Kyoto, Japan
I'm at a wireless cafe called c. coquette, at the corner of Marutamachi-dori and Teramachi, across the street from a walled corner of the Imperial Palace. It's awesome. It's nice and quiet and cozy. This is the first commercial establishment I've been in in Kyoto where I could relax after a day of finding my way around Kyoto and trodding about temples.

I came here to visit temples, but I think my being here is more like, "Practice? what practice?". I'm not saying I'm not "practicing", I think I am, just not actively, it's not foremost on my mind, but lingering in the background, waiting in the wings for more favorable conditions and fewer practical distractions, i.e., when I get back to Taiwan next Monday.

Today I've been to two eminent Zen temples, Daitoku-ji and Nanzen-ji, and the Zen aesteticized villa, Ginkakuji, cousin of the more famous Kinkakuji.

Someone else's tourist shot (for meghan), Ginkakuji:


I know I need to work on negativity and not being so criticizing, and in working on that, I should start by not saying anything at all, but I can't help creating fodder, showing my ignorance. So I'm going to say a few thoughts, aware that this is silly talk.

Visiting Buddhist temples, the first thing I notice is "where are the monks?". Also, why are there so many restricted areas? I walk into the temple grounds and I'm met with walls and gates that I'm not allowed through. Not very inviting. Where's the practice? But then I realize I'm wandering in at whatever random time of day, staying for 30-40 minutes, not knowing the language anyway. So I imagine the monks having gotten up at five in the morning when I was still asleep, doing morning sitting, eating, and cleaning and preparing the temple grounds for guests, all before I was even awake. By the time I got there, the monks were in their restricted areas of the temple, studying, copying sutras, cultivating arts, or whatever their practice entails. As if I have any idea what it is in a short, random visit, strolling in the front gates. I see barriers and rails where I can't go, feeling its always like that, but I imagine the monks putting them up as part of their morning work meditation, preparing for guests. Guests are a daily part of the temple's routine, so maybe they need to have restrictions and to sequester the monastics or they'd never get anything done.

As for Ginkakuji, I was thinking of the Zen aesthetic and asking what it had to do with Buddhism and practice? I thought of how Zen is just a technique, a tool to use, like learning how to hammer a nail. Buddhism requires going beyond that and using that skill to build a house, not just becoming expert at hammering nails. And that's what the Zen aesthetic seems like in Kyoto. Centuries and centuries of perfecting the art of hammering a nail into a plank of wood. Good job, it's not Buddhism. But who am I to say what is Buddhism, rogue that I am not even considering myself "Buddhist"? Of course if you read about the history of Buddhism in Japan and the constant struggle with politics, maybe I'm on slightly firmer ground. I think maybe the "Zen" aesthetic that developed in Kyoto had much to do with the Japanese aesthetic, and if it was Christianity that was brought in, a similar treatment would have been incorporated to make it more culturally palatable.

But the Kyoto Zen aesthetic for what it is, is pretty darned amazing.

Ginkakuji grounds, March 1, 2005, 11:14 A.M.

Walking meditation: just ideas, not from any teaching.

Walking meditation may be another one of those easily misapplied aspects of practice, but I don't know. It's possibly as personal and individualized as sitting meditation, but it's still a good thing to flesh out since, unlike with sitting meditation, I've never heard any extensive discourse on it. Quite honestly, I had never even heard of walking meditation until visiting Deer Park the first time, but it's a regular part of all Zen practice it seems.

In my over-analytical bizarro world, walking meditation can happen at various levels. It can be done at regular walking pace with just three elements: active awareness of where you are, i.e., being here, awareness of your breath, and awareness of your steps synchronized with your breath. This is pretty easy to achieve since it allows for distractions of the world happening around you and mind wandering, but is not ideal. It's easy to be flaky about it.

In the meditation hall, walking meditation can be seen as ritualized, or as practice, or as practicing for when you're out somewhere and want to meditate, but can't sit, but can walk. In the meditation hall, it's a very slow three steps with in-breath, three steps with out-breath. Turning is also done in steps counted with breathing. Some places sometimes have fast walking meditation which I thought was ridiculous and was probably rote copied from some Japanese monastery's practice, but never really thought through for practice for Americans (I argue that monastic practice isn't some universal, monolithic ideal, but is culturally (subjective, relative) defined).

Walking meditation in the meditation hall with the Sangha or alone somewhere else are both good. The same thing can be achieved. Out somewhere can be more difficult because of the distractions, but also more meditative if the distractions can be controlled and seen just as stimulus. I think it's good to have a defined space where there's no need to switch focus or frame of mind, so no crossing intersections or constantly dodging obstacles or pedestrian traffic, and where the slow three steps for in-breath, three steps for out-breath doesn't look really suspicious or strange. Four or five steps per in-breath/out-breath can be used for a quicker pace, too.

I heard someone say it's good to always start with the same foot to start the first in-breath, and I think that's a good practice to actively do something to signal that you're starting, like the bell signaling the start of sitting, even though being in a meditative mind should start before the bell and continues after the ending bell.

Unlike sitting meditation, walking meditation involves movement and outside stimulus, but I think the mind is trying to get to the same place where thinking and thoughts aren't active. With sitting, the "just sitting" brand of sitting, you're aware of your breathing and posture and surroundings and free-form focusing on nothing, just let it flow and be, perhaps running through some visualization processes. With walking meditation, you don't need any visualization, you're still aware of breathing, but instead of posture, you're aware of your movement, your legs, your balance, and the bottom of your feet contacting fully with the ground; aware of muscles and any tension in them and try to release it.

Whatever works. For starters, I did think a lot about what the hell this walking meditation thing was. I imagine energy channels running the length of my body from my feet up, and when I recognize that I'm actively thinking, I use those energy "winds" to push the activity out the top of my head. Works for me. Maybe pretend I'm a dispassionate camera, observing without thinking or feeling. The outside stimuli are still coming in, ideas and forms are still very real, they just flow through.

Kaohsiung, Taiwan: When I fly again

I'm planning out what to do about my visa expiring this coming Friday. I think I've decided to stay a bit longer in Taiwan, so I'll try to fly to Japan on Thursday and stay there for a week and a half visiting Mad*ka and Kyoto. Then I'll fly back to Taiwan for another week or two, basically until time spent with my cousin has peaked and ripened and it's time for me to go. Then I'll fly back to the U.S., but I'm thinking of not flying back to New Jersey to my parents place. I think that would be the easiest for all parties to prevent tension and any more interference on their part. To my face, they say they support my decision to pursue the monastic path, but it has come down that they told my uncle to try to get me to stay here and whatever. So since they can't be honest to my face, it comes down to they do what they do and I do what I do, and ne'er the twain should meet. My uncle, I and my cousin think, is at a bit of a loss. What my parents ask goes against his conscience and better judgment, but he will do whatever he can for his sister. But it gets more interesting. My uncle in New Jersey also will act as my mother's mouthpiece to me. But when my uncle here asked my uncle in New Jersey what he should do, my uncle in New Jersey said that it was my life and my decision to make. I think this is all very Chinese.

So I'm going to see if I can change my flight back to New York to go through Los Angeles and go straight to the monastery when I'm done here in Taiwan. My oldest brother is getting married in July, so in July I'll use the second half of that flight to go back to New Jersey for the wedding. Then I still have the return flight from New Jersey to San Diego from when I left the monastery. Hope it works out.

I'm looking forward to going to Japan. Mostly to see Mad*ka, but also because compared to my zero Mandarin/Taiwanese language ability here, I think I'll feel very comfortable there with even the teeny tiny bit of Japanese I know. At least there I can get something out of my mouth for someone else to figure out and correct. Here I can only give that confused doggie look.

And for my extended time in Taiwan, I think I'll buy a photo scanner (charged to my parents) and digitize photos of my grandparents for archival purposes and to gather any stories told in the photos from my cousin. I wish I could make a story-driven archival family website, but alas, I have neither the web abilities nor the language facility to actualize it. I can just get it started for someone else by getting ideas moving and photos digitized.

Kaohsiung, Taiwan

New Years gatherings are done with and that's a relief. It's my thing with crowds, not unlike public days at the monastery, actually. It's definitely an issue I'll have to confront back at the monastery.

My 30-day visitors visa expires next Friday, and I have to decide soon whether to renew it by leaving the country before then, or just returning to the States and getting back to the monastery. It's starting to get distracting being away from the monastery and I'm starting to understand the concept of "protection of the Sangha". In my case, it would be protection from certain family members who don't know what monastic practice is, don't care to know what it is, and do their best to distract me from the practice. They're trying to catch a fish by throwing paper at the water.

With the smoke from all the extended-family gatherings clearing, I was able to take a solo day trip to a large monastery nearby, called Fo Guang Shan:

Great Buddha Land:


Main Shrine:


Arhat Garden:


Fo Guang Shan is a large temple complex with international branches. It's a very public place with lots of families milling about like they were in a park. In fact, aside from the many Buddha images and shrines, and the smattering of monastics among the populace going about their business, it was pretty much a park. If I knew the language and talked to monastics, I could have learned more about their practice, but as it was, I spent the entire day walking around the grounds, which even includes a museum, and was never at a loss for where to explore next. There were quite a few shops and vendors, too, which added to the park feel. No money changers, though, so if the Buddha were there, he wouldn't have gone on a rampage.

I kept an open mind about the place, and at the end of the day had more of an appreciation for Chinese Buddhism. I think now that there's no contradiction with it's practical and worldly focus. In ways it makes sense - we live in a practical world. We live in a world, of course it's "worldly". I understand it if they say it makes no sense to deny the worldly aspect of being, focusing just on the spiritual. Mainstream Chinese Buddhism might be emphasizing a balance. Or was that obvious and I'm just figuring it out now?

Kaohsiung, Taiwan

It's New Years Day in Taiwan. It might be the most important holiday here and is characteristically a family-oriented affair; sort of Thanksgiving and Christmas rolled into one. Yesterday, New Years Eve, we had a big meal at my cousin's in-law's place (where she lives and where I hang out a lot using their wireless and playing with the kids). I kept a low profile since I didn't want to inconvenience anyone by making them feel they had to tend to me and speak to me in English, and just enjoyed myself where I was.

After dinner, I went with my uncle and step-aunt to the airport to pick up my cousin Gary, Audrey's older brother, who was flying in from China for New Years. We go way back. When my brothers and I first visited Taiwan almost 25 years ago, we stayed here and that's when we first met Gary and Audrey. I was one disturbed puppy back then and I can't imagine I made a very good impression. And it's true, Gary and I, although very cordial and friendly, aren't as close as we could be, and the mutual adoration that Audrey and I have developed through the years is more of a fluke.

Back at my uncle's building, close to midnight we went up to the roof where they have a little shrine room and offered prayers to the ancestors and gods, and then at midnight, lit off some major mondo Chinese-style fireworks. And goddam, the fireworks you can get in the U.S. are wimpy compared to these. After Gary lit the first string, he bolted past where I was standing and I understood why real quick. Shit was loud! Scared the bejeebus out of the dog (and believe me there ain't no mo' jeebus in that dog). People were shooting fireworks off all over the place and ships in the harbor were blowing their horns. It was quite festive. A city-wide celebration no doubt.

Today, people are out in droves. Traffic on the street by my uncle's building is madness because every New Years they close off one of the adjoining streets for a market that lasts two or three days. A lot of family visitation goes on today, and even I was out for a walk this afternoon when my uncle called and said I could go to my Uncle Jiro's temple because my cousin Peter was hanging out there. So I thought 'why not?' and strolled over and hung out with him and my aunt for a while. It's a Taoist temple, I think. There weren't too many people there - I thought there would be more because of New Years, but maybe people do their praying in the morning.

Neither my aunt or Peter speak English very well, but that's OK. I did learn that my mother has a Master's degree that she got in Japan when my father was working on his Ph.D.

View of the New Years market from the top of my uncle's building, February 8, 2005; 11:55 P.M.:

Paradigm shift:
I had this thought/idea/theory a while back, and once I was spouting about it at the monastery and one of the monks was amazed because he had the exact same thought. Watching my cousin and how much work is required to raise children made me think about it again, and I told it to my cousin and she naturally liked it.

It was about birthdays, and how birthdays of children should be celebrations for the mother, rather than the child. It should be a day that the family appreciates the mother and all the hard work she (theoretically) performed in raising the child. As it is, mothers put in so much effort and work into carrying the child, bearing the child, raising the child, and on top of that, every year on the anniversary that the horrible-blessed event happened, she has to put in more effort to celebrate and entertain the child.

I thought for the child, instead of celebrating the birthday, celebrate some other day of significance, such as the first day they spoke or walked or whatever. But seeing how entrenched celebrating the birthday for the child is, there's not much chance of people thinking differently about it.

So now I think we should keep birthday celebrations the way they are. As the child grows up, have parties, invite kiddie friends, go bowling or miniature golfing, buy a cake and re-use candles left over from last year. But at some point during the celebration or party, attention is turned to the mother and the child is taught to show gratitude to the mother on that day as well. Maybe while everyone else is giving gifts to the child, the child on that day gets, makes, or does something for the mother. Perhaps it should be the father's or other responsible adult's role to orchestrate that portion of the celebration.

Maybe I'm being biased, maybe this is too idealistic, but this is coming from someone who grew up hating his parents, and it staggers my mind the confusion it would have created if I was taught to show gratitude towards my mother every year on my birthday! Of course if my parents put that sort of consideration into teaching me to be grateful, plus on top of that showing the gratitude, my upbringing would have been fundamentally different. Anyway, it's just a theory.

Northern Exposure Quote of the Day:
It's just a theory - Sigmund Freud

Kaohsiung, Taiwan



My cousin used to practice in the Tibetan school. She still has a room in her house set up for – I don’t know what to call it. Practice? Prayer? If she was in the Zen school, it would be a meditation room. It has an altar and other little knick-knacks. It’s a very nice room, worthy of any practitioner’s admiration. I don’t think she practices so much anymore, whatever they do in the Tibetan school. I really need to learn more about the Tibetan practice, as it intrigues me and I'm sure there's plenty I can glean from it. I don’t know if they do Zen style “just sitting”.

She used to practice with a teacher here until she realized it was more of a cult and she became disillusioned with it. That’s the importance of remaining skeptical and wary about one’s practice, whatever it is. Her husband, boyfriend at the time, saw it as a cult, but instead of challenging her on it, he let it run its course until she realized it herself. That was very reasonable of him. That teacher was into guru-worship and expected followers only to listen to her and only read what she’s written. Things like that prima facie set my cultometer peaking.

The Chinese are easily impressed by supernatural shit - fortune telling, magic, prophesying, etc. I think if Jesus was in China and walked on water, every Chinese would be Christian by now, they are so impressed by the supernormal. It makes no difference what the teachings are, dude can walk on water. Well, what would I do if I met someone who could walk on water due to extreme spiritual aptitude and advancement? If he or she had something to say that made sense, I'd be interested, curious, I'd listen. But then I listen to anyone who makes sense, they don't have to walk on water. And I'm just not into worshiping anyone short of Peter Gabriel or whoever's in my bed in the morning (and the last time that's happened was so many years ago it'd make you cry!). I don’t understand why I would be more impressed by someone walking on water than by, say, Stevie Ray Vaughn blowing out some fiery blues licks. Both are remarkable, one person defying hard-written laws of nature, another a dead former heroin addict moving me by playing guitar when I’m not even a fan of the blues. Yo'm sayin'?

I’m planning to visit some temples in the coming weeks. I don’t expect to be too impressed, I’m just making the rounds because the opportunity came up and to keep my mind on my purpose. I don’t need to visit temples to keep my mind on my purpose, but it makes sense for my relatives if I’m entering a monastery that I want to visit temples. Whatever. My impression is that Chinese culture is also too impressed by shows of wealth, and I don’t like how spirituality in Chinese culture is so linked to morality and material benefit. If a wealthy benefactor gives a temple a ton of money to build something, the temple is doing a disservice letting the benefactor think that there is some great spiritual benefit to that act (spiritual benefit in this sense is material because it is being treated like a commodity), or that moral indiscretions are then absolved – morality being defined by the culture.

I’m expecting the temples themselves to be pretty bloody-awful gaudy. Not what I would consider a good use of money. I imagine the justification is for practitioners to feel in the presence of the divine or to wow and impress them. Whatever. Whatever works. I don’t want to criticize Chinese spirituality too much, and I don’t criticize it substantively, because first of all, some of the greatest spiritual works and teachings, in the Zen school in particular, have come from Chinese culture. Second of all, I’m not in the culture, I’m not them, I don’t know how they are affected spiritually on the deepest levels that I’m not even aware of. If I’m criticizing the Chinese spiritual culture on a substantive level, I might as well criticize Tibetan Buddhism with its vivid imagery and deities, and I better be open to fair criticism of my conception of American Zen or American Buddhism as being pointless (unpractical) and unimaginative (or whatever someone else would criticize, I'm not so great at criticizing myself).

I think my cousin fell into the trap of pursuing teachings for the wrong reasons. But after being disillusioned by the teacher she was following, she separated what she felt was real in her belief from that teacher, and has maintained some core belief. And that core belief lets her listen to me to re-attach her to some sort of practice to help deal with child-raising. She isn’t in the Zen school and I’m not trying to push it on her, but I can mention some concept, idea, or practice, and she can relate to it and use it in a way that makes sense to her.