In this episode and the previous one, I do something radical and share my experience of a sesshin I recently attended, describing it day by day. There are many reasons not to do this, and I went into those reasons in the last episode (part one), where I also described my first two full days of retreat. In this episode I describe days 3-5 and make some closing remarks.
Quicklinks to Article Content:
My Sesshin: Third Full Day
My Sesshin: Fourth Full Day
My Sesshin: Fifth Full Day
Conclusion
My Sesshin: Third Full Day
Looking back at my notes, it appears that my third day of sesshin was the primary day of insight. Before I share them, however, I want to say something about how they arose. You may assume that on the third day I was finally able to settle into some good zazen. You may assume my mind got still and I was able to penetrate the fog of delusion and investigate the nature of Reality for the answers to my questions. Sadly – or is it happily? – it’s not that straightforward. Frankly, I can’t even remember exactly how my insights occurred. I can say they didn’t penetrate a state of torpor like a bolt of lightning. I was more alert, in part because the weather had cooled. My mind was more settled, although not through any willful effort on my part but rather through the cumulative effect of being in the simplified environment of sesshin.
In Zen, realizations are rarely experienced in a dramatic way, through sensations or perceptions that seem utterly removed from the way you experience things in everyday life. Even incredibly significant, life-changing insights are almost never transcendent visions achieved by strenuous meditation leading to radically altered states of mind and body. Instead, Zen insights are achieved by increasing your sensitivity to what is already evident. The psychological and emotional impact of an insight may be profound, but the insight itself is like looking down and observing you have five fingers on your hand (or, however many fingers you happen to have).
Zen realizations are brought about by a mysterious alchemy of intention, curiosity, passion, and attention – but not through willful grasping for insight. One of insights from this day of sesshin pertained to exactly this: No need to work yourself into a special state or demand another special message of confirmation from the Ineffable; just look, just ask. It certainly wasn’t the first time I realized this was the case, but unquestionably the truth of it became even more clear to me. I experienced once again how opening up to the Truth was not a matter of discipline, but a sincere choice to put aside my usual preoccupations – doing so with the utmost sincerity, without the slightest judgment about those preoccupations.
Seeking insight from outside ourselves presumes we are separate from the Dharma, from the Truth, while the only reason we can awaken to the Truth is because we are also It. The Truth pervades and includes us. My faith in the Dharma was refreshed when I re-experienced the fact that the refuge of Dharma is not based in me, or even in my insight into the Dharma, but in Reality itself. I aspire to wake up to the extent that, when someone asks me a question, I do not consult my notes – mental or otherwise – but look around me at that very moment and respond based on what I perceive directly.
Two other sweet insights are worth noting, as long as I’m committing the crime of journaling sesshin. One is practical, the other rather subtle and profound. First, it occurred to me: You are capable of seeing all beings you encounter as being as innocent and precious as children – so why don’t you? When petty self-interest is dropped, there naturally arises good will, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity toward all beings. This is a state far preferable to the defensive, anxious, stingy experience of self-concern. Why do we choose self-concern over and over, instead of the freedom of good will and generosity? Of course, when we’re talking about habit energy, it’s not so easy to differentiate between behavior you have a choice about and that over which you have no control. At any given moment, I might be incapable of making the choice to drop my self-concern – but it makes a big difference to know that it is, at least in theory, a matter of choice.
Second, I was sitting with the question of the world’s destruction in my heart – not thinking about it or consciously working on it, but this question remained a sincere part of my experience: “What solace does the Dharma offer in the face of the destruction of the world?” An answer came to me: No solace. These internally spoken words were not negative or discouraging. Instead, they were uttered gently and compassionately, with the quiet power of truth. My heart responded with sadness, but also with relief; some truths are painful to face, but once we finally do so, there is something clean and grounding about the experience. We know where we stand, and how to move forward.
Like so many insights, my clarification that the Dharma does not offer us solace in the face of the destruction of the world was primarily an insight into my own delusion. The truth is simply what’s left after our delusion falls away. I recognized how part of me remained subtly attached to the idea that some aspect of the Dharma could be employed to fix the problems of the world. If properly explored, the Dharma would yield a recipe for an ideal society or prescribe a clear path for us to follow to avoid complicity in humanity’s destruction. It would, in short, give us the answers we need for navigating this complex and troubled world. However, while the Buddhist teachings give us excellent guidelines for conducting ourselves ethically and generously, it remains up to us to make the best decisions we can depending on each situation. To search the Dharma for graspable, enduring solutions to our daily life problems is like trying to hammer a nail into wood using a drill. It’s the wrong tool for the job.
I also saw how – even accepting a lack of graspable, enduring solutions from the Dharma – I remained subtly attached to the hope that practice can allow us to achieve a state of mind where we are no longer troubled by the state of the world – that Dharma practice can somehow inoculate us against terror, horror, anger, and loss. Part of me wishes that when I encounter people who are struggling with the very real challenges of the phenomenal world – pain, separation from loved ones, poverty, injustice, senseless destruction, loneliness, mental and physical illness – there was some Dharma teaching I could offer which would make it all seem okay. I wish there was some Dharma perspective I could offer which would allow us to experience terrible things as if they were wonderful things. We could thereby spend our whole lives with a big smile on our face, embracing torment with the same relish as we embrace pleasure.
The refuge of the Dharma, however, is neither a magical prescription for fixing the phenomenal world, nor a type of spiritual alchemy allowing us to turn pain into pleasure (or at least into something neutral). The rewards of practice are much subtler than we might hope, but that doesn’t mean they are any less liberating. The Dharma gives us the strength to be present with life as it is. When we show up wholeheartedly, there is a very good chance our hearts will break, but this is no cause for fear. The breaking will transform and open us, allowing us to respond appropriately to whatever arises. Such authentic presence is infinitely more helpful – to us and to others – than fixating on a solution or making an argument for peace of mind based on some preconceived notion. It may sound strange to say we can experience fear without fear, anguish without anguish, anger without anger, but there it is. The Dharma gives us a larger perspective which allows the full range of human experience without the unnecessary addition of existential angst or dread.
My Sesshin: Fourth Full Day
Upon waking on the fourth full day of sesshin, I was struck by how my back pain actually decreases during sesshin. Ordinarily, muscle tightness in my lower back increases over the course of the night, so I feel quite stiff when I wake up. (Not something I’m inviting advice about, FYI.) At sesshin, I do not wake up with this stiffness. I can’t be sure, but I attribute the difference to my state of mind. In retreat my mind may wander, but my intention is to set aside all the worries and responsibilities of my daily life to be present for whatever is happening right here, right now. Outside of retreat, I often let my mind run, anticipating and planning for all the things I have to do in the next few hours, or day, or week. At this sesshin, I saw more clearly than ever before the cost of allowing my mind to leap ahead, and subsequently I’ve been trying to do less of it throughout my days.
The fourth day of sesshin was kind of a blur. It again involved a lot of endurance – of heat, torpor, intestinal discomfort, back pain, and repeatedly see-sawing between a little bit too much effort and not enough. I wasn’t oblivious, it’s just that after several days of sesshin, life gets very simple. Just sit, just chant, just eat, just work, just rest. What can be said about it? And yet it isn’t boring at all… boredom is just a subtle form of dukkha we experience when we judge our current circumstances to be unworthy of our attention and engagement. Once we settle into sesshin and let go of our usual sense of time, nothing is boring. Nothing is particularly exciting, either, but that’s fine. Life feels perfectly sufficient.
I’ll share the notes I jotted down throughout day number four. Some are about things I noticed (to call them “insights” might be a bit grandiose), and some are questions that arose. Sometimes fresh questions are every bit as valuable as insights:
1. Opening to intimacy in zazen: Any agenda whatsoever obstructs. Let reality permeate and be gently curious. Let the question become wordless. As our mind settles down in sesshin (relatively speaking, anyway), the practice of zazen becomes more subtle. The overt effort we make can become less and less and less… until, for moments, we really are just sitting – alert and attentive, as if anything could happen. Of course, ten minutes later we might again be struggling just to accept the pain in our knee, but it often becomes a little easier over days of sesshin to find our way back to the simplicity.
2. This flesh melts away – what is lost? I had a vision (that is, a mental image, not a hallucination) of the flesh and then the bones of my hands melting away. I felt untroubled. I’m not saying, of course, that I would actually feel untroubled if my hands melted away in real life. But this vision pointed to a sense of disidentification with my body that brought freedom from fear and anguish. Significantly, it had nothing to do with holding a sense that I was something other than my body, and therefore insulated from the workings of impermanence. There just was no sense of I.
3. Part of my character is a Complainer who chatters away in the background of my mind, dwelling bitterly on the careless, self-absorbed, greedy, inconsiderate actions of others when they cause me the slightest discomfort or inconvenience. Sometimes sesshin can feel like a mild but very annoying form of torture because you are deprived of any distractions from the habitual chattering of your own mind. At times it can feel like some particularly peevish or overwrought voice within you recognizes it has the chance to take center stage for once and proceeds to natter on endlessly no matter what you do. In this sesshin I saw very clearly that I’m a big baby when it comes to my physical comfort. (Sharing this just in case you think all insights are profound in nature.)
4. Despite discomfort, moments of realizing It is never apart from this very place. Still, slowly chewing and choking down bite after bite of a giant bowl of dry, mealy beans you took too much of because you overestimated your appetite and assumed they would come with some kind of dressing… although part of you knows, this too, how strong and stubborn is the part that rejects the whole experience!
5. Seeing the state of the world, the bodhisattva, knowing beings as she does, is moved by great compassion but is not surprised.
My Sesshin: Fifth Full Day
It’s difficult not to hope that my final day of sesshin will feel like a culmination of my efforts – that it will feel more calm, more spacious, more enjoyable, and be more full of insights than any of the previous days. On occasion it has been like this, but the primary thing I’ve learned after decades of sesshin is you can’t predict what it will be like, and any expectations just get in the way. Knowing I was going to cheat and share the story of my sesshin, I was especially conscious of a wish for a rewarding fifth day to tell you about so you would be encouraged to attend sesshin. Oh well.
I continued showing up, enduring discomfort and heat, and repeatedly letting go of an agenda. It helped to view the day as something to be experienced without nurturing any delusions of control. Still, it isn’t just a matter of sitting there like a sack of potatoes, letting the hours pass. The practice of zazen includes an effort to be awake and alert, so when alertness eludes us, zazen is a continual and exhausting effort.
On this last day, I was relentlessly pulled into habits of mind – long trains of thought that bore no relevance to my current experience. Whenever I would wake up from the dream of thought, I did my best expand my awareness to include everything, without judgment or agenda. It’s so easy to view the habits of one’s mind as moral failings, or a sign of weak practice. That human wish for things to be otherwise arises as quickly and naturally as the desire to be free of the bite of a fly. So, I expand my awareness to include my frustration as well.
In the afternoon, I was dreading the post-Dharma-Talk session of zazen in the sweltering zendo. Surprise surprise – we were invited to go outside and sit. It wasn’t that much cooler outdoors, but there was a nice breeze that made all the difference. Ah… so easy to sit when things are pleasant! A little insight visited me during this sit regarding the intimacy we are opening up to in zazen: Growth in intimacy can’t come from a place of supplication, neediness, or longing, but from a place of sufficiency.
The last evening of sesshin was, I’m sorry to say, a miserable test of endurance. The heat continued and the air in the zendo was motionless. By the end, I was experiencing restless leg syndrome while sitting – something that almost never happens to me, quite unpleasant, bordering on painful. I repeated a mantra as I sat there, “No problem… no problem…” I can’t say I was convinced there was no problem at a conscious level, but I imagine the endurance I’ve cultivated at sesshin will serve me well someday, in a very different challenging circumstance.
Conclusion
So, there you have it, a summary of my sesshin experience. I want to emphasize again that every sesshin is different, so hopefully you won’t draw any conclusions from my experience about what to expect from your own sesshin.
Given the challenges and unpleasantness I experienced in this sesshin, you may wonder why I view it as crucial to my practice. Isn’t there some other way – some less painful, less annoying, less time-consuming way – to achieve the same aim? In my opinion, no, there is no other way. Sesshin is like zazen on steroids. Zazen is about making time and space for being intimate with life just as it is – in 30-60 minute blocks. Before and after zazen we are caught up in our daily activities. We can sit for as long as it’s fairly easy or pleasant, and then go off and occupy ourselves with something else. We can avoid bringing certain things to the meditation seat with us, because we only have to hold them at bay for an hour or so.
Sesshin extends the intention of zazen across multiple days, and by necessity includes daily activities like eating, sleeping, and working. Sesshin includes times when you feel like being present and times when you don’t. It includes pain and bliss, annoyance and gratitude, calm and agitation. It includes habits of mind and body which will inevitably make themselves known over the course of many days of practice. It will stimulate preferences, awaken longings, poke at insecurities, and arouse ambitions. Can we build tolerance for all of it? Make peace with all of it? Become intimate with all of it? Only then can we see the true nature of Life, and be one with It.
