PERFECTING THE PARAMITAS PRECEPTS (cont’d) 2010.4

Today we will finish the second, Sila Paramita, or Precepts. We have touched on the

Repentance and Refuges, the Three Pure Precepts, and the first five of the Ten Grave

Precepts of Soto Zen in the last segment. Reviewing again the words of Matsuoka-roshi:

The second Paramita asks us to observe the precepts handed down to us by the Historical or Sakyamuni Buddha. The eight-fold Path of Right Views and Behavior; and the Ten Prohibitory Precepts which prohibit behavior which would harm others, are all given to us an example of a moral life. The Eightfold Path Sensei mentions is a subject for another series. In this segment we will review the latter five of the Ten Grave Precepts, received upon Discipleship ordination, (J. Zaike Tokudo).

Assuming that you have listened to the prior podcasts, the Introduction to Perfecting the Paramitas, the first segment on Dana Paramita, or Generosity, and that on the first five Precepts, we will not revisit ground covered on those, but will go on and introduce the last five of the Ten Grave Precepts. These are sometimes given in the Initiation of Jukai ceremony in some lineages. In the Matsuoka lineage, the full set of ten are given in the Discipleship ceremony, which usually follows Initiation by at least a year or so of

practice.

Reviewing briefly, the first five are:

Affirm life — Do not kill

Be giving — Do not take what is not freely given

Honor the body — Do not engage in sexual misconduct

Manifest truth — Do not speak falsely

Proceed clearly — Do not cloud the mind with intoxicants

The next five that we will review in detail in this segment are:

See only your own faults — Do not discuss the faults of others

Know self and other as one — Do not praise yourself at others’ expense

Share generously — Do not spare the Dharma assets

Actualize harmony — Do not indulge in anger

Know intimacy with all things — Do not defame the Three Treasures

Now, one could question why, in our lineage, we do not receive all ten, why we do not

simply receive all ten in our Initiation ceremony? One reason may be practical, that

maybe ten are too much to take on at once; the first five are difficult enough to

understand and to begin to practice in daily life. And the latter five are a little more, we

might say, personal: that is, self-study; seeing one’s own faults; not praising oneself at

the expense of others, and so forth. And sharing: do not spare the dharma assets, this

is a little bit more the responsibility of a Disciple, than an Initiate.

A Disciple is training for teaching, and part of the dharma assets would be to share

what little understanding of Buddhism one may have accumulated. So they can be seen

not as advanced, so much as a little more personal responsibility for the sake of

Buddhism. Whereas the first five, not killing, not stealing, not lying, not engaging in

sexual misconduct, not taking intoxicants: these can be seen as more social

engagement, where the second five can be seen as more responsibility in training to

serve others in the sangha, or Buddhist community.

So for instance, to see only your own faults, do not discuss the faults of others. Sangha

practice is difficult in that it is intertwined with personalities, and the behavior of others

sometimes becomes a problem. And, it is difficult to discuss the behavior of others —

especially if it is disruptive to the sangha — without framing it as finding fault. But it is

possible to discuss the behavior of others, without finding fault with them. So how do

we do that? And, particularly the first part, which is the affirmative, see only our own

faults?

First, if we find fault with someone else, then the reflexive action in Zen is to reflect

back upon the self, and see if we do not share this same behavior, that we are

identifying as a fault in others. And if so, it makes it easier to see how, or why, a person

may be behaving this way; if we see that we behave this way, and how and why we

behave in this same way, sometimes.

This is engaging the sangha in more of a leadership position as a disciple, as an

example. As Matsuoka-roshi said, by our example and our spirit, hopefully we can

encourage others positively. One result, or side-effect of sitting zazen, as mentioned

earlier, is that we develop patience with ourselves on the cushion, so it is easier to have

patience with others. This is the third Paramita, Kshanti, which we will discuss in the

next segment.

But here, seeing only my own faults and not seeing the faults of others, is a way of

practicing patience. Now we can see and discuss the behavior of others, and discuss it

amongst ourselves, or with them, and we can do so in such a way that we are not

criticizing them as being at fault. We simply have to discuss this because it has

become disruptive to the sangha, and we have to get to the bottom of it, reconcile

whatever the issues are, and so forth.

This is how, over the course of time, the Paramitas, the Precepts, all of what are called

Vinaya in Sanskrit, rules and regulations, Shingi in Japanese, came about, where in the

early order in India, eventually, we saw the development of literally hundreds and

hundreds of rules. We can be pretty sure that these came about naturally, by somebody

committing a social error or blunder of some sort, and then it being brought up, and

someone in a leadership position, probably not Shakyamuni Buddha himself, but some

council of elders, would consider this event and try to have some sort of grievance

process, possibly, and come up with some sort of rule, principle or guideline, to follow

infuture so that we could avoid or prevent this happening again, or at least mitigate the

circumstances.

But sangha practice is by nature difficult. We are never going to have complete

resolutionof sangha practice. We will be living with these kinds of difficulties forever

into the future. Harmony within the sangha is fundamental, a very important principle,

and this Precept is one way of helping to develop, support, and sustain harmony within

thedharma family.

As the same question we have asked before, how can we practice this Precept when

weare not even in contact with others. Well, when we are alone, we often ruminate, mull

over, incidents that happened. We find ourselves having angry arguments with people

over things that were done in the past, sometimes so far in the past that they are no

longer even real. But the monkey mind has this insidious side, that it carries a grudge.

So seeing only our own faults, not discussing the faults of others, means also in terms

of this internal dialog. Huineng, sixth Patriarch in China, was known for his rather gruff,

you might say, reputation — he did not suffer fools gladly. He was visited by a young

monk, expounding upon the doctrine of the principle of “double vision,” apparently a

known tenet of Buddhism in China. Huineng cut him off rather abruptly, saying “Stop

spreading that dirt around here,” so the story goes, “I will expound, explain this doctrine

of double vision, or double sight, to you. I have this double vision. I see clearly my own

faults; I do not see the faults of others.”

If we assume that this is the absolute truth, coming from a fully awakened being — and

Huineng is the only other ancestor in history whose teachings are considered sutra,

meaning “thread running through” or “thread of the truth,” other than Shayamuni

Buddha; he is the only other one, so he is held in very high reverence — for him to say

this is not an ordinary saying. He is saying that he literally does not see the faults of

others.

We can carry this Precept to a very concrete, or absolute, level; that no matter what

behavior we see in others, we do not see it as a fault. And so, it raises the question,

then how do we see it? How did Huineng see the behavior of others, especially if it was

in error, such as this young monk confusing or distorting this simple doctrine? Or, if we

see somebody doing something damaging, destructive, or disruptive — acting out in

anger,and so forth.

This brings the Precept down to the very concrete level of our activity in our

relationships in daily life, but not reacting as usual. And in our personal life, outside of

relationships,not indulging ourselves in this kind of thinking. So it’s very closely tied to

the seventh, know self and other as one, do not praise yourself at others’ expense.

Seeing and discussing the faults of others, instead of seeing one’s own faults, is a form

of praising oneself, seeing that I am superior to this other person because at least, I do

not do that; or “there but for the grace of God go I.” It’s easy enough to slip into this kind

of mentality, even though our Zen practice, we would think, would encourage the

opposite.

Knowing self and other as one is sometimes interpreted as the deeper meaning of Master Dogen’s fourth stanza, of transition, where he said, paraphrasing:

To study the way is to study the self

To study the self is to forget the self

To forget the self is to be enlightened by all things

To be enlightened by all things is to remove the barrier between

self and others, and go on in traceless enlightenment forever

This is variously translated, but this last line, “remove the barrier between self and

others” often has a kind of New Age cliche interpretation, taken to mean that there is no

separation of self and other, no difference, no distinction; we are all the same. All

opinions are equal, and so forth. In other words, it can be carried to an extreme, this idea

of social unity or unification, expressed in this way. But the social implication — we are

clearly all different from each other — becomes almost a kind of mindless, poetic

expression, when in actuality we are both the same and different from each other; we are

both united and separate in our lives.

This principle of non-duality is not simply resolved by saying we are all one; in Zen we

say, the most we can say is not-two. Knowing self and other as one is expressed

dualistically, a little too one-sided; but praising oneself at others’ expense is pretty clear,

and operative, in that we know when we are doing it, just as we know, for sure, when we

are discussing the faults of others.

So how do we find, in the midst of this entanglement with others, how do we find a way

to, instead, see only our own faults, and know self and other as, in some sense, one? To

derogate others is non-Buddhist; it is equivalent to praising oneself, as if we are not

equally faulty, in our daily life and attitudes.

The eighth Precept, sharing generously, not sparing the dharma assets, is similar; this is

where we overlap with the Paramita Generosity. The dharma assets, as Matsuoka-roshi

mentioned, are not only money, financial contributions, in-kind donations of material

goods, but also giving of ourselves, giving of our time, energy and efforts.

A Disciple or Priest of Zen contributes dana by teaching, leading retreats; even this effort

to record some explanation of the Paramitas, and make it widely disseminated or

available through podcasts. These are all forms of dana, charity, giving, or generosity;

even though the outward behavior can be seen as selfish, self-aggrandizing: being the

teacher instead of the student, and so forth. Again, falling into seeing the faults of others.

But once again, sharing generously would mean that we generously overcome our

tendency to criticize others. And not sparing the dharma assets means that we do what we

can to help others in their practice, as well as our own.

In fact, the best way, the most direct way, to help others with their practice, is by

example. The focus, again, is on our own practice, our dedication, our diligence. This is

not sparing the dharma assets.

It is worth mentioning again that the all of the Precepts are variations on the one

fundamental Precept of Do no harm. We have to apply doing no harm to ourselves as

well as to others. If we can do no harm to ourselves, we are much more likely to find

ourselves doing no harm to others. The chicken or the egg — which comes first? In most

philosophies, or systems, doing no harm to others comes first. We would have to say that,

in Zen, we would probably turn that around 180 degrees. We put the effort and focus on

our own faults, and similarly, in doing no harm to ourselves. And so we do not spare the

dharma assets with regard to ourselves. In other words, we generously allow ourselves to

practice meditation, and in doing so, give ourselves the opportunity to actually come to

apprehend the dharma.

Actualizing harmony, then, especially harmony within the sangha, is an important

principle that we emphasize.

The ninth Precept: do not indulge in anger; anger, here would perhaps be thought of as

being the opposite of harmony. But anger is not always ego. When the child runs in the

street, the mother reacts in fear, and expresses it as anger. She is trying to protect

something very precious, and would be negligent if she did not.

Indulging in anger is not the same as simply feeling anger. The Precept does not suggest

that we never feel anger. Feeling anger is natural in many circumstances. Anger is a

natural response and is justifiable in some cases; perhaps a better word is natural, or

rational, or at least understandable. Sometimes, Zen masters of the past have seemed to

demonstrate extreme anger in their defense of the buddhadharma, when they see it being

distorted or twisted by others, for whatever personal gain, or profit.

So not indulging in anger means not giving way to it, not letting the anger take over. Not

exactly being rational, but allowing oneself to feel anger without the necessity of

speaking out of it, or the necessity of acting out of anger, and even not having to think out

of anger.

Matsuoka-roshi had an interesting, poetic expression that he would say from time to time,

that thinking an angry thought is like cutting water with a knife. The water closes in

directly behind the blade, and it leaves no mark. But speaking out of anger is like cutting

a groove in sand; it takes some time for the wind to smooth it over. Acting out of anger,

then, is like cutting stone; it takes forever for the scars to wear away.

When we consider this analogy, we can see that indulging anger is gradated. It has

degrees of seriousness in its implications. But on the cushion we do not try to avoid

feeling anger. In daily life we do not try to avoid feeling anger. When we feel anger,

instead of suppressing it or acting out of it, we examine it. We try to see its true source.

Where does this anger really come from?

When you were a child, you were angry at certain things; as an adolescent, angry about

different tings, and as an adult, angry about still different things. But the anger was

always essentially the same reaction. And based on fear, or defensiveness of the self.

The true source of anger is pointed at by another analogy that Matsuoka-roshi used,

where there is a rat in a burning house. The rat runs from the smoke, but runs into a wall

of flame. It runs the other way, but comes up against another wall of flame. Pretty soon

the rat finds itself trapped in the corner of a room, with the flames closing in all around.

What does the rat do? This is where Matsuoka-roshi left the story.

You can come up with your own answers to this question. It is based on the parable that

Buddha taught of the children in a burning house. The father tries to attract the children

out of the house, as they are busy playing and do not notice that the house is burning. But

however you answer this question, one thing is for sure: the rat is going to be very angry.

So this is the situation that we are in. We are in a burning house. We don’t know it. We

certainly don’t control it. The flames are closing in. And it’s natural for us to be angry,

that is, to feel anger.

But if we go further and own the anger, or identify with the anger, and, as we say, become

angry, or enraged; then, we don’t really understand the true source of this anger. It is

always present. It doesn’t actually arise with an event that we identify as the cause, or the

trigger. It is more like the energy of the sun, which flares up when there is an anomaly, or

sunspot. The sunspot does not produce the energy. The energy is always there, under the

surface of the sun, at all times.

What we call anger, or any of the other emotions — jealousy, anxiety, fear, et cetera —

is always there, just under the surface. What we are feeling just now, at this moment, we

could say, is a degree of anger. It is not a very intense degree. Body temperature is 96

degrees, so let’s say that we are feeling about 5 degrees more, 100 degrees of anger. We

say when we become really angry, we reach a flashpoint of a crisis, it becomes white-hot.

At all times we are feeling temperature. Sometimes it becomes very hot, sometimes very

cold. We know, theoretically, it can drop to absolute zero, or go through the roof, like the

temperature on the surface of the sun, or at the heart of an atomic bomb.

In the same way, all these emotions that we feel, such as anger, exist on a scale. If we are

aware of this, and understand the true source of the anger, then we are less likely to

correlate it with, or worse yet, create a cause-effect relationship, between those events in

our life that trigger the feeling of anger, and the anger itself. We can cool down. We can

feel the anger at all times. Or fear, at all times. This is a more honest, or we might say,

truer, state of mind, than imagining that at some times we are perfectly happy and free of

anger; and at other times completely enraged, and there is no in-between.

Indulging in anger is, first of all, giving it reality, reifying it, rather than seeing it for what

it really is, seeing from whence it really comes.

This leads to the last, and tenth Precept, knowing intimacy with all things — not

defaming the Three Treasures. Intimacy with all things is not only human emotional,

sentimental, we might say, intimacy, where we share, you know, warts and all, with our

loved ones, and hope not to be rejected. It is not that kind of psychological intimacy.

In Zen, it is a physical intimacy that is close, both in space and in time. This intimacy of

space-time means that the intimacy with all things is something that already is real, or

true. The space between us and others is what joins us to them. Space is not something

that is around us and through which we move, but space is also all through us and all

through others. Just as emptiness is form, space and time have this intimate quality, that

there is no escaping them, that they are universal and absolute,

Knowing intimacy with all things, the third part of Master Dogen’s expression, to forget

the self is to be enlightened by all things, or awakened by all things. When they come

forth, the so-called 10,000 things of the universe, and manifest themselves, this is

Buddhist awakening. When we imagine that we go forth to them, in the sense of

examining, study and so forth, this is called delusion, according to Master Dogen.

Elsewhere he puts it another way, that actually, the Other Shore comes to us; we do not

go to it.

So this intimacy with all things is when the Other Shore manifests here, on this shore. As

Matsuoka-roshi said, we go from the shore of everyday life to the shore of enlightenment,

through the Paramitas and Precepts.

Not defaming the Three Treasures is the result of our knowing intimacy with all things.

We finally come into awareness, or recognition, of the Three Treasures. We see the

Buddha, the Dharma, and Sangha, in all things, and can no longer defame them because

we finally, truly grasp the Three Treasures. Of course, on the conventional or social level,

we try to conduct our daily lives in such a way that we do not give the appearance of

defaming the Three Treasures, although sometimes, it may be difficult to impossible to

avoid doing so.

Precepts, like the rest of the Paramitas, and all of the teachings of the Middle Way,

cannot be intellectually understood. They cannot really be known, prior to direct insight.

In the meantime, we essentially just do our best. A process of correcting; understanding

and accepting that we will definitely fail, and that we must fail, in order to see our

failings. By seeing our failings, in violating a Precept, or not really living up to one of the

Paramitas; by seeing our behavior reflected in the mirror of Zen, we reflexively retake the

vow, or renew the Precept, renewing our commitment to perfecting the Paramitas.

If we never broke the Precepts; if we never failed to practice the Paramitas, none of these

guidelines would exist. They exist only because we fail to live up to them. They would be

invisible if nobody ever made mistakes. If we understand them this way, then we can see

that they are friendly guidelines, to help encourage us to find the Middle Way of

Buddhism.

The Middle Way is often interpreted as kind of a milquetoast, lackadaisical, way of

taking the easy way out. But Zen is the razor’s edge. The Middle Way is precisely the

middle, the most extreme position of all: cutting down the middle, cutting through all of

our confusion. Like Manjusri’s sword, cutting through delusion, all the contradictions.

Not relying on the intellectual mind to try to analyze our way to enlightenment; relying

instead on the intuitive mind to come to awakening.

Exploring this series of eight talks hopefully will bring about a mindset that opens our

awareness to such intuition, and to the dynamic reality of the Paramitas, as functioning

vitally in our daily lives. By combining this study with meditation time on the cushion,

the depth and breadth of the meaning of the Paramitas will become clear, in a way that is

natural to you.

Please join us for the next segment in the series, on perfecting Patience, or Kshanti Paramita.

© 2010 Zenkai Taiun Michael Joseph Elliston

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