using the arrow buttons.
by clicking on the page.
the page around when zoomed in by dragging it.
the zoom using the slider when zoomed-in.
by clicking on the zoomed-in page.
by entering text in the search field, and select "This Issue" or "All Issues"
by clicking on thumbnails to select pages, and then press the print button.
displays sections with thumbnails and descriptions.
displays a slider of thumbnails. Click on a page to jump.
allows you to browse the full archive.
about your subscription?
Buddhadharma : Fall 2014
FALL 2 0 1 4 BUDDHADHARMA: THE PRACTITIONER’S QUARTERLY 29 to the softest of invitations—a long-ringing bell, a flickering star—we embark on a journey into the jumbled peaks of our suffering and of the suffering world. As we learn to open and allow more of the world in, we hear the sorrow that lies beneath the anger in the voice that criticizes us. We feel our own shame, nearly to the point of incapac- itation, in that moment. We begin to open to truths embedded in our interactions with others, and we slowly come to see our own part in the conflict. We serve by giving our awareness to each painful situation. We allow whatever is there to be there. Every subtle movement of feeling is just what it is. This is the voice that calls us home. This is home. No one asks us to do this work, and for the most part we didn’t come to the Way for it. But we do it nonetheless, cultivating a path of opening to, and seeing into, our karmic inheri- tance as we struggle to come to terms with what is most obdurate in us. When we take this on, we undertake to prac- tice with devotion to the end of our lives. This means accepting disappointment without giving up, and enduring in the face of discouragement. All of this requires courage, understood here as the quality that carries us beyond petty resistance and self-pity. Having made the commitment, it’s good to keep going. There’s still so much (who knows how much?) to be discovered. It’s as though we’ve found our way into a dark cave. We grope our way forward. We glimpse a stalac- tite and see what looks like water glimmering in the dark. Is it a lake? How far back does it go? By undertaking service to the essential, we learn to distinguish stream from lake, stalactite from stalagmite, and we begin to emerge from the shadows. Even with our ordinary activity— bathing, cleaning our teeth, squinting in the steamy mirror to comb our hair—we make the subterranean caverns eloquent, no less than the night of turning stars. self-congratulatory notions of service disappear in such moments—we simply help the child with her homework or push the neighbor’s car when its battery is dead. Enlightenment is as enlighten- ment does. For whom have you washed off your splendid makeup? The reference to removing makeup conjures the image of a woman, well versed in the ways of the world, who decides to wash off her makeup and commit to the one she loves. This is Dong- shan’s image for renouncing worldliness to com- mit to the Buddha Way. Most of us are not in a position to renounce our worldliness, so to bring the verse into closer accord with contemporary lay experience, I will reframe Dongshan’s ques- tion as Robert Aitken does: “For whom do you bathe and make yourself presentable?” This is a koan of daily custom. In it, the “for whom”—or more aptly, the “who”—disappears into the fact of our showering, drying our hair, and dabbing on deodorant. There is nothing ulte- rior here, nothing hidden. Our being born is like this. Our dying too. The cuckoo’s call urges you to return. “To return” is the integrity of practice, and we do this undeterred by any awakening experi- ence we may have had. In this spirit, Yamada Koun, after his great awakening, practiced every day for the rest of his life with what some might regard as a beginner’s koan: “Who is hearing that sound?” The wind on our faces—our ever-faithful breath—calls to us, as us. As we move into accord with this, our half-lives become a life. With repeated returning, over time, the genuine person emerges. We emerge in our true colors. The hundred flowers have fallen, yet the call is unending, moving deeper and still deeper into jumbled peaks. Even though our delusions fall away, still the call continues to draw us into greater depth. Our heart yearns for its release, and that too is the call. The heart’s yearning is its release. With the confidence that comes from our surrender (Opposite) ABoxofKu#373 DONGSHAN LIANGJIE (807–869; Jpn. Tozan Ryokai) was a teacher in China during the Tang Dynasty. Eleventh in the Zen line that began with Bodhidharma, Dongshan is considered the founder of the Caodong (Soto) school. His teachings remain alive to Zen practitioners today, specifically through his “Precious Mirror Samadhi,” which is chanted daily in Soto temples, and the Five Ranks, a system he developed that contains within it the Cycle of Merit.