As I mentioned in one of my last letters, the abbot of Kotai-ji, Hokan Saito Roshi, answered my question about what I should bring back to Europe with him: “The practice of mind and body!”
And indeed, that’s what I’ve found lacking in Europe. The practice of mind and body, performing every act, every action with all your heart, no matter what. I myself can learn a great deal from this every day and consider it one of my greatest areas of practice. Especially as someone with ADHD, this mind-body practice is very difficult for me, and I often struggle to concentrate. It doesn’t get any easier with age, as I’m becoming increasingly forgetful, oh dear… ;-). Furthermore, I believe I miss the corrective influence of the Sangha at Sanko-ji. When you do Samu together or perform a ceremony, you have to concentrate more than when you’re alone. But it’s not about becoming perfect; it’s about embracing this practice alongside zazen as the most important area of training. As Okumura Roshi says, it’s always about: “Just do it!”
Dogen wrote the Tenzo Kyokun to illustrate this heart-body-mind practice using the example of the tenzo (temple cook). K. Uchiyama commented on this in “Instructions for the Cook” in simple and clear language. Of course, this heart-body-mind practice is also about expressing our Buddhist attitude towards things. Its importance should therefore be well-known, which makes what I experience at Sanko-ji and other practice sites all the more astonishing. I don’t want to misunderstand or accuse anyone here, but rather point out a deficiency in our practice culture, of which I am a part. Ultimately, we are all teachers of one another, whether we know it or not, whether we want to be or not. Here are a few examples:
The cook cooks, but afterward, the kitchen looks chaotic and dirty, with lots of scraps lying around. Isn’t that my job…?
After cleaning the windows, they look smeared. I did my best…?
The Samu (a traditional religious service) is finished early. I’m already done…? Or vice versa, it’s extended, and I still have to finish…?
After an hour of chopping wood, there’s only one basketful. I chopped very carefully!?
The flowers on the altar are carelessly arranged in the vase. I’m not much of a flower person…?
The Ino often stumbles over his Eko recitation? I didn’t have time to practice?
The dishwashing crew gets a side table from the common room to put the washed dishes on. Afterward, the table is covered in irreparable water stains; it has to be sanded and re-oiled. It’s put back without anyone saying anything about the damage. Where there’s planing, there are shavings?
These examples are meant to highlight a lack of Heart Body Mind practice and illustrate how important this practice is. Many such oversights occur every day, and it’s crucial to understand this – the consequences for other beings!
What’s particularly interesting here is how I deal with it when I act in this way, when I obviously make mistakes. What does it mean to take responsibility? My ordination teacher, Missen Bovay, was a very strict teacher when it came to this. If you made a mistake while in a position of responsibility, he wouldn’t stop asking how it could have happened. As Shusso, I was once responsible for the well-known winter sesshin in Urnäsch with more than 100 participants. One of the Shusso’s duties was regulating the temperature in the zendo. I knew he liked to keep the zendo well-ventilated and cool in winter. Consequently, I turned the heating off completely in the evening after zazen. The next morning, I was the first one into the zendo. It was very warm; someone had turned the heating back on. I turned it all off again and opened all the windows. The first people, already warmly dressed for protection against the cold, streamed into the zendo. During zazen, someone fainted from the heat. After zazen, he blamed me for this mistake. I was deeply sorry and glad that this elderly person recovered quickly. After a considerable amount of time and persistent questioning, my teacher finally accepted my very sincere apology. I had an announcement made to make it clear to the participants what the consequences could be if they acted independently and turned up the heating. Regarding another mistake I had made in a press release, he incessantly reminded several people of it for over eight years, right up until his death. Didn’t I show enough remorse? Probably…
We must never forget that with every action, we assume responsibility for its consequences. Even if we act with good intentions, we must not disregard the outcome. As a nun/monk, I am responsible. We are allowed to make mistakes,
We will make mistakes, that’s normal… but we should learn to own up to our mistakes without making a drama out of them. Action, mistake, regret, action… simply a continuous stream of action along our path.
The most challenging aspect is seeing an action through to the end with 100% concentration. Missen Bovay always emphasized this. When we students, for example, organized a large sesshin like Urnäsch or even a summer camp, it required a great deal of energy and unwavering effort. Once the zazen practice ended with the closing ceremony, many felt it was over and relaxed. But one of the biggest tasks still lay ahead: tidying up, cleaning, packing, transporting, and unloading. He repeatedly reminded us, “Zen is complete concentration until the very end,” but suddenly helpers disappeared, lapses in concentration led to mistakes with consequences… In short, this was the real test, separating the wheat from the chaff among the practitioners.
In a digital work environment, where we rarely have to get up to satisfy our needs, the body becomes less important. Only when it no longer cooperates do we painfully realize that there is another part of us. It would be better if we always considered it an equal part and cared for it. I would go even further; it would probably be better if we cared for our heart-body-mind connection. A very simple motto is helpful to begin with: “What truly benefits me also benefits others.”
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