How does your vocation inform and integrate into life?

[Myo-jin]

I do think, as you also seem to hint there, that one's motivation for ordination is something to deeply work with, and in my view, a deep sincerity regarding where one's devotion lies is essential.

You strike to the heart of the issue here, this is very much about deepest motivations. My 'koan' if you like, for the last few years has been 'why do I practice?'.

I've always had a monastic streak, an inner 'monkishness' if you will, so I suppose what I've really been doing is a form of discernment concerning whether or not I have a vocation. And if so, to what? This is my motivation for discussing the matter publically, and perhaps it might also help others going through something similar, so I'm prepared to give up a little privacy on that account.

Perhaps one day this monkishness it will express itself formally, but I have a sense that this will come, or not, in the fullness of time. I can sit outside the temple but I can't force the door. But right now I'm cautious about potentially adopting more responsibilities and obligations than I am willing and able to carry.

Perhaps the only burden I'm really carrying is my own doubt?

Gassho

Myojin

[Bion]

You strike to the heart of the issue here, this is very much about deepest motivations. My 'koan' if you like, for the last few years has been 'why do I practice?'.

I've always had a monastic streak, an inner 'monkishness' if you will, so I suppose what I've really been doing is a form of discernment concerning whether or not I have a vocation. And if so, to what? This is my motivation for discussing the matter publically, and perhaps it might also help others going through something similar, so I'm prepared to give up a little privacy on that account.

Perhaps one day this monkishness it will express itself formally, but I have a sense that this will come, or not, in the fullness of time. I can sit outside the temple but I can't force the door. But right now I'm cautious about potentially adopting more responsibilities and obligations than I am willing and able to carry.

Perhaps the only burden I'm really carrying is my own doubt?

Gassho

Myojin

I think to set off on the right foot, one shouldn't strive to match some sort of archetype, but to fully practice non-attachment. Nothing weighs more than attachment, I think.

Gassho
sat lah

[Myo-jin]

I think to set off on the right foot, one shouldn't strive to match some sort of archetype, but to fully practice non-attachment. Nothing weighs more than attachment, I think.

Gassho
sat lah

Perhaps you’re right, comparisons with others, or with a preconceived notion, probably doesn’t help, and can even paralyze action.

If I take away my preconceptions and observe the impulse to ordination itself, what I see is that is not about fulfilling an archetype, but responding to an inward desire for integration, to remove any perceived gap between life and practice, and to unambiguously commit to the way. So while ordination might feel like a way to seal that intention, it strikes me that it’s perhaps not essential to it.

Zeno’s phrase: “Solvitur Ambulando” comes to mind, sometimes it’s best just to walk.

Gassho
Myojin

[Shonin Risa Bear]

I retired before taking up regular Zen practice, but am also a practicing Quaker and found "secular" work consistent with that avocation as a public servant, and before that, in reforestation.

I'm with Bird Haven Zendo, a tiny Suzuki lineage group currently meeting online; most members are in Oregon (we were once brick-and-mortar). I felt moved to start sewing in 2015, ordained in 2020. Founding teacher Kenshin is now 80 and has delegated most doshi duties to me, two zazenkai a week.

I also have morning service here at the hut 5 days/week, and after the most recent Treeleaf Ango, began doing that on zoom as well, though alone so far. Much of my home practice has been "grass-roofed hut" practice (with fiberglass roof ). All this is supplemented with TLZ zazenkai, Washin's Peace sit, and his five sits a week (for me they are at 8:30 pm).

BHZ had a week-long Rohatsu once or twice, and I've attended several Treeleaf retreats as well, and found the intensity helpful, so I've sought out Treeleaf's Ango sessions to see if this can be sustained. I think it can. I was really ill the first half of 2025 and as the body has recovered somewhat, have begun daily two-mile fast-kinhin walks, in something like the spirit of The Instructions to the Cook. "Work with what you have," basically.

BHZ's zazenkai have been, for a few years now, relatively devoid of Dharma talks -- we have three sits and a service on Fridays, and three sits, service and an activity on Mondays. These are: First Mondays, open discussion, Second Mondays, Koan, Third Mondays, Tonglen, Fourth Mondays, Metta, Fifth Mondays, open discussion.

I'm also our techno-ino.

To practice teaching, I've been blogging from the hermit perspective; that is to say, I find Zoom sitting semi-hermit-like - so I write about that.

I fantasize that there will be a Zoom room with dozens of sanghas pooling their calendared sits, so that it would be possible for anyone to hold their own a la carte sesshin by simply showing up as needed, with around-the-clock availability. Of course TLZ has just about achieved this all by itself. It will be interesting to see where all this goes with so many promising younger people.

gashho, satlah shonin

[michaelw]

My vocation—if you call it that—is simply to meet each day with as much presence and kindness as I can. Caregiving and solitude have become the shape my practice takes.

Gassho
MichaelW
satlah

[Myo-jin]

My vocation—if you call it that—is simply to meet each day with as much presence and kindness as I can. Caregiving and solitude have become the shape my practice takes.

Gassho
MichaelW
satlah

When you boil it down, that's no doubt the heart of practice. Thank you for your grounding words.

Gassho

Myojin
Satlah

[Myo-jin]

I wanted to ask a further question specifically to those of you who have undergone 'shukke tokudo'.

I'm aware of the reforms in Japanese society that led to Buddhist clergy having families and no longer leaving family life in the literal sense. Reading shobogenzo (chapter 86: shukke kodoku), Master Dogen is pretty clear that 'shukke' was to him a literal home leaving, and even distinguishes between zaike-tokudo (leaving home at home) and shukke-tokudo, presenting the latter as the right way and the former as a compromise for one who was not able to physically leave home.

But clearly while many do choose to not have a family life, and 'leave' in a literal sense, many do not, or cannot for various reasons. I'm pretty sure that anyone who has undergone shukke-tokudo has asked this question of themselves. To me it seems that shukke must represent a more existantial turning towards the dharma, 'walking the walk' so to speak, and must in itself mark a real shift in life, one that is hard to make without reflecting that in physical existance.

So in short, what is 'leaving home' to you?

Gassho

Myojin

Sattlah

[Onki]

This is a great question and something to think about.

I was excited for ordination. For whatever reason, I thought being a priest would make me good enough. I would finally have all of the answers to unanswered questions. I would know what to do with my life. But it didn’t.

Wearing the Kesa didn’t change anything. I was still the same person. I still had unanswered questions. I still doubted myself.

I struggle with addiction. I have cognitive challenges, mental illness, and physical disabilities. The moment I received the Kesa, all of these ailments remained much to my chagrin. Everything remained.

As a child, there was something that I had devoted my life to: helping others. Coming from an abusive upbringing, being trans, and major health issues I understand difficulties and not having anyone for support. Helping others every day, even if it is only answering an email, listening to a friend, hosting Zazen each morning, or posting on the forum. This, all of this, has kept me going when my world was falling apart. Living my life of service to others gives me joy and a sense of purpose.

I have always thought of life and practice as two separate entities. Living was one thing and practising was another. It was learning to merge the two together and realize life and practice are one and the same. There is no difference. Suddenly, things looked a little different for me. The Dharma had seeped into my bones and mind. I could finally see Buddha’s teachings in everything from the snow falling to taking care of our pets. It isn’t something to only understand logically (though this is an important part.) Practice is every breath, every heartbeat. It is being out in the world, showing compassion, seeing the Dharma in everything. Seeing things as they really are.

As we sew the Kesa, look at the stitches you have sewn. Most likely they are crooked and not spaced apart correctly. I bet there is frustration in this. But there is also happiness and joy that comes with this journey. This is practice. There will be bumps and hurdles along the way, but we keep going. In hardship, we keep going. In times of happiness, we keep going. In times of sadness, we keep going. Just like the thread in your hands being stitched into the Kesa; it keeps going.

I still second-guess myself. I put myself down. I judge others. I am far from being perfect. But, much like sewing the Kesa, we see our mistakes and keep going. Keep trying. Practice isn’t something that has a finish line. There is no finish line. There is a teacher that has told me these thoughts are in themselves practice. Simply hearing this made me stop and think about his words.. “Why do I do these things? What stories am I making up in my mind?”

I made a vow and commitment to uphold the precepts and Buddhist teachings in my life. I stumble and make mistakes, but that is part of it. What matters is your presence, intention, and practising as best you can, not only for others, but for yourself.

Gasshō,

On

sat/lah

[Jundo]

This is just some internet meme that my old college buddy posted ... although seems to be an actual story. It has nothing to do with being a Zen priest.

But then I realized that it is exactly why I am called to be a Zen priest.

Substitute "small bakery" for "small Sangha" ... "school kids" for "sentient beings" ... "math homework" for "Zazen" ... and it is exactly why I am a priest.

I am not here for the cookies.

image.png



Gassho, J
stlah

PS -

I would finally have all of the answers to unanswered questions. I would know what to do with my life. But it didn’t.

Don't give up hope! This way really can!

It may not give the answer to all unanswered questions, but it will for some ... while showing that others were the wrong question, or not really so important, or no question at all.

As to what to do with your life ... learn from the baker.

[Jundo]

I wanted to ask a further question specifically to those of you who have undergone 'shukke tokudo'.

I'm aware of the reforms in Japanese society that led to Buddhist clergy having families and no longer leaving family life in the literal sense. Reading shobogenzo (chapter 86: shukke kodoku), Master Dogen is pretty clear that 'shukke' was to him a literal home leaving, and even distinguishes between zaike-tokudo (leaving home at home) and shukke-tokudo, presenting the latter as the right way and the former as a compromise for one who was not able to physically leave home.

But clearly while many do choose to not have a family life, and 'leave' in a literal sense, many do not, or cannot for various reasons. I'm pretty sure that anyone who has undergone shukke-tokudo has asked this question of themselves. To me it seems that shukke must represent a more existantial turning towards the dharma, 'walking the walk' so to speak, and must in itself mark a real shift in life, one that is hard to make without reflecting that in physical existance.

So in short, what is 'leaving home' to you?

First, historically, it is not so clear about "literal home leaving" in the past. While most monks did literally leave home, there were some ambiguous points. In the Zen world, a significant number of folks, usually from the ruling classes, Ordained as Zen monks, not merely as lay people, while remaining out in the world to one degree or another. Dogen seems to celebrate these folks at various points in his writings, e.g., in Zuimonki he writes of a few "lay monks." For example,

... The late Middle Councilor Jimyōin, who was a lay monk, once had a treasured sword stolen. The perpetrator was among his retainers. The other warriors arrested the man and brought [the sword] to the councilor. The lay monk said, “This is not my sword. There has been a mistake.” He then gave the sword back [to the warrior]. Although it was certainly his sword, he gave it up because he thought of the shame of the warrior. Although everyone knew [the truth], the situation ended without trouble. As a result, the councilor’s descendents flourished. Even among the laity, those who are thoughtful [of others] are like this. All the more should monks have the same thoughtfulness.

This is not the same as a lay person who has received lay precepts, but is a monk's ordination for someone who returns home. Shohaku Okumura explains:

Minamoto no Harukane (源顯兼; d. 1215 CE) practiced as a “lay monk,” which translates nyūdō (入道; Ch. rùdào; literally “one who has entered the Way”). This meant a person had received a monk’s ordination, shaved their head, and put on a Buddhist robe, yet lived at home with a family.

An historian of Japanese Buddhism explains a bit more ...

The spread of lay renunciation, which became increasingly common during the Heian period, is evident in the broadened usage of the term “to leave home,” or “home-leaver” (shukke 出家). Shukke can be used both as a noun, referring to someone who has “leſt home” as a Buddhist monk or nun, and as a verb, referring to the act of leaving home to enter the sangha. Originally the term designated official members of the clergy who held state positions, but eventually its meaning grew ambiguous, signifying laypeople as well as those who served in officially recognized clerical positions. ... Unofficial ordinations became increasingly common and came to be tolerated both by the state and by monastic institutions. By the mid-Heian period, the procedures required for identification as a shukke had become rather flexible; for those active outside major monastic centers, there was no universally recognized protocol or authorization process. ... Those with ample connections and resources, however, were able to take formal precepts under a Tendai preceptor outside of these official routines. Private ceremonies held at court, within the residential quarters of aristocrats, or in urban temples were not only for lay devotees; they could also be used to confer official priestly status on certain elite men wishing to pursue full monastic training and to advance through the monastic hierarchy. ... Under ideal circumstances, a shukke would receive the precepts in a formal ordination ceremony, which included the tonsure and was conducted by a priest under whom he or she had studied in some capacity. ... [For example] in 1219, Nishi Hachijō no Zenni took vows at the Kamakura Zen temple Jufukuji. She then moved to Kyoto, taking up residence at Nishi Hachijō no Dai 西八 条第, an estate that her husband had acquired.... LINK

Master Keizan also mentioned some ambiguous cases in his Dentoroku ...

The “mentally going forth from household life” spoken of here [in the Root Koan Case] refers to those who neither shave their head nor dye their robes, but who, although they live at home and have worldly toil, are like lotus flowers unsullied by mud, or like jewels that repel dust. ... Without a single desirous thought, without the attachment of craving for anything, like the moon hanging in the sky, or like a jade ball rolling over a plate, one is in a busy marketplace but sees the one who is at ease. ... “For the buddhas, truly, it is not a matter of bodily going forth from household life, nor is it a matter of mentally going forth from household life.” ... Thus, sages and ordinary people together gain liberation, and body and mind alike come to be sloughed off. It is just like empty space, which has no interior or exterior, and it resembles ocean water in that it has no inside or outside

So, a bit ambiguous. While it is true that Dogen, when having abandoned the city for the countryside later in life, then devoted to teaching his monks, made distinction of monk and lay, that wasn't so much the case for the earlier Dogen.

Gassho, J
stlah

[Myo-jin]

Thanks Jundo, I'm put in mind of the following, which was always a favourite and something to aspire to.

This encapsulates the sort of person, and by extention the sort of monk I would wish to be. I don't think homeleaving is really necessary, but a firm inner comittment that in some may express itself as ordination.

Unbeaten by the rain
Unbeaten by the wind
Bested by neither snow nor summer heat
Strong of body
Free of desire
Never angry
Always smiling quietly
Dining daily on four cups of brown rice
Some miso and a few vegetables
Observing all things
Leaving myself out of account
But remembering well
Living in a small, thatched-roof house
In the meadow beneath a canopy of pines
Going east to nurse the sick child
Going west to bear sheaves of rice for the weary mother
Going south to tell the dying man there is no cause for fear
Going north to tell those who fight to put aside their trifles
Shedding tears in time of drought
Wandering at a loss during the cold summer
Called useless by all
Neither praised
Nor a bother
Such is the person
I wish to be

Ame ni mo makezu, Kenji Miyazawa

[Shonin Risa Bear]

Onki puts it well.

I embarrass easily, lie easily, covet easily, even with a rakusu on -- still?? ... well, what did I expect? Cleansing lightning from the Tushita Heaven?

But we have a remarkable guide to ordinariness: "Buddha went to town, begged from house to house, came back, ate lunch, put away his bowl, arranged his robe, awaited what might come next."



gassho, shonin sitting lahing

[Myo-jin]

The thing that strikes me, reading everybodies responses and experiences, as well as observing how it affects my life, is that wearing the Okesa implies a turning outwards towards others. As you say Onki , "Wearing the Kesa didn’t change anything. I was still the same person. I still had unanswered questions. I still doubted myself."

And yet, wearing the Okesa, I find I naturally turn outwards. "Leaving myself out of account" as Miyazawa wrote in the above verses, becomes easier, there is then a sort of power in the Okesa that alters our perspective. It is natural I suppose that we turn to the dharma as an answer to our own suffering, we get caught up on our own worries, our own problems, and if we are not careful our practice can become a sort of bandage to cover up our wounds. But I'm starting to see that this is only one half of the equation.

On the other hand, as Jundo points out "I think I finally found my purpose, It's not cookies, it's community". Wearing the Okesa means turning outwards, being visible. It's difficult to wear the Okesa and not in some way adopt the spirit of a Bodhisattva, and rather than seeking peace, we bring it with us and offer it to others.

In this tradition we are fortunate that lay-people like myself can wear the Okesa, and participate in it's merit. It has me wondering whether it might be true to say that this turning outwards to others, and leaving myself out of account that wearing the Buddha robes allows, is what Ordination is about. Not necessarily about healing all of our wounds, living some sort of idealised life where our problems miraculously vanish, but putting ourselves to one side and making a formal committment to help. To keeping the bakery open, being a graceful host rather than a needy guest looking for answers.

Early morning thoughts, please excuse for running long.

Gassho

Satlah

Myojin

[Bion]

The thing that strikes me, reading everybodies responses and experiences, as well as observing how it affects my life, is that wearing the Okesa implies a turning outwards towards others. As you say Onki , "Wearing the Kesa didn’t change anything. I was still the same person. I still had unanswered questions. I still doubted myself."

And yet, wearing the Okesa, I find I naturally turn outwards. "Leaving myself out of account" as Miyazawa wrote in the above verses, becomes easier, there is then a sort of power in the Okesa that alters our perspective. It is natural I suppose that we turn to the dharma as an answer to our own suffering, we get caught up on our own worries, our own problems, and if we are not careful our practice can become a sort of bandage to cover up our wounds. But I'm starting to see that this is only one half of the equation.

On the other hand, as Jundo points out "I think I finally found my purpose, It's not cookies, it's community". Wearing the Okesa means turning outwards, being visible. It's difficult to wear the Okesa and not in some way adopt the spirit of a Bodhisattva, and rather than seeking peace, we bring it with us and offer it to others.

In this tradition we are fortunate that lay-people like myself can wear the Okesa, and participate in it's merit. It has me wondering whether it might be true to say that this turning outwards to others, and leaving myself out of account that wearing the Buddha robes allows, is what Ordination is about. Not necessarily about healing all of our wounds, living some sort of idealised life where our problems miraculously vanish, but putting ourselves to one side and making a formal committment to help. To keeping the bakery open, being a graceful host rather than a needy guest looking for answers.

Early morning thoughts, please excuse for running long.

Gassho

Satlah

Myojin

In my eyes, I would also say that the turning outwards begins with a profound turning inwards which is essential. Put your own oxygen mask on first, before rushing to save others, I believe is the analogy. The very first vow one makes during ordination speaks of remaining faithful to one’s purpose of parting with human attachment, though amid the world, and seeking the Enlightened Way. The end of it is a vow to save all creations. So, one commits to caring for the practice to the best of one’s abilities, to personally realize the Buddha way, to awaken and to practice fully with one’s body and mind. It’s not easy to put oneself out of the account, and it requires right effort. As one diligently practices, turning outwards is just the natural expression of that.

Gassho
sat lah

[Hokuu]

Unbeaten by the rain
Unbeaten by the wind
Bested by neither snow nor summer heat
Strong of body
Free of desire
Never angry
Always smiling quietly
Dining daily on four cups of brown rice
Some miso and a few vegetables
Observing all things
Leaving myself out of account
But remembering well
Living in a small, thatched-roof house
In the meadow beneath a canopy of pines
Going east to nurse the sick child
Going west to bear sheaves of rice for the weary mother
Going south to tell the dying man there is no cause for fear
Going north to tell those who fight to put aside their trifles
Shedding tears in time of drought
Wandering at a loss during the cold summer
Called useless by all
Neither praised
Nor a bother
Such is the person
I wish to be

Ame ni mo makezu, Kenji Miyazawa

Interesting how we came across the same author in the Stories of the Lotus Sutra - Chapter 1

I like the vision of a priest like this, but I also like another vision of being a priest - an ambitious person who works ad maiorem dharmae gloriam, as it were:
- a businessman guided by precepts,
- a bodybuilder promoting peace,
- a person in power building schools and hospitals.
Both are possible, I guess - the ones who spent their time in the meditation hall and library, and those active in the world, being the salt of the world, quoting the guy from Galilee.

gassho
satlah