Once again I was asked to come for the tea ceremony practise, and once again I complied, though this time I'll go on tuesday. When walking back from the morning zazen I started thinking more about the reasons why I want to do these kinds of things, going for tea ceremony, wanting to do shakyô and calligraphy, be interested in learning some ikebana, not to mention reihô practise. And let's not forget my attempts at haiku.

It's not just that I like to hang out with the people, even though that's one part of it.

And it's not that I'm planning to devote my life to each of these arts so that I'd really gain any proficiency in them - I've got my hands full with iaidô for the moment, thank you very much.

Then why?

They won't probably get me a better job, nor feed me, nor be of any "use" in the modern society. I see them as methods of learning something I might call a "way of being". Sounds very esoteric, but in the reality it's very simple. I have mentioned that my body language can change completely depending on the situation - just last wednesday I amused (once again) our haikukai by changing it in mid-conversation as I was speaking about my enbu this week and slipped without noticing to my "iai-mode". I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, but they instantly told me my posture, eyes and tone of voice changed the moment I started talking about wearing a montsuki. *g* And people who have seen me interpret any sensei know how funny this change can look, it's like another version of me.

Now, even though I have this other well-behaving version of me that often is activated without any conscient efforts, it doesn't mean that it shouldn't be polished. It's not only to impress the japanese (though that's funny too, as I might have mentioned now and then), but somehow it really serves a purpose to know how to behave in a tea room, how to write with a brush, when and how to bow, to understand the barest essentials of an ikebana arrangement. The way of thinking that is taught in the tea room is useful even when not in the middle of tea ceremony. The way you're taught to handle the teacups and pay attention to them helps to get in to the japanese aesthetics and really teaches you to handle things in a more elegant way. Or, should I say that it makes you pay more attention to the way you handle things.

Yes, this can go to extremes, as when I'm doing too much interpretation and my head gets all messed up - so that I start holding beer pints with both hands as I would do for a teacup, which by the way looks ridiculously stupid. :)

That's also why I'd like to attend reihô practise (Ogasawara Ryû, for example) - to learn how to move: sit, walk and stand. None of these are as easy as you'd maybe think... I'm good enough not to make any hideous mistakes, but still far from what I'd like to be.

All of these would be means to an end, though, not my Michi. Michi, or "Way" as it can be literally translated is more like a purpose in itself, not just something you do in the hopes of attaining something. My michi at the time is iaidô - there's different things I get from it, but the practise itself can't be described as instrumental. It fits well with the saying "it's not the destination that is important, but the travelling itself". That's the way with michi - it doesn't have anything you can "attain" and then just go find something else. The whole point is the continous practise itself. And I for example don't have time at the moment for 2 michi...

And even though I have some dislike to the usual zen-culture-all-is-one-BS (I know there's truth in it, but I just can't help feeling that sometimes people just mix things up too much), sôtô zen is very much a michi too. It's not that once you get enlightened you can just say bye-bye to your zafu and levitate to greener pastures (and once again, I'd much prefer a hondô at 6.30am with chanting monks and incense, but ... I digress, as always *g*). According to Dôgen one needs to renew the experience of being enlightened again and again, it's not enough to just get enlightened once - because as nothing is permanent, neither is enlightenment. You're properly enlightened when you're able to manifest your inner buddha-nature 24/7, so to say. And, you might have guessed,this is why we need to practise it, and practise hard.

In this way zen isn't "Bukkyô (仏教)", Buddha's teaching, but "Butsudô, Hotoke no Michi (仏道)", Buddha's Way. Knowing the teaching isn't anywhere near enough, you have to live it, do it, breathe it, practise it. And do it now. And now. Now. Again and again.

The thing that most captivates me in Sôtô and Dôgen is his question: "If we all have inborn buddha-nature, why is practise needed?" And the answer is what I just wrote. It's not enough to just have it, you also have to manifest it. And it's manifested IN the practise, not as a result of it.