What we're really doing in sesshin
Carrying out a schedule that consists only of zazen, meals and sleep, without work periods, dokusan, lectures or liturgy, means we don't have to think about or remember what comes next. The next thing is always zazen. While we each have work assignments during the day with which we care for the sangha and the practice, they are relatively simple and repetitive and we quickly stop anticipating what needs to happen when it's our turn to set up the meal tables or hit the han. Everything happens without talking, so there's no potential or past conversation with others that we need to process. Nothing breaks the sesshin container, even as we move from zazen itself to meal practice or sleep. This allows us to let go of surface thinking, and we may notice that the thinking that does arise comes from a deeper or older place.
At Sanshin, we frequently hear the reminder that "zazen is good for nothing," and also that we don't take that to mean that zazen has no result. While we're not attaching to any particular outcome, we certainly have a direction. Okumura Roshi says that his teacher "was always walking facing the direction he needed to go. That means he was always watching the Buddha. He requested that if we wanted to be his disciple, we should follow his path, walking toward the same direction, using our own legs." That doesn't sound like an invitation to give up responsibility for ourselves and our practice on the premise that zazen is somehow aimless or random. Zazen is good for none of the things that the small self thinks it needs, and it's not done by an individual karmic human that's being driven solely by habituated thinking. However, something happens when we sit down and wake up from the dream of ourselves to become the self that is only the self.
During sesshin it becomes quite clear that all thinking is fabrication. That doesn't make it bad, but it's important to realize, and it really comes home to us when we return from a period of daydreaming to find that we're in the zendo sitting sesshin. Maybe at some point the bell has brought you back from a lovely fantasy and you've realized that for a few minutes (or longer) you've entirely forgotten that you were on a cushion sitting zazen. All of that thinking was a complete fabrication and had nothing to do with your immediate circumstances. But what about the thinking that happens after the daydream, when you're back in the zendo? Is that version of you any more real? If this kind of daydreaming happens in a relatively non-distracting environment like Sanshin-style sesshin, how much more powerful it can be when it's fed by being in relationship with others during a day filled with activities and roles. Removing these "toys" was Uchiyama Roshi's way of helping to ensure that from first to last, our sesshin is one unbroken period of zazen.
Experiencing the self that is only the self is a gateway to studying namarupa (name and form) and the role it plays in the arising of suffering and separation from reality. As soon as our senses come into contact with an object, we immediately give it a name, and that name is often based on the value or function of that object for ourselves. Right away we've set up a relationship between ourselves and the object and determined the nature of that relationship. Without a name and relationship, it's very difficult for humans to think about things. We don't see things as just material; they're not the objects themselves but objects with names, and they take up residence in our consciousness. From this contact and naming comes like and dislike, and from there suffering begins to arise.
How would things be if we could see this process in our minds as it happens? What if we could have contact with an object in the midst of awakening, just take in that sensation and not set up a relationship with it that serves the small self? This is the opportunity we are afforded by sesshin as one continuous period of zazen without drama or distraction. Since we're not required to take action on our thoughts, it's a safe place to simply see what's happening without chasing or avoiding, stay with zazen, and not lose the connection with the self that is only the self. This is not the same as using the mind to stop thinking, which isn't really possible since that's just another thought. Returning to zazen is enough.
At Sanshin, we frequently hear the reminder that "zazen is good for nothing," and also that we don't take that to mean that zazen has no result. While we're not attaching to any particular outcome, we certainly have a direction. Okumura Roshi says that his teacher "was always walking facing the direction he needed to go. That means he was always watching the Buddha. He requested that if we wanted to be his disciple, we should follow his path, walking toward the same direction, using our own legs." That doesn't sound like an invitation to give up responsibility for ourselves and our practice on the premise that zazen is somehow aimless or random. Zazen is good for none of the things that the small self thinks it needs, and it's not done by an individual karmic human that's being driven solely by habituated thinking. However, something happens when we sit down and wake up from the dream of ourselves to become the self that is only the self.
During sesshin it becomes quite clear that all thinking is fabrication. That doesn't make it bad, but it's important to realize, and it really comes home to us when we return from a period of daydreaming to find that we're in the zendo sitting sesshin. Maybe at some point the bell has brought you back from a lovely fantasy and you've realized that for a few minutes (or longer) you've entirely forgotten that you were on a cushion sitting zazen. All of that thinking was a complete fabrication and had nothing to do with your immediate circumstances. But what about the thinking that happens after the daydream, when you're back in the zendo? Is that version of you any more real? If this kind of daydreaming happens in a relatively non-distracting environment like Sanshin-style sesshin, how much more powerful it can be when it's fed by being in relationship with others during a day filled with activities and roles. Removing these "toys" was Uchiyama Roshi's way of helping to ensure that from first to last, our sesshin is one unbroken period of zazen.
Experiencing the self that is only the self is a gateway to studying namarupa (name and form) and the role it plays in the arising of suffering and separation from reality. As soon as our senses come into contact with an object, we immediately give it a name, and that name is often based on the value or function of that object for ourselves. Right away we've set up a relationship between ourselves and the object and determined the nature of that relationship. Without a name and relationship, it's very difficult for humans to think about things. We don't see things as just material; they're not the objects themselves but objects with names, and they take up residence in our consciousness. From this contact and naming comes like and dislike, and from there suffering begins to arise.
How would things be if we could see this process in our minds as it happens? What if we could have contact with an object in the midst of awakening, just take in that sensation and not set up a relationship with it that serves the small self? This is the opportunity we are afforded by sesshin as one continuous period of zazen without drama or distraction. Since we're not required to take action on our thoughts, it's a safe place to simply see what's happening without chasing or avoiding, stay with zazen, and not lose the connection with the self that is only the self. This is not the same as using the mind to stop thinking, which isn't really possible since that's just another thought. Returning to zazen is enough.
