A koan is like a Buddhist teaching riddle.
This one is a favourite of mine. On attachment
and Being Here, Now.
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Wash your bowl
A monk told Joshu, "I have just entered the monastery. Please teach me."
Joshu asked, "Have you eaten your rice porridge?
The monk replied, "I have eaten."
Joshu said, "Then you had better wash your bowl."
At that moment the monk was enlightened.
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Analysis
When we come to practice what do we bring with us? When
you present yourself to a teacher, what do you show?
Here we have the story
of a monk who comes to Chao-chou asking for instruction. Straight-forward
enough, you might say, but in a way, a challenge to Chao-chou: "What do you have
to offer me?"
Chao-chou turns the question back to the monk,
" Have you eaten your rice
gruel?" A seemingly polite inquiry; the host is looking after his
guest. But more subtly, Chao-chou might also be asking, "What have you gotten so
far? What kind of state are you in? Are you hungry or full?"
The monk replies, "Yes, I have." To say we're lacking
something is to fall into a ditch; to say we've accomplished something is to
fall into another. In this story, the monk comes in with some sense of
accomplishment. Nowadays, it is just as common for new students to come in and
display their problems; what they think is wrong with them, what they think
they're lacking that they're hoping Zen will provide. They stretch out their
bowls, and beg, "Feed me!"
Chao-chou, said,
"Wash your bowl." Whatever you've brought with you, what ever you
think you've accomplished - wash it away.
But here's the interesting part:
How do you wash it away? How do you clean your metaphorical, mental bowl of
whatever it is you're carrying around? And the answer is "Wash
your real bowl - not the one up in your head, but the one that's right here in
your hands. Be completely one with the activity of this moment and everything
else disappears - your bowl is spotless. In traditional Zen language, we might
call this washing your bowl without using your hands.
Just be this moment. Wu-men says that Chao-chou
spills his guts - he shows everything that there is to be shown. Just this. How
simple. But, as his verse says, because it's so simple, "so very clear, / it takes so long to
realize." When we see that this moment is all there is - when we
realize that "flame is fire"
(what could be more obvious?) we find that our "rice has long been cooked" - everything
we need we already have.
Now, as I say, all that's sounds simple enough: just
be this moment. But, of course, that's easier said than done - "it takes so long to realize." We wash our
bowls in the present moment, but some of the gunk in there is pretty sticky. We
may need some scouring powder. The way we practice here, the kind of scouring
powder we use, is our awareness of resistance and of difficulty. What intrudes
on our wholehearted functioning in the moment? Expectation. Hope.
Disappointment. All of these. How do we recognize them? By the hallmarks of
resistance: our anger, our fear, our anxiety.
Some of you may have attended the sesshin that fell
on April Fool's Day last year, when we served hot dogs, potato chips and Diet
Pepsi for lunch. That was a meal that stuck to a few bowls! And so we had to
scour away our attachments to purity, to specialness, to always having what's
good and wholesome. Sometimes we just have to take what life serves up and watch
our reaction.
It's how we use the experience of difficulty that
allows use to scour the really persistent attachments that cling to the surface
of our bowls. This is where the practices of Zen and psychotherapy dovetail. Zen
says, "Be just this moment. Therapy says, "Look at all the expectations, all the
hope and dread that you habitually bring to this moment; where did they come
from?" Difficulty is the immediate experience of old expectations of ourselves
or of others being frustrated in some way or another. Not only do we try to
continually bring ourselves back to a pure awareness and attention this moment -
we see that this moment includes all of what we've brought to it - in the
language of this koan, what we've eaten (and not fully digested) before we've
shown up for our first interview with the teacher.
This is the real work of practice: having seen
clearly what clings to our bowls, we wash them clean by washing them clean, by drying, stacking
and putting them away. By being the activity of each moment just as it
is.
