I am practicing Buddhism in the Soto Zen spiritual tradition. During the first eight days of December we celebrate the awakening of the Prince Siddhartha, who then became the Buddha Shakyamuni. The celebration is called the Rohatsu Sesshin. A “sesshin” signifies an intense period of heart-mind meditation. The culmination of the celebration is Bodhi Day or the day of the Buddha’s awakening. My experience in this celebration is what I will share with you.
As I have mentioned in previous writings, it is my preference to rise after the sun has arisen. However, in the cool season the sun tends to be a bit lazy. For this celebration each morning I rousted myself from the warmth of my bed long before the sun had given much thought to joining me. I freshened myself, donned long, thick cotton pants, a long sleeved tee shirt and a fleece pullover, for it was quite cool. I walked down the dark back stairs, firmly holding the railing and wondering if this is how a person without sight would feel when navigating this path. I would walk through the garage and stand for a bit, looking into the clear night sky. Each time I would search out Orion’s Belt, which rested just over the tops of the Koa trees to the west.
With the assurance that all was as it should be, I climbed into the truck and began my journey south. I followed the headlights as they snaked their way down the narrow country road that skirted the mountain. After I had passed through sleeping Holualoa town I noticed that the road had taken on an almost ominous glow. Enormous vine covered trees, giant ferns and towering palms crept close to the roadway, creating a dark tunnel. I moved swiftly onward. After a time the road curved down to a main highway. I could see ribbons of headlights from vehicles filled with workers going north to tend to the tourists. Soon I came to the edge of Honalo village and turned into the temple parking lot. As was my custom, I sat in the truck for a moment, listening to the hum of the vehicle tires as they rushed past the front of the temple and began moving my mindset from driving to meditation. After a minute or two I gathered up my zafu (meditation cushion) and went into the temple’s half-lighted Kannon Hall.
I stepped into the hall and bowed. Moving forward, I offered incense, then, hesitating for a moment at the shrine, I cleared my mind of thoughts of the outside world. A slight smile of tranquility crossed my lips. Quietly moving off to the left, I entered the Kannon-do (meditation area) and bowed to the dimly lit, golden meditation shrine. Its beauty always gives me pause. The shrine’s warmth exudes loving kindness and compassion. I moved to a spot along the wall and placed my zafu on the carpeted floor. I assumed my quarter lotus sitting position atop the zafu, placed my hands in front of me so as to hold the classic mudra, and closed my eyes. I was the first to arrive, so I sat in silence, awaiting my fellow celebrants.
After all have arrived the lighting, except for the dim light of the shrine, is extinguished. When the lights are suddenly out my eyes flash open wide, as if to allow my mind to suddenly right itself. We sit in the darkness awaiting the bell of mindfulness. As the bell is rung three times, the tone of which many believe is the Buddha calling us back to our true selves, we begin our voyage into mind clearing meditation. For me, I love to follow the final ring of the bell until its vibrations have traveled across the cosmos. The sound resonates within me long past its time of ringing.
As the sound of the bell begins to pass from my mind my eyes slowly drift partially closed. With my eyes half closed, my meditation begins. I pay attention to my breathing. I breathe in and I breathe out. I pay attention to my body. My back is straight and my posture is slightly forward. I release the tension of the muscles in my legs and my knees drop to the floor. I feel my chest rise and fall ever so slightly as my breath comes and goes. My half-opened eyes are set without focus on the wall in front of me. Suddenly an inconsequential thought comes into my mind and I push it away. To clear my mind of such distractions I begin to silently chant my mantra, “listen carefully, watch closely, speak hesitantly, be kind”. I breathe in, listen. I breathe out, carefully. I breathe in, watch. I breathe out, closely. I breathe in, speak. I breathe out, hesitantly. I breathe in, be. I breathe out, kind. Over and over, until my mind is clear, I continue my silent chant. I seek to place my mantra in the front of my mind so that it might guide my every action. I smile at this “work in progress”. As my focus returns to my breathing my mind is at rest.
There is a period of kinhin (walking meditation) in the midst of our zazen (sitting meditation) that allows one to unwind their body. I’ve come to believe that there is a greater purpose for kinhin. The real purpose of walking meditation is to teach patience and compassion. Kinhin is practiced in a queue, which means that each person’s pace is determined by the pace of the person in front of him or her. If the person’s pace is slow then one must have patience to adjust their pace to match the slower person. If the person’s pace is faster then one should increase their pace to be considerate of the people behind them. So, there you have it, an opportunity to practice either patience or considerate understanding/compassion while slowly unwinding one’s body.
Near the end of the meditation time we begin to chant. We chant the Takkesa-ge, first in melodic, yet slightly abrupt Japanese and then in a coarser, almost spoke English. At the end of this chant I don my Wagesa, a beautiful purple neckpiece with embroidered gold inlays, and I bow to the Buddha. The Wagesa signifies that I have vowed to live my life by following the basic precepts of Buddhism but that subject is best left for another day. As zazen is finished we assemble before the shrine and acknowledge the Buddha with three deep bows. Then, seated on our zafus, we begin by chanting the opening sutra, Kaikyo Ge, then the Sangemon chant of repentance, followed by Sanki Raimon chant of taking refuge. Often we chant the Hannya Shingyo, which extols one to reach beyond who they are, to reach beyond what they know, to seek the true meaning of all things and to seek to attain a wisdom that can lessen their suffering in life. Finally we chant the Fueko that presents the hope for all to find a peaceful and kind way to navigate life’s travails. The mélange of chanting tones yields a heartwarming harmony. A sense of peacefulness settles across me and I feel an inner strength. Finally, we rise and, again, acknowledge the Buddha with three deep bows. Then, we depart the temple in silence.
For eight mornings we gathered to celebrate the Buddha’s awakening. For me it has been the kindling of a sense of quiet strength of purpose in my meditation and a sonorous sense of community chanting in basic, beautiful harmony. Each time I departed at peace with life and with a smile in my heart.
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