Dogen on How to Take Refuge

By: Eihei Dogen

To take refuge in the three treasures, whether at the time of the Tathagata or after the Tathagata’s pari-nirvana, fill yourself with pure trust, put your hands together, bow and recite in this way:

I, so and so, from this body through the attainment of a buddha body, take refuge in the Buddha, take refuge in the Dharma, and take refuge in the Sangha.

                  I take refuge in Buddha, the most revered of those with two feet.

                  I take refuge in Dharma, the most revered way to become free of delusion.

                  I take refuge in Sangha, the most revered assembly.

                  I have taken refuge in Buddha.

                  I have taken refuge in Dharma.

                  I have taken refuge in Sangha.

Initiate this vow aspiring for enlightenment, the fruit of Buddhahood.  Even though your body-mind is born and dies moment by moment, your dharma body surely grows and attains enlightenment. 

From: Facscicle No. 89 of Shobogenzo, “Taking Refuge in Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha,” in Treasury of the True Dharma Eye: Zen Master Dogen’s Shobogenzo, edited by Kazuaki Tanahashi (this fascicle was translated by Gyokuko Carlson, Kyogen Carlson, and Kaz Tanahashi

Taking Refuge as Mutual Affinity and Interaction With Buddha, Dharma and Sangha

By: Eihei Dogen

The first of one hundred twenty questions in the Guidelines for Zen Monasteries says, “Do you revere buddha, dharma and sangha, or not?”

Thus, it is clear that what the buddhas and ancestors in India and China have authentically transmitted is reverence to buddha, dharma, and sangha.  Without taking refuge, there is no reverence.  Without reverence, there is no taking refuge.

The act of taking refuge in buddha, dharma, and sangha is achieved through mutual affinity and interaction.  Whether you are in a deva [god] realm, a human realm, a demon realm, or an animal realm, when you have mutual affinity and interaction with buddha, dharma, and sangha, you invariably take refuge in them.

 Taking refuge in the three treasures, you nurture yourself wherever you are, birth after birth, world after world.  You accumulate merit, assemble virtue, and attain unsurpassable, complete enlightenment.  Even if you are misled by unwholesome friends, obstructed by demons, cut off from your wholesome roots, and become an icchantika [the most base and spiritually deluded of all beings], in the end you will regain your wholesome roots and increase merit.  The power of taking refuge in the three treasures will never decay.

From: Facscicle No. 89 of Shobogenzo, “Taking Refuge in Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha,” in Treasury of the True Dharma Eye: Zen Master Dogen’s Shobogenzo, edited by Kazuaki Tanahashi (this fascicle was translated by Gyokuko Carlson, Kyogen Carlson, and Kaz Tanahashi.

Buddha is Gradual Opening of Mind

By: Nyoshul Khenpo Rinpoche

The difference between the impure and the pure mind, the deluded mind and the enlightened mind, is mainly a difference of narrowness and openness. In our present deluded state, our mind is extremely narrow. For example, we live alone and rarely, if ever, consider the infinity of sentient beings. The more constricted and narrow the mind, the more it thinks only of itself, completely disregarding the well-being, happiness and suffering of others. Conversely, the enlightened Buddha is one who considers the infinity of sentient beings, rather than being concerned with his own ego and individuality. Thus the entire path—from an ordinary being to Buddhahood—is the gradual opening of mind. And that is precisely what we call the chang-chub or sem-kye: literally, to grow and develop that enlightened attitude. The concept of “growth” is used here for the passing from a completely narrow attitude, focused principally on oneself, to an open, loving heart whose scope instinctively encompasses the infinity of sentient beings.

From: Natural Great Perfection. Nyoshul Khenpo Rinpoche (1932-1999) was one of the most eminent Tibetan meditation masters of the 20th Century. He was trained in all four schools of Tibetan Buddhism and was renowned as a scholar and teacher. Khenpo Rinpoche was one of the principal lineage holders in the nonsectarian practice lineage of Tibetan Buddhism, and his teachings centered on the practice of Dzogchen (pronounced zo-chen). His book Natural Great Perfection is a wonderful expression of the dharma, clear and direct.

Free and Easy: A Spontaneous Vajra Song

By: Venerable Lama Gendun Rinpoche

Happiness cannot be found through great effort and willpower, but is already present, in open relaxation and letting go.

Don’t strain yourself, there is nothing to do or undo. Whatever momentarily arises in the body-mid has no real importance at all, has little reality whatsoever. Why identify with, and become attached to it, passing judgment upon it and ourselves?

Far better to simply let the entire game happen on its own, springing up and falling back like waves—without changing or manipulating anything—and notice how everything vanishes and reappears, magically, again and again, time without end.

Only our searching for happiness prevents us from seeing it. It’s like a vivid rainbow which you pursue without ever catching, or a dog chasing its tail.

Although peace and happiness do not exist as an actual thing or place, it is always available and accompaines you every instant.

Don’t believe in the reality of good and bad experiences; they are like today’s ephemeral weather, like rainbows in the sky.

Wanting to grasp the ungraspable, you exhaust yourself in vain. As soon as you open and relax this tight fist of grasping, infinite space is there—opening, inviting and comfortable.

Make use of this spaciousness, this freedom and natural ease. Don’t search any further: Don’t go into the tangled jungle looking for the great awakened elephant, who is already resing quietly at home in front of your own hearth.

Nothing to do or undo, nothing to force, nothing to want, and nothing missing—

Emaho! Marvelous! Everything happens by itself.

From: Nyoshul Khenpo, Natural Great Perfection. Gendun Rinpoche (1918–1997) was trained entirely in Tibet and went into exile as a result of the Chinese occupation of belonged. He practiced in the Karma Kagyu tradition and spent over 30 years meditating in closed retreat in Tibet and India. His principal teacher, the 16th Karmapa, compared him to the great 11/12th century Tibetan yogi Milarepa. Later in his life, Gendun Rinpoche taught in Eurrope. He was the abbott and retreat master of Dakpo Kagyu Ling Monaster in Dordogne, France.

Comment: The Vajra is a symbol of indestructibility, strength and clarity of mind. It represents the unyielding, thunderbolt-like nature of enlightenment and the ability to cut through ignorance and delusion. In the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, great masters would spontaneously create “songs” of enlightenment like this one. As the traditional declaration at the end of the song states: Marvelous!

Taking Refuge In Buddha--Outer Meaning

By: Mingyur Rinpoche

The outer meaning of taking refuge in the Buddha refers to Shakyamuni Buddha, the historical Buddha who lived in India. We call him the awakened one, the one who has gone beyond all dualities and concepts, beyond all forms of confusion and suffering. His enlightenment and his teachings continue to inform all Buddhist schools and practices. Yet in whom did the Buddha himself take refuge? We know that the Buddha’s father, King Suddhodana, sought protection in political power and social standing. We know that the king’s attempts to keep his son bound to the householder life through sensory enticements did not work. Slipping past the palace guards, Siddhartha embarked on the life of a seeker, taking refuge in forests and caves, and with teachers who had mastered the practices of asceticism. But just as he had rejected his father’s path, after six years he rejected the austerities, as well as the rituals of the ruling Brahman priesthood. When Siddhartha sat down under the bodhi tree, he took refuge in himself. Relying on instinct as well as years of training and experience, he abandoned every orthodoxy, determined to liberate his mind from the very roots of suffering.

It’s important to use this model of self-reliance—and it’s important not to misuse it. We cannot dismiss the Buddha’s teachings in the name of creative autonomy, and we cannot just follow the Buddha like a baby duckling follows its mother. We neither discard genuine faith nor indulge in blind faith. But we draw on the ordinary human habit of placing trust in exceptional sources and use the Buddha—his teachings and example—to inspire us.

When someone that we identify as special speaks, we listen with heightened attention and trust. These natural tendencies initially direct our refuge practice. We use the images, words, and activities of enlightened beings to intensify our devotion and receptivity. With the enlightened beings before us, we bow and chant with more enthusiasm than if we imagine regular beings. We take refuge in the guidance and words of the Buddha, who embodies all enlightened beings. We use the outer Buddha to take refuge in our inner buddha.

From: This passage is from a longer article titled “Why We Take Refuge” from Lion’s Roar. The full article can be found here. Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche is a meditation master in the Kagyu and Nyingma lineages of Tibetan Buddhism. He is the guiding teacher of the Tergar Meditation Community, a global network of meditation groups and centers.

 

Wait in the Unknown

By: Michael Eigen

Wait in the unknown and further transformation will occur.

I have learned that from experience.  How can I say it if destructiveness may be rooted in an unknown source within?  The word wait and the reality of waiting makes a difference.

This is something that psychoanalysis and aspects of meditation offer.  Sitting with the destructive urge within rather than acting on it.  Sitting as a different form of action.  The dynamics of sitting in face of destructive pulls. 

It is not only a matter of paying attention because attention comes and goes.  It is more a matter of sitting through, waiting out.  One may doze off and come back, become cloudy and vague punctuated by periods of attention.  One attempts to stay with it but staying with it is intermittent.  Freud noted that dreaming destructive things while asleep is safer than acting them out while awake.  I wonder how much destruction while awake has a dreamlike quality, a kind of waking dream.  Many qualities can feed destruction, including calculation, impulse, entitlement, injustice, pleasure and/or pain, determination, cunning, chance, opportunity, vindictiveness, hallucinatory holiness.

Psychoanalysis says, sit with them all.  If you can, be with them, taste and smell experience.  The more you sit with experience the more happens.  Threads emerge and change, new feelings, thoughts, vantage points touch you.  As time goes on, tolerance for experience builds, at least a little.  One even develops a taste for tasting oneself and others and not settling for “this” view and no others.

It is not simply a matter of understanding.  Socrates taught us that often what we take for knowledge is opinion.  By sitting with inner waters we gradually make room for seeing how understanding can constrict us.  Consciousness, our avenue of access and light of our lives, has its difficulties.  What is it in us that seems to feel more or other than any of our capacities and informs them?

Waiting on the unknown and perhaps … the Impossible allows something else to happen.  So much political psychology has been based on a control model, which involves inevitable swings between control and destructive outbreaks.  What would a partnership model look like?  Can we become better partners with our capacities and they with us?  William Blake speaks of heaven as war in which each voice of personality has its maximum say yet all benefit.  Rumi writes of welcoming all visitors within as valued guests.  Here are hints of richness of waiting on unknown transformational processes beyond control with which we partner. 

From: Under the Totem: In Search of a Path. Michael Eigen is an American psychologist and psychoanalyst. He is the author of 27 books and numerous articles. Among his interests are the relationship between mysticism and psychoanalysis. He draws on the work of a number of analysts and spiritual traditions in this work, commenting that he is "not a scholar, systematic reader, or follower of any school." While he writes from a psychological viewpoint, he readily quotes Dogen, Suzuki, Bodhidharma and Alan Watts.

Quietism is Not Silent Illumination

By: Rebecca Li

Incorrect understanding of the practice of Silent Illumination can trap us in quietism. Master Dahui [Ta Hui] was particularly critical of what he called “perverted Silent Illumination,” which considers wordlessness or the absence of thought as the ultimate principle. He was referring to the tendency to associate “silence” with the lack of mental activities. This kind of silence is like the absence of ripples on a pond inside a vacuum. There is no moving air that touches the water surface, nor are there leaves falling or insects alighting on the pond. The pond is quiet. It is also lifeless.

In Silent Illumination, we are fully engaged in life. There is clarity of everything including thoughts and feelings in the present moment while our entrenched habit of reacting with vexations is not activated. This nonreactivity is the “silence” in Silent Illumination.

From: Illumination: A Guide to the Buddhist Method of No-Method

Don't Cling to Stillness

By: Ta-hui Tsung-kao (Dahui Zonggao)

From a letter to Layman K’ung Hui:

Once you have achieved perfect stillness of body and mind, you must make earnest effort. Do not immediately settle down in peaceful stillness—in the Teachings this is called “The Deep Pit of Liberation,” much to be feared. You must make yourself turn freely, like a gourd floating on the water, independent and free, not subject to restraints, entering purity and impurity without being obstructed or sinking down. Only then do you have a little familiarity with the school of the patchrobed monks. If you just manage to cradle the uncrying child in your arms, what’s the use?

From: Swampland Flowers: The Letters and Lectures of Zen Master Ta Hui, translated by J.C. Cleary. Ta Hui (1089-1163) is a central figure in the Rinzai (Chinese, Linji) school of Chan. He stressed koan practice and was a critic of Silent Illumination practice (or at least certain ways in which that practice was manifested). Despite his criticism of Silent Illumination, he had a close relationship with Hongzhi, the most prominent exponent of Silent Illumination.

The Practice of Not Knowing

By: Rebecca Li

In Chan, there is a teaching called the “mind of not knowing.” Some people misunderstand this expression, believing it means not using the mind to think, and thus they consider Chan practice to be about not thinking. That is not what the teaching is about, nor what Silent Illumination is about, and it is not what the Buddha taught. The mind of not knowing doesn’t mean not being discerning, nor does it mean not using our analytical capacity to consider the information we receive to make sound judgments and respond appropriately to situations we encounter in life. What it means is letting go of the unhelpful habit of believing we already know what is still unfolding in the present moment, and what is going to unfold in the next moment. Remember, every moment is the coming together of causes and conditions and is brand-new. This moment has never happened before. We may have experienced similar ones, but we are now a different person, and the exact current conditions are unique. It is an erroneous view to believe that we already know this emerging moment. This belief represents our attachment to conceptual thoughts, and it blocks us from paying close attention and being fully, clearly aware of what is emerging in the present.

From Illumination: A Guide To the Buddhist Method of No-Method

Imagery of Craving

By: Bhikkhu Analayo

According to the early Buddhist analysis of existence, craving, or tanhā, is the very root cause of the samsāric predicament, being the central factor responsible for the arising of dukkha, as highlighted in the second noble truth. Due to its pivotal role as the chief cause of bondage, tanhā features in numerous passages and contexts in the early discourses…

The term “tanhā” literally stands for “thirst”…Tanhā - as a figurative type of thirst that demands the satisfaction of desires - manifests as a sense of lack or want, and has its root in dissatisfaction. Various aspects of craving are reflected in the use of a range of imageries and similes in the discourses.

One such image speaks of being enmeshed by craving, of being caught in the net of craving. … The net imagery recurs in relation to craving in general in a verse in the Theragāthā (Verses of the Elders), which compares the condition of one who has destroyed the net of craving … to the stainless moon on a clear night. The Dhammapada also employs this imagery, when it contrasts the net-like nature of craving to the freedom attained by the Buddha who, in contrast to such forms of entrapment, has a limitless range.

The aspect of craving as a form of bondage, …which underlies the net imagery, recurs in other similes. Overcome by craving, beings run around in circles comparable to a rabbit caught in a snare. Covered by craving’s cloak, they are in bondage like a fish in a trap.

…Another set of images revolves around the theme of growth in nature. These images alert us to the danger of allowing craving to follow its natural course, thereby becoming forever stronger. This aspect can be seen in a Dhammapada verse that compares the fertility of the underlying tendency to craving to a tree that grows again after being cut down. Similarly, as long as its roots are left intact, craving will grow again. Hence craving together with its root need to be removed.

From Excursions into the Thought-World of the Pāli Discourses

Contemplation as Practice

By: Andy Karr

Most of us approach Buddhism with a certain respect for meditation, and an appreciation for studying the teachings. On the other hand, the importance of contemplation might be less obvious. It is an essential activity, yet one that is often overlooked.

Contemplation reveals our own intelligence to us, often in surprising ways. Profound teachings can clarify themselves simply through the process of repeated examination. What at first is unclear becomes clear. Details that we’ve overlooked jump out at us. You might think that you can’t understand something, but by contemplating it you find that you can understand. With contemplation, you can understand the implications of the material, not just what is actually said.

We have all experienced reading or hearing teachings, understanding something for a moment, and then discovering later that it’s gone. Sometimes parts of the teaching are not clear and we skip over them. Profound teachings don’t really penetrate until you make them part of your personal experience—take them in, chew on them, reflect on them, ask yourself, “Is this true?” “Do I experience it this way?” “What is the point of this teaching?”

Thinking about the teachings in this way may seem to contradict the emphasis on “nonconceptuality” found in many Buddhist instructions, but there is no contradiction. We need to use thought to get beyond thought. Real nonconceptuality arises from recognizing the true nature of conceptuality, not through blocking thoughts or getting rid of them.

From Contemplating Reality: A Practitioner’s Guide to the View in Indo-Tibetan Practice. Andy Karr is a senior teacher in the Tibetan tradition. He was a student of Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche and Khenpo Tsültrim Gyamtso Rinpoche. Karr is skilled in taking complex Buddhist philosophical teachings and rendering them in very clear English.

A Drifting Boat

By: Sōhan Gempō (also known as Shōun)

Upon Reading Sengai’s Waka Collection, Drifting Boat

In this world

a drifting boat

in any bay or inlet

when entrusted to the breeze

can cross over to the other side.

Note: Shōun (1848-1922) was a Zen priest and Abbott of the major temple in Kyoto called Daitoku-ji. He references here the work of the earlier Zen Master Sengai Gibon (1750-1837). The term “cross over” is a reference to enlightenment. This quote is taken from The Art of Twentieth-Century Zen: Paintings and Calligraphy by Japanese Masters, by Audrey Yoshiko Seo, with Stephen Addiss.

The Anchor Symbol

From: Penguin Symbols Dictionary

A solid body, its weight holding the ship fast, the anchor was taken to symbolize firmness, solidity, tranquillity and faithfulness. it holds firm and steady amid the flux of the elements and comes to symbolize the stable part of our being, the quality which enables us to keep a clear mind amid the confusion of sensation and emotion.

As the seaman’s last resort in a storm, the anchor was frequently connected with hope, which stands as a support in the troubles of life.

The anchor also symbolizes the war between the liquid and the solid, the land and the sea. It puts a brake upon life when it becomes too stormy.

Face Everything, Let Go and Attain Stability

By Hongzhi Zengjue (translated by Taigen Dan Leighton)

Vast and far-reaching without boundary, secluded and pure, manifesting light, this spirit is without obstruction. Its brightness does not shine out but can be called empty and inherently radiant. Its brightness, inherently purifying, transcends causal conditions beyond subject and object. Subtle but preserved, illumined and vast, also it cannot be spoken of as being or nonbeing, or discussed with images or calculations. Right in here the central pivot turns, the gateway opens. You accord and respond without laboring and accomplish without hindrance. Everywhere turn around freely, not following conditions, not falling into classifications. Facing everything, let go and attain stability. Stay with that just as that. Stay with this just as this. That and this are mixed together with no discrimination as to their places. So it is said that the earth lifts up the mountain without knowing the mountain’s stark steepness. A rock contains jade without knowing the jade’s flawlessness. This is how truly to leave home, how home-leaving must be enacted.

Note: From Cultivating the Empty Field: The Silent Illumination of Zen Master Hongzhi, by Taigen Dan Leighton. In his footnote to this passage, Leighton comments as follows: “Home-leaver” is a traditional designation for Buddhist monks, referred back to when the historical Buddha, Shakyamuni, left his palace in ancient India to seek and achieve perfected enlightenment. The term also applies to Chinese Zen monks who left their society’s rigid family system to enter the monastery or wander from teacher to teacher. On a deeper spiritual level, home-leaving refers to the practitioner’s letting go of attachments derived from personal habitual, psychological, and emotional conditioning.

The Clarity of an Autumn Pool

By: Hongzhi Zengjue (translated by Master Sheng-Yen)

Your body should sit silently; your mind should be quiescent and unmoving; and your mouth, so still that moss grows around it and grasses sprout from your tongue. Do this without cease, cleansing the mind until it gains the clarity of an autumn pool and is as bright as the moon illuminating the autumn sky.

From: Hoofprint of the Ox: Principles of the Chan Buddhist Path as Taught by a Modern Chinese Master, by Master Sheng-Yen and Dan Stephenson, and quoted in Rebecca' Li’s Illumination.

Open Your Grasping Hands

By: Hongzhi Zengjue (translated by Guo Gu)

Just take a backward step and open your grasping hands. Thoroughly resolve this matter. Only then will you be able to put forth light and respond to the world appropriately, merging with the myriad objects in a manner that is just right for all occasions. It is said, “The truth of all dharmas is not hidden; from ancient times to the present, it is always revealing itself.”

Genuine Practice

By: Hongzhi Zengjue (translated by Guo Gu)

Genuine practice is to simply sit in stillness and investigate this silence. In its profound depth, there is the realization where, externally, you can no longer be swayed by causes and conditions. Mind being empty, it is all-embracing; its luminosity being wondrous, it is precisely apt and impartial. Internally, there are no thoughts of grasping after things. Vast, solitary—the mind is [orginally] free from dullness. Being alive and potent, you are able to sever all opposition and remain content. Being content has nothing to do with emotions. You must be open and spacious, relying on nothing whatsoever. Splendid and marvelous, [your mind] is full of life and spirit.

Note: This passage is taken from Hongzhi’s Practice Instructions, which are a series of beautiful and evocative pointers to the realization of Silent Illumination, or Buddha-nature. The translation is from Guo Gu’s book Silent Illumination: A Chan Buddhist Path to Natural Awakening. This is just a portion of this particular practice instruction.