Thoughts on Sesshin- by K. Bloom

A few days before sesshin, I watched a documentary following novice monks at Eihei-ji, a large temple in western Japan.  Aside from the many hours of zazen, the recitations of the sutras, and the continual cleaning of every inch of the monastery, one of the most striking moments for me was seeing the way that they brushed their teeth in the morning.  As they brush, the monks cup their mouths and noses with their hands, then lean all the way into the basin and spit gently into the drain to avoid spattering.  Washing their faces was similarly precise.  It was clear that these ablutions were following a prescribed method.  Watching this, the thought that came into my mind was something like, “Oh, it really is every moment there.”

Monastery life demands complete commitment.  The monastic rule is designed to enforce continual mindfulness at all hours of the day and night.  The abundance of procedures, rituals, ways of doing - there is a specific form that is followed in nearly every action, not just during spiritual observances.  The form is an all-encompassing standard which defines the daily life of a monastic.

Sesshin feels like a glimpse of that monastic form, for just a few days in an enclosed setting.  Rigorous attention to detail, mindful conduct, and keeping one’s composure in the face of difficulty are especially foregrounded by the experience of sitting, walking, and cleaning, day after day.  Every participant is expected to commit fully - with no choice but to keep sitting, there is no respite from the mental, physical, and emotional challenges that arise.  I experienced moments of profound internal chaos, but no matter how deeply I sank into despair, anger, or near-mania, the sesshin continued, completely unaffected.  Every awful memory and grandiose delusion ultimately passed without a trace.  In those moments I was deeply grateful for the presence of the form.  Doing my best to surrender to the experience, with no way to mitigate painful insights, I did see a little more clearly how this form pervades the practice at all times.

The dojo is always a zendo, whether or not a sit or a sesshin is happening.  The monastic form is not separate from the martial art.  The practice of paying attention and staying wholly present should extend to every moment in the space.  If zazen is an opportunity to observe one’s internal arisings in a composed, controlled environment, aikido is an opportunity to experience that amidst movement and unpredictable energy.  After class, cleaning the mats and tidying up is an everyday renewal of commitment, and an expression of gratitude.  Hand-scrubbing a spotless floor for the second or third time in a day may feel a little odd, but the purpose of doing so goes deeper than just removing dust and footprints.

 Sesshin as a passing experience might lay some of this bare, but it is dependent on one’s personal commitment to the practice to remain awake after the sit is over.  Part of practice is continually testing one’s own limits - not only of physical ability but the capacity to maintain awareness in any situation, whether strenuous and chaotic, or straightforward and predictable.  Staying committed to the form in extremity as well as in tranquility, and enduring both in exactly the same way!