Buddhist and Zen masters through the ages have begged us not to “waste time.” What does this really mean? How do we know if we’re wasting time, and does it really matter?
Quicklinks to Article Content:
The Precious Opportunity of Human Life
The Teaching “Do Not Waste Time”
Interpreting “Wasting Time” for a Lay Life
Living in the Floating World without Wasting Time
Knowing for Ourselves when We’re Wasting Time
How to Not Waste Time
As I have shared on the podcast a number of times before, there is a short verse that is often chanted in Zen monasteries at the very end of the day, before people go off to sleep:
Let me respectfully remind you, Life and death are of supreme importance. Time swiftly passes by and opportunity is lost. Each of us should strive to awaken. . . . . . awaken, take heed. Do not squander your life.”
In Episode 215 (We Will Die Soon: Contemplating Impermanence to Motivate Practice) I talked about how contemplating impermanence – specifically our own mortality, which we will encounter much sooner than we expect – can lend to a sense of urgency to our practice. In this episode I want to explore in more depth the idea of “squandering your life” or “wasting time.” Buddhist and Zen masters through the ages have begged us not to “waste time.” What does this really mean? How do we know if we’re wasting time, and does it really matter?
The Precious Opportunity of Human Life
In his essay “Fukanzazengi,” or “Recommending Zazen to All People,” Zen master Dogen says (this translation by Kaz Tanahashi):
Having received a human life, do not waste the passing moments. Already upholding the buddha way, why would you indulge in the sparks from a flint? After all, form is like a dewdrop on the grass. Human life is like a flash of lightning, transient and illusory, gone in a moment.”[i]
In Buddhism, being born as a human has always been regarded as a precious and rare opportunity. Being human and encountering the Dharma (the Buddhist teaching) is believed to be even more remarkable. In the Pali Canon Chiggala Sutta (The Hole; this translation by Thanissaro Bhikkhu), the Buddha says:
“Monks, suppose that this great earth were totally covered with water, and a man were to toss a yoke with a single hole there. A wind from the east would push it west, a wind from the west would push it east. A wind from the north would push it south, a wind from the south would push it north. And suppose a blind sea-turtle were there. It would come to the surface once every one hundred years. Now what do you think: would that blind sea-turtle, coming to the surface once every one hundred years, stick his neck into the yoke with a single hole?”
“It would be a sheer coincidence, lord, that the blind sea-turtle, coming to the surface once every one hundred years, would stick his neck into the yoke with a single hole.”[ii]
Buddha says it is likewise a sheer coincidence that we attain the human state, and that we encounter the Dharma.
An unusual and fortunate alignment of circumstances allows us to practice deeply. If you had been born as a dog, or a fly, you would probably not have the intelligence, self-awareness, or spiritual aspiration to practice. If you had been born into difficult circumstances – for example, into slavery, in extreme poverty, or in the middle of a war zone – you might not have the freedom, time, or resources to sit meditation, study the Dharma, or spend time with Sangha. If you had not encountered Buddhist teachings and teachers, perhaps you would have found some other spiritual path, even one of your own making, but if you’re anything like me, you feel incredibly grateful for Buddhism and meditation.
What is it we’re supposed to be doing with this precious human life? We are aiming to awaken to Reality-with-a-Capital-R and thus attain liberation from dukkha, which can be translated as stress, dis-ease, dissatisfactoriness, or suffering. These goals may sound lofty or transcendent – and thus beyond the reach of ordinary mortals – but if you understand what awakening and liberation truly are, you’ll realize that these aspirations are profoundly relevant to all of us.
As I discussed in Episode 143 – The Experience of Enlightenment and Why It’s for All of Us, it is easy to develop dualistic, ego-based ideas about awakening. We may come to think the goal of practice is an experience or an understanding that is attained by some and not by others, and that if we manage to awaken, we’ll be aware of a distinct before and after. In reality, however, awakening is a deepening of intimacy, a widening of perspective, an increasing willingness to let go of our mental map of reality, a growing familiarity with things-as-it-is, or Reality-with-a-Capital-R. The liberation we experience is liberation from the constrained, fearful dream of self. It allows us to see more clearly, be more aware, and respond with more compassion.
The Teaching “Do Not Waste Time”
Assuming that you aspire to at least some measure of the kind of awakening and liberation I just described, what does it mean to waste time?
According to my search of 13th-century Japanese Zen Master Dogen’s Shobogenzo (Kindle version, translated by Kaz Tanahashi, which you can search), Dogen mentions wasting time, or wasting the opportunity of this human life, 32 times (true, the Shobogenzo is a voluminous collection of essays). Here’s one of his most beautiful passages about it, from the essay “Continuous Practice” (this translation by Kaz Tanahashi):
Even when you are uncertain, do not use this one day wastefully. It is a rare treasure to value. Do not compare it to an enormous jewel. Do not compare it to a dragon’s bright pearl. Old sages valued this one day more than their own living bodies. Reflect on this quietly. A dragon’s pearl may be found. An enormous jewel may be acquired. But this one day out of a hundred years cannot be retrieved once it is lost. What skillful means can retrieve a day that has passed? No historical documents have recorded any such means. Not to waste time is to contain the passage of days and months within your skin bag without leaking. Thus, sages and wise ones in olden times valued each moment, each day, and each month more than their own eyeballs or the nation’s land. To waste the passage of time is to be confused and stained in the floating world of name and gain. Not to miss the passage of time is to be in the way for the sake of the way.[iii]
So, each day, each moment, is precious and will never be experienced again. I think this makes sense to most of us, even if we tend to forget it much of the time. Less obvious is what Dogen meant when he described wasting time as being “confused and stained in the floating world of name and gain” and not wasting time as containing “the passage of days and months within your skin bag without leaking” and “to be in the way for the sake of the way.”
Dogen goes on at length in the essay “Continuous Practice,” about forsaking “name and gain” for the sake of practice. He continues:
Just forsake name and gain forever and don’t be bound by myriad conditions. Do not waste the passing time. Brush off the fire on top of your head…[iv]
In Buddhism, “name and gain” refer to many, if not most, of the self-centered concerns that tend to occupy us in our everyday life. “Name” is anything that builds up our sense of self, including reputation, status, power, and special relationships (that is, relationships in which we are one of the most important people in the life of someone else). “Gain” is anything we desire and can procure, including wealth, pleasure, and comfort. Presumably we all have concerns which are more altruistic and generous, but most of our activities include desire for name and gain in at least some measure.
Dogen (along with many other Buddhist and Zen teachers through the ages) exhorts us to “forsake” – that is, give up, renounce, leave behind – name and gain forever. To be honest, he is encouraging people to become monastics. In the next section of “Continuous Practice,” Dogen says:
If you have a home, leave your home. If you have beloved ones, leave them. If you have fame, abandon it. If you have gain, escape from it. If you have fields, get rid of them. If you have relatives, separate from them. If you don’t have name and gain, stay away from them… This is the single track of continuous practice.[v]
Dogen seems to be implying that spending time and energy on home, loved ones, fame, gain, and even our responsibilities is wasting time. Only when we abandon all these things can we take full advantage of this precious human life and concentrate on practicing with urgency, as if such practice is “putting out a fire on our head.”
Yikes! This seems like a pretty harsh statement. Sadly, I think many people are suspicious that devoutly religious people, Buddhist or non-Buddhist, think like Dogen seems to be in this essay – that if you enjoy your life and engage fully in the world, you are involved in “lesser” activities and aren’t as “spiritual” as you could be. Thanks to messages like Dogen’s, we may end up internalizing a subtle sense of judgment about our worldly activities, either feeling vaguely guilty, inferior, or defensive about them, or adopting a defiant stance that rejects what we perceive as judgmental or constipated religiosity.
Interpreting “Wasting Time” for a Lay Life
Let’s examine more closely about what the recommendation to renounce all worldly affairs means for the lay Buddhist who sincerely wants to practice. Very, very few Buddhists in the world today – even most of us who are technically “ordained” – actually live a fully renunciate lifestyle. Does that mean we are ignoring a fundamental aspect of Buddhist teaching for our own pleasure and comfort, or because we are afraid of renunciation? Are we just wasting time, taking pleasure in the world? Some people might answer “yes” to these questions, but I think it is legitimate to interpret the teachings for ourselves. To stick only to the literal reading of texts and teachings is a kind of fundamentalism which can be harmful.
So, let’s start out with the premise that it is not necessary to literally forsake all worldly relationships and affairs in order to practice. After all, according to the ancient texts, the Buddha himself taught lay people and acknowledged their deep spiritual attainment. As I discussed in Episode 17 – Buddhist History 5: Life of Shakyamuni Buddha Part 3 – Early Teaching and Sangha, early Buddhists believed you needed to practice as a monastic in order to achieve complete and final release from rebirth after your death, but as a “householder” you could achieve more or less perfect awakening and then finish up by coming back for one more lifetime as a monastic.
The emphasis in Buddhism – from back in the Buddha’s time until now – is that literal renunciation of worldly pursuits, relationships, and responsibilities makes it easier to practice. Frankly, I suspect many committed lay practitioners would agree with this! It’s much easier to calm the mind, settle into meditation, study the teachings, and fundamentally challenge your view of reality when you’re in a silent meditation retreat, or staying in a monastery. Ordinary daily life involves countless responsibilities, distractions, and challenges. The fuller our life, the more activities and interests compete with anything we can identify as formal practice. It’s more difficult to be mindful when our minds are busy with planning, anticipation, and concerns about things like finances, work, family, friends, pets, hobbies, home improvements, or travel.
If literal renunciation makes practice easier but isn’t strictly necessary, what message can we take from Dogen’s recommendation to forsake name and gain in order not to waste time? He says, “To waste the passage of time is to be confused and stained in the floating world of name and gain.”[vi] Aha! So maybe it’s possible to live in the floating world of name and gain without being confused and stained!
Let’s examine, then, what it might mean to be “confused” and “stained” by worldly affairs. I suspect we’re all familiar with how this feels. We are buffeted about by what Buddhists call the Eight Worldly Winds – Gain, Loss, Status, Disgrace, Praise, Censure, Pleasure, Pain – sometimes experiencing the heights of happiness, bliss, contentment, love, satisfaction, inspiration, etc., but sometimes experiencing the depths of grief, despair, pain, anger, humiliation, fear, etc. All of this can be confusing to say the least. We may lose track of what is most important as we seek to obtain and hold onto what brings us happiness, and to avoid that which causes pain. We may lose track of ourselves.
When I read the word “stained,” I think of how something becomes colored by another thing in a way that is unintended – in a way that compromises cleanliness and beauty. What might it mean to allow ourselves to become stained by the world of name and gain?
When I offered this talk at Bright Way Zen, these are the kinds of things people brainstormed that we do when we are confused and stained in this floating world, or wasting time:
Relitigating old arguments; repeating old, negative habits; failing to appreciate what we have, or what’s going on, while searching for something more stimulating or pleasurable; procrastinating; acting in ways not in alignment with our highest values and deepest priorities; being inauthentic; feeling restless; mindlessly engaging in an activity more than is healthy, like scrolling through social media or watching the news; dwelling obsessively on a disappointment or source of anger; missing valuable moments of life while your mind is wandering over random or negative subjects; complaining; justifying your actions or attitude at length; worrying or catastrophizing; overthinking things.
Of course, this list could go on. When we waste time in these ways, in what sense are we “stained” by world of name and gain? As we engage in the world – taking on responsibilities, accumulating wealth and property, building relationships, seeking and enjoying pleasurable things, undertaking projects to improve our lives or the world – it is difficult not to become attached to beings, things, and outcomes. It is challenging to be engaged and active without getting caught up in the pursuit of “name” – that which builds up our sense of self – or the pursuit of “gain” – that which we want to get or keep for the sake of self. Once our activities are suffused with self-interest, we easily fall into habits like relitigating old arguments or worrying. When we’re so accustomed to operating out of self-interest, we easily lose enthusiasm for anything that doesn’t appear to hold the promise of significant excitement or reward for the self; our attention wanders, and we fall into bad habits or grow restless.
Living in the Floating World without Wasting Time
What does it mean to live in the floating world without wasting time – without becoming confused or stained? When Dogen describes the world of name and gain as “floating,” he is referring to the fleeting, transient, ungraspable nature of life. What would it be like if we remained thoroughly engaged in the world while fully cognizant of its ephemeral, ungraspable nature? What would it be like if we did our work, took care of our responsibilities, maintained our relationships, and enjoyed whatever good fortune we have without using any of it to build up our sense of self, without striving to gain more, without expecting to hold on to what is impermanent?
There is a significant message even for lay Buddhists in the model of renunciation. Monastics (in an ideal sense, at least) live without personal possessions, private property, worldly status or power, wealth, and most of the things that are primary sources of pleasure for householders such as family relationships, sex, adornments, nice clothes, etc. In the strictest forms of monasticism, monks and nuns may not handle money, listen to music, or eat anything that isn’t prepared and donated to them. And yet (again, in an ideal sense) they are profoundly satisfied and at peace. The message? None of our worldly pleasures are necessary for the most profound and abiding sense of fulfillment.
Theoretically, at least, we can navigate our lives without getting confused about who we are and what really matters, without allowing ourselves to get attached and self-centered. What would that look like? Maybe we can get some idea from the Vimalakirti Sutra, one of the earliest Mahayana Sutras, which is about a layman named Vimalakirti who was an acclaimed practitioner of the Dharma. In the sutra, Vimalakirti was sick, so the Buddha asked his disciples to go visit the layman and send his regards. One by one, 500 arhat disciples and countless bodhisattva disciples explain to the Buddha they’re too intimidated to go visit Vimalakirti. Each one gives a story of an interaction they had with Vimalakirti which displayed how the layman’s understanding of the Dharma completely outshined their own (the sutra contains about a dozen of these stories, but says every disciple had one). Finally, Manjushri, the bodhisattva of wisdom, says he’s willing to risk embarrassment to go visit Vimalakirti.
I’m going to share an excerpt from the description of Vimalakirti from the translation of the sutra by Robert Thurman. I recommend avoiding making Vimalakirti into an ideal of perfection that discourages us because it seems so impossible. Instead, as we review the description, notice how your own heart is moved toward aspiration, what deeper desires are within you. Vimalakirti is being presented as a remarkable person who manifests all of these qualities and skills, but any one of them is admirable and worthy, and each one of us has different strengths and affinities:
He had penetrated the profound way of the Dharma. He was liberated through the transcendence of wisdom… Having integrated his realization with skill in liberative technique, he was expert in knowing the thoughts and actions of living beings. Knowing the strength or weakness of their faculties, and being gifted with unrivaled eloquence, he taught the Dharma appropriately to each…
He lived with the deportment of a Buddha, and his superior intelligence was as wide as an ocean… His wealth was inexhaustible for the purpose of sustaining the poor and the helpless. He observed a pure morality in order to protect the immoral. He maintained tolerance and self-control in order to reconcile beings who were angry, cruel, violent, and brutal. He blazed with energy in order to inspire people who were lazy. He maintained concentration, mindfulness, and meditation in order to sustain the mentally troubled…
He wore the white clothes of the layman, yet lived impeccably like a religious devotee. He lived at home, but remained aloof from the realm of desire… He had a son, a wife, and female attendants, yet always maintained continence. He appeared to be surrounded by servants, yet lived in solitude… He seemed to eat and drink, yet always took nourishment from the taste of meditation. He made his appearance at the fields of sports and in the casinos, but his aim was always to mature those people who were attached to games and gambling… He understood the mundane and transcendental sciences and esoteric practices, yet always took pleasure in the delights of the Dharma…
He engaged in all sorts of businesses, yet had no interest in profit or possessions. To train living beings, he would appear at crossroads and on street corners, and to protect them he participated in government… He was honored as the businessman among businessmen because he demonstrated the priority of the Dharma. He was honored as the landlord among landlords because he renounced the aggressiveness of ownership. He was honored as the warrior among warriors because he cultivated endurance, determination, and fortitude. He was honored as the aristocrat among aristocrats because he suppressed pride, vanity, and arrogance… He was compatible with ordinary people because he appreciated the excellence of ordinary merits…[vii]
Knowing for Ourselves when We’re Wasting Time
When I read the description of Vimalakirti, it inspires me to imagine moving through my life without forgetting my deeper self. I want to be generous and kind. I want to be attentive, appreciative, and awake. I know the most sublime pleasure and peace come from what is unconditional, so I don’t want to fall into the trance of grasping after things in search of the next happiness fix. I want to be fully engaged in the world because that’s where suffering beings are, but I aspire not to be greedy, reactive, or defensive. I want to appreciate each and every moment – as Dogen described, “sages and wise ones in olden times valued each moment, each day, and each month more than their own eyeballs or the nation’s land.”[viii]
When I get carried away by self-absorption, habit energy, laziness, and anger, I am wasting time. When I forget my deeper self, I am wasting time.
I think all of us know when we’re wasting time. Our “wasting time” may not look like someone else’s wasting time. We may engage in an activity in a way that makes it not a waste, but then the next day do the same activity in a way that makes it wasting time. Even when engaged in actions which appear productive or generous, we may be wasting time. At other times we may be doing something ostensibly useless or silly, but it is actually a very good use of our time.
What characterizes a waste of time for you?
You probably have your own way to describe it, but if you’re anything like me, you feel like you are wasting time when you’re caught up in grasping or aversion. It’s like an object of longing pulls us off-center, or an object of aversion pushes us off-center. In either case we become preoccupied or obsessed. We can’t pay full attention to what’s right in front of us. We get distracted from our practice and may lose momentum.
At a subtler level, it also probably feels like wasting time when your mind and heart are divided – when you aren’t fully experiencing, attending to, or appreciating this moment because part of your mind is busy with worry, fantasy, anticipation, or anger.
When we’re wasting time, we’re not practicing. I define practice (in the most general, formless sense) as “living deliberately,” and you can’t live deliberately when you aren’t paying attention to what’s happening right here, right now.
How to Not Waste Time
Fortunately, to stop wasting time we don’t have to literally renounce our lives. There is a way in which such renunciation supports practice, but what’s most important is the state of our body, mind, and heart at any given moment.
In Continuous Practice, Dogen describes not wasting time as containing “the passage of days and months within your skin bag without leaking.” I take this to mean we should aspire to remain as centered as possible in our direct experience, in this body-mind, in the here-and-now. We “leak” when our attention, time, energy, or desire are pulled into the future, the past, or somewhere else. It’s not that there’s something inherently sinful or wrong about leaking, it’s just a waste of our life energy when it happens too much, or when we are at the mercy of such habits of mind.
If we aim to waste less time, it’s not helpful to compare ourselves to Vimalakirti, or the Buddha, or any other ideal, and beat ourselves up for not remaining aloof from the floating world of name and gain at all times. That’s one extreme. The other extreme is giving ourselves a pass – giving up, ignoring the still, small voice inside us that says, “Hey, you’re wasting time!” Allowing ourselves to be pulled around by desire and pushed around by aversion.
The Middle Way of Buddhism is the dynamic path that avoids either extreme. What does that look like? I suggest the Middle Way when it comes to not wasting time is this: Whatever we are doing, let us choose to do it. This brings our body, mind, and heart back into alignment with right here, right now. It stops the leaking. It allows us to pay fuller attention to the beings and situations we are encountering. If we find ourselves relitigating old arguments, scrolling endlessly through social media, complaining, or overthinking things, let us relitigate old arguments, consume social media, complain, or overthink things wholeheartedly! Ironically, when you do this – when you bring full awareness and energy to what you are doing – negative behaviors will often correct themselves, or your compulsion to enact them will decrease.
You know when you are wasting time, I know when I am wasting time. Nothing is more tragic than wasting our life, no?
To close with a few more words from Dogen’s essay “Continuous Practice:”
Love and respect your body, mind, and self that are engaged in this continuous practice.[ix]
Endnotes
[i] Dogen, Zen Master. Treasury of the True Dharma Eye: Zen Master Dogen’s Shobo Genzo. Shambhala. Kindle Edition. Appendix 1: Recommending Zazen to All People.
[ii] “Chiggala Sutta: The Hole” (SN 56.48), translated from the Pali by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. Access to Insight (BCBS Edition), 1 July 2010, http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/sn/sn56/sn56.048.than.html .
[iii] Dogen, Zen Master. Treasury of the True Dharma Eye: Zen Master Dogen’s Shobo Genzo. Shambhala. Kindle Edition. Chapter 31A: Continuous Practice, Part One.
[iv] Ibid (page 545)
[v] Ibid (page 545)
[vi] Ibid
[vii] Thurman, Robert A.F. (Translator) The Holy Teaching of Vimalakirti: A Mahayana Scripture. State College, PA: Penn State University Press, 2003.
[viii] Dogen, Zen Master. Treasury of the True Dharma Eye: Zen Master Dogen’s Shobo Genzo. Shambhala. Kindle Edition. Chapter 31A: Continuous Practice, Part One.
[ix] Ibid
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