Showing posts with label form. Show all posts
Showing posts with label form. Show all posts

PRACTICE: "Notes on Gassho and Bowing"
Taizan Maezumi Roshi with John Daishin Buksbazen

Visitors to the Zen Center [of Los Angeles] often ask about the gassho and about bowing. What, they inquire, is the meaning of these gestures? Why are they done? And why is it necessary to do them so precisely and uniformly? These questions deserve careful consideration.

Although we are Zen Buddhists, it should be noted that the gassho and the bow are common to all sects of Buddhism, both Mahayana and Theravada. These two gestures date from the earliest days of Buddhism, or even earlier than that, and they have moved from India throughout the Orient, finally arriving recently in the Western world.

When Shakyamuni Buddha's enlightenment occurred, he went to see five of his former comrades with whom he had practiced various austerities and spiritual disciplines prior to his enlightenment. These five men, who were very devout monks, felt that their companion had gone astray when he abandoned their customary practices. "Come," they said to each other, "Let's not pay any attention to poor Gautama, he no longer is one of us." They were dismayed to find that he had seemingly stopped his spiritual practices, going so far as to even drink milk and take a bath (two forbidden acts according to their tradition). They could not understand why he seemed only to sit quietly, doing nothing of any value.

But when the Buddha approached them, it is reported that these five monks were so struck by the transformation of their former friend, by his serenity and the radiance of his personality, that they spontaneously placed their palms together and greeted him with deep bows. Perhaps it is a little misleading to say that they greeted him. More accurately, it should be said that they were bowing not to their old friend Gautama, but rather to the Buddha -- the Enlightened One.

What the Buddha had experienced was the Supreme Great Enlightenment (in Sanskrit, anuttara samyak sambodhi): the direct and conscious realization of the oneness of the whole universe, and of his own unity with all things. This is what enlightenment means. This very realization is actually in itself the act of being the Buddha. And it was to this enlightened state that the five monks bowed.

When the Buddha was enlightened, the first thing he said was: "Wonder of wonders! All sentient beings have the same (enlightened) nature!" What this implies is that in bowing to the Buddha, the monks were actually bowing to themselves, and to all beings. These monks were recognizing the great unity which their former companion had directly and profoundly experienced.

Let us examine the gassho and the bow more closely.

GASSHO:


The word gassho literally means "To place the two palms together". Of all the mudras (symbolic hand-gestures or positions) we use, it is perhaps the most fundamental, for it arises directly from the depths of enlightenment. Its uses are many, but most commonly it is employed to express respect, to prevent scattering of the mind, to unify all polarities (such as left and right, passive and dominant, etc.) and to express the One Mind -- the total unity of Being.

Although there are many types of gassho, in the Soto sect we are primarily concerned with these four:

1. THE FIRM GASSHO. The most formal of the gasshos, this is the one most commonly used in our daily practice. It is the gassho we use upon entering the zendo, and upon taking our seats. We also use it at least sixteen times in the course of a formal meal, and during all services. It is made by placing the hands together, palm to palm in front of the face. The fingers are placed together, and are straight rather than bent, while the palms are slightly pressed together so that they meet. The elbows are held somewhat out from the body, although the forearms are not quite parallel with the floor. There is about one fist's distance between the tip of the nose and the hands. Fingertips are at about the same height from the floor as the top of the nose. This gassho has the effect of helping to establish an alert and reverential state of mind.

2. THE GASSHO OF NO-MIND. This is the next most commonly used gassho. It is basically used in greeting one another or our teachers. In this position, the hands are held a little more loosely together, with a slight space between the palms, although the fingers still touch. The elevation of the elbows from the floor is not so great as in the Firm Gassho; forearms should be at approximately a 45-degree angle to the floor. This gassho has the effect of deepening one's state of samadhi.

3. THE LOTUS GASSHO. This gassho is used primarily by officiating priests on special ceremonial occasions. It is made like the gassho of no-mind, except that the tips of the middle fingers are held one inch apart. Its name derives from the resemblance of this hand position to the shape of a just-opening lotus bud.

4. THE DIAMOND GASSHO.
This gassho is also known as the gassho of being one with life. Like the lotus gassho, it is used by officiants in services. Although the hands and arms are in basically the same position as in the gassho of no-mind, the diamond gassho is made with the fingers of each hand extended and interlocking, and with the right thumb on top of the left.

In each of these gasshos, we keep the eyes focused upon the tips of our middle fingers. But regardless of the style or variety of the gassho, and in whatever setting it is being used, the fundamental point of the gassho is to be one with the Three Treasures: Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha.

Of course, we can look at the Three Treasures from many perspectives, and with varying degrees of depth and clarity. At perhaps the most superficial level, the Three Treasures are seen as external objects of supreme reverence for all Buddhists. Unfortunately, in this view, the Three Treasures tend to be perceived as something other than oneself. But as our vision opens up, we experience that each of us is, in fact, the Buddha. We see clearly that everything we encounter in the world is none other than the Dharma -- the functioning of underlying enlightenment. And, realizing the oneness of all beings, we come to realize that the Sangha -- the all-embracing brotherhood of practice -- is simply all composite things, including each of us. Having this awareness we become -- or rather, we /are/ -- one with the Three Treasures.

So, joining our hands palm to palm, we simultaneously create and express the absolute, the oneness which goes beyond all dichotomies. It is from this perspective that we make the gassho, and that we bow.

It is no ordinary person who bows; it is the Three Treasures recognizing itself in all things. If anyone thinks of himself as "just ordinary", [they are], in effect, defaming the Three Treasures. And as we place our palms together we unite wisdom and samadhi, knowledge and truth, enlightenment and delusion.

BOWING:

Dogen Zenji once said: "As long as there is true bowing, the Buddha Way will not deteriorate." In bowing, we totally pay respect to the all-pervading virtue of wisdom, which is the Buddha.

In making the bow, we should move neither hastily nor sluggishly but simply maintain a reverent mind and humble attitude. When we bow too fast, the bow is then too casual a thing; perhaps we are even hurrying to get it over and done with. This is frequently the result of a lack of reverence.

On the other hand, if our bow is too slow, then it becomes a rather pompous display; we may have gotten too attached to the feeling of bowing, or our own (real or imagined) gracefulness of movement. This is to have lost the humble attitude which a true bow requires.

When we bow, it is always accompanied by gassho, although the gassho itself may not always be accompanied by bowing. As with the gassho, there are numerous varieties and styles of bowing, but here we will deal only with the two main kinds of bow which we use in our daily practice.

1. THE STANDING BOW. This bow is used upon entering the zendo, and in greeting one another and our teachers. The body is erect, with the weight distributed evenly and the feet parallel to each other. The appropriate gassho is made (see above). As the bow is made, the body bends at the waist, so that the torso forms an angle with the legs of approximately 45 degrees. The hands (in gassho) do not move relative to the face, but remain in position and move only with the whole body.

2. THE DEEP BOW (FULL PROSTRATION). This bow is most often used at the beginning and end of services, and upon entering and leaving dokusan. It is somewhat more formal than the standing bow, and requires a continuous concentration during its execution so that it is not sloppily done.

The bow itself begins in the same way as the standing bow, but once the body is bent slightly from the waist, the knees bend and one assumes a kneeling position. From the kneeling position, the movement of the torso continues, with the hands separating and moving, palms upward, into a position parallel with the forehead. As the bowing movement progresses, the backs of the hands come to rest just above the floor and the forehead is lowered until it rests upon the floor between the hands. At this point, the body is touching the floor at knees, elbows, hands, and forehead. The hands are then slowly raised, palms upward, to a point just above the ears. Then the hands slowly return to the floor. This action is a symbolic placing of the Buddha's feet above one's head as an act of reverence and humility. There should be no sharp, abrupt movements of the hands or arms, no bending of the wrists or curling of the fingers when executing this gesture. When the hands have been raised and lowered, the body then straightens as the person bowing gets to his feet once again and ends in gassho, just as he began. In kneeling, actually the knees do not touch the ground simultaneously, but in sequence; first, the right and then the left knee touches the ground. The same is true for the right and left hands and right and left elbows, in that sequence. In practice, however, the interval between right and left sides touching the ground may be so minute as to be unnoticeable. In bowing, movement should not be jerky or disjointed, but should flow smoothly and continuously without either disruption or arrested motion.

Master Obaku, the teacher of Master Rinzai, was famous for his frequent admonition to his students. "Don't expect anything from the Three Treasures." Time after time he was heard to say this. One day, however, Master Obaku was observed in the act of bowing, and was challenged about his practice.

"You always tell your students not to expect anything from the Three Treasures," said the questioner, "and yet you have been making deep bows." In fact, he had been bowing so frequently and for so long that a large callus had formed on his forehead at the point where it touched the hard floor. When asked how he explained this, Master Obaku replied, "I don't expect. I just bow."

This is the state of being one with the Three Treasures. Let us just make gassho. Let us just bow.


[HAKUYU TAIZAN MAEZUMI - Ordained as a Soto monk at the age of 11, Maezumi Roshi is Dharma successor to three major lines of Zen teaching, representing both Soto and Rinzai traditions: Kakujun Kuroda Roshi, Hakuun Yasutani Roshi, and Koryu Osaka Roshi. He [was] the Founder, Director and resident Zen master of the Zen Center of Los Angeles.


JOHN DAISHIN BUKSBAZEN was a former Vice President of the Zen Center of Los Angeles, and a student of Maezumi Roshi.


This article originally appeared in ON ZEN PRACTICE II, ed., Hakuyu Taizan Maezumi and Bernard Tetsugen Glassman. Zen Writing Series. 1976. Zen Center of Los Angeles, 927 South Normandie Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90006.]

I find this little blip of Brad Warner in his latest HCZ blogpost spot-on...

I think it's good to visit a number of practice spaces if you can. I've noticed that people who attend just a single teacher's practice often develop a slightly warped attitude (and this includes people who attend only mine, maybe it goes especially for people who attend only mine). I'm not a fan of the practice of running around from meditation center to meditation center picking and choosing the parts you like of each one's practice and rejecting anything that bothers you. I know a lot of teachers out there make a good living offering such cobbled together practices. But I've never seen one of those that had the least bit of value. They're always very nice and completely undemanding. Sweet and useless, like high fructose corn syrup.

On the other hand, it's traditional to visit as many teachers as you like until you find one that suits you. Dogen did this as did a lot of the great teachers of the past. Once you find the right teacher it's best to stick with that teacher even if you don't like everything she or he does or says. The one that suits you won't always be the one you like best. Naturally if they start mixing up cyanide flavored Kool Aid it's probably time to go. But it's not good to jump ship just because certain things bug you. It's good to get bugged sometimes. Often that's exactly what you need. Remember the thing that bugs you is never solely "out there" in your teacher. In a very profound way these are things you create yourself even when they appear to be coming from someone else.

So anyway, it's good to check out other ways of practice and see how they really do things. You'll always be surprised. I know I always am.
So, Brad having said that, I want to expand on a few things.

Finding a good Dharma teacher is one of the core challenges of beginning a Buddhist practice, and it really can be a challenge. It's not like finding a professor you like, a new friend to hang with, or a favorite new author. Honestly, finding the proper sensi, yogi or baba for you is more akin to finding a quality doctor, dentist or therapist (or hell, good auto mechanic!)

But one thing I see far more often than I thought I would is people having trouble with ritual and form between sanghas, and especially as the establishment of that form relates to their dharma teachers. Tres interesting.

I've heard so often from (certain kinds of) practitioners that this or that zendo's form is "too loose", "too formal", "sloppy", "hippy-dippy", "zen-lite", "needlessly complicated", "not authentic enough" and on and on. They will often grouse about it 'mongst themselves, but never bring their opinion to the attention of the shusho, let alone the sensi/roshi. They may even really like the sensi's teachings and manner, but just bristle at certain ideas: we have to do [x] minutes of zazen? What about kinhin? What about bowing practices? Why don't we do it this way, so more people are this way or that? That chanting doesn't make me feel warm and fuzzy. Meh. I'll just sit through it until we get to the dharma talk. At least sensi gets that right...

Well, first off, if you think that the only thing your teacher can do well is speak to you, you probably haven't done enough research in picking a teacher. Of course, the way the teacher communicates his or her ideas or understanding is important, but what many of the "form whiners" aren't getting is that the form is part of the teachers' understanding. Not only part of, but quite possibly the basis for whatever understanding they're bringing to you. That very form is as much a part of the language that sensi is using to communicate their understanding experience to you as the words they use, and here you are, telling them the language they're using is all wrong!

Let's look at this in a slightly different way.

Let's say that I have a special pair of glasses, and because of their special lenses, these glasses have the ability to allow the wearer to see something in a very specific way, not unlike 3-D glasses do. It's very easy to understand that if two people go to a theater and see Bawana Devil, and one wears the specs while the other doesn't, the two viewers will experience inherently different views, even though the primary content will be the same. The glasses, by virtue of those colored lenses, allow the user two things, one that's overt, and one that's more subtle. On the surface, the wearing of the glasses helps people see (generally) the same thing. This is essentially an appeal to the intellect via a few of the senses (most notably, sight). The information (the moving picture) is being conveyed in the manner the artist (the director) intended, so everybody more-or-less comes away with the same intellectual experience. So this relates to the "form as language" analogy above; wear the gear to get the whole message sensi is trying to convey. Now, the more subtle effect is this; the wearing of the glasses also allows for a shared experience in the wearing of the glasses with everyone else in the theater. That's right; part and parcel of the whole 3-D thing is, for lack of a better descriptor, looking like a dweeb with everyone else! It is the shared experience that brings the whole thing together. So, in this regard, you're also doing what everybody else in the theater/zendo/shala did in order to essentially be on the same page as everyone there. Having close to the same experience as everyone else allows for a base of commonality that encourages communication laterally as well as up and down. If not, when asked about the movie, someone would say "Did you jump when the spear came at you?" and the other would respond "Feh! Sean Connery didn't look anything like King Arthur!"

Each sangha, each zendo, each meditation group does things a little differently, and this is typically established by the sensi, leader, organizer, etc. for a number of reasons, not the least of which is simple continuity. So, when it comes to zendo form, and the manner in which your sensi runs the show, take away this from me if anything. It's perfectly alright to experience a number of different forms while investigating Buddhist practice at first. But if you actually want to get anywhere with a teacher, you must have a bit of faith in their form (or at least a faith in the power of form at all) and give the teacher's form a chance to work for you. This takes time, and can easily take years (one should think months at a minimum). If in a year, you still don't connect to their form, then look for a different teacher. It's very easy to be moved by someone's intellect and their ability to speak to you. But Buddhism is an experiential practice, not merely an intellectual one. So give the sensi some time to conect with you on all levels. Think of them as explaining it this way; "This is my form, and is part of the over-all manner in which I try and communicate to you this thing that is nearly ineffable. If we stick to mere language, it will truly remain ineffable. I didn't have just a realization. I didn't merely have an understanding. I had a comprehension. I had an experience of both mind and body. It came under these circumstances, through this form, doing things in this way. I can try and describe what I comprehended to you, but unless you're doing what I was doing, it's pointless. So, if you are coming to me in order to have me teach you how to hit the nail on the head, we'll need a board, a nail and a hammer..."

Pre-conceived notions are the death-knell of Buddhist understanding.

"Already knowing" is the enemy...

...but I've seen the film before, so watch out for that freaky spear!