Karen Maezen Miller remembers the first time she asked, “What is dharma?”
A monk asked Gensha, “How do I enter the Way?”
Gensha replied, “Do you hear the murmuring stream?”
The monk answered, “Yes, I do.”
Gensha said, “Enter there.”
“What is dharma?”
That was my one of my first questions in one of the first dokusans, or interviews, I had with a Zen teacher when I started practicing 15 years ago.
I’d been drawn to a remote mountain, to the scent of sandalwood, to the hush of the pine trees, to the rustle of the robes in the dim light of a zendo, and to an inscrutable Japanese teacher. I’d been driven by despair, by a broken heart, and by disgust with the same old same old me.
It helped that the setting was so exotic and the words so foreign, because I was romancing the hope of finding something altogether new. That word in particular, dharma, was an enticing mystery. But like everything that has been told to me in dokusan in the years since, I don’t remember the answer I was given. Not remembering is what saves me, because it encourages me to keep asking, and to keep forgetting what it is I think I know.
This is the very question that brings us to practice and sustains it. What is it? What is the truth? What is the Way?
For your benefit, I’ll tell you how my current teacher defines the word. With a capital “D,” Dharma refers to Buddha’s teaching. With a little “d,” dharma is all phenomena, all things. It is also universal truth, or cosmic law. The point of practice, for me, is to see that none of those definitions is different from the other. How could they be separate?
Only by my intellectual discrimination.
To carry the self forward and realize the ten thousand dharmas is delusion. That the ten thousand dharmas advance and realize the self is enlightenment. — Dogen Zenji
When I wrote about dharma for the first time in the Shambhala Sun, in an article titled “The Dharma of Barbie,” someone complained that I wasn’t reverential enough, arguing that Buddhists should not water down the meaning of dharma.
As a wife and mother, I’m up to my elbows in water most days. The only way I can dilute the dharma is by adding one less capful of soap to a full load. If I don’t see the dharma in a laundry pile, then my practice isn’t working for me.
I can’t pretend to discuss or debate this, but I can pretend to practice it. Our practice is always a kind of elegant pretense, the effort of no effort, and the meeting of all our unmet expectations.
“Practice as if you are enlightened,” Maezumi Roshi used to say. And so most days, I practice the dharma of laundry.
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"Our practice is always a kind of elegant pretense, the effort of no effort, and the meeting of all our unmet expectations." – Beautiful.
I used to think that the dharma could only be found in the wonderful things; surfing on a great day, in the mountains by a stream, a sunset.
But recently I found myself in a restaurant and a little child was next to us and he was having a fit, creating quite a ruckus. And then I remembered something I read/heard about being that thing that bothers you, be with it. So me and that child were the same. And for one of the first times I actually felt like I was practicing. And I wasn't on a cushion.
Great post. They're lucky to have you.
yes, we certainly are!
Thanks Chris. Next time I make a ruckus I'll try to sit by you!
I've been excited for your blog since I read the dharma of barbie. Since my wife and I had our daughter back in November, I've felt like my practice has been with her. A few weeks after she was born, I read an excerpt from a book where a dharma practitioner saw attending to his child as a reflection of the practice of attending to a Buddha. His words helped me realign my view to see the practice in my own life, my own little d. Thanks for writing your blog and I look forward to further posts.
Ben,
I like that. How the way in which you attend to your daughter as a reflection of the practice of attending to a Buddha. I have 3 "buddhas" in my house and although my own practice with them can become twisted and tormented, it is, in its own way my own unique "path". Certainly not a straight path to enlightenment! Samantha
here i am; maybe you can see i've been looking for something lately (and typing 1-handed). what i keep coming back to is these words, "there are not two ways".
Ben,
And how you care for your daughter truly is how you care for yourself. So glad to have you on the line.
One day soon Cheryl, you will make your way home (where you have never left). We chant, "When you walk the way, you are not near, you are not far." It's so hard to believe that practice is the best way to take care of your family. You will find out for yourself because little ones do leave our arms. And only then are they happy to return! I'm so glad you made yourself known here.
Sometimes I get so wrapped up in the living that I forget the living. I need to find my way back.
Yep, it's laundry for me too. The state of my laundry pretty much reveals the state of my mind.
And think about the great questions of laundry: How to keep things from piling up? Do we put our load through the wringer or give it a gentle spin? How to remove the stains? Do we like it hot or cold? Are those pockets all emptied? To hang or to lay flat? These are important things to ponder!
So true for us all, and it's always right in front of us.
My practice right now is accepting the pain I carry from own childhood, accepting the pain I feel because I want to parent differently, accepting the pain I've caused my own children (when I so much never, ever wanted to)… My practice right now is "letting the ten thousand dharmas advance" instead of trying to gather them up and carry them somewhere. My practice is a disorienting process of realizing and letting go of myself.
My practice is forgiveness, and opening the door of my heart, over and over, even when I can barely find the way.
Stacy, barely is good enough. Take heart, and keep going.
I practice with a camera in my hand. When I look through my lens it's as though even the most mundane, the most absurd, the most unbareable moments are transformed. as much as the earth under my feet or the sky over my head grounds me, so does my photography. my art. my life. my practice.
karen, you speak this language in a way that even someone like me can understand (or at least try to). thank you for that. it is a gift.
The dharma speaks itself, and then the artist's job is done.
The shirt fluttering in the free blue sky is important.
My practice is sitting in zazen and
“my beloved life partner and I are not two,” (despite the appearances 🙂
Thank you for your words,
Chris
Practice as if you are enlightened. This is so "pithy" and useful. I used to think that my little boys were my little Buddhas. Now with a newly hatched teenager, I realize I have so much to learn from him and so many ways to be mindful, strong but soft. I have so much to learn with this cauldron of emotion living within my walls:)
My teacher says, "The Buddha is still refining his practice."
Oh, yes. Before having a child, I had a *really good idea* about D/dharma. Now I am more familiar with not knowing than ever before! Should I be grateful? Mostly it makes me want to cry. I suppose for me, Dharma is everywhere and everything; my practice is letting dharma be.
I'm very glad that you are blogging here! I look forward to more.
Sometimes gratitude amounts to something extra, doesn't it? Thanks for keeping company.
My 53 year old alcoholic son has lived next to me for the last 4 years. He is my best teacher and my dharma friend. Mothering is forever. I'm learning to gently mother myself and give my son the space to be himself[even as an addict]. I don't KNOW how to "mother". I set an intention daily to be present with compassion for myself and my son. Most of the time it "works." Blessing to all. J.
great question, it's been with me all day. for me, it's whatever is before me and within me and how I choose to approach/accept/struggle/handle 'it'. What is before me? Perhaps it's dishes, laundry, travel, assignments, play, shopping, cooking, writing, praying, walking… What is within me? the to do list, desires, self-talk, inner struggles…My sister, among others, likes to say, "it is what it is." I say," Ok, what is it?", because it's not always that apparent, even if we think it is. The teaching is both how we handle life and how life handles us. It's right there, wherever there is at that moment. Am I open?, not always. Do I try, yes. Am I committed?, yes. Am I forgiving?, yes…