A Life of Dogen by John M Evans. In the Zen Masters Series.

Dogen was born in the year 1200 to an aristocratic family from Kyoto, the capital of Imperial Japan. When his mother died, he was adopted by the Regent. It was certain that he could look forward to a bright future at Court. Consequently, he was given the wide-ranging education necessary for a nobleman, and acquired many of the worldly skills of a high-ranking gentleman.

At the age of thirteen, however, some inner prompting forced him to abandon his political connections and seek the protection of an uncle who was an influential figure in the Buddhist Tendai school. A year later he was ordained and learning the syncretic and socially-aware doctines practised by this school.

That Dogen was not totally convinced by the Tendai teachings is borne out by the fact that within a year he was consulting Eisai, the Zen master who had introduced the Rinzai school into Japan. It is also said that he was pointed in the direction of Zen by a Tendai priest, no doubt spotting an incipient impatience with the school’s more elaborate doctrines and rites.

It says much for the basic unity of the Buddhist schools in Japan at that time that he continued to study Tendai contemplation methods, even after he had become formally associated with Rinzai Zen. In his later teaching phase, however, Dogen was to drop the rituals of esotericism from his own school of Zen. He described his early training and its set-backs in a lecture to an assembly of his student monks:

When I was quite young, the realization of the
transiency of this world stirred the mind towards
seeking the Way. After leaving Mt. Hiel, I visited
many temples during my practice of the Way, but until
I arrived at Kenninji I had yet to meet a real
teacher or a good friend. I was deluded and filled
with erroneous thoughts. The teachers I had seen
had advised me to study until I could be as learned
as those who had preceded me. I was told to make
myself known to the state and to gain fame in the
world…But on opening (books of biographies) and
on learning about the great priests and Buddhists
of China, I could see that their approach differed
from those of my teachers…By even thinking about
fame, I would be disgracing the old men of wisdom
and the men of good will to come, while earning a fine
name among inferior persons of this period. If I
wanted to emulate someone, it should be the former
sages and eminent priests of China and India,
rather than those of Japan…My physical and
mental makeup changed completely.

After Eisai’s death, he continued his connection with the Zen school through Myozen, the master’s successor, and finally became his disciple some three years later, at the age of eighteen. Such was his talent and application that, at twenty-one, Dogen was recognized as Myozen’s successor in the Oryu branch of the Rinzai Zen school.

There followed a visit to China, at that period the land of the Holy Grail, with his master, Myozen. It seems though that they were rather restricted by the political conditions then prevailing and could not travel much outside the Eastern part of the Empire. It is possible that this did not weigh too heavily on Dogen as he soon realized he had nothing to learn from any of the Zen masters there. It was a classic case of the pupil outstripping the teachers. He decided to return to Kyoto.

In the end he was persuaded to see one more master, Nyojo, and found his final teacher, staying on in his monastery for two years. His enlightenment came during this period of study and intensive meditation. Given his early preoccupation with words, it is perhaps not surprising that the trigger for his realisation came in the form of a rebuke by Nyojo to a sleeping monk.

“The study of Zen requires the shedding of body and mind.”

At this Dogen achieved great enlightenment. In his twenty-eighth year he returned to Japan having “completed his life’s study”.

Now Read Part 3

A Life of Bankei by John M Evans. Part of the Zen Masters Series.

Bankei’s main objective now was to have his enlightenment confirmed by other advanced Zen masters. His own master, Umpo, commented that the experience was the marrow of Bodhidharma’s bones, but Bankei wanted more than that.

His travels took him to Nagasaki, where the Chinese priest, Dosha Chogen had been installed in a temple. Dosha, who always retained the respect of Bankei, was impressed by the young man. He had certainly penetrated to the Self, he agreed. “But you still have to clarify the matter beyond, which is the essence of our school.”

Bankei was nonplussed at this news. He had thought that his satori was the final opening of truth. In time, he came to accept what Dosha said and stayed on at the temple for further post-enlightenment training, much to the discomfiture of the other monks who felt he was receiving preferential treatment. However, within a year Bankei “clarified the matter beyond” while meditating in the zendo early one morning.

When he approached Dosha with the tidings, one of those curious Zen set-pieces took place, which are mystifying to the unenlightened mind. Bankei picked up a brush and wrote, in Chinese — for Dosha could speak no Japanese — “What is the ultimate matter of Zen?”

Dosha then brushed, “What matter?” To which Bankei just extended his arms. When Dosha again picked up the brush, Bankei grabbed it and flung it away. Following this apparent display of bad manners, he stood up, swung his deep Chinese sleeves and left. We can be sure that Dosha was well pleased.

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A Life of Bankei by John M Evans. Part of the Zen Masters Series.

What I call “nirvanoception” is the third, usually latent, mode of knowledge. I say “usually latent” because we’re mostly unaware of it. We freely use body-mind modes of “perception” (senses) and “conception” (mind) to navigate around our world, while remaining completely in the dark about “space consciousness”, which is working in the background.

Normal consciousness is narrowly focused in our heads. Nirvanoception is wide, space consciousness, which takes no heed of trivial daily concerns. It clarifies during nirvanic experiences because perception and conception are “left behind” with the body-mind.

The aim of any spiritual path is to clean up the doors of perception and conception so that nirvanoception shines brightly in our consciousness. To be precise, it’s how Nirvana experiences itself.

Seventeenth-century Japanese Zen Master, Bankei, made nirvanoception the whole basis of his method. The following is a serialization of his life:

A layman approached Bankei and said: “Master, it is said that you can read people’s minds. If this is the case what am I thinking right now?”

Bankei replied: “You are thinking that.”

Like most Zen masters, Bankei had a droll sense of humour which he often displayed in a self-effacing manner. At other times he would use it remorselessly against an arrogant interlocutor, or as a sharp pointer to the truth when he judged that an intellectual bubble had to be burst. Humour is a natural accompaniment to Zen because it feeds on hubris and paradoxical situations. The following mondo (Zen conversation) is typical:

A monk asked T’ou Tzu, a Chinese master of the T’ang period: “I have heard that all sounds are the voice of the Buddha.”

“Yes, you are right,” said T’ou Tzu.

“Am I also right that all assertions, no matter how derogatory, are reflections of absolute truth?”

“Yes, you are right,” replied the master.

“May I then call you a donkey?”

In many ways Bankei (1622-1693) resembled the old Zen masters of the T’ang Dynasty, whose teachings were vibrant with austere insights expressed in a direct and simple style. Though he lived more than a thousand years after the time of Bodhidharma, and over eight hundred since Hui Neng, Huang Po and Rinzai, Bankei was out of Zen’s top drawer. He was also a highly original interpreter of Buddhism.

Dr. D.T. Suzuki, who rescued his work from obscurity, said of him: “His ‘Unborn Zen’ espoused a fresh departure for the first time since…Bodhidharma. Unborn Zen is truly one of the most original developments in the entire history of Zen thought. Bankei, indeed, must be considered one of the greatest masters that Japan has ever produced.”

The scene is the Winter Retreat of 1690 at the Ryumon-ji temple, which was founded by Bankei himself. In the assembly hall are gathered 1,683 people: priests, masters, novices and laity. They come from all the major Buddhist sects in Japan, Soto and Rinzai Zen, Shingon, Nichiren, Tendai, Jodo and Jodo Shin. The atmosphere, though calm befitting a Buddhist gathering, is expectant, for Bankei is the greatest preacher of his age, likened by his scribe to the Buddha himself.

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Here are a few quotes from the Dalai Lama’s recent book, The Many Ways to Nirvana :

“So we must make clear what the Tibetan Buddhist tradition actually is. It is the pure tradition of Nalanda [the ancient Buddhist university in India] … Unfortunately, Tibetan Buddhism is sometimes presented in its superficial aspects, with masks and countless rituals. In this, I think, there is real danger of misunderstanding Buddha Dharma.”

Q : Westerners don’t progess as quickly on the Vajrayana path [The Diamond Way, based on the Tantra] as the Tibetans do. Would you agree?

“In the Tibetan society as well, even though there are many who practise Tantra, there are very few who have the realization as explained in the Tantric texts.”

Q : How important is the method?

“That is extremely important. Because if you are able to follow a method and select a path which is relevant and suitable to your mental disposition, it will be much more effective.

“So, you see, the Buddhist way of practice begins with study. Study by hearing, by reading, just by absorbing information! Once you gather that information, you have to analyse it yourself. Don’t just rely on Buddha’s quotations. Rely instead on your investigations and experiments.”

It’s clear just from these few extracts, and indeed from the whole book, that the Dalai Lama stands firmly in the tradition of Gautama Buddha. If that sounds an obvious thing to say, it isn’t.

The Buddha believed in free inquiry (The Kalama Sutra). He challenged his hearers to find the truth for themselves, not to take his words as gospel. He discouraged a “cult of personality” forming around him. I’m not a god, was his constant message to those with ears to hear. Empiricism and scepticism, coupled with direct experience, made up his creed. How many of today’s Buddhists are “hearers” of the Buddha’s words?

Judging by the Dalai Lama’s book, he at least can make that claim.

My own book, The Nirvaneans — The Natural History of Nirvana will be published by Humdrumming on June 21 next year.