Shitou's Harmony of Difference and Equality--The Background

By: Bob Zeglovitch

This Friday at JSU we will begin a long and slow process of unpacking, at some level, the meaning of the Harmony of Difference and Equality (“Harmony”), a seminal Chan teaching poem that is recited regularly in Soto Zen temples around the world. The authorship of Harmony is attributed to Shitou Xigian (700-790). All existing branches of Zen throughout the world are said to descend either from Shitou or from his contemporary Mazu Daoyi. Shitou was a student of Dajian Huineng, the illiterate and legendary “Sixth Ancestor” in China. See the blog entry dated September 21, 2023 and titled “Fukanzazengi: No Dust, No Mirror” for a description of the famous but likely apocryphal poetry contest that is recounted in the Soto Zen tradition as the basis for Huineng’s dharma transmission. After Huineng’s death, Shitou became a student of Huineng’s successor, Qingyuan Xingsi.

The title of Harmony is the same as that of a 2nd-century Taoist text on alchemy by the poet Wei Po Yang. This text detailed esoteric practices that were supposed to enable one to gain immortality or to become a deity. It was obviously still a recognized text in Shitou’s time, and we can see his borrowing of the title as part of the process through which Indian Buddhism mingled with Taoist understandings to form a new and culturally responsive form. Chan Master Sheng Yen (1931-2009) notes that when Buddhism came to China, Sakyamuni Buddha was given a Taoist name—-The Perfectly Enlightened Highest Deity—in order to form a connection between Buddhist teaching and Taoist tradition. Shitou was therefore drawing a metaphoric connection between becoming a deity and becoming a Buddha. Sheng Yen also notes that there is an allusion within the title of Harmony to becoming a buddha through meditation, which bears some similarities to Taoist practices.

The title of this poem in Japanese is Sandokai. Harmony of Difference and Equality is only one of many English translations. Some others include: Merging of Difference and Unity; Harmony of Difference and Sameness; Identity of Relative and Absolute; Agreement of Difference and Unity; and Inquiry Into Matching Halves.

At the risk of enormous oversimplification, Harmony delves into the relationship between the ultimate empty, boundless and wondrously unfathomable nature of reality on the one hand, and the particular and relative form world that is familiar to us on the other.

Our effort to better understand the meaning of the Harmony will be undertaken with the utmost humility. In this connection, Chan master Sheng Yen, who was a renowned scholar and practitioner, noted in his commentary on Harmony that it is a difficult work, and that since he was not Shitou, he was sure that he had not fully and clearly explained the poem. We will be using helpful commentary by Shohaku Okumura, a highly regarded Soto Zen teacher and scholar, from the book Living By Vow. Other excellent resources on this poem are Sheng Yen’s The Infinite Mirror and Suzuki Roshi’s Branching Streams Flow In the Darkness.

Fukanzazengi: No dust, no mirror

By: Bob Zeglovitch

At our session last Friday on the Fukanzazengi, we touched briefly on the following reference from the text: “Indeed, the whole body is far beyond the world’s dust.  Who could believe in a means to brush it clean?”  This is a reference to the legend of Huineng, the Sixth Ancestor in the Ch’an/Zen tradition.  I say “legend” intentionally, as historical scholarship has called into question much about the veracity of this story.  It is best to take it lightly as a statement of fact.  Instead, it highlights different approaches to practice, or ways of expressing the dharma.

According to the legend: Huineng was an illiterate wood cutter in 7th-8th century China who had an awakening experience upon hearing lines from the Diamond Sutra chanted in the marketplace.  He joined a monastery lead by Daman Hongren (the Fifth Ancestor in a lineage descending from Bodhidharma—another legendary figure with shadowy historical origins who is taken as the figure who brought Ch’an/Zen practice from India to China).  Given his lowly status, Huineng was assigned to kitchen work in the monastery. 

Hongren announced a contest to determine his successor, which called for poems to be written to express an understanding of the dharma.  Everyone expected his senior student, Shenxiu, to be chosen as the successor.  Shenxiu wrote the following poem anonymously on the monastery wall, supposedly lacking the courage to present it to Hongren:

The body is the bodhi tree

The mind is like a bright mirror’s stand

At all times we must strive to polish it

And must not let dust collect.

Hongren was not satisfied with the poem and gave Shenxiu another chance, but Shenxiu was unable to compose another verse.  Huineng heard Shenxiu’s verse, learned of the contest, and then spoke his verse to another monk who wrote it down:

Bodhi originally has no tree

The bright mirror has no stand

Fundamentally there is not a single thing

Where could dust arise?

Another version of this poem is:

Bodhi originally has no tree

The mirror has no stand

The Buddha-nature is always clear and pure

Where is there room for dust?

As the legend goes, Hongren recognized Huineng as his successor (after wiping away his poem) and gave him his robe and bowl in secret.  He told Huineng to leave the monastery because the other monks would not accept that a “southern barbarian” had the deeper realization.

In the Ch’an tradition, the two poems became illustrative, respectively, of the so-called “gradual” and “sudden” approaches to enlightenment, or the “Northern” and “Southern” schools.  You can see Dogen pointing to the latter approach and the legend of Huineng in his brief reference in Fukanzazengi.  Shitou, the author of the Harmony of Difference and Equality, is commenting on this from another viewpoint when he states, “The Way has no Northern or Southern ancestors.”  There is much more to say about this legend, its genesis, and its implications, but I’ll leave it at this for now.       

Aspects of Just Sitting: Relaxation!

By: Bob Zeglovitch

I’m getting back to this series of planned posts on “just sitting” after a hiatus due to various demands on my attention. I’ll try to keep these coming a bit more regularly. The last post addressed coming to proper alignment. This post introduces the importance of relaxation.

If you align the body and forget to relax, the resulting tension will make sitting more difficult. This tension will also constrict the range of what can be experienced and known in the body/mind. Will Johnson, in his book The Posture of Meditation, uses the wonderful image of a soldier standing tensely at attention at boot camp to represent what it is like to be aligned without relaxation. The soldier, by bringing tension into the body, lessens awareness of sensations and feelings—and thus becomes more compliant. I find this to be a particularly apt image for our consideration, since we may carry an internal picture of a Zen practitioner as intense, rigid, almost militaristic. This in turn could lead to a conscious or unconscious approach to sitting that is striving, tight and tense.

Some teachers and communities can also foster this kind of rigid practice by overemphasizing outer forms and appearances. I previously practiced in a setting like this, for many years. While I developed concentration and a certain amount of equanimity from this style of practice, there was also considerable physical and emotional pain. This style of practice also contributed to some bypassing of emotional and psychological dimensions, for myself and also others.

While alignment without relaxation is problematic, alignment can help you to relax. If your body is not vertically aligned, you will rely on muscular tension to support yourself against the forces of gravity. This makes relaxation more difficult. With alignment, you can surrender the weight of the body to gravity. This enables you to expend less energy and to let go, without resistance, in the upright container of your body. Relaxation does not mean going slack or becoming a wet noodle. It is not synonymous with laziness.

So you have taken your seat and aligned the body—how to relax from there? You might begin by taking three deep breaths, allowing the exhalation to be longer than the inhalation, and having a sense of letting go of tension in your body with each exhalation. You might also do a modified and very brief body scan. Begin with the face, inviting relaxation and releasing tension in your forehead, the area around your eyes, and your your jaw. Then continue to your neck, your shoulders, your chest, the muscles of your abdomen, your back, your arms, hands, and legs. To take a simpler and more general approach, you could just remind yourself that your posture incorporates a gesture of relaxation, and allow a natural response to this suggestion. The modern Chan Master Sheng Yen also gives this important instruction to relax more than just the body: “Next, relax your attitude and your mood; make sure that your mental attitude, the tone of your approach, and your mood are also at ease.”

Your invitation to the body/mind to relax is not an attempt at controlling an outcome or attaining and maintaining a particular state. You may of course experience tension or holding in your sitting despite your intention. If that is the case, you can renew the invitation to relax and see what unfolds—and above all else be present with whatever is arising.

The classic Zen literature does not frequently refer to relaxation, to the best of my knowledge. There is, however, this wonderful practice instruction from Song of the Grass Roof Hermitage by the Eighth Century A.D. Chinese ancestor Shitou (author of The Harmony of Difference and Equality): “Let go of hundreds of years and relax completely. Open your hands and walk, innocent.” The full text of this poem is on the Chants/Foundational Texts page of this website.

Aspects of Just Sitting: Introduction

By Bob Zeglovitch

I’ve begun working with some of the members of our sangha who are newer to Zen, giving some guidance on traditional Soto Zen meditation practice.  In connection with this effort, I’m going to write a series of posts to capture some of the unique elements of this style.  I’m hoping these posts will be of interest to others as well.  My goal is to highlight one aspect of the practice in each post, although it may turn out that certain aspects deserve more than one post.  I’ll do my best to keep the posts relatively short.  This practice is subtle and deep. I don’t pretend that my entries will be fully comprehensive or an “authoritative word” on the matter!  This posting is an introduction--I’ll move into the details of the practice in future entries. 

There are many varieties of Buddhist meditation.  It is perhaps an obvious point but it is worth saying anyway--they are not all the same practice!  The core meditation practice in Soto Zen is shikantaza, or “just sitting.”  This is sometimes referred to as a “methodless method.”  The classic Zen texts on just sitting contain much commentary, with a lot of beautiful poetic language, but not too much detail on how the practice should be done.  This is likely purposeful, because just sitting is not a step-by-step practice where you “get better.”  You might say that it is more direct, more “immediate”.  You are not concentrating or focusing on a particular object of your awareness, blocking out thoughts or the “outside world”, working with images, or reflecting on anything.  You are not engaging in thinking (and yet thoughts may come and go).  You are not trying to make anything happen or go away.  But you are not indifferent or drifting off.  You are “just sitting” with vital awareness of the totality of the ever unfolding present moment, together with the universe. 

Of course, most of us come to meditation for a reason, trying to improve or to get something for ourselves.  Our current cultural milieu supports this—I’m thinking in particular of the mindfulness movement and its emphasis on the clinical benefits of meditation.  And we invariably want to know, “am I doing it right?”  So the practice of just sitting presents us with some challenges and requires a major shift in perspective.  Further, while this is not a goal oriented practice, we take care to avoid complacency or an attitude of “anything goes.”  

For starters, you might just allow yourself to be curious about what it means to “just sit”.  In Dogen’s seminal text Fukanzazengi (Universal Instructions for Zazen), he states: “This zazen [meditation] I speak of is not learning meditation.  It is simply the dharma-gate of repose and bliss, the practice-realization of totally culminated enlightenment.”  Can you allow yourself to sit like this right now, without trying to figure the meaning out or trying to achieve anything and regardless of what feelings of deficiency or lack you may have?  Going forward we’ll try to flesh this out a bit. The complete text of Fukanzazengi is found on the Chants/Foundational Texts page of this website.  

A historical note:  The founder of the Soto lineage in Japan (referred to as Caodong in China, where it originated) was Eihei Dogen (1200-1253).  Dogen’s great awakening, realized while practicing just sitting, took place in China, where he was studying under Tiantong Rujing (1163-1228).  Another key figure in the lineage is Hongzhi Zhengue (1091-1157), a prior abbott at Rujing’s temple.  Hongzhi taught the practice of “silent illumination”, which is essentially another name for shikantaza/just sitting.  The just sitting practice has roots that go way back in the tradition of Chan (Zen) Buddhism in China.  Elements can be found in the writings of the eighth-century Chinese master Shitou Xiqiang (700-790) (the author of the Harmony of Difference and Equality) and his successor, Yaoshan Weiyan (745-820).  (The text of the Harmony of Difference and Equality is found on the Chants/Foundational Texts page of this website). And the origins go back even further.  We may return to some of these masters and their writing in future posts.