The Spirit of Repetition

By: Shunryu Suzuki Roshi

“If you lose the spirit of repetition, jour practice will become quite difficult”

The Indian thought and practice encountered by Buddha was based on an idea of human beings as a combination of spiritual and physical elements. They thought that the physical side of man bound the spiritual side, and so their religious practice was aimed at making the physical element weaker in order to free and strengthen the spirit. Thus the practice Buddha found in India emphasized asceticism. But Buddha found when he practiced asceticism that there was no limit to the attempt to purge ourselves physically, and that it made religious practice very idealistic. This kind of war with our body can only end when we die. But according to this Indian thought, we will return in another life, and another life, to repeat the struggle over and over again, without ever attaining perfect enlightenment. And even if you think you can make your physical strength weak enough to free your spiritual power, it will only work as long as you continue your ascetic practice. If you resume your everyday life you will have to strengthen your body, but then you will have to weaken it again to regain your spiritual power. And then you will have to repeat this process over and over again. This may be too great a simplification of the Indian practice encountered by Buddha, and we may laugh at it, but actually some people continue this practice even today. Sometimes without realizing it, this idea of asceticism is in the back of their minds. But practicing in this way will not result in any progress.

Buddha’s way was quite different. At first he studied the Hindu practice of his time and area, and he practiced asceticism. But Buddha was not interested in the elements comprising human beings, nor in metaphysical theories of existence. He was more concerned about how he himself existed in this moment. That was his point. Bread is made from flour. How flour becomes bread when put in the oven was for Buddha the most important thing. How we become enlightened was his main interest. The enlightened person is some perfect, desirable character, for himself and for others. Buddha wanted to find out how human beings develop this ideal character—how various sages in the past became sages. In order to find out how dough became perfect bread, he made it over and over again, until he became quite successful. That was his practice.

But we may find it not so interesting to cook the same thing over and over again every day. It is rather tedious, you may say. If you lose the spirit of repetition it will become quite difficult, but it will not be difficult if you are full of strength and vitality. Anyway, we cannot keep still; we have to do something. So if you do something, you should be very observant, and careful, and alert. Our way is to put the dough in the oven and watch it carefully. Once you know how the dough becomes bread, you will understand enlightenment. So how this physical body becomes a sage is our main interest. We are not so concerned about what flour is, or what dough is, or what a sage is. A sage is a sage. Metaphysical explanations of human nature are not the point.

So the kind of practice we stress thus cannot become too idealistic. If an artist becomes too idealistic, he will commit suicide, because between his ideal and his actual ability there is a great gap. Because there is no bridge long enough to go across the gap, he will begin to despair. That is the usual spiritual way. But our spiritual way is not so idealistic. In some sense we should be idealistic; at least we should be interested in making bread which tastes and looks good! Actual practice is repeating over and over again until you find out how to become bread. There is no secret in our way. Just to practice zazen and put ourselves into the oven is our way.

From: Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind

Repetition

By: John Tarrant

There are tools of transformation. The art student draws a hand, a face, the curve of a back, over and over, quickly and slowly. Gradually her consciousness changes and the hand, the act of drawing, and the person drawing become transparent; unity is restored to the world. At the moment this process is complete, the student is no longer an apprentice. Some Tibetan Buddhists undertake a foundation practice in which, among other tasks, they perform one hundred thousand elaborate prostrations, usually over several years. Now, this might seem quite useless and of no benefit to oneself or others, yet it too offers a way to enter life utterly. One lama laughed and said that the first ten thousand or so prostrations he did were not any good, so he threw them away. Then he began to do them more simply, more entirely. The days and months continued and the trees became more vibrant, the eyes of the people he met grew more vivid with their story.

Repetition is narrow and, if undertaken mechanically, stifles us, but it can also allow us to go deep. In meditation we repeat ourselves day after day, coming back to stillness and the breath, and again and again realize that we haven’t yet experienced it completely, that it is ever more subtle. Repetition, when done right, drifts almost imperceptibly into vasts, new realms, but with a slowness that allows for deepening, beauty, the appreciation of the neglected moment. It stabilizes our relation to eternity.

Any good relationship—marriage, a love affair, friendship, teacher and student—depends as well on just this sort of steady, attentive repetition. Common events, like having breakfast together, accumulate significance. Repetition teaches us that the things we do are not confined to their practical value. Bowing, or even lifting a fork from a plate, makes us aware that simple acts share a common timelessness with the sound of the spring wind and of the branches banging on the gutters.

Repetition may seem a succession of small moments, modest and uneventful. Yet repetition has also a certain cunning: it forces us to bide a while. The passage of time so gained alters us—we learn the small arts of attention and how to love the domestic moments between the big moments; we are soothed. But the road of repetition does not just make us calmer, more docile to ourselves. The step-by-step rhythm opens out, in time, to a suprise.

For repetition makes us vulnerable to the apparently random epiphanies that occur even if we have no interest in spirit. The boy immersed in his life stands amazed on the side of the gorge while the hills dance, the woman steps out of doors and dissolves into a field of flowers. Such events appear in our lives as gifts, apparently random. If spiritual openings are accidents, as a number of teachers have pointed out, then the spiritual work of meditation makes us accident-prone, susceptible to the imagination of eternity, the wit of God.

In matters of spirit, no road is ever straight. When first we begin to open, the vastness can be frightening and so we regress, sag back into the familiar darkness, where we can be close to the earth and rest. There we abide, gathering invisible resilience, until once again the involuntary compassion appears in the midst of suffering, and we step back onto the stair of Purgatory and the steady repetitions of spiritual work.

From: The Light Inside the Dark: Zen, Sould and the Spiritual Life. John Tarrant Roshi is the founder and director of the Pacific Zen Institute. He was the first dharma heir of Robert Aitken Roshi. Tarrant was a Jungian psychotherapist for twenty years, working on dream analysis while he was developing his teaching of Zen koans.

Symbolism of the Spiral

From: The Book of Symbols: Reflections on Archetypal Images

Spiral motifs appear worldwide in the symbolism of religion, art, dreams, folktales and mythology. Mathematically, a spiral is simply a line that grows continuously toward or away from its center. But its symbolic power is in its evocation of an archetypal path of growth, transformation and psychological or spiritual journey. Based on the direction of its spin, whether expanding outward and larger, or tightening inward and smaller, a spiral is a cosmic symbol that may represent one or the other of several dualities: growth or decay, ascent or descent, evolution of involution, waxing or waning, accumulation or dissolution, increasing or decreasing, expanding or contracting, offering or receiving, revealing or hiding. The double spiral combines both opposites in one glyph.

Spirals extending infinitely in two directions make the path of ascent and descent between heaven and earth. Deities and humans communicate with each other along spirals. It is the sacred way of commandment and prayer, the spiral voice of God and the sacred call to God. Various deities speak through spiral whirlwinds and through columns of whirling dust, smoke and fire. Humans pray to deities along the same spiral paths by making offerings with ascending smoke spirals and by blowing through spiral conch shells and ram’s horn trumpets. Each natural spiral has a center of balance or calm eye (the eye of the storm) around which all motion and turbulence revolves. The spiral’s eye evokes one’s own center, divine source, “I am” and seed of consciousness. It suggests the eye of wisdom that observes all but is never entangled in the turbulence.

Note: The Book of Symbols was produced by the Archive for Research in Archetypal Symbolism (ARAS). ARAS is a pictorial and written archive of mythological, ritualistic, and symbolic images from all over teh world and from all epochs of human experience. The collection of 17,000 photographic images, accompanied by commentary on their cultural and historical context, probes the universality of archetypal themes.

The Circle

By: Black Elk

Everything an Indian does is in a circle, and that is because the Power of the World always works in circles…The sky is round, and…the earth is round like a ball, and so are all the stars. The wind, in its greatest power, whirls. Birds make their nests in circles, for theirs is the same religion as ours. The sun comes forth and goes down again in a circle. The moon does the same, and both are round. Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing, and always come back again to where they were. The life of a man is a circle from childhood to childhood, and so it is in everything where power moves.

From: Black Elk Speaks.

The Wonderful Adornments of the Leaders of the Worlds

From: The Flower Ornament Scripture, Book One

Thus have I heard.  At one time the Buddha was in the land of Magadha, in a state of purity, at the site of enlightenment, having just realized true awareness.  The ground was solid and firm, made of diamond, adorned with exquisite jewel discs and myriad precious flowers, with pure clear crystals.  The ocean of characteristics of the various colors appeared over an infinite extent.  There were banners of precious stones, constantly emitting shining light and producing beautiful sounds.  Nets of myriad gems and garlands of exquisitely scented flowers hung all around.  The finest jewels appeared spontaneously, raining inexhaustible quantities of gems and beautiful flowers all over the earth.  There were rows of jewel trees, their branches and foliage lustrous and luxuriant.  By the Buddha's special power, he caused all the adornments of this enlightenment site to be reflected therein.  

The tree of enlightenment was tall and outstanding.  Its trunk was diamond, its main boughs were lapis lazuli, its branches and twigs were of various precious elements.  The leaves, spreading in all directions, provided shade, like clouds.  The precious blossoms were of various colors, the branching twigs spread out their shadows.  Also the fruits were jewels containing a blazing radiance.  They were together with the flowers in great arrays.  The entire circumference of the tree emanated light; within the light there rained precious stones, and within each gem were enlightening beings, in great hosts like clouds, simultaneously appearing.

Note: The Flower Ornament Scripture (Avatamsaka Sutra), is a text of immense importance and influence in East Asian Mahayana Buddhism. It is thought to have been authored by multiple individuals, beginning in northern India during the first and second centuries AD and likely supplemented in significant part by Chinese authors at later dates. The English translation is by Thomas Cleary. The text has been described by Cleary as "the most grandiose, the most comprehensive, and the most beautifully arrayed of the Buddhist scriptures.” The Flower Ornament Scripture describes a cosmos of infinite realms upon realms filled with an immeasurable number of Buddhas. It served as the foundation of the Huayan school of Chinese Buddhism, which is known in Japan as Kegon. The sutra was highly influential in Chan and Zen Buddhism.

From the Tenzo Kyōkun

By: Eihei Dogen

I shall now take up the work of the tenzo (cook) covering a period of one complete day. After the noon meal the tenzo should go to the tsūsu and kansu to get the rice, vegetables, and other ingredients for the following morning and noon meals. Once he has these, he must handle them as carefully as if they were his own eyes. Renyong of Baoneng said, “Use the property and possessions of the community as carefully as if they were you own eyes.” The tenzo should handle all food he receives with respect, as if it were to be used in a meal for the emperor.

….preparations for the next morning’s meal may begin. You must not leave the washing of rice or preparation of vegetables so others, but must carry out this work with your own hands. Put your whole attention into the work, seeing just what the situation calls for. Do not be absent-minded in your activities, nor so absorbed in one aspect of a matter that you fail to see its other aspects.

From: From the Zen Kitchen to Enlightenment: Refining Your Life, by Dogen and Uchiyama. This volume is a translation of and commentary on Dogen’s Tenzo Kyōkun (Instructions to the Zen Cook).

Grief and Love Are Sisters

By: Francis Weller

Sorrow helps us to remember something long intuited by indigenous people across the planet: our lives are intricately commingled with one another, with animals, plants, watersheds, and soil…The personal and the planetary are inseparable, as is our healing. Loss binds us together in a potent alchemy, confirming the heart’s intimacy with all things. Losing someone or something we love brings us into the shelter of our mutual grief. Grief and love are sisters, woven together from the beginning. Their kinship reminds us that there is no love that does not contain loss and no loss that is not a reminder of the love we carry for what we once held close. Alone and together, death and loss affect us all.

From: The Wild Edge of Sorrow: Rituals of Renewal and the Sacred Work of Grief. Francis Weller is a retired psychotherapist, writer and soul activist. He is currently on staff at the Commonweal Cancer Help Program, co-leading their week-long retreats with Michael Lerner.

Our Last Thought and Emotion in This Life

By: Sogyal Rinpoche

…Our state of mind at death is all-important. If we die in a positive frame of mind, we can improve our next birth, despite our negative karma. And if we are upset and distressed, it may have a detrimental effect, even though we may have used our lives well. This means that the last thought and emotion that we have before we die has an extremely powerful determining effect on our immediate future…This is why the masters stress that the quality of the atmosphere around us when we die is crucial. With our friends and relative, we should do all we can to inspire positive emotions and sacred feelings, like love, compassion, and devotion, and all we can to help them to “let go of grasping, yearning and attachment.”

From: The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying

State of Mind at the Moment of Death

By: His Holiness The Dalai Lama

At the time of death attitudes of long familiarity usually take precedence and direct the rebirth. For this same reason, strong attachment is generated for the self, since one fears one’s self is becoming nonexistent. This attachment serves as the connecting link to the intermediate state between lives; the liking for a body in turn acts as a cause establishing the body of the intermediate (bardo) being.

From: Lati Rinbochay and Jeffrey Hopkins, Death, the Intermediate State and Rebirth in Tibetan Buddhism.

Stand Still

By David Wagoner

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

Note: David Wagoner (1926-2021) was a prize-winning poet, considered the leading poet of the Pacific Northwest.

Keeping Quiet

By: Pablo Neruda

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

This one time upon the earth,
let’s not speak any language,
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be a delicious moment,
without hurry, without locomotives,
all of us would be together
in a sudden uneasiness.

The fishermen in the cold sea
would do no harm to the whales
and the peasant gathering salt
would look at his torn hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars of gas, wars of fire,
victories without survivors,
would put on clean clothing
and would walk alongside their brothers
in the shade, without doing a thing.

What I want shouldn’t be confused
with final inactivity:
life alone is what matters,
I want nothing to do with death.

If we weren’t unanimous
about keeping our lives so much in motion,

if we could do nothing for once,
perhaps a great silence would
interrupt this sadness,
this never understanding ourselves
and threatening ourselves with death,
perhaps the earth is teaching us
when everything seems to be dead
and then everything is alive.

Now I will count to twelve
and you keep quiet and I’ll go.

Note: Pablo Neruda (1904-1973), a Chilean poet, has been called the greatest poet writing in Spanish during his lifetime.

Your Life is Being Saved

By: Gregg Krech

Your life is being saved at this very moment. Each moment. Each breath. You may not notice it, yet ten, twenty, or thirty times a minute your life is saved by the life-giving air that you are breathing. Take a deep breath. Notice the air going deep into your lungs. Your body takes what it needs to survive. Once again, your life is saved. What is your attitude toward air? What have you done for air lately? Could you ever do enough to repay it for giving you life? What trouble have you caused the air that continually saves your life.

***

But it isn’t only air that saved my life today. Water also deserves this recognition. Most of my body consists of water, which is constantly replenished by food and drink. And my heart keeps beating without rest. Even when I take a coffee break, my heart does not. And my lungs and every essential organ in my body work together in ways I don’t even understand so I can breath and speak and urinate. And then there’s heat. And sunlight.

I slept fairly well last night, even though I didn’t try to sleep well. When I try to sleep well I usually don’t sleep well at all. It seems more accurate, more realistic, to consider a good night’s sleep a gift. Thank you, water. Thank you, lungs. Thank you, sleep. Thank you, bed.

From: Naikan: Gratitude, Grace, and the Japanese Art of Self-Reflection. For more information on Naikan and Gregg Krech, see the Reading posted on November 28, 2025.

Gratitude and the Practice of Attention and Reflection

By: Gregg Krech

It is rare to meet a person whose life is full of gratitude. Even though the course of a single day may bring innumerable blessings to us, the few moments of genuine gratitude we experience are often overshadowed by our complaints, disappointments, sorrow, and frustration. We may not truly appreciate what we have until it is gone. And having lost the opportunity to be grateful, we simply find a new opportunity to be disappointed.

Gratitude requires attention and reflection. If we don’t pay attention, the countless and constant ways we are supported go unnoticed. If we don’t reflect, we fail to acquire the wisdom that comes with perspective.

From: Naikan: Gratitude, Grace, and the Japanese Art of Self-Reflection. Naikan, a structured method of self-reflection, was developed in Japan in the 1940’s by Ishin Yoshimoto, a devout Buddhist of the Pure Land Sect. Gregg Krech is an American practitioner of Naikan and the Executive Director of the TōDō Institute in Middlebury, Vermont, an education and retreat center.

You Have to Say Something

By: Dainin Katagiri Roshi

Anything you think about Buddha-nature is just some idea in your mind. But Buddha-nature is not something we can grasp. In this sense, there is no Buddha-nature.

We want to know if Buddha-nature exists or not. But no matter how long we discuss it, there is no end to the subject. What is there to say about Buddha-nature? Nothing. The same is true of whatever aspect of human life you pick up: finally there is nothing to say.

A monk once asked his master, “What is the essence of Buddhism?” The master said, “Step forward from the top of a hundred-foot pole.”

How can we go forward from the top of the pole? We will die. Can we go backward? No, we cannot. What, then, does it mean to step forward from the top of a hundred-foot pole?

Though we are not always conscious of it, we actually face this question daily. As we do become aware of it, we finally ask ourselves, What is life? But there is nothing to say. Just silence. This silence is Buddha-nature, or Suchness, or Emptiness.

Though everyone experiences this silence, we usually don’t notice it because our minds are very busy. Sooner or later, though, we all realize its presence. But then we ask, “What is this silence? How can I speak of it? Do I just keep my mouth shut?” No, I don’t think so. Even if you don’t say anythng, there is still a problem. Silence—Buddha-nature—is not something apart from your life. It compels you to speak. That is why the Zen master had to speak. He had to say something. He had to speak from that silence—from Buddha-nature.

When you really understand your life—when you really understand what makes it possible for all beings to exist—there is nothing to say. You just keep silent. But still you have to do something. This is why I always tell you to keep your mouth shut and act with true heart. Buddha-nature is the state of your life as you stand atop a hundred-foot pole. You have to do something. Take one step.

From: You Have to Say Something: Manifesting Zen Insight. Dainin Katagiri Roshi (1928-1990) was one of the pioneers who brought Soto Zen to America. in 1965, he came to San Francisco to assist Suzuki Roshi at the Shokoji Soto Zen Mission. Subsequently, he helped establish the San Francisco Zen Center. In 1972, he moved to Minnesota, where he founded the Minnesota Zen Center.

The Four Elements as Metaphors

By: Bhikkhu Anãlayo

The element earth can … be used to exemplify our rootedness in what is wholesome and productive of welfare for ourselves and others. Again, similar to water, which adapts its form to wherever it flows, so we can train ourselves to be flexible and adaptive to outer circumstances. Just as fire provides warmth to those who are shivering with cold, so we can offer the warmth of our heart to the lonely and desolate. Comparable to wind that keeps moving, in the same way, in the same way we keep progressing on the path to liberation. In this or any other way, the four elements can be employed as metaphors for mental qualities to be cultivated.

From: Satipatthāna Meditaton: A Practice Guide. Anãlayo is a Theravadin monk and also has a PhD in Buddhist Studies. His main field of interest is Early Buddhism. Analayo is a resident scholar-monk at the Barre Center for Buddhist Studies in Barre, Massachusetts. He is the author of numerous books.

Community as a Jewel

By: Gil Fronsdal

Buddhist practice is supported, nourished, and protected by a community of fellow practitioners, i.e., the Sangha…

Practicing alone can be difficult. Buddhist practice often changes our values and priorities. The values of virtue, contentment, peace, generosity, love and compassion that grow out of the practice can be in conflict with the values of consumerism, ambition, selfishness and insensitivity found in much of our popular culture. A community of practitioners offers mutual support for living by alternative values that may be undermined or overshadowed in some areas of our society.

Also, a Buddhist community, especially one with mature and experienced practitioners, can function as a mirror allowing a person to see themselves more clearly. This works well when compassionate members of the Sangha don’t support or participate in the many conceits or fear-based attempts for approval-seeking and personal delusions we may bring to our interactions. When such Sangha members respond with kindness, wisdom, pauses and wise silence, we may be able to see more clearly the attachments we have. While this type of mirroring may come with feelings of discomfort, the self-understanding it brings is invaluable.

In addition, a Sangha may be the home of people with personal maturity, compassion, and peace who inspire us in our own practice. They can function as encouragement to continue practicing when practicing the Dharma is difficult. Their behavior can provide practical lessons in how to express the values and teachings of Buddhism in life. We might learn more from watching some of these exemplars than from reading books on Buddhism. Importantly, it might be in the example of other practitioners that we gain confidence in how worthwhile and transformative the path of liberation is.

Of course, other communities besides Buddhist ones can provide helpful mirroring and modeling. However, there is a dedication that a Buddhist community tries to live by that may well be different than most other groups. A Sangha is a place where anyone can come and practice. Everyone interested in the practice is welcome. There is no need to be.a Buddhist. If we end up in conflict with someone or we don’t like what they have said or done, we don’t banish that person from the community. Rather we bring mindful investigation to the conflict. We look for opportunities for healing, reconciliation and for wise ways of respecting one another and making room for differences. We try to notice an attachments, fears, projections and confusions that unnecessarily complicate a conflict. This all expresses a dedication of inclusion in a Sangha that aims to be a community safe for everyone to continue along a path of spiritual maturation.

For the same reason, a Sangha is also a safe place to experiment with new ways of being. As practice relaxes our insecurities and unhelpful habits of behavior, a Sangha can be, for example, a place for compulsive speakers to explore speaking less, or inhibited speakers to explore new ways of speaking up…

Full article: https://www.insightmeditationcenter.org/community-as-a-jewel/

Note: The full article from the website of the Insight Meditation Center can be found here. Gil Fronsdal is the founder and co-guiding teacher of the Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, California. He has practiced Zen and Vipassana since 1975 and has a PhD in Buddhist Studies from Stanford. Fronsdal has a unique perspective as a result of his rigorous training in both the Soto Zen and Theravadan traditions. He was a Theravada monk in Burma and also received Dharma transmission from Mel Weitsman in the Soto Zen lineage of Suzuki Roshi.

Appreciating the Dharma

By: Nyoshul Khenpo Rinpoche

The Dharma is like pure elixir, like nectar.  Naturally, one feels like preserving it, cherishing it, safeguarding it, and sharing it.  If nobody appreciates it, then these words are just like mist dissolving in the air, lost, gone.  On the other hand, if those who hear these things take them up, practice them, and realize them, then they get the full benefit of these truths.  They are for everybody.  They are to be transmitted and passed on.  There is no question about secrecy, about protecting them, about keeping them back.  They must proliferate and continue.

Spiritual practice benefits all.  It benefits the individual.  It benefits the community, It benefits the country.  It benefits the universe.  It benefits all, and blesses all.

Spiritual practice is extremely important.  Please appreciate it.

From: Natural Great Perfection. Nyoshul Khenpo Rinpoche (1932-1999) was one of the most eminent Tibetan meditation masters of the 20th Century.

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.