Culture

With palms together,

Good Morning Everyone,



The sky is wet this morning. I sit in the Zendo with my mini notebook and coffee waiting for any early morning students. Wednesday morning I open my Zendo to the public for practice. Not the “public” at large, mind you, but to my small sangha here in Las Cruces.



My morning practice actually starts late. 6:30 AM is nearly midday at some practice centers, but we are Americans and this is not a practice center, but my home. We are not affiliated with Soto Shu in Japan, nor do we wish to be. We are our own Order here in the United States.



Rev. Soyu Matsuoka-roshi , my Dharma Grandfather, did not bother to register most of his disciples with Soto Shu. He actually did what other Japanese Zen Teachers said should be done, let the Japanese recede and allow our own cultural elements to arise to be integrated. Sensei, according to my Teacher, taught his heirs to be open to the Americanization of Zen. Later developments have created an impulse to re-align with Soto Shu and many centers now eschew a more relaxed Center practice, in favor of the far more stylized Japanese monastic style. Most people attending such centers believe there is a “right” way and this way is the Japanese way.



I strongly disagree. Right is not external or culturally specific. Right is internal, an orientation of mind, body, and environment. Zen is not about the bells and whistles, the robes, or whether we bow at this word or that. Although these are important to the order and flow of a service composed of a variety of people, it is not Zen, per se.



Practice should consider environment. It is in an environmental, cultural context, that meanings arise and make sense. When we vow to cease doing evil, we understand evil in a cultural context, doing good also in such a context, and clearly creating conditions for addressing the cries of the world is a cultural phenomenon. We reside in an environment that is specific to us. Zen practice attempts to crack these wide open. Bringing in a foreign culture can lead to a false sense of specialness. And works against this necessity. Teachers who use choppy English can be perceived as somehow more esoteric, mystical, or “enlightened”. Koromos are more “elegant” and high class than scrubs or jeans and a t-shirt.



The Order I have established is less about form than about mindful, compassionate presence. Although form is important, (it does, after all provide the container), it is not the thing itself. I am more inclined to celebrate the use of a hammer than reside placidly in specialness.

Be well,