Running Before We Can Crawl
There is often a tendency for one to try to advance too quickly in spiritual practice. In a sense this is completely understandable. When we are hungry for the Dharma we tend to take large bites and our enthusiasm for practice is inspiring. However, there are often unintended outcomes from our enthusiasm. Often I see people burn out very quickly. This is often due to trying to run before we have learned to crawl. Virya Paramita, the perfection of enthusiasm or diligence, directly addresses this condition. to maintain our enthusiasm for practice we need to nurture the practice of patience, or Ksanti Paramita. We need to be patient in our advancement of practice. We need to take the time to be a student before we have anything useful to teach.
When we are encouraged to run before we crawl, our practice becomes impaired and never fully nourished. This happens when a teacher has given responsibility to the student too soon. This often occurs when the teacher sees the enthusiasm of the student and wishes to support them in their practice. Again, this may come from good intentions, but in the long run it is problematic for everyone involved.
Just as is the case for the teacher, the student’s foundation of practice has to be rooted in service and patience. students shouldn’t teach or facilitate the practice of others until they have trained deeply with their teachers daily. As bodhisattvas taking care of our practice first is essential to teaching. It is similar to putting your oxygen mask on before that of another. If you haven’t learned to help yourself how can you help another?
Too often I see individuals who want to be a Zen teacher before they have established a strong foundation of practice. This may be rooted in good intentions of helping to alleviate the suffering of others, but quite frankly it can be detrimental to the practice of both teacher and student. It is also important to not give responsibility to our students too quickly. When a student is not ready for responsibility we are actually causing problems for them by giving them something they cannot use responsibly. During the Hossenshiki Dharma combat ceremony we call the shippei held by the Shuso, head monk, the “jeweled sword that takes and gives life freely” and bestows the shuso the authority to teach (teaching for the dharma combat ceremony). We do not give the jeweled sword to an infant. When handed responsibility that a practitioner is not ready for it can damage the practice of others, themselves, and the sangha. I understand that much of zen practice is “jump in and learn how to swim” but this is the attitude of practice under the direct daily supervision and face to face practice with a teacher.
It is the responsibility of the teacher to stay and train their students and ensure that they are growing and learning to embody the Dharma fully in each and every moment of their daily life. As teachers we have to be active parents involved and learning from our students as they grow. The robe and bowl are not props that bestow any authority to teach. The dharma is handed down from the marrow of practice that is fully in teacher and student practicing side by side, staring at the wall together.
When I was in the monastery Roshi taught me a valuable lesson. It doesn’t matter what color your robe is, we embody the dharma with our lives and deaths. I was making a kotsu in the wood shop of the monastery, for my teacher at my home temple, when Roshi came in and talked with my about it. I asked Roshi if he ever used a kotsu, or nyoi because I hadn’t seen him with during service. He told me he doesn’t need one to authorize him to speak, or embody the dharma. He was helping me to understand my own attachment to the position of teacher. He also said a nyoi looked a “bit silly, like a magic mushroom”.
Namu kie Butsu One with Buddha
Namu kie ho One with Dharma
Namu kie so One with Sangha
