I have given three talks on Dogen’s text the Fukanzazengi, and today I want to go back to where I left off, the dialogue between Huai-rang and Ma-Tsu about polishing a tile. After the initial exchange, which compares sitting zazen in order to get enlightened to polishing a tile in order to make it into a mirror, Huai-rang asked his disciple Ma-Tsu, If the cart won’t go do you hit the cart or the ox? This brings up the relationship between body and mind. The longer I sit, the more strongly I feel the importance of the body to this practice, and I don’t mean that the body is important because we need it to work so we can sit cross-legged and meditate. It is important because the body, including the information held in our muscles and joints as well as the wisdom of our physical presence, is necessary to get beyond the confines of the thinking mind and access the totality of our being. For many of us it takes awhile to trust this practice deeply enough so that we can put down the strategizing, tracking mind and be comfortable with the slower and more subtle activity of our physical presence.

The Dhammapada, an early Buddhist text begins, "All that we are is the result of what we have thought. It is founded on our thoughts. It is made up of our thoughts. If a person speaks or acts with an unwholesome thought, pain follows as surely as the wheel follows the foot of the ox that draws the cart. All that we are is the result of what we have thought. It is founded on our thoughts. It is made up of our thoughts. If a person speaks or acts with a wholesome thought, happiness follows like a shadow that never leaves."

This passage expresses the Buddhist teaching that all physical and verbal action is preceded by a mental impulse, a very brief intention to act. Before we move–before we stand up, or sit down, or walk, or fluff our zafu, or get angry, or speak– we intend it, even though we may not be aware of the intention since this process can be very brief and subtle. Being aware of our intentions and impulses is necessary in order to be conscious of our choices so we aren’t acting on automatic pilot.

I think a useful question to examine is, do we practice with our body or with our mind? Or, instead of separating the "we that practices" from "what it practices with," we can simplify this to, "what practices, our body or our mind?" What awakens to enlightenment, what is enlightened, body or mind? In Buddhism, mind refers to the whole realm of consciousness, to our thoughts and feelings, to will and dreams, emotions and psychological states, to silence. Ma-Tsu said, "This very mind, just this is Buddha." Other masters said this very body is Buddha. Can you differentiate your body from your mind? Can you tell where one ends and the other begins?

For example, when you are sick, or pregnant, or filled with sexual desire, is it a physical or mental experience? I remember hearing a story about a young monk who lived long ago and who was strongly determined to meditate. However, when he practiced meditation, his experience never matched his expectation–he had persistent sexual fantasies which he was unable to control or stop. Being so strongly determined to make his meditation work, one day he decided to get to the source of his difficulty, so he cut off his sexual organs. What is the source of our sickness, the source of our delusion, and what is the medicine? When you feel dread or anxiety or fear, where is it? Is it in your body or your mind?

In Dogen’s work, Shobogenzo Zuimonki, he asked, "Is the Way attained through mind or body? As long as we only think about the buddha-dharma with our minds, the Way will never be grasped ....When we let go of our minds and cast aside our views and understanding, the Way will be actualized....Kyogen realized the Way when he heard the sound of a tile hitting a bamboo. [He] attained the Way through [his] body. Therefore, when we completely cast aside our thoughts and views and simply sit, we will become intimate with the Way. For this reason, the Way is doubtlessly attained through the body. This is why I encourage you to practice zazen wholeheartedly."

Kyogen’s enlightenment story was one of Dogen’s favorites. Kyogen was a disciple of Kuei-shan, or Isan, and he was described as being unusually bright and learned. One day Isan called Kyogen in and said, "I do not want to hear what you have learned from scriptures or the result of your accumulated studies and speculation. Just give me the essential word about your Self before you were born, before you knew either east or west." In other words, show me your self which is beyond your usual self-identity, beyond your intellect, emotions and strategies, outside discriminating consciousness.

At this unexpected question, Kyogen was at a loss and couldn’t say anything. He searched for an appropriate response, but each time he went to Isan and presented an answer, Isan rejected it. Exhausted, he came to Isan begging, "Please teach ‘it’ to me." Isan said, "Even if I might show ‘it’ to you, it is my word and has nothing to do with your answer. Kyogen, driven to despair, burned his books and notes from years of study and gave up his training, leaving Isan’s monastery in tears. He went to the grave of the National Teacher, Nan’yo Echu, and became a nameless grave sweeper. This is the same National Teacher who when asked, "What is the mind of the ancient Buddhas?" replied, "A wall and broken tiles." One day while Kyogen was sweeping the area around the National Teacher’s grave, a loose pebble flew up and hit a bamboo. At that moment, the sound of the pebble hitting the bamboo opened Kyogen up to the universe and he awakened. He heard the sound of the inanimate expounding the dharma.

I find it interesting that when Kyogen was tending the grave of the National Teacher who had taught that the inanimate is continuously and vigorously expounding the Dharma, that Kyogen experienced realization through the sound of a stone hitting bamboo which Dogen uses as an example of being enlightened through the body. Even though Dogen seems to be emphasizing awakening with the body instead of mind, he recommended in other places practicing with our whole being which he referred to as body/mind.

Going back to Huai-rang’s question, "If the cart won’t go, do you hit the cart or do you hit the ox?" The cart is usually considered a metaphor for the body and the ox a metaphor for the mind. Of course in our usual world, when we want the cart to go, we hit the ox. As you know, we could hit the cart all day long and the cart won’t move. Like the passage from the Dhammapada, the traditional meaning of this has to do with the causal relationship between mind and body, between our intentions and the kind of activity we engage in.

Dogen commented on this exchange in his teaching fascicle "Zazenshin," which can be found in Dogen’s Manuals of Zen Meditation, saying that he "recommended beating the cart... He continued saying, "In the [ordinary] world, there is no method of beating the cart; but though ordinary people have no such method, we know that on the path of Buddha there is a method of beating the cart, and this is the very eye [or essence] of Buddhist study." Dogen took the traditional Buddhist teaching that the mind is the source of our experience, that the mind itself is Buddha, and he turned it around by teaching that the Way is attained through the body.

He taught what I think of as the radical non-duality of body and mind. For Dogen, the ability to understand or actualize practice involved the whole being which he termed "body-mind" which is shinjin in Japanese. In his fascicle, Juki, Dogen wrote, "...because the body necessarily fills the mind and the mind inevitably penetrates the body, we call this the permeation of body-mind. That is to say, this is the entire world and all directions, the whole body and the whole mind. This is none other than joy of a very special kind." Experiencing the unification of body and mind is a samadhi, which Dogen calls "joy of a special kind." This joyful unity can be experienced both in zazen and in everyday activity.

We cannot separate what our body is doing, or even our posture, from our state of mind, and vice versa. One of my teachers used to say something like, "I can tell someone’s understanding by the way they light incense and bow," meaning that our consciousness is expressed directly through our activity. In the same way, our understanding is naturally manifested in the way we do things, so our activity throughout the day expresses our understanding

Going back to the earlier question, "What is body? What is mind?" How do we put them together to construct our world? For example, I don’t pay much attention to my feet until I get a blister on my foot, and then I pay a lot of attention and identify it as my body and it is dear to me. The body is more dear to us than the external world, for example, our car. However, your car may be more dear than your driveway or mail box. Often I find that I go to check for mail with some subtle or more apparent longing, hoping there will be something special in it. The mail box where I used to live was half covered in orange rust, and I would think about painting it, or replacing it, so it wouldn’t look so neglected and junky. I noticed that I identified with the mail box to the extent that I wondered if my neighbors thought I was some kind of bum or irresponsible person for having such an unkept mail box. Again, the mail box, or my mail box, was dearer to me than the faded stop sign at the end of our road. And what the town of Chapel Hill decides is more important to me than the policies in Chatham County or Mecklenberg County. But, now that I live in North Carolina, I want the state to have responsible policies and environmentally sound laws.

This is an example of how we go about identifying and globbing together the internal and external world to construct our idea of who we think we are and how we fit into the world. The investment I may have in the way others perceive my mail box is similar to the investment I may have in the way others perceive my sense of humor, or insight, or competence. So, this is my world, the frame of reference upon which I base my story line by taking the outer world and categorizing it, overlaying my labels and words and concepts onto it. These ideas are what I use to define who I am based on how I construct reality.

But what is it really, what is our experience like without concepts and labels? When we take away words, ideas, our story, what is left? Someone said that when he was able to interrupt his stream of thought and be with vast openness, he could feel the warm compassion and acceptance of trees.

Is it possible when waking in the morning, to step out of bed or out of our house with absolutely no expectations? Can we meet the sunshine or rain as it is, rather than qualifying it based on how it fits into our plans? When we take away our expectations, our hopes and fears, when we take away our story, what is left? Who is left? What is this body and mind when it has no labels or categories, before knowing either east or west, and how can we awaken to it as liberation and joy?