have made it their proving ground for centuries. As they say on the Shikoku, that Japanese pilgrimage which encircles Shikoku Island for 1930 km, dogyo ninin, “a practice of two together,” that none of us ever walks alone. We always have the company of centuries of walking Buddhists, of countless Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, all of whom urge us forward, urge us to use the road to penetrate the Way.
CHAPTER ONE
STIRRINGS FOR THE ROAD
The green mountains lack none of their proper virtues; hence, they are constantly at rest and constantly walking. We must devote ourselves to a detailed study of this virtue of walking. Since the walking of the mountains should be like that of people, one ought not doubt that the mountains walk simply because they may not appear to stride like humans.
To doubt the walking of the mountains means that one does not yet know one’s own walking. It is not that one does not walk but that one does not yet know, has not made clear, this walking. Those who would know their own walking must also know the walking of the green mountains.
Mountains and Waters Sutra, Dogen, transl. Bielefeldt, Stanford University
WALKING – THE HIDDEN LIFE OF THE BUDDHA
In the north of Sri Lanka, in the desert regions of Polonnaruwa, at a place named Gal Vihara, there is a magnificent and isolated trio of larger-than-life statues carved out of local stone. Representing “the vogue…of carving colossal images of the Buddha on the vertical faces of rocks” (The Art of the Ancient Sinhalese, Nirvatana, p. 22) which occurred in the 12th century ce, figures are scattered about a barren landscape. The scale (one stands 42 feet tall) transforms the viewer into Lilliputian dimensions, barely up to the Buddha’s kneecap. Not unlike examples of Buddha statuary which began in India a few centuries after the Parinirvana, and appear all over Asia, and now in the West, the Gal Vihara Shakyamunis are represented in each of three classic postures.
One is the reclining pose, with the Buddha on one side, with his head resting on his hand, both propped up on a tubular cushion support. This is the least common pose and it is unusual to view the trio together this way. The other two, which are close by, along with several more from other centuries, are posed in the most familiar postures – standing and seated. The standing can be with arms to the side, the over-length Buddha-identifying arms and hands flat to the thighs or with hands held in one of the familiar mudras, or, as seen elsewhere at Polonnaruwa, with arms crossed over the chest.
By far, the most common Buddha pose, found in all sizes, all materials, located close to massive temple figures or, much smaller, tucked away in gardens, is the seated Shakyamuni. This is also true in secular art where seated Buddhas can be found as incense holders, wiener mascots (as with the Picton, Ontario product called Buddha Dog, see http://buddhafoodha.com) and the ubiquitous theme of countless cartoons of an ascetic under a tree or on a mountain top. An assortment of classic hand positions or mudras may be used, but the pose always shows Shakyamuni, sitting. Sitting in padmasana, sitting cross-legged, sitting straight-spined and sitting staring ahead.
Of course there are mythologic depictions of flying Buddhas, even flying seated Buddhas, or occasionally, Buddhas standing amidst a crowd of followers, engaged in one of his celebrated sermons. The least common pose, and the one whose absence presents as a large question mark for us here, is the walking pose. Over the centuries, less than a handful of depictions have chosen such a pose. An 11th century Japanese artist created the unusual standing Buddha, Amida Looking Back, from Zenrin-ji temple in Kyoto. It poses the standing Buddha, right hand in the wheel-turning mudra, and head glancing over the left shoulder, compassionately checking for suffering beings who may have been left behind. According to another story, this image startled a dozing priest, Eikan, who fell asleep while doing walking nembutsu practice. There is another beautifully slender Thai statue which presents Shakyamuni in full stride.
If a walking Buddha is rare, then the rarity is clearly compensated for by the image of Jizo Bosatsu, the walking Bodhisattva, which can be seen almost everywhere in East Asia. Even when he is not actually shown stepping along, he carries the shakujo, the pilgrim staff. This reminds us of his vow to walk through The Six Realms of Existence, bringing Dharma to beings, especially those unable to hear it due to the situation of their unhappy birth. Further, his figure is commonly located along roadsides, at crossroads or anywhere fellow walkers, travellers and pilgrims may need his assistance.
Even given the activity of Jizo, (whom we will meet more fully in Chapter 2), walking practices remain minor and usually adjunctive for most practitioners. Herein lies the puzzle which occasioned this book: why are walking practices relegated to the back rows of Dharma practices? Consider the pre- and post-Enlightenment activities of Shakyamuni once he dismounted his beloved Kantaka and bade farewell to his loyal manservant, Channa:
…and so he passed
free from the palace.
When the morning star
Stood half a spear’s length from the eastern rim,
And o’er the earth the breath of morning sighed,
Rippling Anoma’s wave, the border stream,
Then drew the rein, and leaped to earth and kissed
White Kantaka betwixt the ears and spake
Full sweet Channa: “This which thou hast done,
Shall bring thee good, and bring all creatures good.”
The Light of Asia, Arnold, 4th Book
There is no biography of Shakyamuni which disagrees on the facts. We have a description of his departure, his studies with the four renunciants, his near death and decision to seek awareness beneath the Vesak moon. We know of the temptation and victory. His choice to return to the world of dukkha, his various sermons. We know of his stops and addresses which spanned some forty or so years before his Parinirvana. Forty years or so of travels.
Imagine, if you will, an itinerary for the Buddha at almost any time of those forty years, with the exception of the ‘rains’ when they took shelter for that period of weeks. There would be time for seeking food and eating twice daily, time for sleep and, one assumes, the usual bodily necessities. There would be time for pauses on the way, perhaps to visit some royalty or other dignitary. There were periods of formal sitting meditation practice, in whatever grove or shade could be found. However, during most of the time spent over those forty-odd years they were engaged in walking. Lots of walking. Any scan of the maps of the Buddha’s travels will confirm that there were major distances between sermons and stops, and so the majority of His and those of his followers’ waking hours were spent wandering on foot hither and yon over the dusty roads of North India.
Again, as Arnold imagines:
I choose
To tread its [the Earth’s] paths with patient, stainless feet,
Making its dust my bed, its loneliest wastes
My dwelling, and its meanest things my mates;
Clad in no prouder garb than the outcastes wear,
Fed with no meats save what the charitable
