Dōgen’s “Ceaseless
Practice” The ever increasing number of articles on Socially Engaged Buddhism offer a perspective in sharp contrast to the common conception of Buddhism as a tradition that advocates spiritual awakening at the expense of affective connections within the social world. This conception is not without some validity. Many Buddhist monks have separated themselves from their larger society for significant periods, and Buddhist teachers have spoken of the need to transcend all duality, including notions of “good/evil” and “right/wrong,” which rest on social convention. However, a repudiation of social norms is far from a rejection of all morality. A fortiori, moral apathy is far from an essential corollary of Buddhist Dharma. While the specific connection between Buddhism and morality has not been afforded much analytic philosophical attention in the West, some philosophers have argued that all of the major Asian traditions are necessarily amoral, claiming that they essentially involve attitudes or forms of awareness inconsistent with any notion of morality. One such line of thought insists that adopting an attitude of nonattachment, a trait seemingly essential to all branches of Buddhism, is to cut oneself off from any concern for others and thus from any sense of morality. Instances of this argument have been advanced by Arthur Danto in his book Mysticism and Morality.(1) I propose that these accusations are in error when offered as blanket generalizations. Many, perhaps most, Buddhist teachers have emphasized moral teachings. Moreover, far from being tangential, these teachings are often essentially linked to their mysticism—that is, to their espousal of an attitude of nonattachment. For brevity, I will focus on “ceaseless practice in the Buddha-mind,” the way of life advocated by Dōgen Zenji (1200-1253), the founder of Japanese Soto Zen Buddhism. I take Dōgen to be describing a mystical way of being, inasmuch as the ideal spiritual life he describes involves the maintenance of an attitude of nonattachment and a continuous awareness of the Divine (that is, Buddha-nature) as a pervasive unity encompassing all things. I hope to reveal that for Dōgen these purely phenomenological features are essentially linked with a new way of relating to others, which may be characterized as exhibiting the virtues of humility, respect, and compassion.(2) Beyond Satori The attainment of a particular unitive mystical state of consciousness, a satori experience, has always played a major role in Zen. Broadly, satori is a conscious insight or realization into the essential nature of the universe. The exact characteristics of this experience are, however, a matter of some dispute among scholars of Zen.(3) Even though there may be no phenomenologically unique experience correctly identified by the term, satori has often been regarded as the teleos of monastic mystical achievement in both the Soto and Rinzai branches of Zen. However, the satori experience has generally not been held to be the pinnacle of Zen practice, at least not in the Soto tradition. Dōgen wrote:
This was Dōgen’s (dis)solution to the question that plagued him from his beginnings as a Tendai initiate: “why must we practice to obtain enlightenment, if we all are innately enlightened?” Practice is not merely a means to the goal of enlightenment; when viewed correctly it is enlightenment. “Practice,” and hence “realization” along with it, should here be seen as referring to all of a Zen practitioner’s activities and not merely times of formal meditation. But in what sense are all of one’s activities practice? Surely not everyone’s activities count as practice—so what is the distinction? For Dōgen, the difference lay in the attitude of the Zen practitioner. Zen practice, which Dōgen referred to as “ceaseless practice” (“gyoji”), is primarily the continuous maintenance of a specific frame of mind. This is not to suggest that Dōgen rebuked formal meditation. In fact, he insisted that zazen (sitting meditation) was the most important aspect of Zen training.(5) Given this emphasis on zazen, and since, according to Zen accounts, steadfast zazen results in a satori experience, why didn’t Dōgen praise satori as the ultimate teleos of Zen training? The answer must be that he felt that Zen practice was concerned with something more than the attainment of any transitory mystical state. He wrote, “It is said, ‘even a thousand acres of clear fields is not as good as a bit of skill that you can take around with you.’”(6) Given that “a thousand acres of clear fields” plausibly refers to the state of consciousness during a satori experience, Dōgen is here admonishing that no transitory experience should be considered the final culmination of one’s practice. He insisted, “Enlightened vision does not only occur in an instant [as in satori experiences], but is constantly active at all times.”(7) True, or complete, realization is not transitory; it involves a fundamental and permanent alteration of one’s perception of reality, and it is the cultivation of this awareness that Dōgen instructed should be a Zen student’s main direction. Bankei, the seventeenth-century wandering Zen master who extended Dōgen’s call to “instruct all who would listen” into a repudiation of the rigid monastic system, clearly echoed Dōgen’s insistence that ultimate realization in Zen requires the maintenance of a specific quality of consciousness throughout all of one’s activities, the realization that “everyday life is meditation”:
The notion of Buddha Mind that Bankei uses here, and that was also employed by Dōgen, is crucial because it does not denote the state of consciousness during any transitory experience (including satori), but a permanent frame of mind. In Soto Zen, the realization of this consciousness is associated with mujodo no taigen, which Hakūn Yasutani described as “the actualization of the Supreme Way throughout our entire being and daily activities.”(9) For Dōgen, and the Soto tradition that followed him, enlightenment involved an integration of one’s perception of the world and one’s actions in it: “Acting on and witnessing oneself in the advent of myriad things is enlightenment.”(10) Let me attempt to elucidate the Soto Zen picture within each of these two realms in greater detail. Nonattachment What is this “bit of skill” that Dōgen praised above satori, that he maintained could be employed continuously, and that he claimed was instrumental in instilling this perception of unity? He most certainly held it to be an extension of the attitude of nonattachment that is cultivated in zazen practice. In zazen, the practitioner cultivates a form of consciousness wherein all thoughts, concerns, desires, and so forth are ineffective at capturing one’s attention. In beginning zazen practice, these thoughts inevitably arise, but the practitioner’s conscious attention always returns to her focus, either to her breathing or to nothing at all (that is, to an “open” alertness without any specific object of attention). This attitude of nonattachment toward all one’s thoughts during zazen is the Zen vehicle to the Buddhist ideal of transcending all strong desires, or cravings, which are seen as the root of all suffering. It is the key to the Eightfold Path, the middle way between the extreme self-denial of asceticism and the suffering inherent in craving.(11) One who is nonattached is beyond craving, which is not to say that such individuals have no desires or interests. While the nonattached individual may be said to maintain interests in the prerequisites for a healthy life (food, shelter, and so forth) as well as personal interests (for example, gardening or painting), she is not obsessed with these ends. This attitude represents a drastic phenomenological shift in one’s entire conscious life, but its affective quality is perhaps most apparent in the nonattached person’s equanimity in the face of loss. For example, a famous Zen story tells of a monk who, upon returning to his hut to discover that all his possessions have been stolen, remains undisturbed: “The thief left it behind—the moon in the window.”(12) The monk’s response stands in sharp contrast to that of an attached individual, who, we can imagine, craving to maintain her possessions, would be crushed by such a discovery. Dōgen repeatedly made “nonattachment” a central theme of his lectures.(13) He spoke against all forms of attachment, but most commonly referred to the difficulty and necessity of freeing oneself from attachment to one’s self. He often described this conception of nonattachment to self as a transcendence of the craving for individual immortality, as well as cravings for self-centered objectives such as “fame or fortune.”(14) Further, he insisted that such an attitude, thoroughly practiced both during and outside of formal meditation, would result in a pervasive mood of serenity or contentment and even extreme joy in all situations.(15) Every form of attachment, including attachment to satori experiences, has always been regarded as a danger within Soto Zen.(16) Most Soto Zen masters who followed Dōgen agreed that satori experiences foster a false sense of pride and a desire for repeated experiences, both of which were viewed as impediments to spiritual growth. This concern is clearly behind the following admonition given by Bankei:
Here, “the empty sky” refers to the state of consciousness in a satori experience, while “the Unborn Buddha Mind” denotes a mystical type of awareness that may be maintained continuously and the attainment of which was, according to Bankei, the goal of Zen. Satori experiences are generally described as incredibly blissful states of consciousness, and it is understandable how one, upon having achieved such a state, might long to experience it again. However, should such a desire become a craving, it threatens to destroy the attitude of nonattachment deemed so vital to Zen practice and, ironically, to the very attainment of such states of consciousness. More importantly, it blocks the shift in one’s perception Dōgen insisted results from the cultivation of nonattachment. The Unity of the Buddha-Nature Perhaps the most striking quality of nonattachment in Dōgen’s account is its ability to fundamentally alter one’s perception of reality.(18) Within the Soto tradition this altered perception is taken as carrying metaphysical import (that is, as an unveiling of the truly real) and is characterized as an awareness of Buddha-nature or the Buddha-seal, as immanent in all things.
These passages convey a central tenet in Dōgen’s teaching, that enlightenment consists in a sensual recognition that all things are intimately connected through a fundamental unity, which is Buddha-nature. The perception of Buddha-nature as a fundamental unity immanent in all things is also apparent within Dōgen’s famous interpretation of the Buddhist scripture “all beings have Buddha-nature” as “all being is Buddha-nature.”(21) Here he insists that the Buddha-nature is a pervasive unity rather than an individually distinct soul. He wrote, “[T]o see mountains and rivers is to see Buddha-nature. To see Buddha-nature is to see a donkey’s jaw or a horse’s mouth.”(22) In other words, Buddha-nature is all around us—everywhere. This altered perception clearly involves a new awareness of one’s own relation to everything, everything perceived, and beyond. Hence, enlightenment, according to Dōgen, also involves transcending, at least phenomenologically, the dichotomy between self and others.
There is a clear breakdown here of a sense of reality as composed of metaphysically distinct entities, including one’s sense of oneself as an essentially separate individual in the world.(25) No-Self We have seen that both the enlightened Zen practitioner’s attitude of nonattachment and her perception of the unity of the Buddha-nature, given that it is perceived as having metaphysical legitimacy, have implications for both the subject’s sense of herself and her relation to others and the world. “Selflessness,” the doctrine that there is no permanent substantial subject, is a main tenet of Buddhism in general. In Zen this dogmatic ontological position is held to have clear phenomenological grounding. According to Dōgen, enlightenment results in a distinct perceptual sense that there is no enduring substance with which one may identify one’s ‘self,’ including the physical body.
Joko Beck, a contemporary American Zen teacher, has reiterated this focus: “Zen practice is about being selfless, about realizing that one is no-self.”(27) What is this realization like phenomenologically? A clue is afforded by an explication of the concept of “self” that is claimed to be lost. Clearly, the idea of the self as a permanent entity, fundamentally separated from others and the world, is part of what is referred to as lost here. This seems to follow from Dōgen’s admonitions regarding attachment to one’s body. However, there is also a sense of “self” in the tradition that is associated with the sum total of all of one’s cravings. According to Dōgen, an ordinary (that is, unenlightened) individual’s sense of herself is intimately connected with her cravings. Hence, Dōgen maintained that this no-self-awareness involved, in addition to a perceptual awareness of oneself as intimately connected with everything through the unity of Buddha-nature, an absence of any form of craving, together with an absence of any conception of oneself as essentially defined through one’s desires. Engaged Nonattachment In spite of this attitude of nonattachment, and the absence of a sense of self and the presence of an unshakable sense of serenity that accompany it, Dōgen insisted that enlightenment did not result in inactivity or apathy. He held that nonattachment was consistent with intentional (that is, purposeful) action. In other words, nonattachment did not mean having no goals or ends. According to Dōgen, the real problem was attachment to one’s goals, not goals in themselves (except for purely selfish ends). In fact, Dōgen’s admonitions against satori experiences can be seen as warnings against attachment to (the goal of) nonattachment. This position is apparent in passages that we have already seen, wherein Dōgen insisted that one’s awareness in the Buddha-mind must be maintained continuously. Perhaps more than any other Soto teacher, Bankei reiterated this point, noting that one’s particular activity is unimportant as long as one remains in the Buddha-mind (that is, nonattached).
While Bankei is insisting that one’s particular form of practice is unimportant, he is not advocating pure subjectivism. The important point to note here is the insistence on the need to act in accord with one’s “realization of the Buddha Mind.” It is not subjectivism, because Bankei insists that it is always necessary to “abide in the Buddha Mind” and, as may be becoming clear, this frame of mind and the altered perspective of reality that accompanies it have dramatic effects upon how one relates to others and the world. The Taoist ideas of wu wei (literally “nondoing” or “nonaction”) and wei wu wei (“acting through nonaction”), which were deeply integrated into Zen thought, express this same possibility of acting from an attitude of nonattachment through an absence of any concern for the actual result. Note the following passage from the Tao Te Ching:
There is work to be done, legitimate ends to pursue, but the emphasis always lies in the action itself. To attempt to convey this shift in emphasis, Dōgen insisted that the Buddha would still have practiced his meditation and teaching even if all sentient beings were already saved.(30) Nonattachment is revealed not by the absence of goals but rather by the absence of any mental preoccupation with one’s goal during the activity or after the attempt to realize it is complete, whether or not the goal has been successfully realized. Moreover, whether or not the end toward which the activity is directed is realized has no bearing on such an individual’s sense of self-esteem. However, this does not mean that the Zen master did not take the activity seriously. Action is important as it is seen as an expression of the Tao (“the flow of life”) or the Buddha-nature, but its value lies completely within itself. We have seen that Dōgen insisted that the attitude of nonattachment could be (and indeed should be) continuously maintained. Hence, he clearly held it to be consistent with intentional activity. In a major lecture titled “Ceaseless Practice” (“Gyoji”), he instructed:
Here Dōgen insists that the value of any action lies not in the contingent realization of one’s end but in the activity itself as a moment of practice of nonattachment and its accompanying perceptions and feelings. D. T. Suzuki, a pioneer in bringing Zen to the English-speaking world early in the twentieth century, concurred: “Zen emphasizes the purposelessness of work or being detached from teleological consciousness.”(32) Beck has described this attitude as a way of “living without hope,” since “hope” entails a strong attachment to an intentional objective.(33) Finally, note that this sense of engaged nonattachment involves not seeking or desiring any thanks or praise for one’s acts. For example, Dōgen wrote, “When one [who is enlightened] has seen an exhausted turtle or an ailing sparrow, one doesn’t want their thanks—one is simply moved to helpful action.”(34) But if one is nonattached, why is one “moved toward helpful action” as opposed to harmful action? Why is an unattached individual moved toward any action at all? I believe that we are now in a position to appreciate Dōgen’s response to this worry. The Bodhisattva Virtues The scope of nonattachment is generally recognized in Zen as including normative rules or conventions. However, Dōgen often spoke of the need for diligence to do good.(35) Moreover, within Dōgen’s “ceaseless practice,” the actions of an enlightened individual were clearly expressive of specific moral virtues that flowed out of the Buddha-mind (that is, from the maintenance of an attitude of nonattachment). These virtues are evident in Dōgen’s explication of “the four ways a Bodhisattva acts to benefit human beings”: fuse (almsgiving), aigo (loving words), rigyo (beneficial action), and doji (identification with the beings that are to be helped, or cooperation).(36) The virtue of humility is clearly expressed in his explication of fuse (almsgiving):
The absence of selfish traits such as coveting or greed expresses a moral sense of selflessness (nonselfishness) and is a direct result of the attitude of nonattachment. The regarding of every gift as both precious as well as an extension of what one considers to be a gift reveals a sense of gratitude and humility that is no doubt connected with the perception of all things as Buddha-nature. Aigo (loving words) and rigyo (beneficial action) express a deep sense of compassion that Dōgen noted arises naturally within an enlightened individual.
Note that this compassion extends to all sentient beings, including one’s enemies. Furthermore, the lack of “opposition between subjectivity and objectivity” suggests that this consideration and love for others is a result of a sense of connection that comes from the enlightened perception of unity of all things within Buddha-nature. This idea that the perception of unity leads directly to a moral regard for others is directly apparent in doji.
Here, the sense of all things as Buddha-nature is expressed through a perceived connection between oneself and others, and this connection is seen as resulting in a sense of respect expressed through nonopposition, or nonharming. In sum, these passages elucidate that the virtues of humility, respect, and compassion are infused within a practitioner of ceaseless practice via a sympathetic union with others, which results from the enlightened perception of reality as Buddha-nature discussed above. Given that “respect” may be identified with the absence of any disposition to harm others and “compassion” with a disposition to help others, this connection seems natural enough; if one feels fundamentally unified with others, one would be inclined to refrain from injuring them and, in fact, come to their aid. The espousal of these virtues is far from unique to Dōgen. They are present throughout the Zen, Buddhist, and Taoist traditions. For example, this same notion of respect is reflected in Chuang Tzu’s claim, “The man in whom the Tao acts without impediment harms no other being.”(41) Kuo-an Shih-yuan’s additions to the Zen ox-herding pictures suggest that a clear sense of compassion accompanies complete enlightenment. The final picture in Kuo-an’s sequence, which represents the culmination of Zen practice, is titled Entering the Marketplace [that is, the social world] with Helping Hands.(42) Yasutani also clearly echoed Dōgen’s contention that a perception of the unity of Buddha-nature would result in one’s actions toward others being based on both respect and compassion:
Note Yasutani’s insistence on a causal relationship here; he claimed an awakened individual “could not fight another.” He was not advocating a moral rule against harming, but rather insisting that enlightenment shapes one’s moral character as much as one’s perception. Indeed, he said, one’s character is shaped in proportion to one’s “realization of the world of oneness [that is, Buddha-nature].” Whether or not the realization of Buddha-nature instills such a stringent adherence to nonviolence as to preclude all possible self-defense, as Yasutani appears to suggest, its connection to a morally significant sense of concern for the well-being of others is undeniable. Summary I realize the above abbreviated account falls short of doing justice to the depth of Dōgen’s thinking regarding “ceaseless practice in the Buddha-mind.” I do, however, hope to have provided a portrait of “ceaseless practice” that reveals Dōgen’s conception of nonattachment to be not only consistent with moral concerns but in fact foundational for cultivating genuinely moral virtues. Far from morally indifferent, Dōgen’s ideally nonattached individual is a humble agent in the world whose perceived sense of a pervasive interconnected unity of all things through Buddha-nature instills a sympathetic connection to others within her, which in turn results in her projects and actions expressing both respect and compassion. Dōgen eloquently summarized this integrated ideal:
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