This is the transcript of a talk I gave to the Zenways Sangha in October 2023.
In Zen we say, “To study Zen is to study the self; to study the self is to forget the self; to forget the self is to actualize all things.”
This quotation from Zen Master Dōgen seems to contain so much of our practice, and this evening I would like to explore it a little.
Very recently, I spent two weeks in Italy, where I was born and grew up. While tidying things in the house where I grew up, I found some very old photographs of my late parents and of myself.
Looking at a photograph of myself as a little boy, a question came quite naturally.
Where is that little boy now?
Of course, there is a thread of memories and events connecting the boy in the photograph with the person you see on the screen now. That little boy grew up in a family that gave him food, but also an education, traditions, culture, things to like and things to dislike. Some of those things are still very much with me.
I still behave in ways I learned back then. I still have preferences that probably came from my upbringing. I still react to certain situations in ways that may have begun many years ago. I still feel good when somebody tells me I am a strong cyclist. I still love the smell of roses and I am still in awe of the Italian Alps.
There seems to be plenty connecting me with that little boy.
And yet, looking at the photograph, the question remains.
Where is he?
Perhaps this is one way of approaching the first part of Dōgen’s quotation: to study Zen is to study the self.
In Buddhist teachings we also find the five aggregates, or skandhas: form, feeling, perception, mental formations and consciousness. They offer another way of looking at what we usually call ourselves.
There is the body. There are sensations. There are perceptions through the senses. There are thoughts, ideas and memories. And there is consciousness of these experiences.
Looking again at that old photograph, all of these have changed. The body has changed. Feelings and perceptions come and go. Thoughts and ideas have changed enormously. Even memories that seem to connect the person I am now with that child are themselves experiences appearing now.
So where exactly is this fixed self I am looking for?
I don’t think we need to rush towards an answer. Perhaps it is more interesting simply to investigate.
Find an old photograph of yourself and look at it.
Who is that?
What has changed?
What has remained?
And where exactly is the person in the photograph now?
Dōgen continues: “To study the self is to forget the self.”
How can we forget the self when we seem to carry it everywhere we go?
For me, one way of exploring this is through very ordinary activities.
Pulling weeds, for example.
I don’t particularly like pulling weeds from the garden. So when I am doing it, there can easily be a commentary running alongside the activity.
I don’t like doing this. I would rather be doing something else. How much longer is this going to take?
But occasionally there is simply the work that needs to be done. I reach down, pull a weed, move to the next one and continue.
For a moment, perhaps the commentary is not so important.
There is just pulling weeds.
And then an interesting question can appear.
Who is pulling the weeds?
Again, I don’t think we need to answer.
The same question can accompany almost any ordinary activity. When washing the dishes, walking, working, cooking or cleaning, we can notice the ideas we carry about ourselves as the person doing the activity.
What happens when, for a moment, those ideas are not so important?
This brings us to the final part of Dōgen’s quotation: “To forget the self is to actualize all things.”
This is perhaps the part I find most difficult to put into words, and perhaps that difficulty is useful.
There is still a Riccardo who has to take responsibility for his actions and words. I still have to do my job. I still have to make decisions. Nobody else can decide what I should say or do in each situation.
And yet the investigation of the self seems to make the boundaries less straightforward than they first appeared.
A couple of weeks ago, I facilitated a short event in which we explored the expression “not one, not two.”
Not one.
Not two.
I find this interesting because it does not allow us to settle too comfortably at either extreme. We cannot simply say, “I don’t need to do anything; the universe will take care of everything.” But perhaps we also don’t need to experience ourselves as completely separate entities constantly struggling against everything around us.
Where does that leave us?
Who acts?
Who decides?
Who is responsible?
Who is pulling the weeds?
Perhaps these are better questions to practise with than questions to answer.
We are now going to do some walking and sitting meditation together. Perhaps this is a good opportunity to continue the exploration.
To study the self.
To forget the self.
Not one.
Not two.
And, for a while, simply rest in not knowing.
Thanks for listening, and enjoy the exploration.
