nature?” If used properly, they allow the practitioner to access a new mode of understanding beyond logical thought. In monastic practice, koan are assigned to students and their progress checked by the roshi during interviews. Once the master is satisfied with a student’s understanding, he assigns a different koan to deepen and refine the newly acquired insight. Traditionally, there are said to be 1,700 koan in all, though the number employed by any particular master varies considerably.
There are two main styles of zazen sitting meditation. That of the Rinzai and Obaku sects is done facing inwards towards the center of the room, whereas the Soto style is done facing the wall.
The Daily Routine
Apart from the formal practice of zazen, much of the monastic day is taken up with physical work, which is considered a vital means of cultivating mindfulness and distinguishes the Zen monastery from other Buddhist sects. Indeed, a Zen saying states that cleaning comes first, then religious practice, and thirdly study. By focusing on the job in hand, monks free the mind of needless distraction. Tasks include sweeping the grounds, cleaning, splitting firewood, cultivating vegetables and preparing food. As one wag put it, for people who sit around all day, there is a lot of hard work involved.
The monk’s life is carefully regulated, and first-timers are often startled by the military-style promptitude with which activities are carried out. This contrasts with the romantic image prevalent in the West. As Pico Iyer puts it in The Lady and the Monk “The Zen life is like a mountain wrapped in mist—though it looks beautiful from afar, once you start climbing there’s nothing but hard rock.”
The daily schedule differs between monasteries and there are variations according to season, but the basic routine is essentially the same. Early rising is followed by sutra chanting, zazen, cleaning and physical chores. Meals are carried out in silence. Takuhatsu mendicancy is conducted at least twelve mornings a month, while bathing is reserved for days with a four or nine in them (i.e. every five days). A typical day may run as follows, though it is not prescribed:
4 am Wake up
4.10–5 am Sutra chanting
5–7 am Zazen and interview with abbot
7 am Breakfast of rice gruel, salted plum and pickles
8–10.50 am Cleaning and work duties
11 am Lunch, typically barley rice, miso soup, cooked vegetable and pickled radish
1–3.50 pm Work duty
4 pm Light meal similar to lunch
5–8.30 pm Zazen and interview with abbot
9 pm Lights out
9–11 pm Night sitting
The monthly one-week intensive retreats called sesshin involve a greater focus on zazen and koan study. There may be twelve to fourteen hours of meditation (including night sitting) and up to four koan interviews a day. At a number of monasteries, laypeople are allowed to participate, living in the training hall where they are allotted a single tatami mat and a futon for sleeping. “Half a mat when awake [for zazen]; a whole mat when asleep” runs a Zen saying. For the duration of the sesshin, this small area represents the entire universe, channeling practitioners to look within. For some, the result may be a deep awakening.
Takuhatsu is the practice of begging for alms, whereby young monks in single file are led through neighborhoods intoning “Hooo ... hooo….” (meaning Dharma). Donating food and money is rewarded with sutra chanting, which brings spiritual merit. Here a young monk in outfit holds out his satchel-bag for offerings, bearing the words Tenryu Sodo (Tenryu monks’ quarters).
THROUGH FOREIGN EYES:
AN INTERVIEW WITH THOMAS YUHO KIRCHNER
Thomas Kirchner is a Rinzai monk and caretaker of Rinsen-ji, a temple which is part of the Tenryu-ji complex in Arashiyama. Born in Baltimore in 1949, Kirchner came to Japan in 1969 for a one-year course at Waseda University, following which he stayed on to pursue an interest in Zen. In 1974 he was ordained as a monk and given the name Shaku Yuho, spending time at Kencho-ji in Kamakura and later at Kennin-ji in Kyoto. He holds a master’s degree from Otani University (where D. T. Suzuki taught) and is a researcher at Hanazono University, the Rinzai Zen university. Amongst his publications are Entangling Vines, a collection of 272 koan; Dialogues in a Dream, a translation and biography of Muso Soseki; and an annotated translation of The Record of Linji, completing work left behind by Ruth Fuller Sasaki.
How did you first become interested in Zen?
As a young boy growing up in the 1960s, I read the books around at that time—D. T. Suzuki, Alan Watts, Philip Kapleau. Also Eugen Herrigel, whose book on archery led me to take it up in Japan. But it wasn’t just books, because during my first year at college I was deeply moved by Zenkei Shibayama, abbot of Nanzen-ji, whose talk I attended. He must have been in his seventies, but his bright, peaceful eyes and cheerful personality moved me deeply. Unlike some other Eastern sages I’d met, he didn’t seem to be selling anything.
What was the first practical step you took in pursuing Zen?
After studying at Waseda, I stayed on and wanted to try meditation. My archery teacher recommended a temple in Tokyo, which led me to want to explore Zen more fully. Through a contact there, I was introduced to a small temple in Nagano where there were only four people: the roshi, his wife, another practitioner and myself. Later I spent a few years as a lay monk at the monastery Shofuku-ji in Kobe. In 1974, after I was ordained as a monk, I spent four years at Kencho-ji in Kamakura and three years at Kennin-ji in Kyoto.
Monastic life is known for its hardships, so i wonder how you coped with that?
It’s something you get used to. The early mornings, the painful sitting, the cold in winter. It’s not easy at first as you have to retrain all your bad habits. But after a few years correct posture becomes natural and the pain recedes.
For a while you looked outside monastic life. As well as a master’s degree, you did an MEd, trained in acupuncture and shiatsu, and took a job as copyeditor at Nanzan University.
Yes, my parents wanted me to graduate (I had dropped out of college in America), so I came to Kyoto to study while teaching English and living in a tea house in Daitoku-ji. I wanted to see if there was something more to life.
But you went back to monastic life?
The reason was in the late 1990s I developed a tumor in my pancreas. My weight dropped from 70 kilos to below 50, and I was expected to die. But when it came to the operation and they cut me open, there was nothing but healthy tissue. The tumor had mysteriously disappeared. It was a life-changing event; as the old saying goes, “The proximity of death wonderfully clarifies the mind.” While thinking over my life, I found the most meaningful part was the time I spent in monasteries. Everything else seemed superficial, pleasant to be sure, but inconsequential.
How did you get such a prestigious position as looking after the temple where the famed Zen master Muso Soseki lived and is buried?
It was through people who knew me from my earlier spells in monasteries. If you live with people in a monastery for any length of time, you get to know them very well, like army buddies. It’s very intimate,
