Buddhism is not pessimistic nihilism, because the Buddha also taught that there is a way to become free from this kind of life. There is a path that leads to liberation from this continual transmigration through samsara. We can make a peaceful, stable foundation for our lives. It’s called nirvana. It is not a particular state or condition of our minds but rather a way of life based on impermanence and egolessness. In every moment we must awaken again to the impermanent reality of our lives. Everything is always changing, and there is no substance. In Mahāyāna Buddhism, this is called emptiness. The Buddha taught that there are two different ways of living. If we are blind to the reality of egolessness and impermanence, our life becomes suffering. If we waken to this reality and live accordingly, our life becomes nirvana. This awakening is called bodhi or enlightenment. The way of transformation from the life of suffering in samsara to the life of nirvana is the eightfold noble path. This path is our practice. It is a change in the basis of our life from egocentricity to egolessness. This transformation is called pāramitā, or “reaching the other shore.” This eightfold path taught by Shakyamuni Buddha consists of right understanding, right thinking, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort (diligence), mindfulness, and samādhi (meditation). Instead of the eightfold path, the Mahāyāna practice for bodhisattvas emphasizes the six pāramitās or perfections. The first of the six is generosity (dāna). We are generous because we understand there is no one who can possess and nothing to be possessed. Generosity should be based on the realization of emptiness, egolessness, and impermanence. The second pāramitā, the precepts (śīla), is the same as right livelihood in the eightfold path. We base our day-to-day lives on the Buddha’s precepts or teaching. When we become Buddhists we accept the precepts as guidelines for our lives. We regulate our activities with the Buddha’s precepts—no killing, lying, stealing, and so forth. The third, patience (kṣānti), is emphasized in Mahāyāna Buddhism because it is a practice designed for laypeople. In a monastery patience is not considered so important because monks are assumed to have similar values and aspirations. Laypeople are in greater contact with people who have different philosophies and ways of thinking. For this they need patience. For a bodhisattva, patience is one of the most important practices.71 The last three pāramitās are diligence (vīrya), meditation (samādhi), and wisdom (prajñā). The Heart Sutra and all the other Prajñāpāramitā Sutras say that prajñā is the most important of the six pāramitās to the practice of bodhisattvas.
Without prajñā the other five pāramitās don’t work. For example, generosity without wisdom can be harmful. We must understand what is really needed before we can help someone. If we give money or assistance without wisdom, the person may become dependent and have more difficulty as a result. This is also true of raising children. Too much protection will spoil a child. We need prajñā or wisdom to really help people grow. Without prajñā the precepts become no more than a lifeless set of rules. We may even discriminate between people on the basis of a particular set of precepts or customs. Each nation or religion has its own set of precepts and taboos. It’s easy to see people who follow our precepts as friends and to believe that all the others will go to hell. This is an example of precepts without wisdom, a type of egocentricity of a group instead of an individual.
We need a deep understanding of a situation to see what is most helpful to everyone involved. Dōgen Zenji said in Shōbōgenzō “Bodaisatta Shishōbō” (Bodhisattva’s Four Embracing Dharmas) that as bodhisattvas we should aim at activities that benefit both others and ourselves. We should try to see the whole situation and do what is best for everyone. If we aim only for patience, we may harm ourselves or others. Patience alone can be a kind of poison. It can make the situation worse.
The same is true of diligence. If diligence is misdirected, the harder we work, the farther we deviate from the correct path. Without the wisdom to see which way to go, our diligence is meaningless effort.
Wisdom is also essential to meditation. If we don’t understand the significance or meaning of meditation, our practice of zazen becomes no more than an escape from a noisy society. It becomes a meaningless method to simply calm our minds and reduce our stress. If our life is harmful to others and we practice meditation to relax and gain more energy for self-centered activities, our practice has nothing to do with Buddhist teachings. So wisdom, real wisdom, is essential. This is the meaning of pāramitā. According to the Heart Sutra, prajñā-pāramitā is the essence of Buddhist teaching. It is necessary to the transformation of our life from samsara to nirvana.
THE SITUATION IN WHICH
THE HEART SUTRA IS EXPOUNDED
One reason the Heart Sutra is difficult to understand is that it’s not clear who is speaking. There are two versions of the sutra. The one we usually chant, which is printed at the beginning of this chapter, is the shorter of the two. The longer version describes the situation more completely. The opening lines of this version, translated from Sanskrit by Edward Conze, are:
Thus have I heard at one time. The Lord dwelled at Rājagṛha, on the Vulture Peak, together with a large gathering of both monks and bodhisattvas. At that time, the Lord, after he had taught the discourse on dharma called “deep splendor,” had entered into concentration. At that time also the Holy Lord Avalokita, the Bodhisattva, the great being, coursed in the course of the deep perfection of wisdom; he looked down from on high, and he saw the five skandhas, and he surveyed them as empty in their own-being.
Thereupon the Venerable Śāriputra through the Buddha’s might said to the holy Lord Avalokita, the Bodhisattva, the great being: “How should a son or daughter of good family train themselves if they want to course in the course of this deep perfection of wisdom?”72
“Thus have I heard,” is the traditional beginning of a Buddhist sutra. The “I” is Ānanda, a longtime attendant of Shakyamuni Buddha who memorized all of his sutras.
The Lord dwelled at Rājagriha, on the Vulture Peak, together with a large gathering of both monks and bodhisattvas. At that time, the Lord, after he had taught the discourse on dharma called “deep splendor,” had entered into concentration.
“Lord” refers to the Buddha. I question the use of this word. The Buddha never called himself Lord. In fact, he said that he owned nothing. The original word used in the sutra is “Bhagavat,” which is usually translated into English as World-Honored One. “Concentration” means zazen or samādhi. After he gave a talk on “deep splendor,” he stopped speaking and started to sit zazen. This sutra takes place within the Buddha’s zazen. This is a very important point.
At that time also the Holy Lord Avalokita, the bodhisattva, the Great Being, coursed in the course of the deep perfection of wisdom; he looked down from on high, and he saw the five skandhas, and he surveyed them as empty in their own-being.
In this translation the name Avalokiteśvara is divided into two parts, “Avalokita” and “īśvara.” Avalokita means “to see.” Īśvara is usually translated as “freely.” This is what the Chinese translation Kanjizai means. Here īśvara is translated as “lord,” a free person who does not belong to anyone. “Great Being” is a translation of Mahāsattva, another word for bodhisattva. To “course in the course” is a Sanskrit expression for practice. So Avalokiteśvara was practicing deep prajñā-pāramitā. And from within his practice of deep wisdom, he looked down on this world in which all sentient beings are living.
“Looked down” is a translation from Sanskrit. In Japanese this is shōken. Shō means “to illuminate,” and ken “to see” or “view.” So shōken means “see very clearly,” as if a scene were illumined with a bright light. The Sanskrit expression is “he looked down from on high.” When we are on the same level as all other human beings we can’t see distinctly, but from a high place like a mountain, one can see the whole clearly.
“And he saw the five skandhas”: From his practice of deep prajñā, that is, zazen, he saw that all beings are collections of the five skandhas and noth
ing but the five skandhas. The skandhas are the elements that comprise all beings. The first, form or rūpa, refers to all material things. For human beings, this means our bodies. The other four are the functions of our mind. So Avalokiteśvara saw that everything in this world is an accumulation of the five skandhas.
“And he surveyed them as empty in their own-being”: The bodhisattva further saw that these skandhas are empty.
“Thereupon the Venerable Śāriputra through the Buddha’s might said to the holy Lord Avalokita, the Bodhisattva, the great being”: Śāriputra was one of the ten greatest of the Buddha’s disciples. It is said he was the most sharp-witted. Śāriputra asked Avalokiteśvara through the Buddha’s might, so it’s really the Buddha, not Śāriputra, who is speaking. Śāriputra’s question was “How should a son or daughter of good family train themselves if they want to course in the course of this deep perfection of wisdom?” His question was how people should practice if they aspire to prajñā-pāramitā. Avalokiteśvara’s answer to Śāriputra’s question is the teaching of the Heart Sutra. The person who gives this speech is Avalokiteśvara, but this question and answer both take place within the Buddha’s samādhi, that is, zazen. This is a description of the Buddha’s zazen and of ours. This teaching in the Heart Sutra is not a philosophical discussion between the Buddha’s disciple Śāriputra and a bodhisattva about the philosophy of emptiness in Mahāyāna Buddhism. It is about our practice of zazen.
This description of how the conversation begins helps us to understand what Avalokiteśvara says in this sutra.
WHO IS AVALOKITEŚVARA?
When I first visited MZMC in 1989 I attended morning service and we chanted the translation of the shorter version of the Heart Sutra. I was surprised by the translation of the last line of the following paragraph.
Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva
When practicing deeply the prajñā-pāramitā
Perceived that all five skandhas are empty
And was saved from all suffering and distress.
This line was completely different from my understanding. The translation implies that Avalokiteśvara was suffering and distressed, but through the practice of prajñā-pāramitā he was saved and released.
It is important to understand who Avalokiteśvara is. According to Mahāyāna Buddhism there are two kinds of bodhisattvas. We ordinary humans, who aspire to study, practice, and follow the Buddha’s teaching are one kind. We are all called bodhisattvas. The other kind of bodhisattva is not an ordinary human being. Great bodhisattvas like Avalokiteśvara, Samantabhadra, or Mañjuśrī are the symbol of some part of the Buddha’s virtue. They choose not to enter nirvana, or not to stay there, in order to help other beings cross over to the far shore.
In the chapter of Shōbōgenzō titled “Kannon,” Dōgen Zenji said that Avalokiteśvara is the father and mother of buddhas. In a past life Avalokiteśvara was a buddha called Shōbōmyō Nyorai (True Dharma Wisdom Tathāgata). Shōbō means “true dharma.” Myō is “light,” the symbol of wisdom. So he was a buddha called “the light of true dharma.” But because of his vow to save all beings, he became a bodhisattva and appeared in this world. He wasn’t in trouble. So I don’t think the translation quoted above is accurate. I found Katagiri Roshi’s translation of the Heart Sutra in a magazine. He translates this paragraph: “Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, when practicing the profound prajñā-pāramitā, by virtue of illuminated vision, saw the five skandhas as empty and passed beyond all sufferings.”73 He wasn’t saved from suffering but rather passed beyond it. The original Chinese words are Do issai ku yaku. Do is a verb and is sometimes translated as “to save.” Another meaning of the Chinese character do is “to cross over from this shore.” This do is not passive. So he wasn’t saved, but rather he saved (others) or crossed over. He saved all beings in trouble, all who are suffering and in distress. This meaning is quite different. In the Sanskrit version we have today, this final part of the sentence is missing. In that version the point is that Avalokiteśvara came to the realization of emptiness, and that was it. There’s no statement as to whether this realization relieved his suffering or that of others. This sentence may have been added by the Chinese translator, Xuanzang (Jap., Genjō), who lived in the seventh century. He may have been working from a different Sanskrit version from the one we have. In any case, the text seems to me clearer and simpler without the last phrase. Avalokiteśvara saw the five skandhas are empty. This is prajñā-pāramitā, the perfection of wisdom.
As noted above, in the Chinese translation of the Heart Sutra, “Avalokiteśvara” is translated as Kanjizai Bosatsu. Avalokiteśvara is also called Kanzeon Bosatsu in Chinese. Kanjizai and Kanzeon have different meanings. Kan means “to see” or “observe.” Jizai is the translation of the Sanskrit word īśvara, a person who can see freely without obstruction. This means one who is free from egocentricity and ignorance, one who sees things as they are without distortion by intellect, desire, or expectation. This is the meaning of Avalokiteśvara.
Kanzeon Bosatsu as a translation appears in the twenty-fifth chapter of the Lotus Sutra, “The Universal Gateway of the Bodhisattva Perceiver of the World’s Sounds,” translated by Kumārajīva. In this case the name “Avalokiteśvara” is interpreted as “Avalokita” (to see) and “svara” (sound). The name Kanzeon means “one who hears the sound of the world.” Human beings make sounds when they suffer. Avalokiteśvara hears these sounds of suffering and appears in various ways and tries to help. Kanzeon Bosatsu represents the aspect of compassion and the work of helping others. Kanjizai Bosatsu emphasizes the aspect of wisdom or prajñā—seeing things exactly as they are, free of distortion. In the Heart Sutra the bodhisattva is called Kanjizai Bosatsu. As a symbol of the wisdom of seeing the reality of our life clearly, he/she is, of course, a creation of the imagination of Mahāyāna Buddhists, not a historical being.
This bodhisattva, although a buddha, yet came back to this world of delusion and suffering in order to help people, vowing not to become Buddha until all sentient beings are saved and become Buddha together. So Avalokiteśvara will remain in this world, on this shore, as long as there are deluded human beings. To the extent that we are deluded Avalokiteśvara is here now. This is a very important point. Avalokiteśvara is not a person but rather a force that reminds us to awaken.
Today you have come to the Zen Center to sit and to listen to my talk. It’s not necessarily fun. But you’re here. You could have gone anywhere. This is a beautiful morning and you could be having fun, but you decided to come here and sit in this posture. It’s not necessarily a comfortable posture and my talk is not necessarily interesting. But you made a decision to come here. What made you decide to come to the Zen Center and sit zazen? Avalokiteśvara. This is the power that keeps us practicing and tells us to awaken. Avalokiteśvara is a power not just inside us but all around us, which leads us to awaken to the impermanence and egolessness that is the reality of our lives.
New leaves are coming out on the trees. They show us that time passes and everything changes; now winter to spring and soon spring to summer. Life always changes, is always new and always fresh. We see everything around us change and yet we believe that we do not. We believe that “I am”: “I am the same person I was forty years ago, twenty years ago, or yesterday.” “I will be the same person tomorrow.” But the reality is that we are always changing. Our bodies and minds constantly change. So in the spring the leaves appear and birds sing to tell us, “Awake, awake to this reality. Everything is moving and changing.” Everything is ever fresh each moment. That is Avalokiteśvara helping us see things clearly as they are.
Everyone we encounter is Avalokiteśvara. Our parents who took care of us, our friends, our competitors, or even enemies can be Avalokiteśvara. They are here to show us the reality of life. We should be thankful. We should appreciate ourselves, all people we encounter, and all things in this universe. All of this is Avalokiteśvara telling us to wake up and not be caught in egocentric delusion, encouraging u
s to become free from illusion and see our life force straight on. That is Avalokiteśvara. This sutra is speaking from our life force.
In “Kannon,” a chapter of Shōbōgenzō, Dōgen Zenji wrote about Avalokiteśvara.74 He quotes a very interesting koan, or question and answer between two Chinese Zen masters, Yunyan (Ungan) and Daowu (Dōgo).75 The two practiced together for forty years with various teachers at different monasteries. Many of their conversations have been recorded. This koan begins with Yunyan asking Daowu, “What does the Great Compassion Bodhisattva do with so many hands and eyes?” (Yunyan refers to Avalokiteśvara or Kanzeon Bosatsu. It is said that Avalokiteśvara had one thousand eyes and one thousand hands. Eyes symbolize wisdom, and the hands work with compassion to help others.) In answer to Yunyan’s question Daowu replied, “It is like a person groping behind his head for his pillow at night.”
We all turn over during the night as we sleep. Sometimes we lose our pillows. Daowu describes looking for his pillow in the dark with his hands behind his back. Complete darkness is rare these days. Even if we switch off all the lights there is usually some artificial light from outside. But in ancient times nighttime was completely dark. Once I had the experience of walking in complete darkness. There is a famous mountain outside of Kyoto called Mount Hiei, where Dōgen Zenji was ordained. There is a huge Tendai monastery there. I was staying at Antaiji in the northwest part of Kyoto. We had a party after a five-day sesshin and drank lots of sake and beer. After the party I had a lot of energy and decided to hike up the mountain to see the sun rise from the top. It took me three or four hours to walk up to the top. Since it is near the city of Kyoto most of the path was dimly lit by the lights of the city. But there was one stretch of several hundred meters covered by evergreens that was completely dark. I couldn’t even see my hand. It was very frightening. My feet and hands became my eyes. I took each step very slowly and carefully because at the edge of the path was a cliff.
Living by Vow Page 16
