Two Retreats. Part Two: Kyol Che at Wubongsa, Falenica, near Warsaw, Poland, March 2017

Sitting meditation at Wubongsa

The monk next to me is falling asleep, his rhythmic breathing has become more audible, his back a little less erect. We are sitting side by side on our meditation cushions, knees just a few inches away from one another. Eighteen Zen practitioners sit facing the walls of the meditation hall for the annual three month winter retreat (kyol che). Some are sitting the whole thing, others, like me, are here for only a week.
Usually we sit erect and unmoving, legs crossed, knees touching our thick mats, eyes gazing softly at the polished wooden floor. Our hands are held gently against our bellies just below the navel in an oval shape, thumbs gently touching, focussed on the body’s energy centre, from where our breathing, relaxed, naturally originates.
After a few moments my friend quietly awakens and the room returns to silence. If my eyes were closed, I would think I was sitting alone. I repeat my mantra while my whole being is absorbed by the question “What is this?” Meditating with this question makes plain what I am not. I am not just my body; I am not just my thinking. But what am I? I don’t know.
Loud clattering of the bamboo clapper signals the end of sitting. We stretch our legs before standing, then begin walking meditation. You can hear the soft thumping of the stockinged feet of those who have just joined the retreat, while those who have been here longer tend to move soundlessly across the polished floor. In settling our minds our bodies just naturally become quieter. What is this? Only try, try, try for 10,000 years. Only go straight, don’t know. Birds sing, a dog barks, the floor is brown and the walls are white.

Daily Schedule

A.M.
5:00 Wake up
5:15 108 bows, chanting
6:40 Sitting
8:00 Breakfast
8:50 Work
10:30 Sitting
P.M.
12:45 Lunch
2:30 Walk outside
3:20 Sitting
5:00 Dinner
6:30 Chanting
7:35 Sitting
9:35 Sleep

Tametomo's kong-an and the climate emergency

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Hokusai: Tametomo and the smallpox demon
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With brush and ink the Japanese artist Hokusai (1760-1849) shows how the legendary warrior archer Tametomo protects the islanders of Okinawa from the deadly demon smallpox. Since the demon cannot be killed he subdues it with his centred energy. Smallpox demon submits and vows to leave the island, stamping its inky handprint as testament.
Hokusai’s drawing is the visual equivalent of what we Zen students do in kong-an practice (Jap: koan). We are given an apparently baffling question which does not yield its answer through conceptual thinking. We must use deep, focussed attention and patience to find our way through the fog of delusion, then the answer will appear as if by itself.
Tametomo is successful because he uses the power of the non-moving mind to win through. We are witnessing a moment of interaction between true self and small self. True self partakes of the energy of the whole universe, not making self and other. Hokusai shows him not separated from his adversary. Small self is inherently limited by the delusion of separateness: I, me, my. Its demon nature is revealed in the glimpse of a clawed foot.
While Tametomo looks down on the creature with single-pointed concentration, the smallpox demon faces us with blind eyes; a shrunken, tattered figure. Perhaps Hokusai is inviting our compassion: how can we share space with what we fear? How is transformation possible?
How we respond in kong-an practice also shows us the tactics we deploy to meet the challenges of daily life: procrastination, complicity, aggression, complacency, flight, to name a few. But when we patiently stick with it and perceive the core issue many a situation can get shrunk to a manageable size and resolved.
Hokusai shows us this work in progress: a perfect visualization of what each of us encounters in our human lives. A situation appears and we must respond. It cannot be resolved unless we do. When we feel threatened we tend to follow our usual habits of coping, such as running away, pretending it doesn’t exist, getting busy elsewhere, getting someone else to intervene, using emotional or physical violence to try and make it go away. But in this drawing Tametomo is not doing any of that, he is simply using the creative wisdom of his non-moving mind, his true self, to dispel the demon. When we do the same we are unblocked and free to respond to any situation with energy and clarity.
How does all this speak to the complicated and overwhelming challenge of the climate emergency? Because of its scale and ubiquity it’s hard to believe that the same principles apply. But both Hokusai’s Tametomo and kong-an practice show us that we have an opportunity here. We can wake up to the part we play and to how we are responding. We can see how our behaviours affect sentient beings everywhere, since we are all connected. We can look with unwavering gaze at our grief and fear and anger, then get centered and act with an open and questioning mind, free of the filters of preconception and pre-judgement. And return again and again and not give up.