In the Midst of This Swirling World
By Koshin Paley Ellison
“All of practice is just about being your natural self,” said the Vice Abbot, Enryo Kikkawa, in a practice discussion at our stay at Koshoji monastery in Kyoto, the monastery that Dogen, the founder of the Soto school of Japanese Zen, established shortly after his return from China in the 13th century. We were there in the midst of the outbreak of the coronavirus and the threat level was raised to level three in Japan. Outside the room, the courtyard was filled with snarled plum trees bursting into pink and white blooms. Plum trees are appreciated in Japan for their courage in coming out first when it is still cold and warding off evil.
Across the courtyard, we sat with the artist in residence, Yuta Niwa, who was making an enormous painting that filled the full length of one of the monastery’s large buildings. Yuta told us the story of the three big images: tiger, wolf, and raccoon. In Japanese culture, these beings are thought sometimes to be gods and sometimes the bringers of evil.
“Like the evil the plum blooms ward off?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, “200 years ago, we had another coronavirus here in Japan. The people believed that it was caused by the tiger, wolf, and raccoon becoming a chimera, which was sick, and that’s what created the virus.”
“In this painting I am separating them and surrounding them with healing things from the monastery.” I could see depictions of drums, monk’s hats, bells, and food. Perhaps the healing comes from noticing what is different about each thing, I thought.
I think of the Enryo and Yuta today in New York City. The plum blossoms have yet to bloom here. There is so much stress and fear. My heart aches for all the people who are so afraid. But knowing the plum blossoms are coming heartens me. That which can remind us of help is here. New life is here. Perhaps what we can do is untangle the tangle of real reflecting on how we can muster the plum blossom courage of compassion for our fear. In my understanding of Zen, I remember the lineage of all the people who dedicated their lives to this practice of liberation in the face of all that is scary and difficult.
It is my daily practice of appreciating and deep gratitude for the lineage that supports me in this time of mass uncertainty and fear. I don’t know what is going to happen, and yet what I do with my thoughts, words, and actions impacts everyone. How can I practice wholeheartedly with my stress, anxiety, and fear?
During his time at Koshoji, Dogen wrote, “Take a deep breath, inhale, exhale, rock your body to the right and left, and settle into a steady, unmoving sitting position.” When I settle into the easy natural place that is unmoved by my fears (perhaps the tiger, wolf, and raccoon chimera!), I rest in my hara, the place two inches below my belly button. From this place I see how my thoughts can become the chimera, and how that chimera can speak and then ruin a town.
I notice then that I am not present, and I have the courage to return to my breath in the softness of my hara, in the midst of this swirling world.
