seventh world of chan buddhism - Zen Buddhist Order of Hsu Yun

The rules which govern eating defy description. There is, for example, a mandatory
gesture - the raising and lowering of the left hand, palm upturned - that a recipient of food or
drink must make to signal sufficiency to the serving monk. Marie Byles reports that she once
witnessed a new trainee, who did not know this gesture, have her tea cup filled to
overflowing. The serving monk just kept on pouring.
I made the identical gaff. During the first meal of my first sesshin (several straight
days of l6 hours a day meditation designed to inflict maximum stress), I was seated second in
line. Between every two monks a small tray which held a honey pot and dipper was placed
for use on the initial meal, a thick, hot breakfast cereal.
I hadn't noticed the first monk use this palm-up gesture of sufficiency as the serving
monk ladled the cereal into his bowl. But as the serving monk began to serve me, he
accidentally knocked over the honey pot, flipping the dipper out onto the corner of my robe
and the rug. The first monk and I immediately tried to clean up the mess. The serving monk
saw what had happened and that my attention was diverted, but he nevertheless continued to
slap huge spoonfuls of cereal into my bowl. I whispered `Thank you, That's enough.' But that
was not the correct way to indicate sufficiency and so the gruel kept coming. By the time the
first monk realized what was happening and reached across me to take my left hand and
pump it up and down, palm up, there was a mountain of glop in my bowl you could have
measured with an altimeter. Since meditation cannot resume until everyone has eaten and
since it is mandatory that everything in one's bowl be consumed, I sat there digging away at
this Everest of Grits for nearly half an hour into the time for the next meditation session.
Forty pairs of eyes furtively watched me eat the stuff... without benefit of honey since the
messy pot had been removed.
Even the act of brushing one's teeth has a body of rules and regulations governing it,
as does the manner in which one carries a towel when going to bathe.
To add to the misery, senior monks frequently behave like drill sergeants and junior
monks, to curry favor, inform on each other. Junior monks are routinely pushed around and
insulted and made to work during nearly every minute that they are not in the meditation hall.
Sleep is a luxury and nutrition does not seem to be a consideration of menu-planning. In
response to the attacks of poor diet, exhaustion, lack of sleep and unrelenting criticism, the
ego will very likely send up a white flag. And we will then arrive at the same place, the
`kitchen refuge,' in which Doe Ming found himself after his koan bashing.
Although American Zen monasteries tend to be more relaxed, their routines are still
calculated to be stressful. There is no point in being otherwise. (Need it be said that it is
absolutely essential that the people who formulate the stress are themselves enlightened?)
Somewhere there must be a formula: a month in a Zen monastery is equal to a year
on a chain-gang or six months in hell. Monks who survive five years of this treatment are on
CHAPTER 18 SATORI, THE KOAN, AND MONASTIC POLISHING
S EVENTH W ORLD O F C HAN B UDDHISM
187