Tonight we celebrate Rohatsu, the night traditionally associated with the awakening of Siddhartha Gautama, the historical Buddha.
Siddhartha was born into a privileged life, protected from many of the realities of the world outside the palace. According to the traditional story, when he eventually ventured beyond those walls he encountered old age, sickness and death, as well as a wandering ascetic. These encounters changed the direction of his life.
He left the palace and began a long search for liberation. For years he practised extreme asceticism, reducing his food and pushing his body close to death. Eventually he realised that this was not the way either.
There is a traditional story that Siddhartha heard a musician speaking about tuning a stringed instrument. If the string is too loose, it will not play. If it is too tight, it will break. Somewhere between the two is the right tension.
Siddhartha abandoned extreme asceticism, accepted food and regained his strength. Then he sat beneath a tree and made a determination not to rise until he had resolved the great matter before him.
And then Mara appeared.
Mara can be understood in many ways. In the traditional stories he is a tempter, a demon, an embodiment of the forces that obstruct awakening. He attacks Siddhartha with fear, desire and doubt. He challenges his right to sit there and asks who can bear witness for him.
Siddhartha does not argue.
He reaches down and touches the earth.
The earth is his witness.
I have always found this one of the most powerful images in the story of the Buddha. Mara is there with everything he can produce, and Siddhartha simply touches the ground.
Perhaps we can recognise something of Mara in our own experience. Fear appears. Desire appears. Doubt appears. A voice tells us that we are not good enough, that we should be somewhere else, that something needs to change before we can simply be here.
During practice, our Mara may be considerably less dramatic. It might be an uncomfortable leg, tiredness, a thought that refuses to disappear or the noise coming through the computer from the dojo.
Whatever appears, there it is.
We do not necessarily have to defeat it.
We can notice it.
We can feel the body sitting here.
We can return to the breath.
We can touch the earth.
According to the traditional account, Siddhartha remained beneath the tree throughout the night. As the morning star appeared, he awakened.
Later, a young woman named Sujata offered him rice with milk and honey. Traditionally, at Rohatsu we remember this offering by sharing rice together.
Tonight we have the opportunity to practise together through the night and, in our own small way, to sit with whatever appears.
We will alternate periods of zazen and kinhin. There will also be opportunities for sanzen. Those joining online can use Skype, and Mattias will help organise this. We will have breaks during the night, including time for tea, and the keisaku will also be available for anyone who wishes to receive it.
There is no need to turn tonight into a heroic achievement. If tiredness comes, tiredness comes. If restlessness comes, restlessness comes. If the mind becomes quiet, the mind becomes quiet. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.
The story we remember tonight is more than two thousand years old: Siddhartha sitting beneath a tree, Mara appearing, a hand reaching down and touching the earth.
Tonight we sit too.
Whatever Mara brings, we can begin there.
Just sitting.
Just breathing.
Touching the earth.
