Taking Refuge

Re-reading some of our texts on taking refuge, as part of the current precept group study, I was struck by some general points, and some specific ones. In general, it was as though I had not read any of these books before — how did I miss that? — was a common thought. As well as the set texts, I also dipped into Tenkei Roshi's wonderful book, Timeless Calling, Timely Response. If you were only going to get one manual on Zen practice that covers all aspects, this would be it.

But the first point I want to mention comes from The Heart of Being. It is the Japanese word kie-ei that is translated as refuge. The first part, kie, means to throw oneself into unreservedly; Daido Loori elaborates: “…no holding back, no way out, no safety net, harness or rope… That is the way a parent rescues a child who is in danger. The parent does not think about himself or herself. The parent does not hesitate for a second. The second character, ei, literally means ‘to rely upon’ in the way a child leaps into the parent's arms, trusting unequivocally.”

Personally, I knew immediately it was offered, that I needed or wanted to receive jukai. Genpo Roshi (then Sensei) just said, anyone wanting a ring — meaning the ring that goes into the making of the rakusu — see so-and-so. Which I did, having only done one full retreat before, and only a weekend with Genpo. Though I think I had really made that choice many years before, when I became a sannyasin of the guru Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, later known as Osho. Having travelled across India with my first wife, Vibha, mainly on the basis of one of his books, Bhagwan put me into a very Zen-like group called Enlightenment Intensive. It scared the crap out of me and I ran away. Before I did so, I spoke to one of the facilitators; she asked me what I really wanted. “Security,” I replied. “You're in the wrong place,” she answered.

The path to enlightenment, including taking refuge, is not about security.

Anyway, the following day, having booked my train ticket out of Pune, I was sitting in a café, drinking tea with some sannyasins. I explained what I was doing, and one of them said, “Do you think you've got a choice?” Of course, on a literal level, I did. I could get on that train and carry on being a tourist. But I had been reading about spiritual stuff for years — I was actually on my first-year summer vacation of a three-year religious studies degree — and, obviously, this stuff worked powerfully, even if I didn't like it! I cancelled my ticket, and became a sannyasin a day or two later. Bhagwan said, “You have to get back on the horse,” and put me into the next Enlightenment Intensive course, where I had what I later recognised was my first kensho, or experience of seeing into my true nature.

A few years later, having finished my degree, I went back to Pune. It was a very mixed time for me. But my final darshan with Bhagwan ended with him saying, “When I call, come.” Although it was not long after that that I gave up my mala and stopped being a sannyasin, those words resonated with me, and I took them to mean, ‘When I — meaning spirit, or the path — call, then jump’. So when the Zen path opened up to me through the practice of aikido, I took it. When the opportunity for shamanic training came my way, I took that too.

So when I was in Salt Lake City, learning the Big Mind process from Genpo Roshi, and people asked me if I was a monk or not, it was not perhaps altogether surprising that when I said, no, I wasn't, it felt at some level like I was lying. Which Genpo recognised, and said, “Well, we'd better make it official then,” leading to my monk ordination in 2010.

And the precepts and the taking refuge as a monk is no different from taking refuge in jukai. As Daido Loori puts it, ‘unreservedly throwing oneself into and relying upon’ differs from ‘a shelter or protection from danger or distress’ — the more common definition of the word refuge.

Tenkei Roshi says, “According to the scriptures, the Buddha was threatened by demons of many kinds before he attained realisation. So, if we vow to be one with Buddha, we had better be prepared for the unexpected and dare to sit through some distressing inner turmoil. This can help to turn our zazen into a very compassionate activity, as it may not only benefit ourselves but may also serve as an inspiration to others.”

Genpo's instruction to us taking the precepts consisted in encouraging us to be one with the Buddha — if you take care of that, the rest will follow, he said. I'm glad I did in fact do some more reading, but his point is, in a way, unarguable.

But what is Buddha? Theravadins simply use the term to refer to the historical Buddha. Tenkei Roshi has an interesting take on this: “I found an interesting interpretation of the Chinese character (kanji) for ‘Buddha’. This character consists of two parts (radicals); the first one reads ‘person’, while the other one can mean ‘not really’. When we take it this way, it can imply that the Buddha looks like a person but, in reality, he is not. And that signifies flexibility: a buddha has no fixed form and can fill wherever needed, just as water takes on the shape of any container.”

If you are lucky, sometimes you will find Buddha sits with you or in you. You don't have to be any other kind of shape for that to happen. Just who you really are. He is not really a person, because he is unborn…

There are usually three levels of meaning in the Three Treasures that we take refuge in: on one ‘unified’ level Buddha is complete enlightenment (“No one is without it. It does not increase one bit in Buddhas, nor is it reduced one bit in ‘ordinary’ beings,” says Daido Loori); Dharma is ‘undefiled purity’ but also the way things really are, when seen through enlightened eyes — it “reaches everywhere. There is nothing outside it.” While Sangha is the virtue and merit of harmony.

The manifested Three Treasures give us Buddha as the direct realisation of bodhi, the Dharma as the Buddha's realisation, which “is at once the realisation of all sentient beings,” and the Sangha as when practice of the Dharma happens; it reminds me of the definition of Church — when two or more people are gathered together in my name.

The abiding Three Treasures is the transmission, the application. We try to preserve and protect — Loori cites scripture: “Converting devas and liberating people, appearing in vast space or in a speck of dust, is the Buddha Treasure of the abiding Three Treasures” — the practice of skilful means. The Dharma here is the teaching, the spirit of the sutras, while the Sangha is saving beings from suffering.

I want to finish with two more quotes, the first from Daido Loori:

“Taking refuge is not a casual encounter. This is a whole body-and-mind vow, whole body-and-mind unity, whole body-and-mind commitment. Those who give that much realize it. Those who do not, do not realize it. Some may realize it, some may not. Either way is okay. It is up to us. Nobody can do it for us. Buddha could not do it for us, if he were here. Only we have the power to take advantage of the personal karma that has placed us in this time and place. It is a unique opportunity, and how we use it is totally in our hands.”

But we are not doing this by ourselves; as Reb Anderson puts it:

“When you take refuge and give your devotion to the buddha way, there is always a response. All the buddhas and ancestors say, welcome home. Glad to see you. We've been waiting. Now the family is back together. It's a concert, not a solo performance… Taking refuge in buddha, dharma and sangha, we return home to our true nature. Having returned, we are ready to receive the Three Pure Precepts: the design of our original true nature.”

And that, of course, will be the next chapter in our quest…