UnMind 24. Heart Sutra Quartet 4: Prajna Paramita Mantra

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24 punctuation.jpg — Prajna means “wisdom,”
Paramita, “perfecting” —
“Mantra,” something else!

The fourth and last section of the Heart Sutra concludes on a more formal note, simply stating and re-stating the central place of the “perfecting of wisdom” in Buddhism, as the mother of all mantras:

Therefore know the prajna paramita
as the great miraculous mantra
the great bright mantra
the supreme mantra
the incomparable mantra
which removes all suffering and is true not false

From a quick online search, we find that the term “mantra” stems from the Sanskrit root man, literally meaning a thought, the thought behind speech or action, related to “mind,” a word or sound repeated to aid concentration in meditation. In modern parlance, it has come to indicate any statement or slogan repeated frequently. In this context, however, it takes on a transcendental, almost magical meaning. In other words, something else.

This mantra is “great, miraculous, bright, supreme, and incomparable, when compared to all others. It calls to mind the line toward the end of Hsinshinming, “Trust in Mind”:

No comparisons or analogies are possible in this causeless, relationless state

This worshipful adulation begs the question: What is so great about the perfecting of wisdom? How is it miraculous? What about it is bright? Supreme? And incomparable?

Of course, with the caveat that these are English translators’ choices for ancient terms in Sino-Japanese, Sanskrit or even Pali, the near-extinct language said to be spoken by Buddha himself. In his time, there may have been many such mantras chanted for their mystical powers, from other sects and religious belief systems. The Sanskrit word “dharani,” which is also sometimes used, means, according to Wikipedia:

A dharani… is a Buddhist chant, mnemonic code, incantation, or recitation, usually a mantra consisting of Sanskrit or Pali phrases. Believed to be protective and with powers to generate merit for the Buddhist devotee, they constitute a major part of historic Buddhist literature. These chants have roots in Vedic Sanskrit literature…

So this construction may derive from an even earlier language from the pre-Hindu period when Vedic praxis was predominant in India. Buddha is sometimes referred to as a reformer who revitalized some of the Vedic practices. In many cases he is clearly using contemporary memes and tropes of the prevailing Hindu context to broach palliative or corrective concepts that differentiate his findings from the received wisdom of the time.

Attributing “incomparable” to the prajna paramita mantra is then understandable in this context. The closing line asserting that this mantra is “true not false,” amongst all the many mantras and dharanis extant at that time, clarifies the claim of its incomparability. Compared to all the others, this one “relieves all suffering,” where they may only relieve a physical or medical malady, or a particular piece of bad karma, even superstitions such as a curse. Master Dogen uses the term “spell” in his translation of Hannya Haramitsu, which indicates the relatively magical and mystical nature he attributed to its meaning of the last stanza:

Therefore we proclaim the prajna paramita mantra
the mantra that says
“Gate Gate Paragate Parasam Gate Bodhi Svaha”

The untranslated mantra is presented in the original language, or in phonetic form rather than translated, as the very sounds are considered to have this power of transformation. Dharani has the connotation of a vessel, or container, that can carry us to the other shore of Nirvana, over the ocean of Samsara, floating on the raft of the Buddha’s teachings. But Master Dogen makes the point that actually, we do not go to the other shore; the other shore comes to us. Our charge in Zen is to realize no separation of Samsara and Nirvana. Samsara is ordinary, everyday life, with all its homeliness and suffering. Nirvana is regarded as complete liberation. But it is not imagined as being another realm, another dimension or universe. There is only one place, just as there is only one practice, in Zen.

This mantra, the perfecting of wisdom, is like the open-ended vow to “save all others,” or better, to help all others save themselves, the Bodhisattva Vow. It is said that when we really take this vow to heart, endless rebirth opens up before us. How many beings are there? How long is it going to take? Where do we start? These are the questions begged by a literal interpretation of the vow. The Bodhisattva path of Zen is one of action.

When asked about “engaged Zen,” Matsuoka Roshi would assume the zazen posture, declaring, “This is the most you can do.” The most we can do for someone else is to share the buddhadharma, no matter how inadequate our own grasp may be. While we do not proselytize, when people come to Zen to learn about it, we share the dharma primarily by teaching Zen’s method of manifesting and understanding it. Much like teaching music, dance, or art, what can be taught is the method. A talented teacher can walk us through the basics of playing an instrument, but they cannot teach us music, or for that matter any of the arts and sciences. The realization of art or scientific insight comes about as a natural turning point, usually only after a great deal of repetition in training.

It is worth touching on some of the living ancestors cited in the Bussorai, the “names of the Buddhas and Ancestors,” who protected and nurtured this face-to-face teacher-student transmission, and kept it intact, down to us today:

Shiki Butsu Daiosho
Bishafu Butsu Daiosho
Kuruson Butsu Daiosho
Kunagonmuni Butsu Daiosho
Kashô Butsu Daiosho

“Butsu” means “Buddha” or fully enlightened one, and “Daiosho” means great and authentic. After these five prehistoric Buddhas, we come to the historical Buddha, Shakyamuni, “Sage of the Shakya clan,” from some 2,500 years ago. He had no teacher in recorded history, though the tradition is that he practiced with the prehistoric Buddhas. Hence, as the founder or historical discoverer of this insight, Buddha is not counted as an ancestor in the enumerated lineage. It begins with his immediate successor, Mahakasyapa, here rendered in the Japanese pronunciation:

Shakamuni Butsu Daiosho
1. Makakashô Daiosho
2. Ananda Daiosho

Note that Buddha’s successors, beginning with Mahakasyapa and including Ananda — who may be more familiar to you, as Buddha’s interlocutor in some important sutras — are not referred to as “butsu,” but only “daiosho.” Halfway through the Indian transmission we find Nagarjuna, number 14 from Buddha, here with the longer pronunciation:

14. Nagyaharajuna Daiosho

Precisely 14 ancestors later, the famous Bodhidharma, the 28th ancestor who is credited with bringing the direct practice of zazen to China, where it became known as Ch’an Buddhism, again in Japanese pronunciation:

28. Bodaidaruma Daiosho
29. Taiso Eka Daiosho
30. Kanchi Sôsan Daiosho

Kanchi Sosan, 30th in line, perhaps better known in Chinese pronunciation, Sengcan, is the author of Hsinhsinming, “Trust in Mind,” the first piece of liturgy from China in the Soto Zen Service. Following in short order we find:

33. Daikan Enô Daiosho
34. Seigen Gyôshi Daiosho
35. Sekitô Kisen Daiosho

Number 33, Daikan Eno, otherwise known as Huineng, is perhaps the most famous of the Chinese lineage, the founder of the so-called “sudden” school, based on his awakening experience without benefit of a teacher or any formal training, the only individual in history like Buddha in this regard. His teaching, the “Platform Sutra,” uniquely amongst the ancestors, is referred to as “sutra,” owing to this anomaly. Number 35, Sekito Kisen, is the author of the second Ch’an poem chanted in Soto liturgy, namely Sandokai, “Harmony of Sameness and Difference.” A few generation or so later, we find:

38. Tôzan Ryôkai Daiosho

“Tozan” is the “To” in Soto Zen, credited with its founding in China, along with one of his students, Sozan, the “So,” though Ungo Doyo is listed in our lineage as his successor. Tozan, more commonly known as Dongshan, is the author of the third and final Ch’an poem chanted in the Soto liturgy, Hokyo Zammai, “Precious Mirror Samadhi.” Now we jump a few generations to the end of our Soto lineage in China, with:

50. Tendô Nyojô Daiosho
51. Eihei Dôgen Daiosho

Here we find, in 51st and 50th place, respectively, Eihei Dogen, founder of Soto Zen in Japan, and his teacher, Tendo Nyojo, also known as Rujing. It should also be pointed out that Master Dogen, in Japanese rendered as Dogen Zenji, had a double lineage, first from Rinzai in Japan, as well as later in China from Soto. On the silk certificate called the “bloodline,” or ketchimyaku, that we copy as part of the transmission ceremony, the Rinzai ancestry is listed down one side, the Soto down the opposite side, coming back together in Dogen Zenji’s name. And thus, so do we share Rinzai ancestry, along with Soto. It is in our Zen DNA. In many modern cases the lineages were mixed, and today several American Zen priests are direct dharma heirs of both Rinzai and Soto teachers.

As we proceed from ancient history to more modern times, we are the beneficiaries of an accumulation of available teachings from these masters. Master Dogen was not the most prolific writer of his time, but he is the most highly regarded, now considered the “greatest thinker” in the history of Japan. Which is ironic, as he emphasized “non-thinking” And he left his students and Zen followers of today a veritable treasure trove in his Shobogenzo, “Treasury of the True Dharma Eye.” Then into the transmission in Japan we find:

52. Koun Ejô Daiosho
53. Tettsû Gikai Daiosho
54. Keizan Jôkin Daiosho
55. Gasan Jôseki Daiosho
(55. Meiho Sotetsu Daiosho)

Koun Ejo at #52 was Dogen’s immediate successor, who apparently devoted most of his career to collecting and codifying his teacher’s prolific literary and spoken output, much as I have done, with a little help from my friends, for Matsuoka Roshi’s literate legacy.

At number 54, we find Keizan Zenji, who, a few generations after Dogen Zenji, spread his teachings widely throughout Japan, and is credited with the establishment of many Soto Zen monasteries. He is sometimes referred to as the “mother” of Soto Zen in Japan, while Dogen is referred to as the “father.”

After Keizan, the lineages split into many, as he had many successors, or dharma heirs. The first number 55 is Gasan Joseki Zenji, in Matsuoka Roshi’s lineage. He would be considered Sensei’s dharma grandfather, which makes Keizan his great-grandfather. This is where the lineage becomes shockingly present, nearer to our times than we imagined.

In the Kodo Sawaki lineage, which we also share, owing to my transmission from Shohaku Okumura Roshi, Meiho Sotetsu Zenji, in parentheses at number 55, would then be the dharma grandfather of Okumura Roshi’s dharma father, Uchiyama Roshi. With Keizan Zenji being the common link to the ancients, between our two lineages.

Nearly 40 names after Dogen, at number 88, we find Zengaku Soyu Daiosho, Sensei’s dharma names. The first name, Soyu, is given at initiation, in Japanese jukai. The second, or gago name, comes with a later ceremony on the formal path, in the Matsuoka lineage. In other lineages, both names are given at the initial ceremony. Zengaku means Zen mountain, I am told, and Soyu is Sino-Japanese for one of the Ten Epithets of the Buddha, meaning something like “controller of men,” or “one who is infallible in controlling men’s minds.” At number 87, we find Sensei’s father’s name:

87. Bukkai Sentoyu Daiosho
88. Zengaku Sôyû Daiosho (3x)

In chanting the Bussorai, it is customary to chant your teacher’s name three times at the end. We also ring bells with select outstanding names in the lineage, and sometimes with each name, making a bow with each bell.

On my certificates, my name follows Sensei’s; in the Sawaki lineage if follows Okumura Roshi’s; and my students’ names, one at a time, follow mine, so my dharma heirs, four to date, are all in the 90th generation. A connection between the two lineages we found on our latest journey to Japan is that Matsuoka Roshi would have been at Komazawa University at the same time that Kodo Sawaki Roshi was a professor there. They would have practiced zazen together in the same zendo we sat in.

All this recitation of the ancestors’ names may have the unintended consequence of seeming to imply that I, your humble instructor, may have let this go to my head. I harbor no delusions of grandeur regarding this heritage, I assure you. In fact, it is humbling to even consider the magnitude of the effort of these 90 or so overlapping lives in transmitting the practice of Zen over so many centuries, and through so many countries and cultures. It could not have been easy. If you do the math, 2,500 years divided by 90 names, you get an average span of about 28 years, over a quarter of a century that it took for one teacher to hand this off to a student worthy of being a successor, to which the former entrusted the latter.

The meditation that our teachers have handed down to us for 88 generations, in a relatively unbroken, face-to-face transmission, is like this. This prajna paramita cannot be taught directly, but may be said to be the “what” of what has been transmitted through zazen, beginning long ago in the forgotten fog of prehistory.

I feel fortunate to find myself in a country where there is only about 100 years of Zen to date. Some wag said the first 50 to 100 years are the hardest. But I cannot imagine living in Japan, Korea, China or India, as a representative of Buddhism or Zen, with all the weight of that tradition on my shoulders. Better to be in America, where there can be little to no expectations of what level of performance I should live up to. We cannot side-step the responsibility of the legacy and lineage that we carry, but it is a light burden.

We do not disregard the vast scope of the undertaking with a facile, self-serving interpretation. Nor do we throw our hands up, in despair. Instead, we accept the impossibility of the situation, and get on with it. We may not be able to save all beings, but we can at least try to do our best, in all humility.

We do not expect of ourselves — and our ancestors would not have expected of us — a faultless execution of our charge. As Master Dogen said, “Fall down seven times, get up eight.” I will leave to you to meditate upon why he did not say “get up seven.” He also is said to have remarked that the Zen life is just one long mistake. We cannot succeed in Zen or any other endeavor, without permission to fail. At least, that is my story and I am sticking to it.