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| Biruwa |
Posted
on 06-Mar-03 10:10 PM
1. Life is pain.
2. One must still the cravings for life, which is fed by perceptions and feelings.
3. The cessation of pain, resulting from the cessation of cravings, brings man into Narvana, and to end the cycle of rebirth.
4. To achieve Narvana follow the Eightfold Way:
Right views;Right intention;Right speech;Right action;Right livelihoood;Right effort;Right mindfulness;Right concentration.
Why Zen became associated with a warrior class
George R. Parulski, Jr.
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| Biruwa |
Posted
on 06-Mar-03 10:11 PM
Dr. George R. Parulski, Jr., is both a novelist and poet. He is also a philosopher and an authority on Oriental culture. His books include The Adventures of Tim Amulet, a best-selling children's book; Wisdom of the East, published by Gordon Press; A D ictionary of Eastern Experience and Zen in the Art of Swordsmanship. A recent book, An Introduction to Oriental Philosophy, is available through Ohara Publications, Inc.
Dr. Parulski spent three years at the eisho-ji Monastery in the United States, training under Kuzure Kudo Roshi. He also holds degrees in judo and kito-ryu style of iai-do.
Dr. Parulski lives in Webster, New York, with his wife Carolyn. The peaceful philosophy of Zen is associated with the samurai warrior class of Japan-on the surface, an incredible iron. Zen and other forms of Buddhism were religion-philosophies of compassion wherever they were found. Historically, Zen was never found engaged in espousing warlike activities.
Why, then, did Zen come to activate the spirit of the Japanese warrior or samurai? The answer can be found in Zen's orientation. It can be defined as a philosophy that centers around turning one's mind back to the "original position." This is the time in childhood where every act stems from emotion or intuition. The child does not ponder each and every step of his life. There is no "stopping" at any one point. Such "stopping" and logical thinking through a situation can result in hesitation and inde cision. Zen taught that one must not "stop" and ponder his actions with resultant wavering. One should "flow" from one activity to another.
In Japan, Zen was, in this way, intimately related from the beginning of its history to the life of the samurai. It fit his needs perfectly. Not that Zen actively incited the samurai to carry on their violent profession. Rather, it passively sustained them when they had, for whatever reason, entered it. The distinction is important if we are to fully understand the complex role of Zen in the samurai society. Zen has sustained the samurai in two ways, morally and philosophically. Morally, because Zen is a system which teaches no to look backward once the course is decided upon; philosophically, because Zen treats life and death indifferently. This no turning backward ultimately comes from philosophical conviction. But being a system of the will, Z en appeals to the samurai spirit morally rather than philosophically. The military mind, not having the time for a great deal of intellectualization and not at all addicted to philosophizing (in general), finds a congenial spirit in Zen. This is probably one of the main reasons for the close relationship between Zen and the samurai.
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| Biruwa |
Posted
on 06-Mar-03 10:11 PM
Secondly, Zen discipline is simple, direct, self-reliant, self-denying. Its ascetic tendency goes well with the fighting spirit. The fighter is always single-minded wit hone object in view: to fight, looking neither backwards nor sideways, to go straig ht forward (when a situation necessitates it) in order to crush the enemy. He is therefore not to be encumbered in any way, be it physically, emotionally or intellectually. Intellectual doubts, if they are in the mind of the samurai, are great obstructi ons to his outward movement, while emotions and physical possessions are the heaviest of encumbrances if he wants to conduct himself most efficiently. A good samurai is generally and ascetic or stoic, that is, he has and "iron will." This, when called for, can be supplied by Zen.
Thirdly, there is a historical connection between Zen and the samurai of Japan. The Buddhist priest Eisai (1141-1251) However, his activities were more or less restricted to Kyoto, which was at the time the headquarters of the older schools of Buddhism. The inauguration of any new faith here was almost impossible, owing to the strong opposition these schools offered. Eisai had to compromise to some extent by Shingon Buddhist sects, whereas in Kamakura, which was the seat of the Hojo government, there w ere no such historical difficulties. Besides, the Hojo regime was militaristic. It had succeeded the Minamoto family, which had risen against the Taira family and the court nobles. The Taira had lost their effeminacy and consequent degeneration.
The Hojo regime is noted for its severe frugality and moral discipline and also for its powerful administration and warrior equipment. The directing heads of such a strong military and governing machine embraced Zen as their spiritual guide, ignoring tra dition in the matte of religion. Zen thus could not help but exercise its varied influence in the general, cultural life of the Japanese ever since the Ashikaga (1339-1573) and Tokugawa (1600-1868) periods.
There is a saying in Japan: "The Tendai is for the royal family, the Shingon for the nobility, Zen for the warrior classes and Jodo for the masses." This saying fitly characterizes each sect of Buddhism in Japan. The Tendai and the Shingon are rich in ritualism and their ceremonies are conducted in a most elaborate, pompous style appropriate to the taste of the refined classes. The Jodo appeals naturally more to the plebian requirements because of the simplicity of its faith and teachings. Zen, beside s its direct method of reaching final faith, is a religion of willpower, and willpower is what is urgently needed by the samurai, though it should be enlightened by intuition.
The first follower of Zen in the Hojo family was Tokiyori (1227-63), who succeeded his father Yasutoki in the Hojo Kyoto and also some from China (from the Chinese Sung Dynasty), under whom he earnestly devoted himself to the study of Zen. He finally suc ceeded in mastering it himself after 21 years of study. This mastery encouraged all his retainers to imitate the example of their master.
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| Biruwa |
Posted
on 06-Mar-03 10:12 PM
The guard said, "I am ashamed to confess I have never learned the art."
"Are you trying to fool me? I am a teacher of the Shogun himself, and I know my judging eye never fails."
"I am sorry to defy your honor, but I really know nothing."
The denial on the part of the visitor made the swordmaster think for a while. "If you say you do not, then it must be so; but still I am sure you are a master of something, though I do not know what."
"If you insist, I will tell you this. There is one thing of which I can say I am complete master. When I was a boy, the thought came upon me that as a samurai I ought, in no circumstance, to be afraid of death. After many years this problem has ceased to worry me."
"Exactly!" shouted Tajima no kami. "This is what I mean. I am glad I made no mistake in my judgment. For the ultimate secrets of swordsmanship also lie in being released from the thoughts of death. You need no technical training. You are already a master."4
The problem of death is a great problem with every one of us; it is, however, more pressing for the samurai who was continually faced with it. In feudal days no one could predict when this deadly encounter might take place, and the samurai worth his name was always ready, always on the alert.
Further, we read the following in the Hagakure: "Bushido means the determined will to die. When you are at the parting of the ways, do not hesitate to choose the way to death. In Bushido, honor comes first. Therefore, every morning and every evening, have the idea of death vividly impressed in your mind. When your determination to die at any moment is thoroughly established, you have attained perfect mastery of Bushido."
Often, the great samurai Nagahama Inosuke was quoted as saying, "The essence of swordsmanship consists in giving yourself up altogether to the business of striking down the opponent. As long as you are concerned about your own safety you can never win in the fight. If the enemy, too, is ready to give his life to it, you are then well matched. The final outcome will depend on faith and fate."
Further, the Hagakure states that the samurai is good for nothing unless he can go beyond life and death. When it is said that all things are of one mind, you may think that there is such a thing to be known as mind. But the fact is that mind attached to life and death must be abandoned, then you can execute wonderful things. That is to say, all things are accomplished when one attains the Zen state of "no-mind-ness."
It is through this Zen state of "no-mind" that swordplay becomes not an act of killing but a mission; not a weapon of murder but an instrument of spiritual self-discipline. To illustrate this, let us look at the swordmaster, Tsukahara Bokuden.
When Bokuden was crossing Lake Biwa in a rowboat with a number of passengers, there was among them a rough-looking samurai. He boasted of his skill, saying he was the foremost man in his art. The passengers eagerly listened to his blatant talk, while Bokuden was dozing as if nothing was going on. The samurai approached Bokuden and shook him saying, "You also carry two swords, why not say a word?" Bokuden answered quietly, "My art is different from yours; it consists not in defeating others, but in not being defeated." This angered the samurai.
"What is this school, then?"
"Mine is known as the mutekatsu-ryu ['without hands' school, or 'without using a sword'] ."
"Why, then, do you carry a sword?"
"This is meant to do away with selfish motives, and not to kill others."
The angry samurai challenged the master. "Do you really mean to fight me with no swords?"
"Why not?" Bokuden answered.
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| Biruwa |
Posted
on 06-Mar-03 10:12 PM
The samurai called out to the boatman to row to the nearest land. But Bokuden suggested that it would be better to go to the island farther off because on the mainland they might attract people who were liable to get hurt. The samurai agreed. As they were near the island, the man jumped off the boat, drew his sword and was ready for combat. Bokuden leisurely took off his own swords and handed them to the boatman. To all appearances he was about to follow. Suddenly Bokuden took the oar away from the boatman and, pushing it against the land, gave a hard back stroke to the boat. The boat made a departure from the island and plunged into deep water away from the samurai. Bokuden, smiling, remarked, "This is my 'no-sword' school."
Another interesting and instructive anecdote concerning the "no-mind" is told of Bokuden's sons. Bokuden had three sons, all of whom were trained in ken-jutsu. He wanted to test their attainments. He placed a little pillow over the curtain at the entrance to his room so that a slight touch, upon entering, would make the pillow fall right on one's head.
Bokuden called his eldest son. When he approached he noticed the pillow on the curtain, so he took it down, and after entering, he placed it back in the original position. The second son was called in. He touched the curtain to raise it, and as soon as he saw the pillow coming down, he caught it in his hands and then carefully put it back where it had been. Finally, he called in his third son who entered brusquely, and the pillow fell right on his neck. But he cut it in two with his sword before it touched the floor.
Bokuden passed his judgment: "My eldest son, you are well qualified for ken-jutsu." So saying, he gave him his sword. He told his second son, "Train yourself yet assiduously." But the youngest son Bokuden most severely reproved, for he was pronounced a disgrace to the family.
The "no-mind" is one of the most fascinating Zen concepts to mix with the samurai. A mind unconscious of itself is a mind that is not at all disturbed by affects of any kind. It is the original mind and not the delusive one that is chock-full of affects. It is always flowing; it never halts; nor does it turn solid. It fills the whole body, pervading every part of the body. It is never like a stone or a piece of wood. If it should find a resting place anywhere, it is not a mind-of-no-mind. A no-mind will keep nothing in it. It is thus called mushin.
When the mind has achieved mushin, it flows freely from one object to another, flowing dike a stream of water, filling every possible corner. For this reason, the mind fulfills every function required of it. But when the flowing is stopped at any one point, all other points will get nothing of it. The wheel revolves only when it is not too tightly attached to the axle. If the mind has something in it, it stops functioning. It cannot hear, it cannot see, even when sound enters the ears or light flashes before the eyes.
This "empty-minded-ness" applies equally to all creative activities we may perform, such as dancing and swordplay. The dancer takes up the fan and begins to strike his feet. If he has any idea at all of displaying his art well, he ceases to be a good dancer, for his mind "stops" with every movement he goes through. In all things, it is important to forget your mind and become one with the work at hand.
If we tie a cat, being afraid it will catch the bird, it keeps struggling for freedom. But if we train the cat so that it would not mind the presence of a bird, the animal would be free to go anywhere it likes. In a similar way, when the mind is tied up, it feels inhibited in every move it makes, and nothing will be accomplished with any sense of spontaneity. Not only that, the work itself will be of poor quality or it may not be finished at all.
Therefore, the no-mind principle of Zen teaches the samurai not to get "stopped" with the sword he raises. Forget what you are doing and strike the enemy, is the advice' Do not keep your mind on the person who stands before you. All is emptiness, but beware of your mind being caught up in emptiness itself.
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| Biruwa |
Posted
on 06-Mar-03 10:12 PM
Wu-an (1197-1276), the Chinese Zen master, under whom Tokiyori had his enlightenment, composed the following verse for his disciple:
I have no Buddhism which I can this moment talk to you about,
Nor have you any mind with which you listen to me, hoping for an attainment (enlightenment):
Where there is neither preaching nor attainment nor mind, there is the nothing of Tokiyori.1 After a very successful regency, Tokiyori died when he was only 37 years old. However, in the 37 years he was instrumental in introducing Zen to the samurai. When he realized he was about to die, he put on his Buddhist robes and sat in a posture of meditation. After writing his farewell song, he passed away quietly. The song reads: The Karma (rebirth) mirror raised high,
These thirty-seven years,
'Tis broken now with one hammer blow.
The Great Way (Zen) remains ever serene!2
Hojo Tokimune (1251 - 84) was his only son, and when his father's kingdom fell to him in 1268, he was 18 years of age. Tokimune is perhaps Japan's greatest personage. Without Tokimune, Japan might not be what it is today. It was he who crushed the Mongolian invasion which lasted several years. It seems that Tokimune was almost a heaven-sent agent to stave off the direst calamity that might befall the nation.
For our purposes, the most wonderful thing about this almost superhuman figure is that he had the time, energy and aspiration to devote himself to the study of Zen under the masters from China. He erected temples, including the very important Enkaku-ji. Some letters still preserved, which were sent to him by his masters, reveal how seriously he took to Zen. In one letter, Tokimune is said to have asked Zen master Bukko, "The worst enemy in our life is cowardice, how can I escape it?"
Bukko answered, "Cut off the source from whence cowardice comes."
Tokimune: "Where does it come from?"
Bukko: "It comes from Tokimune himself."
Tokimune: "Above all things, cowardice is what I hate most, how can I come out of myself?"
Bukko: "See how you feel when you throw overboard your cherished self. I will see you again when you have done this."
Tokimune: "How can this be done?"
Bukko: "Sit cross-legged in meditation and see into the source of all your thoughts which you imagine as belonging to Tokimune." 3
It was with this courage that Tokimune faced the Mongolian invasion and successfully drove it back. Historically speaking, he didn't accomplish this greatest feat in the history of Japan by courage alone. Tokimune planned every detail that was needed for the task and his ideas were carried out by a now Zen-oriented warrior class.
When Tokimune died, Bukko gave a glorious eulogy: "There were ten wonders in his life, which was the actualiza- tion of his vows: he was a filial son to his mother; he was a loyal subject to his emperor; he looked to the welfare of his people; studying Zen, he grasped the Truth; he betrayed no signs of joy or anger; sweeping away by virtue of a gale the threatening clouds raised by the barbarians, he showed no signs of elation; he established the Enkakuji; following his teachers, he sought the virtue of enlightenment. And in his near-death he managed to rise from his bed, put on the Buddhist robe and write his death song in full possession of his spirit. Such a one as he must be said to be an enlightened being."
Tokimune was a great Zen spirit and it was due to his encouragement that Zen came to be firmly established in Kamakura and then in Kyoto and began to spread its moral and spiritual influence among the samurai class.
Led by such strong characters as Tokiyori and Tokimune, Zen was introduced into the Japanese life, especially the life of the samurai. During this period it was fashionable for a young man to be either a priest or a samurai. Thus, the spiritual cooperation between the priesthood and the samurai could not help but contribute to what is now called Bushido, "the Way of the Warrior."
What finally has come to constitute Bushido is the act of being an unflinching guardian of the dignity of the samurai, and this constitutes filial piety, loyalty and benevolence. But to fulfill these duties successfully two things are required: (1) to train oneself in moral asceticism, not only in its practical aspect but in its philosophical preparation; and (2) to be always ready to face death-that is, to sacrifice oneself unhesitatingly when the occasion arises. To do this, much mental and spiritual training was needed.
There is a document that was very much talked about in connection with the Japanese military operations in China in the 1930's. It is known as the Hagakure, which means "Hidden under the Leaves. " It is one of the virtues of the samurai not to display himself, not to blow his horn, but to keep himself away from the public eye and be doing good for his fellow beings. A Zen monk by the name of Nabeshima Naogishige is said to have compiled the book of sayings and anecdotes in the 17th century. The book emphasizes very much the samurai's readiness to give his life away at any moment. It states that no great work has ever been accomplished without going "mad" -that is, when expressed in modern terms, without breaking through the ordinary level of consciousness and letting loose the hidden powers lying further below. When the unconscious is tapped, it rises above individual limitations. Death now loses its sting altogether, and this is where the samurai training joins hands with Zen.
This is illustrated by one of the stories in the Hagakure, which describes Yagyu Tajima no kami Munenori as a great swordsman and teacher in the art of ken-jutsu (swordplay) to the Shogun of the time, Tokugawa Iyemitsu. According to the account, one of the personal guards of the Shogun came to Tajima no kami one day wishing to be trained in ken-jutsu. The master said, "As I observe, you seem to be a master of the art yourself; pray tell me what ryu (school) you follow, before we enter into the relationship of teacher and student."
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| Biruwa |
Posted
on 06-Mar-03 10:13 PM
At the last stage of swordsmanship there is a secret teaching which is not given to any but a fully qualified disciple. Mere technical training is by far not enough; proficiency in this does not go beyond apprenticeship. The secret teaching is known among the masters as "the moon in water." According to Minamoto Musashi (1584 - 1645), considered by some to be the greatest swordsman who ever lived, "the moon in water" is explained as follows, which is no more, in truth, than the teaching of Zen-the doctrine of mushin: " 'What is meant by "the moon in the water?" '
"'This is explained in certain schools of swordsmanship,' answered Musashi, 'but the main idea is to grasp the way the moon reflects itself wherever there is a body of water, which is done in a state of mushin. One of the poems composed at the pond of Hirosawa reads:
" ' "The Moon has no intent to cast its shadow anywhere,
Nor does the pond design to lodge the moon:
How serene the water of Hirosawa!"
"'From this poem,' Musashi continued, 'one must get in sight into the secrets of mushin, where there are no traces of artificial contrivance, everything being left to nature itself. "'Again, it is like one moon reflecting itself in a hundred streams: the moonlight is not divided into so many shadows, but the water is there to reflect them; the moonlight remains ever the same even where there are no waters to hold its reflections. Again, it is all the same to the moonlight whether there are so many bodies of water, or there is just one little puddle. By this analogy, the mysteries of mind are made easier to understand. But the moon and water are tangible matter, while mind has no form and its works are difficult to trace. The symbols are thus not the whole truth, only suggestive.' "5
From this quotation we can see that the samurai put great stress on the Zen doctrine of no-mind. When this (mushin) is not realized, the mind is always conscious of its own doings-which Musashi calls mind-stopping. For, instead of flowing, as he says, from one object to another, the mind halts and reflects on what it is going to do or already has done. In the case of swordplay, to reflect on what you will do ultimately leads to your death. Instead, if the samurai remains like the moon, he will anticipate an opponent's move before it is completed.
This is indeed the kind of spirit Zen cultivated among its warrior followers. Zen did not necessarily argue with them about immortality of the soul or righteousness or the divine way or ethical conduct. It simply urged going- ahead with whatever conclusion, rational or irrational, at which a man has arrived. Philosophy may be safely left to the intellectual minds. Zen wants to act, and the most effective act, one in which the mind is made up, is to go on without looking backward. In this respect, Zen can be called the "religion" of the samurai.
"To defeat a thousand enemies is good,
but the samurai who defeats himself
Is the greatest of warriors." -The Dhammapada
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| SITARA |
Posted
on 07-Mar-03 06:07 AM
Biruwa ji
Interesting read...thank you! :)
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| SITARA |
Posted
on 07-Mar-03 08:23 AM
Biruwa ji
I had to come back and re-read it! I have read so many books on Zen and do practise some; but this historical aspect of Zen, I did not know. Wonderful!!!
There is another, as important facet of Zen: Humour; simple humour even in the worst, melancholic or craziest situation in life. The philosophy advocates : Being able to see the lighter side of the darker things...without losing perspective.
For me, Zen has become my way of life!
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| czar |
Posted
on 08-Mar-03 10:05 AM
Superb excerpts that are thoroughly enjoyable. I would be very interested in reading the full texts if you'd kindly share the sources of the info above ?
Thanks for sharing, marvellous material, really.
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