A few years ago, I travelled to India for a meditation retreat at the Osho International Meditation Centre. My accommodation was in a building called Rinzai, named after the great Zen master Rinzai Gigen, founder of the Rinzai school of Zen.
At the time, I knew very little about him. One of the central practices during the retreat was the Osho Evening Meeting, which combined dancing, celebration of life and silent meditation. Between the dancing, talks by Osho were shown on large screens.
By a curious coincidence, during my stay the talks being shown were about the Zen master Hyakujo. I was immediately struck by the paradoxical and surprising nature of those stories. Something about them spoke to me deeply, and I began to feel drawn towards the world of Zen.
In a way, that was my first real connection with the lineage that would later become such an important part of my life.
A few months later, still exploring Zen and wanting to learn more about Rinzai Gigen, I came across a book written by an English Zen teacher called Daizan Roshi. His way of writing immediately appealed to me: direct, practical and without unnecessary spiritual decoration. There was a kind of “just do it” spirit that resonated deeply with me.
Then I discovered that Daizan lived in London, not far from where I lived, and led a very active community in the Rinzai tradition called Zenways. Something in me felt that a circle was closing. I felt an intuitive sense of trust, particularly after meeting some members of the community. So I decided to join them, becoming a student of Zen in the Rinzai tradition.
There are several schools of Zen, including Sōtō, Rinzai and Ōbaku, each with its own history, methods and emphasis. I had found my way into the Rinzai tradition.
What I find remarkable is that, more than a thousand years later, the teachings associated with Rinzai Gigen have reached me. Linji Yixuan, known in Japan as Rinzai Gigen, lived in China during the ninth century, and the lineage that bears his name continues today.
How many people have been needed, over all those centuries, for that tradition to reach this generation?
Since becoming a student, I have experienced many aspects of Rinzai practice: zazen, which remains at the heart of my practice; kinhin, walking meditation; shodō, Zen calligraphy; Zen running; samu, practice through work; kōan practice; sanzen, private meetings with a teacher; haiku; chanting; serving meals; night meditation; dyad practice; mountain retreats; and various energy practices known as Naikan, developed much later by Hakuin Ekaku.
I have probably forgotten a few. What continues to fascinate me is precisely this variety. Sitting, walking, running, working, writing, meeting a teacher, practising with a kōan: over the years I have encountered the tradition through all these different forms.
I don’t know for certain how many of these practices already existed in the time of Rinzai Gigen. Many certainly developed over the centuries through the teachers who came after him.
And yet I still feel a strong connection with Rinzai.
Perhaps partly because our first encounter happened in such a curious way. I travelled to India knowing very little about him and found myself sleeping in a building bearing his name. Years later, I found myself practising in the tradition bearing that same name.
I don’t know whether that means anything.
But it’s a great story.
