise and can carry me away, whether I know it, like it, resist it, or not. If I
wake up in the morning with a heavy heart, I may blame my liver or the weather for
it-but there need not be a physical reason at all: only a heavy, bleak mood has
invaded me, has taken possession of me; not being ‘mine’, I cannot shake it off. It
will leave me again, sooner or later, of its own accord. Usually, I try to find a
scapegoat so that I know what caused it; and if I cannot remedy this cause, I can at
least blame the scapegoat, and feel secure in the knowledge that it has nothing to do
102
81
with me. Or else I try to distract myself in order to shake off the mood. The last
thing I want to do is endure it willingly and accept it as part of myself which is in a
state of agitation, I know not why; and which, if only I endure it patiently, will
leave me sooner or later, I do not know why.
Having been courageous and honest enough to have seen this happen time and
again, the inevitable conclusion must be that I am sharing the ‘house’ I live in, of
which I thought myself the master, with something unknown, something stronger
than ‘I’, and acting in a way which seems to me to be beyond rhyme or reason.
My disquiet upon finding such a mate is bound to be serious. That is why I
prefer not to be aware of him and go to great lengths to avoid seeing him.
Unfortunately, in turning my back so as not to see him, I actually give him special
power over me. For the stronger I resist something, the more that something
fascinates me, gets hold of me. This repulsion is of the same power as the attraction
of ‘I want something’, but its opposite pole.
Daiyu Myokyo 103
Giving in
In the grip of an emotional onslaught, bowing can be extremely helpful just
because in mere physical action, not necessarily I, but the rest of me understands
and is more ready to give in. Out of this develops the flexibility that must
accompany strength.
The difficulty is that I inevitably misunderstand the bowing and giving
in. From the standpoint of ‘I’, it means giving in to the object, being on a par with
it. Since the object is other than I, this means loss of integrity. Yet, the purpose of
the exercise is not to get caught up with the object, but simply to learn to give in.
The ‘wilful will’ experienced as ‘I must…’ needs gentling. Religions facilitate this
by directing the giving in to a ‘higher authority’; whether this be conceived
anthropomorphically or as a neutral law, it is other than and above both subject and
object. A good bit of my reasonable uneasiness with regard to this giving in
vanishes if it is seen as giving in to something more than ‘I’, and other than the
object; with that, the object becomes less important. Such giving in does not rob me
of my integrity, but actually enhances it.
Daiyu Myokyo 104
Body - Good form
The discipline of the Way begins with the body: maintaining good form at all times
and in all postures, sitting, standing or walking.
In the process of energy transformation and restructuring the energy must have
a fairly high potential to be able to grind the spikes of I away and to shift gear itself,
103
104
Schloegl, ch.V.
82
as it were. Hence it is necessary for the container to be strong enough before such a
shift can occur safely.
In any sports training it is necessary to strengthen the muscles and practise skill
in performance. The same holds good for ‘inner strength’.
Since the form is important, great stress is put on correct posture, not only for
Zazen, but for deportment in general. There is little opportunity to do ‘as it suits
me’. Walking is straight, sitting is straight, standing is straight. A sloppy, lolling
posture is not allowed. And yet stiffness is also discouraged, both physically and
mentally. The form must be strong and firm, but flexible enough to stand the
pressure as it builds up, to contain the shift when it occurs, and to accommodate the
new structure.
Daiyu Myokyo 105
Good form is the hallmark of quality. It is the humanizing agent that shapes the
incoherent raw material which is always liable to fly apart again, to explode and
discharge the inherent energy. This shaping renders the individual able to function,
able to act, even under trying circumstances.
This shaping is not new. Today it is resented: discipline has become a ‘bad’
word; in one sense, rightly so, for discipline for the sake of discipline is deadly. But
we have forgotten what idiomatic expressions like ‘to pull oneself together’, and ‘to
go to pieces’ point to-and even more so have we forgotten the strong physical
aspect of it. But if we know why and what we undertake a discipline for, and
ourselves experience its shaping and strengthening influence, its support in
adversity, then we may realize in our own body the advantage, the help of a
discipline.
And with this observation we have embarked on the first step of the Buddhist
Path, which is called Sila in the Pali language of the southern scriptures. Though
this term is usually translated as morality, and in a way that is what it comes down
to, it is a great mistake to consider it either as an end in itself, or as unimportant in
our ‘enlightened’ days. The term is perhaps better understood when taken as the
cultivation of a daily life discipline by virtue of which the trainee is shaped or
readied for the religious practice of meditation. As both daily life discipline and
meditation mature, genuine insight arises, and with it, warmth of heart.
Daiyu Myokyo 106
Emotions
A monk in a training temple has chosen to be there and to accept the discipline
as it exists in complete obedience. He has no way out: his day is structured from
waking to sleeping. He learns to take things as they come and to adapt quickly to
changes of circumstance. Of course, he is prey to emotions: but he cannot throw a
105
Schloegl, ch.IV.
106
Schloegl, ‘On Practice’, Vol. 1:1.
83
temper, or huddle in a corner to fulminate inwardly. He has to function in the

normal routine come what may.
So …, though he is boiling within, he suffers the emotional onslaught,
enduring it willy-nilly, almost dumbly, but he continues to function….
It seems as if such a regime is more likely to produce an automaton or a dyed-
in-the-wool hypocrite. But this is not so. Enduring and working through emotional
onslaughts, ‘suffering it out’, serves a twofold purpose. If done in the attitude of
training, willingly yet fully acknowledging the emotional upheaval, I who must
have things as it suits me, become softer and more tractable as I learn again and
again to give in, and to give for no other reason than that the training requires it.
To that extent the energy itself sloughs off its wildness and becomes ‘more like
itself’, as when it is not interfered with and misused by ‘I’.…
Neither repression nor expression is effective in grounding down the spikes of
‘I must have’, ‘I need’, ‘I can’t stand’, ‘I won’t have’. Repression only dams up the
energy until it finally exceeds the limits of tolerance and explodes in a primitive
temper. And expression, though it may bring temporary relief from tension, is not a
transforming agent; moreover, if habitually indulged in, it lowers the limit of
tolerance and so works the opposite way. Instead of becoming gentler, for example,
the person becomes more irascible.
Daiyu Myokyo 107
In Action
In action, the discipline involves making every effort to do as much good and as
little harm as possible in thought, word and deed; cultivating an attitude of respect,
reverence, kindness and gentleness towards everybody and everything we come into
contact with, without discrimination; and giving ourselves wholeheartedly into
whatever is required of us in the moment.
At Rest
At rest it means maintaining the form in the body and keeping the mind collected in
stillness.
When you have nothing to do, you should sit quietly and keep the heart from
slackening and the body from wavering.
Ta-hui Tsung-kao (Daie Soko) 108
3 Patience
The practice of patient endurance is that of willingly accepting and suffering
through whatever needs to be endured as a consequence of following the discipline, and
so continuing to function smoothly under all circumstances.
107
108
84
Though I shy away from this double burden of functioning smoothly in spite of
being in a state of emotional agitation, yet precisely this ‘suffering in action’ is the
transforming agent. It deals with the cause rather than with the symptom of our
affliction. However, this suffering is not something that I can actively do-I watching
myself- it is a passive but willing, patient, dumb endurance; a being open to the
impact of the emotions and letting them grate and grind inside. The active part of I
is not concerned with this process but only with the effort to continue functioning
smoothly in spite of it, though remaining fully aware of it. This is what real
acceptance training is about. No I can do it from the word go. It needs much
practice, much trial and error, before it is really understood.
Daiyu Myokyo 109
Followers of the Way, if you know that fundamentally there is nothing further
to seek, you have settled your affairs.
The key here is to understand the term ‘fundamentally’. Suppose we are sitting and
so are obliged to remain still. With 20 minutes remaining before the bell rings allowing
us to change position, we find ourselves in pain – back, legs or whatever. Superficially,
it seems, there is certainly something to be sought, namely, relief from pain. If we do
not try, surreptitiously, to seek relief by small physical adjustments, then we turn to all
sorts of mental escape mechanisms in order to nullify the present situation. Because,
fundamentally, we do not accept the situation as it is.
But what is ‘acceptance of the situation’? It is not resignation. In resignation, I do
not accept the situation as such, but only the fact that I lack the strength or opportunity
to change it. Nor is it a sort of nihilistic ‘nothing matters, nothing affects me’ attitude. If
we have toothache, we go to the dentist at the first opportunity. If suffering didn’t matter
to us, we wouldn’t be in the training in the first place. It is rather a matter of ceasing to
resent and turn away from the situation; a matter of, in a way, making friends with it,
opening up to it, relaxing into it rather than tensing up against it, and letting it work
itself out – which does not exclude taking appropriate action when the situation calls for
it.
And the obstacle to be overcome in order to achieve this is our fear. But fear of
what? Fear is the other side of ‘I’. They are inseparable. We are afraid to face and
endure the full force of “I must” or “I can’t” because this “I must / can’t”’ is imbued
with all the panicky imperative force of the primitive survival instinct. And even when
faced with frustration in apparently trivial matters, such as having a good cup of coffee
first thing in the morning, our reaction is imbued to some extent with that panicky
imperative.
109
110
Rinzai, The Zen Teaching of Rinzai, I: 13d.
85
But if we are at one with the moment, fully aware yet truly given into what is being
done, then anything else which arises is regarded as no more than a passing
phenomenon, neither to be denied and suppressed, nor to be chased after and clung to:
thoughts, physical sensations, emotions reactions of whatever kind, arise, persist for a
while and eventually disappear.
If we are wholeheartedly living each moment, doing whatever needs to be done,
relegating the dynamics of suffering due to clinging to the realm of impermanence, as a
mere play of forms, clouds scudding across an empty sky, we are already home. There
really is nothing more to be done, discovered or realised above that.
When the attitude of your heart does not change from moment to moment, this is
called the living patriarch.
The training is sometimes described as ‘acceptance practice’. In the lower form of
various religions our desires are projected onto a higher power which, as a matter of
faith, is taken to be acting in our best interests. However difficult our circumstances, we
are to believe that it will all come good for us in the end. But in the higher forms of
those same religions the will of that higher power is accepted unconditionally, without
reference to our own interests.
This unconditional acceptance of whatever circumstance might arise in our lives is
not a matter of shrugging in sad resignation, but rather that of the traditional English
sportsman for whom participating wholeheartedly in the game is more important than
winning or losing. It is this wholehearted participation which brings joy, and it is in this
spirit that we are best advised to play the game of life.
4 Devoted energy
Cultivation
There are two possibilities when we do the training: the one is that after the
first enthusiasm it has become routine, and it hobbles along somehow. And the
other is, if we are really serious, we do not let it become routine, we go on with it.
And the strange thing is that the more energy we invest in it, not the ‘I want out of
it’, but just because the heart really pulls, the more the aspiration grows, the more
interested we become. This can be cultivated – everything can be cultivated, our
habit patterns have been cultivated unconsciously and they seem to be completely
ingrained nowadays, but it is not true. Little by little we can cultivate ourselves out
of them too; it takes time, and it takes unremitting effort, but it is possible. And so
perhaps we could also possibly think that with this unremitting effort, the aspiration
of the path, we can get ourselves out of the whole caboodle of my ‘I want, I will
not, I this and I that’, which is all manifestations of ‘I’ which means, in the
Buddhist sense, the great delusion.
111
Rinzai, I: 17a.
86
Daiyu Myokyo 112

Abdication
I cannot deal with my emotional upheavals; I can only suffer them out. By
neither letting the emotional energy escape into blind reaction, nor letting it lame
me and hinder my action, but holding it and bearing it, my tolerance develops rather
as physical training develops muscle strength and stamina. This means I can
tolerate more emotional energy and the container grows stronger. Since there is also
less resistance, it is usually experienced as an influx of energy. This is another
danger point to watch out for – I like to feel stronger. And this is where a religious
practice like the Zen Way is so helpful with its stress on bowing: I-abdication.
Daiyu Myokyo 113
Accidie
We are told from the very beginning told that there is nothing in it for ‘me’ and that
‘I’ cannot attain Nirvana. But we don’t really take it in and see the deeper implications.
Inevitably, if we see the practice as ‘my’ practice, as something which it is within ‘my’
power to do, we cannot help expecting a reward for our exertions. With this attitude, we
strive wilfully towards whatever we imagine to be our goal.
But under the guidance of a good teacher, we will one day be brought to our limit,
where we feel that ‘I’ just can’t go on, that it is beyond ‘me’ to continue. If we have
been really serious in our intentions, then this is a truly bitter realisation, known in the
Christian tradition as ‘accidie’.
We are not talking about a physical limit here, so much as the limit of our
wilfulness. We have exerted ourselves to our limit, and yet have not attained our goal.
So we look for help from ‘the other side’, but it does not come! At first, we may doubt
ourselves, blaming ourselves for some imagined fault which has deprived us of the right
to be helped. But when no such fault can be detected and yet no help comes, what then?
This state of nothingness, this recognition of our own inadequacy, was called
‘acedia’ by the ancient fathers. Known in English as “accidie”, it is the place of
temptation for the monk. There he comes up against his own weakness and
inadequacy and can even come up against despair. He can turn against himself or
against God. It seems that this really is a decisive moment in spiritual development,
and that in it a man is brought face to face with his own depths.
Louf 114
This, indeed, is the critical point, and we may fall back embittered because our
efforts have not been rewarded.
Or perhaps we cease striving on the grounds that we are in the hands of God, Fate
or Dharma anyway, and our efforts are irrelevant. This is a mistake. The response will
112
113
114
Louf, The Cistercian Way, ch.6:3.
87
come from the ‘other side’ when we have totally spent ourselves in our exertions.
Though actually, when we have totally spent ourselves, there is then no ‘other’ side, and
no-one to receive a ‘reward’.
What is required is a fundamental change of attitude towards the practice: from
spiritual pride to spiritual poverty, truly renouncing the idea that it is ‘my practice’. The
only way forward is fully spending oneself in obedience to whatever is required, come
what may. For the Christian it comes in form of acceptance that ‘God’s grace is not to
be measured by human effort.” (Louf, 1983 p. 85): the Buddhist submits to the Dharma.
Now it may seem that such matters do not concern us since they only come into
play for very advanced practitioners of the Way. But the choice of ‘my way’ or ‘the
Buddha’s Way’ arises from the very beginning whenever the situation requires of us
something which we are disinclined to do.
Reward and Punishment
Popular religious teaching usually exhorts us to good behaviour using carrot and
stick: the good Christian, if he does not get his reward here, will certainly receive it in
heaven, whereas the bad will be punished in hell; the Buddhist’s behaviour generates
good or bad karma which will bear fruit as reward or punishment, if not in this life, then
in a future one. And such teaching is generally effective, up to a point.
Problems arise, however, when faced with the suffering of the innocent. Are we to
deny the innocence of the sufferer, or to resign ourselves to accepting that our
understanding is too limited to comprehend the, supposedly, well-intentioned working
of God or the Dharma? Neither response really satisfies us at the deepest level.
The demand that God, the Dharma, the universe, operate in such a way as to satisfy
our concepts of just reward and punishment is, in fact, supremely arrogant. The
alternative is the true humility of one who participates whole-heartedly in the great
game of life and death, living its joys and sorrows to the full: he is part of that game,
win or lose, and that in itself is sufficient.
However large or small, long or short-lived, perfectly formed or horribly distorted,
the wave is born from, lives in and returns to the ocean; it is never separate from the
ocean; its very nature is the same as that of the ocean. That is, or should be, enough.
Only the delusion of being separate from the ocean could induce the wave to suppose
that there was ‘something further to seek’.
Emptying the heart
A free mind is one which is untroubled and unfettered by anything, which is
not bound in its best part to any particular manner of being or devotion and which
does not seek its own interest in anything but is always immersed in God’s most
precious will, having gone out from what is its own.
Meister Eckhart 115
115
88
‘Once the mental attitude is correct, there is no need to use effort to empty the
heart, as it responds to circumstances in daily activities.’
And this correct response to circumstances in daily activities is our daily life
practice….
But if daily life practice is daily life from the moment the eyes open in the
morning till the eyes close in the evening, then in the daily activities, and as we
respond to circumstances in our daily activities, that is our practice: getting up,
washing the face, brushing the teeth, getting dressed, cooking, eating breakfast –
are we shovelling it, or eating it, or are we playing with mindful eating?
Master Rinzai says, ‘Just be your ordinary selves and do not give yourself airs’.
No good saying ‘My natural self is greedy’. That is a not a natural self, but a self
overcome by the Fires, as is the wrathful, irritated self. The real natural self acts
naturally when I am not ravished by the Fires or when I am not self-consciously
parading like a ham actor, which shows clearly in my movements.
Master Daie says of this that you are wasting lots of energy. To empty the
heart, you have to respond to circumstances in your daily life. ‘When you do not
actively try to empty the heart, then you won’t go wrong’ – not actively try to
empty the heart, just go smoothly along, responding to the daily circumstances,
obeying them freely, willingly, just as they are. And not taking them ‘personally’
either! For in responding to the circumstances, whether at home or at work, if it is
always with a great Yes, comes a willingness to see around and what is not
offending.
Daiyu Myokyo 116
5 Contemplation / Absorption
There is a lot of thought nowadays, and a lot of conviction, about meditation
and what meditation does. Nobody knows very much about it, any kind of
meditation…..
Even in Buddhism, there is the Tibetan, there is the Therevada, there is Zen
mediation; and even in the Therevada there are different meditations; and even in
the Zen tradition there are also different meditations.
So what are these differences about? If you have the teachings of the Buddha in
a particular line, as it is for example in the Zen line, then you have got a meditation
that fits it and that slowly, if you follow the instructions, makes it actually concrete
and come alive, rather than a scriptural teaching. And that is what it is all about, as
Bodhidharma says: a direct pointing to the human heart. And with that kind of
meditation, you wouldn’t make much on a Vipassana course. That is again a quite
different meditation, which fits that particular one. But they all start, by and large
with what in the Southern tradition is called Satipatthana, which is called the
quieting of the heart, because without that it doesn’t go.
116
89
Daiyu Myokyo 117

But it would be a mistake to suppose that ‘quieting the heart’ is a matter of
manipulating circumstances so as to avoid the arising of anything which might upset us.
That type of quiet is easily identifiable: as soon as those circumstances are altered by,
for example, an unwelcome noise, a challenge to a cherished opinion or the disruption
of a carefully constructed routine or environment, the fires flare and we are roaring with
indignation and self-righteousness or sinking in a pit of despair and depression.
The truly quiet heart is quiet in stillness and in action whatever the changing
circumstances. But such a state cannot be arrived at by a mere act of will. It needs to be
cultivated. And since, as beginners, we have a mind which jumps about like a monkey
on amphetamines, it will hardly help if we start by trying to meditate in an environment
full of distractions. So, we have the strict order and discipline of the zendo, which gives
us the opportunity to recognise that monkey-mind for what it is and learn how to deal
with it. But if the quiet achieved in the zendo is dependent upon our being in the zendo
and lost as soon as we step out into the hustle and bustle of everyday life, then it is very
far from the quiet of the heart which ‘rolls with the ten thousand things’.
But the ability to cultivate the quiet heart in the zendo presupposes a certain kind of
strength and energy which in turn must be cultivated over a long time. There are many
hours in a week, but how many of them do we actually spend sitting zazen? Very few.
But that strength and energy must be cultivated continuously. Hence the importance of
that aspect of daily life practice.
Zazen, ‘sitting meditation’, is the other side to Acceptance, or the Practice in
Everyday Life; without the latter, the former is sterile… Hence it is a fallacy to
believe or to hope that Zazen alone, without the Daily Life Practice, is fruitful or
will change one, preferably will waft one out of one’s difficulties, problems and
resistances. To try to escape into meditation in order to escape the difficult task of
taming the bull of one’s own emotionality, the wild aspect of one’s heart associated
with I, is at best useless, can be dangerous, but is very human and such attempts
have accompanied the Zen school right from the beginning.
…Truly, the clod that I am can only be restructured, transformed, with the
Practice in Everyday Life. Then why Zazen? Zazen clears the sight. Through zazen
we learn to see clearly, to acquire that genuine insight of which master Rinzai says
that it is the one thing that the Zen student needs to have. But without the Practice
in Daily Life, the acceptance of one’s own emotional reactions and suffering them
through, Zazen remains blind. Both balance and complement each other. What is
worked in the one, is made clear, ‘seen into’ by the other. Hence genuine insight
comes as hindsight from experience.
Daiyu Myokyo 118
117
118
90
6 Wisdom
…we have … to be clearly aware that there are two consciousnesses in each of
us.
There is consciousness and there is self-consciousness. There is consciousness
per se – the pure awareness that is the clear seeing of things as they actually are,
which is in all of us, which the Buddha said has all the wisdom and power of the
Tathagata – that clear seeing from which the appropriate action comes as a natural
response. And then, the self-consciousness: the one that makes me feel
embarrassed; the one that is ambitious; the one that wants to; the one that dislikes;
the one that strives for something – all this, that is the false consciousness. And to
be always clear which of the consciousnesses is acting. Because we are totally
unaware that we have two consciousnesses, and we continuously – if we read things
like this – mix them up, because we do not know the difference.
…self-consciousness…will only speculate, and it has no strength in it. It will
not do. It will not even raise a finger. So please mistrust that self-consciousness.
The strength that comes towards it, comes from the Fires that make it act. In itself it
has no strength at all. It just will not do it will only observe.
Daiyu Myokyo 119
And if the training has gone on in a proper way, a step-by-step way, for a long,
long time, then sooner or later suddenly comes the moment when the turning of
itself takes place – as the texts also say, in its own time and in its own season. And
that is what, if we are careful and diligent and willing, we are working towards. But
we have to be careful, diligent, willing – and eager to learn is another thing – and to
have continuous determination to put ourselves into, and to put ourselves into, and
to put ourselves into it.
And that is what we are frightened of, because we feel that somehow there we
become naked. And we do not like to be running about naked in the street; at least
most of us don’t. And we even less like to be mentally or psychologically naked.
There we are very careful about screening ourselves with layers and layers, and we
have spent most of our lives putting more and more layers on. And all those layers
need to come off, and as Master Rinzai said: ‘to be able to stand there showing
spleen and liver and gall’. Nothing to hide. Nothing to hide. Nothing to hide.
Daiyu Myokyo 120
Seeing things as they really are is not a matter of having a certain type of visual
input. Straining or opening wide our eyes to peer at things will not help at all. ‘Seeing’
here refers to ‘seeing as’ which involves concepts. Now we might suppose that if we
just figure the thing out intellectually, we can change our concepts and thus effect the
transformation. But the role of concepts in our view of the world is emotionally
119
120
91
conditioned, and though this emotional conditioning can alter through the course of long
training, it is not directly subject to our will. That is, we can’t just change it by a one-off
act of will.
‘The way things really are’ is the way they are when our I-skewed emotional
interpretations are absent. But it is not so easy to disconnect the object or person we are
perceiving from the network of concepts and emotions such perception comes wrapped
up in.
And it is not just perception, but also our whole way of behaving, which is skewed.
Once things become clear, we just have things as they are and ordinary everyday life:
‘ordinary’ in contrast to how unnecessarily complicated we have previously made it.
Nothing special: just fetching wood and carrying water. Of course, ‘nothing special’ is a
little disingenuous: for what is really special is the ‘just’.
When the world is seen like this, where once there was a mass of I-oriented
worries, calculations and so on, there is now a sort of spacious emptiness. But it is not
the emptiness of lacking something, but rather that of the mirror which does not retain
anything. Nor should we suppose that a being in this state is simply a passive observer,
apart from the world, feeling nothing. The world is there as it is, and such a being is part
of that world. He responds to the situation as required, is moved by suffering and
delights in the joy of others. He and the world are the same expression of the Buddha
nature: all things, and that includes living beings, are Buddha things and, seen as such,
are treated with reverence. Which is not to say that there are no differences in the world.
Good and bad is discerned and dealt with accordingly.
So, he participates fully in the play of forms according to his own character and
circumstances.
And what if an I-oriented emotional reaction should arise? He disassociates the
precious energy arising from any pictures attached to it, bows reverently before it and
allows it to do its work on him.
Thus, he goes along with things as they are, allowing his old karma to work itself
out naturally and without concerning himself with anything other than letting the right
thought prevail at this moment. Hence, he is, to all intents and purposes, a man who
truly has nothing further to seek. For just as he is, in this moment, whatever the
circumstances, he is fundamentally at peace with himself and the world.
We see in the analysis of the Cause of Suffering in the Second Noble Truth that
each step in the Chain of Dependent Arising is operative to the extent that Ignorance
prevails and weakened to the extent that Wisdom prevails. For example, in the presence
of Craving, when and to the extent that, Ignorance prevails, there is Grasping and
Clinging; but when, and to the extent that Wisdom prevails, there is Restraint.
So training in Wisdom is training to allow Wisdom to prevail over Ignorance in all
circumstances.
And Master Daie says, ‘If you are a real man of wisdom, you will use the
power of the Path as an instrument to clear away the power of habitual Action.’
92
‘Power of the Path’- the insight and strength, as an instrument to clear

away the power of habitual Action. ‘I have always done it, surely this is nothing? It
has nothing against the Dharma, it is just a habit of mine.’ Are we quite sure on
these kind of things? Or is there still a clinging to it?
And that clinging prevents the free flow of going with things as they are, the
continuous becoming and becoming, and with the becoming comes also the
continuous dying. Continuous becoming and dying, becoming and dying, and
becoming and dying- and if that really has become a natural habit, a free flow, then
there is no more ‘I’ that obstructs and with no more ‘I’ the fear has also gone.
And our final fear of death is also no longer there. As long as ‘I’ am there,
there is fear. Fear and ‘I’ are as inseparable as the palm and the back of the hand.
And I would like to keep ‘I’ but to lose fear. If I would like to have insight in the
Dharma, but not to give up life, then I’m on a very wrong path, or not a wrong but
on a Path that will not answer.
Daiyu Myokyo 121
The way to the end of suffering is the way of spiritual cultivation. Since the root of
our suffering is Ignorance, the fruit of the path is its contrary, namely, Wisdom (Prajna).
So, the path could be said to consist in the cultivation of Wisdom. But let us consider
some significant points regarding the metaphor of ‘cultivation’.
First, the gardener does not create the seed which he cultivates: the seed with all its
potentiality for growth and fruit-bearing exists prior to any cultivation. The potential for
wisdom is already within, it is not something we have to find outside ourselves.
Second, the gardener does not create or donate the life-energy which informs the
seed and stimulates its development. Given the right conditions, wisdom grows and
develops according to its own dynamic – we cannot push or pull it along through wilful
effort.
Third, the gardener does not determine the form which will result from the
cultivation of the seed – an acorn will grow into an oak tree and nothing other than an
oak tree. The form which wisdom takes will be specific to each unique individual.
So, what is the role of the gardener? He can only devote himself to the cultivation
of those conditions which favour the growth and development of the seed and the
removal of any hindrances to that growth and development.
121
Myokyo-ni, ‘Yoka Daishi’s Song on the Realisation of the Way - Commentary’, Vol. 31:2.
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Stages - The Bull Herding Analogy

Preface
The Bull Herding Analogy is usually expounded with reference to the beautiful
series of pictures traditionally ascribed to the 12 th century Chinese Zen master Kakuan,
and the poems which became associated with them. However, since such an exposition
would require more space than would be appropriate in this brief summary, references
to pictures and poems will be omitted here in order to focus on the essential points to be
made regarding each stage. The interested reader is encouraged to explore the pictures
and poems in the company of the Ven. Myokyo-ni in ‘Gentling the Bull’ and Master
Otsu in ‘The Bull and his Herdsman’.
Introduction
The Heart is something bigger and stronger than ‘I’, operating in and through us.
We have to look carefully to find it. At first, we cannot, because we are looking for
something beautiful which we can look up to. But in deluded beings it manifests in the
form of the untamed passions which carry us away time and again. In this form it is
known as the Bull. We have to be honest enough with ourselves to recognise it in
ourselves, then to make friends with and gentle it. The hot passions are transformed
into a gentle warmth and finally the Heart can shine forth through us in wisdom and
compassion.
The Way is long and although there may moments when sudden changes occur and
which we may see as milestones, these generally happen as the fruit of a long and
careful, gradual training.
Bhikkus, I do not say that final knowledge is achieved all at once. On the
contrary, final knowledge is achieved through gradual training, by gradual practice,
by gradual progress.
The Buddha 122
Traditionally it is said that there are three stages in the Zen training.
1. Hearing with Ear - for us Westerners, this might be idiomatically rendered as
‘Reading with the Eye’. If sufficiently attracted by what we read or hear, we
begin to mull it over, think about it, try to find out more, and thus we reach the
second stage.
2. Pondering in the Heart
3. Practice with the Body
There is also the warning that should the third stage be delayed or shirked, the
Pondering moves from the heart to the head and there gives rise to fantastic
speculations. These are the ‘flowers in the empty sky’, idle vanity which does not
quicken and is seen as an illness.
122
Ñāṇamoli and Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, ‘Kīṭāgiri Sutta’, 70:22.
94
Daiyu Myokyo 123

The Zen Way can be described as regards its form, but the important thing to
keep firmly in mind is that such description is misleading. A description of a
process is always mechanistic, and the living process is anything but a mechanical
system. It may seem so from the outside, and there has always been the danger of
its being mistaken for it.…
Into a mechanical approach inevitably there creeps in the bugbear of I doing it,
I progressing through the stages, I attaining to what I want, by my will-power. And
just this ‘I’ is denied in Buddhism; in a thoroughly practical training, it is outgrown.
Daiyu Myokyo 124
The passions are the Buddha nature and vice versa. Fundamentally they are the
energy of life and like all energy must move between two poles, slide along
gradients, to function. ….(at) one pole, the physiological end, the wild primitivity.
In Zen training the transformation of this is likened to the taming and gentling of a
splendid, tremendously strong, powerful, wild, and quite ungovernable bull who
stands for the compulsive, stubborn aspect of emotional energy with which the
heart is correlated, not for ‘mind’, however spelled. This serves as a reminder that
this crucial Buddhist term stands for ‘heart’ in all its connotations.
So, the ‘heart-bull’ is the wild primitive aspect of the emotional force. The
difficult task of the herdsman, man, is to gentle this wild bull by training, to ‘bring
him up’, and so to humanize his manifested energy. Thus the bull-‘searched for’,
‘found’, ‘gentled’, ‘carries the man home’, ‘vanishes’ – for he and the man have
now become one. ‘Deliverance from the wheel is only possible in the human state.’
Daiyu Myokyo 125
On the whole, in our society, passion tends to get a good press. For an embrace, a
kiss, a desire, an opinion, a belief, to be passionate, is generally considered positive; that
a crime is one ‘of passion’ is considered to be a mitigating circumstance and the defence
lawyer will make an impassioned plea to that effect.
We know that passion can lead to harm, even destruction: as spectators to its
workings in an individual, group or whole nation, we are awed by its power, no less
than by that of a hurricane, a storm at sea or a raging fire. Nevertheless, we value it
because when all is said and done, we feel that a life without passion would be so dull
as to be hardly worth living. And though we may repent the deeds perpetrated under its
influence, our guilty secret is that we cherish the memory of being infused with a
strength and vitality beyond anything we normally feel.
In short, the consensus seems to be that to be impassioned is to be living life to the
full, but the downside is that, when impassioned, we lose our integrity as human beings,
123
124
Schloegl, ch.IV.
125
Schloegl, ch.IV.
95
for to be impassioned is to be overpowered by emotion. And even when creative, it is

short-sighted, if not blind. A consuming passion may produce great works of art, but
generally wreaks havoc on the lives of those coming into contact with the artist and on
that of the artist himself.
So, the question arises as to whether it is possible to experience the fullness,
vitality and warmth which the passions imbue without losing our integrity as human
beings in the process. To quench the passions would be to lose that vitality, just as in
quenching a fire we put it out and thereby deprive ourselves of its warmth. If we let
ourselves be carried away by the passions, we lose our integrity; if we try to suppress
them, sooner or later we explode; if we identify with them, we become egotistical
monsters.
The only alternative is the way of the Buddha. The passions, when they arise, are
not denied or repressed; but nor do we let them carry us away; they are contained in the
body, yet not appropriated – they are not regarded as ‘my’ passions and their energy and
strength is not regarded as ‘my’ energy and strength. This is the way of transformation
and cannot be achieved by a mere act of will. It is cultivated through long training of
body and mind.
1 Searching for the Bull
Why the search? It begins with our restlessness. We are not at peace with ourselves
or the world. We feel isolated and vulnerable. We do not feel that we are living life to
the full. We yearn for fulfilment, to feel whole. Something is lacking. But what?
Imagining it is something we must or mustn´t have, be or do, we chase after
whatever we happen to have projected our longing onto, only to be disillusioned time
and again.
…somehow in our midriff there seems to be a gaping hole – the source of our
insecurity, of our aggression and our wants, of blunders and of fears. Usually we
spend our lives in futile attempts to fill this insatiable void; it also makes us gobble
up, indiscriminately but enthusiastically, whatever there is about as a new means –
a new fad, a new idea, all food of any description: organic, health, whole, fibrous,
raw, mental – anything that promises to fill that empty hole inside. The tragedy is –
delusion is one of the Three Signs of Being – that the hungrier we are, the more
gullible we become. So however much we try to gobble down, it does not answer,
we still remain hungry. The hungry ghosts perfectly portray this predicament and
the suffering it entails.
Daiyu Myokyo 126
Among the things we try to gobble up to fill this inner emptiness are religions. So,
for example, we hear of Zen Buddhism and rush out to buy a futon to sleep on, incense
to perfume our room and a little Buddha statue to adorn the mantelpiece. We start
stuffing ourselves with tofu and worrying about whether we should take up martial arts,
126
Myokyo-ni, ‘Reflections for Rohatsu Week.’
96
flower arrangement, the tea ceremony, calligraphy or learning one or more of Japanese,
Chinese, Tibetan, Sanskrit and Pali. We start saving so we can spend our holidays
visiting the Zen temples of Kyoto, the Bodhi tree in India, or wandering along the old
Silk Road. We go to talks, buy book after book, start formulating theories and enter into
endless discussions and arguments about the rights and wrongs of this, that and the
other religion, tradition, teacher, doctrine, diet, system of meditation or whatever.
And, of course, when the mood takes us, we spend a while sitting still on a cushion
trying to escape from the hustle and bustle of ordinary everyday life, and the problems
we have dealing with it, by blotting ourselves out, or losing ourselves in daydreams and
endless speculation. And heaven help anyone who dares to question the validity of our
dearly held opinions or the wisdom of our actions!
Not that there is anything intrinsically wrong with sleeping on a futon, eating tofu,
lighting sticks of incense, visiting holy sites or reading books on Buddhism. The
problem consists in our supposing that merely by doing such things we are going to
somehow fill that inner void and find fulfilment. The more we gobble, the hungrier and
more frustrated we get.
We hear of the Heart and, putting it on a pedestal, imagine that it must be
something wonderful and uplifting within us consisting of all that we hold to be good.
We fabricate ideals for ourselves out of good intentions, but time and again either fail to
live up to them or make ourselves and those around us miserable with our fanaticism.
The herdsman has lost himself amid thorns and brambles, in the complicated
world of speculating intellection. Entangled by his surroundings, he has forgotten
the place where his feet stand. He seeks the bull that cannot be found, because his
seeking self is itself the bull. In a way it might be said that the bull seeks the bull.
We, the seekers, are also the sought; we and the bull are not two.
Otsu 127
We find a teacher and are given instructions to start on the practice such as setting
ourselves a simple timetable - get up and go to bed at set times 6 days a week – and
noticing any reactions which may arise. We try it for a few days, but failing to see the
point, soon let it slip. It seems so trivial in comparison with our fantasies.
It is not easy to see that which one believes to be a great thing, or a great value,
in something commonplace, despised or feared. What is important for this quest is
the continuity of effort and the facing of failure again and again. A real tempering
takes place in the man, both on account of the effort made, and because its
fruitlessness deflates the searcher. At this stage, only one thing matters: to continue
without flagging. What counts here is the effort spent.
Daiyu Myokyo 128
127
Otsu et al., The Bull and His Herdsman, I: Poem 3, comment.
128
Schloegl, ‘Towards Wholeness’, Vol 3:1.
97
2 Finding the Traces

We have ‘turned away from ourselves’ and become divided. “In such turning,
we split ourselves in two; then, holding to one side only, we ignore or deny the
other side to the point of losing sight of it, forgetting it.
Daiyu Myokyo 129
Most of us start off with a pretty good opinion of ourselves and hoping that the
practice will make us even better. But the first thing that serious training on any
religious path does is to bring us face to face with ourselves as we really are, and that
comes as a shock. For it turns out that we are actually quite small-minded and petty,
ready to flare up in an instant in defence of the things we cling to, particularly our pet
opinions and theories. This may lead us to conclude that the practice is making us worse
and so lose heart. But it would be a mistake to give up at this point, for the shame we
feel when we first pluck up the courage to open our defences and admit to ourselves that
we are perhaps not, after all, God’s gift to the world, is to be cherished as a guarantee
that we are on the right path. Hence the first thing we chant in the morning is the
Repentance Sutra.
What we have turned away from is what we consider to be our ‘dark side’, that is
our wild emotionality. But in denying and repressing that, we have thrown out the baby
with the bath water and lost connection with the warmth and vitality with which it is
infused.
How do we deny it? For example, if we throw a temper tantrum in public when we
discover that our flight has been cancelled, it is there for all to witness. So, we cannot
deny that we were angry, but we can throw the blame on the object of our rage, be it a
situation, a person, an event or whatever. So, you see, we were not ‘throwing a temper
tantrum’ like a spoilt child, we were righteously angry, as any decent person would be at
such an outrage. Even Jesus became angry when he saw what was going on in the
temple, did he not? Well, there you are then!
If not denial, then repression. Our boss criticizes us in front of our fellow workers,
which we appear, perhaps even to ourselves, to accept meekly, though actually we feel
humiliated and furious. But we dare not react, either for fear of the consequences, or
actually for fear of the violence of our own reactions, should they be unleashed. So, we
repress our feelings, even denying them to ourselves. Now we are like a pressure
cooker, and something has to give to release the pent-up energy of those reactions.
Either a safety valve allows a long, gradual release - for example, we spend the whole
night tossing and turning, going over and over what happened, or there is an explosion
triggered by something totally unrelated and apparently trivial.
The dawning of the awareness that the pursuit of whatever we have projected our
longing onto is not only doomed to failure, but that it also tends to bring us into conflict
with whatever or whoever gets in our way, thus making us even more unhappy, is called
129
Schloegl, Gentling the Bull, ch.I.
98
Finding the Traces. Of course, we read about this, or heard about it, at the very
beginning. Nothing was hidden from us, but our own pride and arrogance blinded us.
Now we begin to take a little more seriously the idea that perhaps the problem lies
more in our attitude to things, than in the things themselves. The pursuit of our own
ends has not been, perhaps, quite as reasonable and rational as we had supposed. The
obsessiveness of it, the sense of frustration, the irritation in the face of obstacles, gives
us pause for thought.
But we still assume that all we need do is think things through.
The disciple has read the Sutras and the records of the patriarchs and has
started Zen training under a wise master. He has now some general understanding
of his own heart and true nature; but as this is still merely conceptual, he cannot yet
be at one with it. Although he has some intimation of the undifferentiated nature, he
still is helplessly lost in the world of differentiation.
Otsu 130
So now if we lose our temper with someone or something, we start to consider our
reactions in themselves, no longer throwing the blame outwards in order to justify them.
This is sobering but comes too late! The tantrum has come and gone. Furthermore, we
are still only conscious of the traces of the cruder manifestations of the Bull, when he is
most obvious. We have no idea, as yet, of how subtle and all-pervasive he is in his
magnificence.
3 Seeing the Bull
The bull is so hard to find because he is so totally unexpected. He is not
somewhere outside, not in the teachings or scriptural lore; nothing to do with me
either-just the emotional reactions when they flare up. Truly this is the last place
one would expect to find that magnificent bull.
This then is how to start the practice. Another unexpected, and frightening
aspect, especially to a rigid I, is that at the beginning I seem to become more
emotional, and worse rather than better. If this is the case, then enough ‘right effort’
has gone into the practice; the blinkers are off, and I no longer turn a blind eye to
the many little frustrations and annoyances that also make up my daily life. They
have, in fact, always been there, but I had not been aware of them; only the bigger
ones have been strong enough to make me aware of their impact and carry me away
with their force.
Those bigger ones do not constitute our training ground; they are too strong.
Our concern is with the little ones; as soon as they emerge and we become familiar
with them, they are the helpmates in our practice. We just manage to hold and
endure them.
Hence the importance of being aware of them. An ‘I’ heavily resisting the
emotions and thus habitually repressing them, is quite convinced of not having any
130
Otsu et al., The Bull and His Herdsman, II: Intro.
99
emotional difficulties, and is in consequence rather vacuous, only half alive. Or I

have become a compulsive doer, restlessly kept busy by the emotions now forcing
their discharge through action. Their charge then lends grave importance to the
most trivial things, even creating ‘tasks’ which in themselves are nothing but lead
their victim ever more away from actual daily life, its activities, relationships and
warmth.
The first step then is cautiously to work on the practice and, little by little, to
uncover the emotional household. Nothing can be done without first becoming
aware of and then familiar with it.
Daiyu Myokyo 131
For example, I have a strong preference for coffee in the afternoon but for some reason
my friend brings me a cup of tea.
In the actual situation, my friend has just handed me that cup of tea and
something snorts up in me! If really careful in the training, at this moment there is
instant awareness of what is happening: the bull snorting! So far, I had always
denied him; now for the first time I actually ‘see’ him. Hence, I can no longer
blame my friend but realise it is me, and finally, after long training I have
eventually come into contact with the heart-bull.
There is a hot moment when that awareness hits me. Then I want to grasp,
hold, to look and see what the bull is like; and what happens? All I see is that the
bull is already gone. Only fleetingly I see his hind quarter, and the whisk of his tail.
Daiyu Myokyo 132
It needs emphasising that initially the training is grounded in discovering and
enduring all the little reactions we have throughout the day, however small. Every time
we effectively say ‘No’ to something. For example, we go into the kitchen to make a
cup of tea. As we are leaving with cup in hand, we notice that a towel has fallen off its
peg and is draped over a chair. Do we stop, put down the cup, return the towel to its
place, and continue? Or do we instantly judge that it can wait, is insignificant? If we are
honest, we usually do the latter. Or if we are thinking of someone watching us, do we do
it with a tut or a sigh to vent our frustration? That seemingly insignificant tut or sigh
will be discovered to be not quite so insignificant if we actually make the effort to
contain ourselves and act smoothly without them!
This habit of justifying our refusals by judging things to be too small or
insignificant to matter is itself the bull in action. As we start to wean ourselves away
from this habit, we discover to our surprise and embarrassment that we are much less
detached and reasonable than we had previously supposed.
131
132
Schloegl, Gentling the Bull, ch.3.
100
4 Catching the Bull

How is the bull caught? So far, he used to evade being caught – he reared and
ran, and only the hind-quarters could be seen. Factually, his power is so great that
he bowls me over – so I feel that he is too quick; by the time that I remember to
catch him, he is already gone! But this is because as yet, I do not really know the
heart-bull. I have really only seen his hindquarters and wagging tail! When we have
truly become familiar with our actions and reactions, as distinct from what we think
them to be, we become capable of ‘staying at home’ when the bull snorts up. We no
longer try to grasp and look and deliberate, but rather, as daily life practice has
enabled us to do, we open up and say ‘Yes’.
At that moment we have the bull.
Daiyu Myokyo 133
Using our daily life as our training discipline, functioning in it whilst holding
ourselves open to all emotional impacts and willingly enduring their grating and
grinding, with open eyes, we begin to change.
Daiyu Myokyo 134
So, if we are to gentle the passions, we must first have the courage to be honest
with ourselves and admit that there is such and such a reaction occurring: I am indeed
boiling with anger or being eaten up by jealousy or greed or whatever.
Secondly, we have to stop justifying ourselves by throwing the blame on to
something or someone. Here the question is not whether the other is in the wrong, but
rather whether our reaction to that perceived wrong is merely a reflection of that wrong
or something more, namely, a reaction fired by our opinions and preferences. This
involves admitting that we are perhaps not quite as nice and reasonable as we would
like to think. So, we learn to disassociate the passion from its object. I am angry about
something. The relevant factor is my reaction. So, admit it: whatever the rights and
wrongs of the case, and we are not denying that there are rights and wrongs, my being
angry about it is something which I am adding to the situation, and it is this which we
want to work with. So now we have not ‘I am angry about x’, but simply ‘I am angry’.
The next step is to disassociate the passion from my idea of myself. “I am angry”
leads to “I must” or “I can’t” and then to action which discharges the pent-up energy.
So, instead of identifying with the emotion, we consider it as a phenomenon: not “I am
angry”, but “There is anger”. Having reduced the anger to a phenomenon, we can
observe its workings on mind and body: increased heartbeat, trembling, waves of heat,
repetitive thought patterns. In this way, we can become familiar with them; lose our fear
of them; and learn to contain them.
Dissociated from all objects, our impassioned craving or aversion is exposed as the
imperious, raw and brutal “must” or “can’t”, bursting with energy. And how can we not
133
Schloegl, ch.4.
134
101
identify with it? For it is experienced with all the strength of the survival instinct in
defence of me, my life, what I am, what I represent: to go against it would be a form of
suicide, or at least involve a little part of me dying, and the idea of this frightens us.
Which is not so say that we are incapable of surviving such ‘little deaths’: we do so
frequently in our daily lives when are desires are thwarted, our ideals betrayed, or our
dreams turned sour. Then we pick ourselves up, redirect our desires, adopt new ideals or
dream again. The point here is that, normally, such little deaths are unwelcome: they are
not willingly embraced.
Nor is it to deny that ‘uninstructed worldlings’ are capable of great sacrifices. The
survival instinct can be redirected away from my personal survival towards that of
something else with which I identify: my children, the honour of the regiment or the fire
brigade, or whatever. But at the back of such actions is still an identification with “I
must/can’t” in connection with something.
With Faith in the Heart we are able to let go of the ‘I’ in “I must/can’t”, and then we
are left with the primal energy of ‘must/can’t’. And it is imperative that we overcome
our fear of this violent energy, not tensing up against it, accepting it and giving it house
room in the body and containing it there – neither allowing it to discharge towards its
object, or divert towards another, or dissipate in a stream of thoughts.
It is easy to deceive ourselves into thinking that we are containing our reaction
when in fact we are suppressing it, and possible to go for years like that. But the
difference between accepting in the body and simply being convinced in the mind is like
night and day. Hence the daily life practice is often called acceptance practice.
Though the herdsman has seen into his original nature, he cannot yet, or not
always, ‘let the right thought prevail’. For too long he has lived in the jungle of
erroneous opinions and amid the dust of intellection. His bull is still wild, animal
nature still rules him; he wants to drag the man back into the familiar world of the
ten thousand things. The herdsman is still pleased when others praise and admire
him, but when told off or slandered, he becomes angry or resentful. Thus his heart
is still under the sway of praise and blame and is disturbed by them. Although he
has caught the bull, it has not yet become his real life. Seeing the moon, he rushes
after the moon; seeing a flower, he grabs at it. He does not yet know real freedom,
cannot know it.
While the bull is still wild, nothing can be done with him. The herdsman
must tame and gentle him, and strict discipline with whip and rein is essential... To
attain real gentleness demands, first, to return to one’s original nature, and then
learn to let it function in all circumstances.
Otsu 135
135
Otsu et al., The Bull and His Herdsman, IV: Preface, comment.
102
5 Gentling the Bull

So, we knuckle under and continue the training. And come to the stage where
we are now seriously grappling with the bull.
Why does the notion of anything great stir us? Our longing goes out towards it.
But why? Is it not that usually we do not feel that we are living our lives fully, that
something more, something greater, is ahead beckoning? The pettiness of our daily
life makes us yearn even more for something great to happen, something great
enough to take us out of ourselves. These phrases are revealing. When confronted
with something great, or with a sudden great problem, we react quite differently
from our usual habit. It seems as if the great brings forth the whole of us and so our
reaction is a total one.
The total reaction and total effort is what we are now concerned with in our
practice. It takes practice, training, to be able to do it, for, surprisingly, conscious
total effort is both a matter of fearlessness and of obedience; a response to
circumstance, or, to express it neutrally, to the scheme of things. In itself, it is
natural. A child reacts in this way, unstintingly, giving itself to what it is doing. If
the tiny hand grips, it grips totally, nothing is held back, deliberated, saved. Total
effort is all out – not I doing, but I giving myself completely. Hence the matter of
obedience. That means again the Middle Way, neither I self-consciously wanting or
trying to bring forth the total effort; that always falls short, my very intention being
the obstacle. Nor is it an impulsive giving in and being carried away; though the
totality is in it, it is blind.
… In an emergency, if something great occurs, it is an almost automatic
response that I whole-heartedly, unstintingly, go all out and completely give myself
to what I am doing. I lose myself in it. Now I have to learn to do this in full
awareness. It seems that this activates the ‘other side’ which then can and does
respond.
And if not? Well, one can only do one’s utmost, wholeheartedly, and without
clinging to a result. Sometimes one wins, sometimes one loses. What is important is
the total effort. The surprising thing is that the wholeheartedness makes the event
subjectively great to me, even if I lose. I have wholly, fully, lived it, and so it has
meaning. As in a game it was fair play and good sport. Today we have all but
forgotten such things.
Daiyu Myokyo 136
Thus ‘right effort’ is a self-forgetting. This is not easily come by, and
approaching it, we meet fear.
We have already seen that the very nature of I is fear. Now we begin to meet
this naked fear, and it is a very difficult stage in the practice. To me it seems fraught
with danger to go unstintingly into total effort which, moreover, is not mine but
rather a forgetting of myself without losing awareness-the opposite of an impulsive
136
103
response. Hence the fear, for I am neglected: I who always want to do, to act, to
manipulate, to plan, and above all need to be in control. But there is a reason for
that fear, and it must not be approached lightly or without adequate preparation. I
am terrified of losing myself.
At this stage, the fear is of losing oneself, and this lends it that special flavour
of panicky terror and resistance. That fear tries, and can, prevent the all-out effort
required, and it is bound to do so if in the beginning the practice was not thorough
enough. Here, too, the gesture of abdication, of bowing, is of great help. Only ‘I’
can be afraid.
Daiyu Myokyo 137
The practice in daily life is not easy. Experience has shown that without
actually having tried it for a few weeks, and thus having some concrete experience
of it, the acceptance is inevitably directed to the object, which is all I know and
wish to overcome, to conquer. But true acceptance needs to be directed to my
emotional reactions. What makes me react emotionally, the object, is not mine and I
have no influence over it; but as long as there is I, I am bound to react. This is being
bound on the Wheel.
What is undoubtedly mine is the reaction and that is a cause that can be worked
out by means of total effort. Whenever one is invaded by such a reaction, one
accepts its impact, bearing it willingly and dumbly but in full awareness, not
refusing the suffering or closing one’s eyes against it.
…Following his (the Buddha’s) footsteps does not mean imitating him. It
means facing our own problems, our emotional onslaughts, as courageously and
willingly as he did his, with open eyes. Seeing and learning from them in the
process, we go right through them, through the middle of the sea of suffering –
perhaps the most profound connotation of the ‘Middle Way’ when all suffering is
suffered out, there is an end of it. This is coming out on the other side, on the other
shore, Nirvana.
Willingly suffering it out, not resisting, not turning away, in full ‘meek’
awareness, this is the difficulty. It is a very delicate balance which I can easily
disturb. Again, the Buddha is our guide: neither too much austerity, which always
smacks a bit of ‘I’, nor too much indulgence. That, too, is a Middle Way.
Daiyu Myokyo 138
There is a Middle Way between being carried away or fending off and
repressing. This is to endure the presence of the Bull, enduring the conflict in
willing awareness yet without being carried away. This restrains and gentles the
Bull. During this training, man and Bull, I and the emotions, are in conflict – one
137
Schloegl, ch.V.
138
Schloegl, ch.V.
104
pulls here, and the other there. Each fights, and each contributes; both come to
understand their limits and become familiar with each other. Thus both change.
The Bull, accustomed to the world of opposition of either this or that, wants to
pull back to it: profit and fame are still dear, if not material, then ‘spiritual’. How
far have I gone in my training? Or being disappointed, I don’t seem to get any
further! Of course, I don’t – I become less in this training, not more. Then I get
frightened or worry about losing the warm human touch; I can’t lose it, having
never had it – it is just the Bull lowing for his lush valleys. For his gentling, his
curbing, for weaning him from his old lusts and rages, training is now essential,
whole-hearted effort of handing myself over to the restraints of the discipline.
‘Always let the right thought persist’- and that is not easy when the Bull is fighting
shy.
There are wild moments of opposition, of self-pity and of resentment. Yes, here
the whip is needed. They are a strange pair, the Bull and his herdsman. Both want
and need to give in, yet both fight. But just in that, they begin to come together. The
taming, the gentling of the bull, is liberation from the Bull’s wild animal nature; and
that means also, liberation from profit and fame, from attachment, including I-
attachment. Here the merging has its beginning.
Catching the Bull was difficult, but it is easy compared with the tremendous
task, the unremitting effort of truly gentling the Bull. And in every bout, there is the
ever-present danger of falling back into the old attitude of ‘I’ doing the taming in
which man and Bull fly apart once more. For this a teacher is indispensable for the
Bull breaking loose at this stage turns perniciously deceptive. It is then the man
who is caught, not the bull. And the Bull is still wild, and wily!
Only when the Bull is truly gentled, when he has ceased to be what the Bull
stands for, does the real change occur. That is the first re-linking.
Daiyu Myokyo 139
… merging together both bull and oneself, so that the unity persists in all one’s
doing and not doing, in all situations and under all circumstances. At the same time,
this gentling also effects a fusion of oneself and one’s surroundings. In this pure at-
one-ment, self absorbs into the given situation and the given situation absorbs into
oneself. The old masters tell us that it is difficult indeed to let this unity always
prevail.
Otsu 140
So, moment to moment, we are to practise giving ourselves wholeheartedly into
whatever is required of us by the situation, assuming, of course, that insofar as we have
‘caught’ the Bull, we are capable of seeing the requirements of the situation as they are,
undistorted by any of our own passionately held preferences.
139
Schloegl, ‘Towards Wholeness’, Vol. 3:1.
140
Otsu et al., The Bull and His Herdsman, V: Intro .
105
Gentling the Bull involves losing our fear of, and making friends with, him. Thus,
for example, when sitting it is very important to keep the head straight, chin in,
shoulders back and chest open and relax. For when the Bull arises, we tend either to
stiffen up or to curl inwards, turning our shoulder away from him. ‘Making friends with’
is, therefore, something we learn in the body: it is not a matter of forming an opinion on
the matter. Just as in learning a martial art such as Aikido one must learn how to relax
when falling: which is a matter of gaining confidence, little by little, in the capacity of
the body to look after itself without conscious interference. Or in learning to swim we
must first learn to relax and trust in the capacity of the water to carry us. So too we
discover that a relaxed body can contain and endure the passions. Which comes as a bit
of a surprise, since as beginners we tend to assume that containment is to be achieved
by stiffening up.
Hold the reins tight, and do not allow yourself any wavering. This is the gentling of
the bull. It is not a matter of wilfully spiting oneself, which in itself can give a perverse
pleasure which binds just as much as wilful indulgence. If we prefer tea to coffee and
both are freely available, then we happily enjoy the natural pleasure which drinking tea
affords us. If tea is not available, then we humbly submit to the situation and drink our
coffee, admitting but containing any reactions and letting them churn until they subside.
To deny ourselves tea when it is preferred and freely available is actually to wilfully go
against the situation in pursuit of an ideal and engender the corresponding spiritual pride
and arrogance. Furthermore, it is like a knife trying to cut itself: for if such a practice
became habitual it would only result in a habituation and eventual preference for the
taste of coffee! A monastery in which everyone insisted on eating last and least would
soon disappear.
So, little by little, as life becomes more meaningful and as trust begins to
develop, I lose some of my importance, and to that extent, the root of fear can be
approached safely. It seems as I, afraid of fear, run after objects to distract myself.
In the training, as I learn to give in, as the bull becomes tamer and gentler, this fear
seems to come closer. In fact, it was always there, but I hid myself from it, covered
it up under layers of objects. In the practice, as the objects begin to drop off, the
veil becomes thinner, till I, softened, can bear the proximity of fear, and finally look
it in the face. At this moment both I and fear vanish. A turning over in depth has
taken place, leaving only reflecting awareness.
Daiyu Myokyo 141
The Buddhist, by definition, follows the path of the Buddha, and the practice up to
here is sustained by the aspiration of the Heart.
Without that want, we could never have set out; without that desire, we could
not have continued walking. This is called the aspiration of the heart, or the strength
141
106
of the vow of dedication. Though essential, yet it is still desire; in the end, that too
needs to be laid down. The question is, how to lay down that which is the most
precious thing.
Daiyu Myokyo 142
6 Riding Home on the Back of the Bull
The emotional energy has sloughed off its compulsive aspect, has become
humanized…The man too, has lost his wilful separation, -my way, as it suits me-,
which is so typical of the little –I- whose other name is insecurity.…
Till picture 6, the Bull was liable to run off, alone or with the man. What does
this mean? Emotions are still able to erupt, invade the man, and carry him out of
himself, back into the same old troubles, into violent conflicts outside and/or inside.
He is not yet man, but truly the shuttlecock of his emotions.
Daiyu Myokyo 143
With this clearer seeing we can disengage from the object, refrain from making
pictures and mistaking them for our heart’s desire. So, from ‘I want something’, I
am now left with a truncated ‘I want’! It is now seen that this want is of a power
that is well-nigh irresistible, ready and wanting to form itself into a picture and
compelling me to go after it. This is why all developed religions warn against
making graven images, concrete or abstract concepts. ‘The Tao that can be named is
not the eternal Tao’…
I live in an imaginary world of pictures, and feel I need them, for without them
and without having to chase after them, I have nothing to do, actually am nothing –
a prospect dimly suspected and filling me with terror!
If both, the terror of becoming nought, and the primal strength which is in the
imperative ‘want’ – can be endured without another escape into picture formations,
that is experiencing ‘I want’ in its primal strength or power. Energy is dynamic and
work it must. Prevented from going into the making of pictures and chasing after
them, it turns round and seemingly attacks what is still there – ‘I’. If there is enough
strength truly to open up at least in small ways, and rather than resisting the energy,
invite it, ‘Yes, work on me’, then a burning and a churning results until what is still
there – I – is burned and churned away, and so the energy is purified and
transformed because there is no-thing left. At the moment when there is nothing,
when I am not there to observe or judge, the energy has reverted to what it always
has been – the Buddha Nature. For this transformation to take place, the gentling of
the Bull is a necessary condition. The gentled bull is the strength that arises,
phoenix-like, from the burning Fires. And this purification, or deliverance from the
force of delusive pictures, is portrayed as the gentled bull carrying the man home.
142
Schloegl, Gentling the Bull, ch. VI.
143
Schloegl, ‘Towards Wholeness’, Vol. 3:1.
107
Daiyu Myokyo 144

But…
..now, with the Bull carrying the man, a major shift has taken place- and with
that a new danger emerges.
We are drawn to the Great or Heroic. Something shrills in us at hearing these
words, the more so if our life seems trivial, meaningless, a perpetual waiting for
Life to happen. The small we disregard, brush away. What standards do we use to
judge something as small, and who is the judge? Is it not because the small does not
stir me, leaves me cold? Or because I do not wish to be bothered and so
conveniently judge what seems unimportant to me as small. ‘Oh yes, easy, but not
now, it does not suit me now, and it does not matter.’ Thus I can now ignore it in
good conscience. What hypocrites we are. I seem to have a vested reason for not
looking at the small things in my daily life, as if I feared something might be
lurking underneath them. I do them automatically, robot-like, my mind occupied
elsewhere. Thus I arbitrarily reject a good deal of my daily life, do not really live it.
Then the unlived portion piles up against me as fear, threatening.
Should something ‘Great’ occur, I usually have no option. The ‘Great’
constellates the whole of me in a total effort and exacts a total reaction. It is the
totality that subjectively, to me, makes the event not only great, but also
meaningful. I have lived it.
The training advocates the same total effort in all actions in one’s daily life.
The difficulty is that I cannot make that effort; I am far too weak, far too little.
Nevertheless, I try to do so in the beginning, which is the reason why the Bull was
so difficult to find. Total effort is going all out, but in a special way, a total giving
of oneself to and into it, unstintingly but without losing awareness. This
distinguishes total giving in awareness from blind impulse, also total, but a
compulsive blind reaction in which the Bull has carried the man away. In the
conscious giving oneself, totally, to what one is doing, even washing a cup, the Bull
becomes cooperative. The
Bull follows the man, and in that togetherness life takes on meaning and
purpose. ‘How wonderful, how miraculous, I carry wood and I fetch water,’ as an
old Zen master expressed it.
The same applies to really laying something down; it is particularly difficult to
really let go of something that emotionally entangles us; it nags us all the time….
The real laying down, the emotional liberation, giving up, letting go,
presupposes that the Bull is tame, gentle.
Daiyu Myokyo 145
144
Schloegl, Gentling the Bull, ch. VI.
145
Schloegl, ‘Towards Wholeness’, Vol 3:1.
108
For that, two further stages are necessary. Bull and man, not only acting as one and
being in harmony, actually have to become one (picture 7), and then there must be a
complete and unconditional laying down (picture 8).
Though the herdsman may hand himself over to the laws of his nature, it is not
yet the true awakening, because in the oneness of man and bull, the bull still
remains somewhere in the herdsman’s conscious or unconscious. This is a deeply
hidden and almost unnoticeable obstacle to the genuine freedom of the herdsman.
Otsu 146
7 Bull Forgotten - Man remains
…From Picture 7 we are faced with religious pictures that point but are not
meant to be ‘grasped’. What they point at is a mystery. From the side of I, a
mystery cannot be understood, cannot be grasped; it can only be revered. In the act
of reverence, bowing deeply before it, the heart may open. Thus open, it may reflect
the mystery, and, with continuing training, partake in it.
Daiyu Myokyo 147
The Bull represents our wild, untamed emotionality towards the things and affairs
of the world. With this tamed, the man is no longer deceived into pursuing and clinging
to what is worldly as a remedy for the inner emptiness he feels.
So, at this point there is renewed enthusiasm for spiritual affairs, and what were
previously experienced as hardships have now become a source of joy and consolation.
But if our motivation for continuing depends on the receipt of such joys and
consolations, even though they be of a ‘spiritual’ nature, then we are still like children in
need of weaning. Our grasping and clinging may now simply have been transferred to
spiritual matters. St John of the Cross elaborates upon the faults which may appear
using the schema of the seven capital vices:
1. Spiritual Pride and complacency: the holier than thou syndrome; vanity in
talking of spiritual things – preferring to instruct rather than accept instruction;
seeking public recognition for their devotion even to the extent of making a
show of it through movements, sighs, raptures; hiding their faults to appear
better than they are or becoming discouraged and angry with themselves because
of them.
2. Spiritual Avarice: unhappy and peevish because they don’t find the consolation
they want in spiritual things; constantly reading and accumulating maxims and
counsels; accumulating spiritual trinkets but never satisfied with them; greedy
for elaborations.
3. Spiritual Lust: for the sensual pleasure to be derived from spiritual exercises
146
Otsu et al., The Bull and His Herdsman, VII: Intro.
147
Schloegl, Gentling the Bull, ch. VII.
109
4. Spiritual Anger: peevish when previously experienced delights and satisfactions

are withdrawn; anger with the weaknesses of others; impatience with one’s own
progress.
5. Spiritual Gluttony: striving more for spiritual savour than for purity and
discretion; excess in corporeal penances, fasts etc.
6. Spiritual Envy: feeling sad about the spiritual progress of others, grieving that
they are ahead of us and not wanting to hear them praised.
7. Spiritual Sloth: becoming weary of more spiritual exercises since they are
contrary to sensory satisfaction. Since they are so used to finding delight in
spiritual practices, they become bored when they do not find it. 148
In view of these dangers, the training must be really thorough in order to wear
down our tendency to cling even in ‘spiritual’ matters.
To make sure of the bull being really gentled, ordinary daily life is our training
ground. It provides ample opportunity to check and recheck whether there is still
even the slightest of rearings. If so, firmly on with the training, more training and
yet more training!...
If I feel threatened in circumstances that belittle or diminish me, if there
is the slightest quiver, then there is a great deal of training still necessary…
…going with circumstances as they are, without having to take any
personal issue at all. When that has become transparent and clear, then no-I has
passed the ‘Entrance to the Deep Secret’…
Daiyu Myokyo 149
A fundamental transformation which is worked out at this stage concerns Right Effort:
There are innumerable warnings against striving outright for spiritual
achievement; spiritual pride is a fetter that needs to be broken or the process is
short-circuited and at best productive a personality of remarkable but brute strength.
The man is then very much there, in fact it could be said that he has become a bull-
man.
This is what religious observances are there to guard against. What they try to
foster and further is a sense of devotion, a voluntary abdication before the
numinous to prepare the approach to it. Ideally, these are the outward expressions
of an inner attitude, an attitude of the heart, and as such are natural safeguards
against becoming a bull-man. Hence the delicate balance mentioned above; hence
the importance of bowing, laying oneself down again and again. Then the bow can
grow and become a real service of joyful dedication in which the wonder of what is
can suddenly and safely emerge. But such an attitude is not easily or naturally
found these days. Effort and ‘letting go’ need to balance one another and cancel
each other out.
148
John of the Cross, ‘The Dark Night’, Bk.1, ch.1-7.
149
110
In religious observances, too, there is a danger of overshooting the balance, of

over zealousness…
It is truly a razor-sharp path. Only a humble holding on to one’s humanity in
the face of the powers and dangers that assail us -the emotional energy- matures us
truly.
Daiyu Myokyo 150
‘Spiritual pride is a fetter which needs to be broken’, and the same applies to the
other six ‘capital vices’. The first stage of what we have to go through in order for these
fetters to be broken is called by St. John ‘The Dark Night of the Senses’.
Now what is actually being effected during this phase is a humbling of the spirit.
Those who come through it
are neither presumptuous nor self-satisfied, as was their custom in the time of
their prosperity, but fearful and disquieted about themselves and lacking in any self-
satisfaction. This is the holy fear that preserves and gives increase to their virtues.
John of the Cross 151
But a good dose of humility, although it is a necessary preparation, is still a far cry from
that total nakedness of spirit required of he who would follow the Way to the end.
To forget something is one thing; but here the bull himself, in his nature, has
become human, at one with the herdsman. And as the whole human heart, thus
fulfilled and completed, lifts up, the erstwhile herdsman now sits on a mountain
peak in front of a little hermitage. In this place there is only one gesture possible,
one which is both human and spiritual, and that is kneeling down with folded
hands, and looking up towards the ‘high’. If we have nothing to look up to, if
nothing is above ourselves, then I myself care too little, and so the heart cannot
open.
Daiyu Myokyo 152
Believe in the peak ‘Entrance to the deep secret’ –
No man can settle on this peak’s summit.
Daiyu Myokyo 153
Though the bull has really vanished, the man must abdicate, let go of himself
on the peak, and dedicate himself to the Way, to the religious, the spiritual life. Just
as in picture 6, the trammels of ‘I’ have been transcended, and the True Human
Being freed, so in picture 7 even that is transcended to make the next step – to
picture 8 – possible. ‘The Buddha Way is supreme; I vow to go it to the end.’
Picture 7 portrays the inner landscape of this vow. So there is a very real change, a
very real dedication, and then walking on.
150
151
John of the Cross, ‘The Dark Night’, Bk. 1, ch.13:12.
152
153
Schloegl, ch. VII.
111
Daiyu Myokyo 154

Of the few who dedicate themselves to the spiritual path it is a minority who go
beyond this point. And even those who do eventually go on, may first spend years
happily operating at this level. For this level of humility frees us from the cramped cell
of our own wilfulness, and we may dedicate ourselves to our tasks with a relative
serenity of spirit. But one cannot settle here.
So, without settling down, where does the next step go? There is no end; and
the man is still here. There is but one thing which is not yet known to him. The
texts also state clearly what is necessary to follow the Buddha’s path, and they also
list the difficulties for us and say what needs to be laid down. Then there are still
some remnants – there is a being, a living being that also needs to be laid down.
Finally, what needs to be laid down so that the whole root of I is uplifted, is a life.
Daiyu Myokyo 155
8 Both Bull and Man Forgotten
The hallmark and pivot of Zen are in the total forgetting of both, man and bull.
Otsu 156
A man to whom birds bring flowers is still attached to holiness; he has not yet
attained the utter forgetting of bull and herdsman.
Otsu 157
Master Kyogen’s analogy for state of picture 8 is a man hanging on a
perpendicular cliff. He has slithered down it, one hand just grabbing a root. There
he now hangs, by one hand, the other hand and both legs dangle over that precipice.
Can he now let go and plummet into the abyss?
… training, if thorough, will not only kick us over that cliff, it will also tell us
what we need to do - and why - when we hang on that cliff; and it tells us what the
root is on which we hang - that one thing we feel we must have or get rid of, that
one thing which would suffice, and I would be content….
So, when everything in our life once more comes down to that ‘one thing only’,
as it has no doubt done at least a few times, when nothing else matters but that one
thing - whatever it might be - that is the root on which we dangle over the precipice.
My heart is given to that one thing so much that I feel I cannot live without it! To
open my hand and let go of the root, feels truly like suicide. But once ‘declutched’
from the ‘thing’, from the root-wonder of wonders! - not death at all from loss of
heart, rather the heart is discovered as having been there all the time, never ‘lost
outside’.
154
Schloegl, ch. VII.
155
Schloegl, ch. VII.
156
Otsu et al., The Bull and His Herdsman, VIII: Intro.
157
Otsu et al., VIII: Preface, comment.
112
Opening the hand that clutches the root is what training teaches us to do! To
repeat, life hangs us on the precipice a few times; and training certainly kicks us
over that precipice. That is what we are doing it for. But it also tells us what that
root is, so that we may recognise it when we hang on it, and it teaches us how to let
go of it. In the long and hard and bitter training, sufficient strength is developed to
open the hand and, though everything in me shrieks, to let go. But no training, not
even Buddha, can actually prise that hand open; that is what I myself must do, and
hurtle down the cliff, right into no-thing-ness. Yes, it does feel like death. Master
Hakuin calls it the Great Death that is died to Life. So can we possibly say that
there is the entrance to the Great Life? Can we imagine it? Of course, we cannot.
We can only reflect, again and again, that this is where the training will lead; and
prepare ourselves so as to be able to recognise that root. We do the training so as to
make ourselves-I with my likings and loathings - ever smaller, so that our demands
are shrinking and the weight that hangs on the root is not too heavy for us to open
the hand.
Daiyu Myokyo 158
The heading ‘Both Bull and Man Forgotten’ refers to the end of this stage of the
path of spiritual development. As a stage to be traversed it would be better described as
‘The Forgetting of both Bull and Man’. In the Christian tradition it is known as ‘The
Dark Night of the Spirit’.
Those who arrive at this stage are well advanced on the Way, and yet their
constancy is to some degree dependent upon gratification, albeit ‘spiritual’ gratification,
received or anticipated. However ‘exalted’ the gratification, insofar as we cling to it, we
are still in the realm of ‘I, me and mine’, and have a long way to go.
The journey from a certain relative humility of spirit to complete spiritual
nakedness is long and hard, and not for the many: it is a minority, even of the few who
dedicate their lives to spiritual matters, in whatever tradition of whatever religion, either
in the West or the East, who able to traverse this stage fully in this life. St John of the
Cross warns that, however intense, the process usually takes years. It is only natural that
it should. If we think back to the Chain of Dependent Origination we will recall that we
are dealing with the wearing down and elimination of long-standing and deep-rooted
habits of speech, thought and action – the samskaras. And at this stage we are concerned
with those habits of longest standing and which have the deepest roots. How could it not
be a long and painful process?
The specific nature of the journey will be different for each individual, for we are
not dealing with a mechanical process which transforms the same raw material through
well-defined steps into identical end-products. Though, in general, we all share the same
human nature and human heart, we each have our own sticking points, our secret
refuges and consolations, and it is these which are to be laid bare and abandoned.
158
113
Of course, this stage also has its dangers. And one to be particularly avoided is that
of clinging to, or being carried away by, experiences which carry the flavour of the
other side, the ‘numinous’, and which we therefore find highly attractive and
compelling. Just as the Bull could carry us away, so now the numinous may overwhelm
the unprepared, producing seizures, fanaticism and other harmful effects.
To tie it up with the bull-herding analogy, the bull, vanished, has become the
numinosity – the passions are the Buddha Nature when gentled and transformed.
If such an experience befalls a man who is at least reasonably prepared, one
might also say humble enough, the numinosity will render itself perceptible in the
pictures of his religious values. If the religious values are no longer ‘true’ for him,
the experience of the impact will take on archetypal features in the Jungian sense,
that is, configurations of what is grave and constant in human experience, but in
individual imagery. Whatever the image or nature of manifestation, the quality of
otherworldliness , ghostly and quite impersonal, always clings to it without being
subject to reason or intellectual understanding, but overwhelmingly and utterly
convincing.
Like the distant rumblings of an approaching storm, such ‘experiences’ are
likely to occur at every stage-right from the beginning, all along the emotional
scale, commanding instant recognition and obedience.
It is important therefore for the container to have the strength to hold its own
against the images: that is, to identify with without being swallowed by them, and
yet be flexible enough to shift into the new attitude, now more adapted for
‘renewal’.
There is a Zen saying, particularly apt for Japan, which has many evergreen
trees, that the old leaves are kind; they stay on to protect the buds forming
underneath but fall off when the buds are ready to come out. These experiences
along the way also prepare for the decisive shift. This is the point where the way
can go wrong, or not the way but the man.
If the man is carried away by such an experience, if he takes its ‘pictures’ as
objective and final, he clings to the pictures with the deep conviction that belongs
to the impact rather than the picture; he is thus stuck to the pictures and further
growth is stultified or cannot occur at all: hence the warning against fashioning
graven images.
A quality of finality does, indeed, cling to each experience of this type, for it
constitutes a valid adaptation or new attitude. Hence the tremendous importance of
the man enduring the impact, and his true humility, which is forged along the way
of training, is essential. It is a question of ‘suffering it out’ again and again until the
sufferer, I, is at last ready to fall off. A little of him dies every time and this makes
the shift into a new attitude possible.
Daiyu Myokyo 159
159
114
Picture 8 presents us with a fearsome and feared mystery: a true handing over
without any reservation, a willing going with whatever may befall, an unconditional
surrender.
Daiyu Myokyo 160
In the Christian tradition the culmination of this stage is represented as the
individual’s total and unconditional surrender to the will of God.
When he had spent about half a day in this disordered state, and his brain was
quite shattered, he sat still at last, and turning from himself to God, gave himself up
to God’s will in these words:- May it not be otherwise! “Fiat voluntas Tua” (Thy
will be done).
Henry Suso 161
In the Zen Buddhist tradition, it is known as ‘The Great Death’, conceived of as the
final abandonment of clinging to anything in the name of ‘I, me and mine’. But since
the only obstacle to ‘unconditional submission to the will of God’ is the wilful self, and
since ‘letting go’ is a matter of ceasing to cling to anything in the name of that wilful
self, it is effectively the same change of attitude which is required of both Christian and
Buddhist.
The man, I as I know myself, dies, or goes into oblivion. Another impossibility
is asked for this to take place: the form must be strong enough to hold. In utter
darkness and oblivion are newly born the seeds of the spiritual man to come. To go
into this circle is the real, final abdication, the letting go of oneself… The
awesomeness might be symbolized in Christ’s passion and crucifixion. From the
Christian mystics we have the term ‘The Dark Night of the Soul’ for it. Awesome,
fearsome, dangerous, are correct words for describing this portal from the side of
‘I’. And, as in everything, a danger lurks in it, a final test for him who enters
without hope, who has and is nothing, to prove that he has truly entered the
immovable spot, has died, become no-thing.
From picture 7 onwards, the tamed energy strives inexorably towards the
upper, the spiritual pole of its scale. If the form is not strong enough to contain its
full potential, if the circle is not clearly delimited, the man, I, does not truly die, but
is carried away once more and suffers a seizure…Hence the Buddhist insistence on
no-I: I must be dissolved to make way for a new centre…
Master Hakuin calls this the Great Death. It is hinted at in such paradoxes as
the gateless gate or the Barrier of the Patriarchs. From the side of the trainee, it
seems as if it had to be broken into. But as no I can pass through, in the attempt to
do so, with continuous effort spent, I myself get worn away. To no-I, the way is
open.
160
161
Suso, The Life of Blessed Henry Suso, ch. XL.
115
Daiyu Myokyo 162

There is then nothing relative acknowledged as relative, nothing absolute
prized as absolute. The absolute is through the relative, the relative through the
absolute. We err in the relative if we acknowledge it as relative, and we err in the
absolute if we prize it as absolute. In the utter forgetting of bull and herdsman, the
relative as the relative, and the absolute as the absolute, cancel each other out.
The phrase ‘neither the one nor the other’ refers to all pairs of opposites, such
as now and then, Buddha and Mara, equality and differentiation. No way of
thinking or saying can lead into the innermost of one who is not attached to either
the one or the other.
Otsu 163
9 Return to the Origin, Back to the Source
Before the disciple can attain to the great suchness of everything, to the great
Yes, he must first traverse absolute nothingness and, indeed, let even that
nothingness come to nothing. Just where the greatest experience, absolute
nothingness, becomes nothing, there it changes into the Great Yes to all that is.
Only here is each and everything unconditionally affirmed, and the real life of Zen
emerge in all its vitality.
Otsu 164
…However impressive may be one’s knowledge and experience of God, that
knowledge or experience will have no resemblance to God and amount to very
little.…Those are decidedly hindered, then, from attainment to this high state of
union with God who are attached to any understanding, feeling, imagining, opinion,
desire, or way of their own, or to any other of their world or affairs, and know not
how to detach and denude themselves of these impediments. Their goal, as we said,
transcends all of this, even the loftiest object that can be known or experienced.
Consequently, they must pass beyond everything to unknowing.
St. John of the Cross 165
But what if such an experience (of the ‘mysterium tremendum’ of Rudolf Otto)
happens when ‘the man’ is not there either? When the ‘picture maker’ is absent?
Absent, not because he has been carried away prematurely, and thud, though away,
still is, but because he is no-thing? Or, in the Buddhist analogy, when the wave has
become aware of being ocean?
The bull-herding analogy calls that state ‘into the origin, back to the source’. It
could not be better expressed, for this is the true one-ness, totality, and no separate I
can see/experience THAT. One-ness and I are mutually exclusive. Of course, ‘the
162
Schloegl, ‘Towards Wholeness’, 11 / Vol. 3:1.
163
Otsu et al., The Bull and His Herdsman, VIII: Preface, comment.
164
Otsu et al., IX: Intro.
165
John of the Cross, ‘The Ascent of Mount Carmel’, Bk.2, ch.4:3-4.
116
man’ must have ‘gone’. This is also the place where what Master Hakuin terms the
‘Great Death’ has occurred: Great because it is dying in and to Life, and Death
because it is the death of I as I know it, and with that the end of fear, including that
of ‘natural death’. The final shift has occurred, the restructuring has taken place;
there is only life, the heart is liberated from the bonds of I; and with that, its
inherent warmth can flow freely and in full awareness.
Daiyu Myokyo 166
Before awakening, mountains are mountains, and water is water. Training
under a wise master, on sudden awakening, mountains are not mountains and rivers
are not rivers; willows are not green, flowers are not red. However, if we steadily
continue on the way of ascending and arrive at this ‘source and origin’, the
mountain is again wholly a mountain, the river is again a river; the willow is green
and the flower is red. ‘Complete awakening is like not-yet awakened, in spite of the
yawning gulf between the two.
…. when the heart moves, all the ten thousand things arise; when the heart
empties itself, the ten thousand things are gone too. When the heart is not driven
around by either good or bad, everything is just as it is!
Otsu 167
He dwells neither in delusion, nor in awakening, is neither worldly nor holy.
All worldly desires have dropped off and at the same time the meaning of holiness
has become empty.
Otsu 168
Someone contemplates the flourishing and withering of that which has no
form, contemplates the coming to be and ceasing to be of all forms, including the
contemplator himself; such a one dwells…. collected in the quietness of non-
(intentional) doing. The Chinese characters usually translated as non-action, or non-
doing, ‘Wu-Wei’, actually a Taoist term, does not mean no doing in the sense of
simply being inactive, sitting and letting the world go by, contemplating the navel,
or whatever. Such non-doing gives the wrong connotation. It is, rather, returning to
the origin, to the source, to be re-linked and once more in harmony with all that
is…
…not non-acting, or non-doing, in the sense of laziness or callousness – for
how could that be the Buddha’s Way? – but non-intention, non-interference! In
other words, I am no longer intent on bending thing ‘my’ way.
To be truly at one is to be truly in accord; there is then a natural going with that
harmony, acting in accord with situations or circumstances, a natural coming to be
and ceasing to be; no struggling against, nor trying to fish out something for me!
166
Schloegl, The Zen Way, ch. IV.
167
Otsu et al., The Bull and His Herdsman, IX: Intro.
168
Otsu et al., VIII: Intro.
117
All forms have their beginning, their existence and their end. Such acting in accord
with the situation can be seen as ‘non-interfering’ – not intentional – and also
means not being a busy-body! When we now look at the basic Buddhist teachings,
just this intentional, volitional wanting to wrench things according to some kid of
pre-conceived idea or pattern, however good it may seem, is the Karma- producing
agency that keeps us bound and revolving on the Wheel. To become free of it is not
possible for ‘I’, for ‘I’ am it – picking and choosing being my nature. However,
once the Great Death has been died, with the passage through that empty circle, the
itch to interfere has also dies. Some who contemplates the flourishing and withering
of that which has form dwells in the collected quietness of non-intention.
Daiyu Myokyo 169
10 Entering the Marketplace with Bliss-Bestowing Hands
The Great Death has been died and now there is nothing but Life. This Life has
become conscious of itself, awakened, and sees clearly with the single eye the
manifold forms of Life, which blindly struggle, blindly suffer, fulfilling the pattern
of what is, shaping itself to the woop and warf of coming to be and ceasing to be –
formation, transformation – striving to see, out of the original darkness.
In the Awakened, this wisdom knowledge, this insight, is the other side of the
warmth that flows from liberated heart as Love, and what his heart and hands touch
is quickened. All flowers turn to the sun.
Daiyu Myokyo 170
He who in himself has let the verification of truth ripen completely, then goes
into the world to assist others…
Prompted by his deep compassion, he throws himself into the dusty world and
by virtue of the great vow he reaches out a helping hand to rescue all beings. Can
his action be called moral or religious? No, neither. The vitality of Zen pervades all
his doings freely and unhindered and is not confined by moral or religious
regulations. No one can define his playful and freewheeling life. Itself beyond all
rules and moral laws, it is yet at the same time the place from which all moral and
religious norms arise.
Otsu 171
All the masters up till now, once they had arrived at their completion, gave
themselves into the work of rescuing others. However, from of old their ways of
carrying out this task were highly individual. They might sometimes go along well-
established ways or take very different routes; there are no rules for it.
Otsu 172
169
Schloegl, Gentling the Bull, ch. IX.
170
171
Otsu et al., The Bull and His Herdsman, X: Intro.
172
Otsu et al., X: Preface, comment.
118
With I, the man, dissolved ‘at the origin, back to the source’, there is a breaking
into the non-personal realm of the creative spirit which now takes truly human
shape and stature. This new, true man, indeed cannot turn away; where should he
go? He comes ‘back to market with bliss-bestowing hands’, and takes up life as a
full human being, reintegrated, restructured, consciously aware of what he is, and
the humble servant of what he is.
His front gate is firmly closed, neither Buddha nor Mara can find him who is
not there, who is no-thing. With No-I (anatta) there is no volitional intention, no
interference, however well-meant. Such a man leaves no trace, has sprung out of
the karmic law; however, as a Zen story illustrates, he ‘does not obscure it’ either.
He works with it, is not beyond it. And so, he is neither bound by morals, nor
beyond them, for he has broken into the place from which all morality arises, and is
genuinely and naturally ‘good’, that is both loving and wise. This also means that
he is not blind; that he sees differences very clearly, and distinguishes between
Buddha and Mara, good and evil, recognising them when he sees them, they no
longer have power over him, they cannot carry him away. Thus he is naturally
‘good’.
Neither a saint nor a sage, as such, but a human being, fully and totally so; and
humbly human because aware of the human follies and the human miseries that
beset us all. How could he understand others were he not? Master Hakuin therefore
says of him ‘the nose is still vertical and the mouth horizontal’-that is, he happens
to have a distinct body with distinct features of such a body, and the tastes that go
with it. In no way is he ‘beyond’ it-he will still prefer tea rather than coffee, for
example, but the bottom will not fall out of his universe should there be no tea
forthcoming.
As a total human being, restructured by suffering through the tremendous
impact of the ‘mysterium tremendum’ , the final shift having taken place, all the
ghostly, other-world numinosity of the ‘totally other’ has also become human in
him, truly human.
There are echoes of this in Christianity too: ‘before Abraham was, I am’, the
son of man, and God having become man in the ‘second person of the trinity. Since
no I can conceive of such things, they have always been regarded as a religious
mystery. But the mystics of all ages speak the same language, for they have seen
into this realm, and so speak ‘as one’. To ‘I’, miracles need to correspond to my
sense of mystery. But in the fullness which is beyond ‘I’, the miraculous pervades
what is. ‘How wonderful, how miraculous, I carry wood and fetch water’, as a Zen
master expressed it.
The total man working with what is, being one with it and in no way obscuring
it or interfering with it, is not a worker of miracles like walking on the water or
raising people from the dead. He knows nothing of death, but much of life, of its
joys and sorrows, of its beauty and ugliness. Though he can, and does, work
‘miracles’, they are entirely human; his heart is open, his total love and compassion
119
soften sorrow and ugliness at a touch; his bliss-bestowing hands lift up his fellow
beings, and less by words than by being what and as he is, he points the Way for
those who wish to tread it-that Way of which the Buddha said that he had
rediscovered it, an ancient way that leads to an ancient city. This is the Way of the
Heart, as old as man, which can be walked by all who are so inclined. It is always
available, and leads to that ancient city, the full human Heart, which is also the
Buddha Heart.
So, when the Zen school calls itself the Buddha Heart School, in its very name
it points the Way. It has transmitted it in a living chain and thus kept alive the lore
of the way, the hardships, dangers and obstacles but also, the stages and the fullness
of the Heart when it is finally reached.
Daiyu Myokyo 173
173
Schloegl, The Zen Way, ch. IV.
120
Conclusion
Many know the Way, few walk it.
Bodhidharma
There is all the difference between looking up the Way on a map and the actual
walking on that Way. You can comfortably sit with a most detailed map in your
armchair at home and find, ‘Ah, there is a nice little stretch, good, but then there
is an awkward river to get across’, and you know the whole Way in your head,
but you are still sitting in the armchair. Or you can decide that, as it is clearly
said in the Zen texts that there is no learning necessary, away with all those maps
and off we go. But it is highly unlikely that you will ever get anywhere. Both
need to work together, familiarity with the map and then to start walking it. If we
follow that map carefully, then we are not likely to go astray.
Daiyu Myokyo 174
Here then, we have another map to help us on our way. Whether or not we put it to
good use is up to us. Of course, some areas are more clearly drawn than others, but,
hopefully, others may add to and improve it from their own direct experience.
174
121
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Buddhism:

Teachings and Practice

Buddhism: Teachings and Practice

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8 Both Bull and Man Forgotten ......................................................................... 111

Teachings: The Four Noble Truths

The Second Noble Truth: The Cause of Suffering

Wheel of Change, it is factually as unreal as is paradise, but as an intricate map it

Furthermore, since the arising of a particular effect is not an inevitable consequence

When a pleasant feeling arises in the uninstructed worldling, he revels in it greedily;

The Third Noble Truth: The End of Suffering

The Fourth Noble Truth: The Path to the End of Suffering

The Noble Eightfold Path

And when is Right Mindfulness to be practised? Is it something one only does on a

The Arahant and the Bodhisattva

insecurity, to defend desperately whatever we happen to identify with, be it things,

Aspects: The Paramitas (Northern line)

temper, or huddle in a corner to fulminate inwardly. He has to function in the

Daiyu Myokyo 112

Daiyu Myokyo 117

‘Power of the Path’- the insight and strength, as an instrument to clear

Stages - The Bull Herding Analogy

Daiyu Myokyo 123

for to be impassioned is to be overpowered by emotion. And even when creative, it is

2 Finding the Traces

emotional difficulties, and is in consequence rather vacuous, only half alive. Or I

4 Catching the Bull

5 Gentling the Bull

Daiyu Myokyo 144

4. Spiritual Anger: peevish when previously experienced delights and satisfactions

In religious observances, too, there is a danger of overshooting the balance, of

Daiyu Myokyo 154

Daiyu Myokyo 162

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