Roshi opened his talk this week by noting how many new students in Zen hit the same challenges in their practice.  At first, they become frustrated because the mind feels scattered and out of control.  They quit because they feel as though they are wasting time.  Then, as practice matures, their minds begin to quiet down, but a kind of plateau appears. Questions arise such as, “Is this all there is?” Here the student may quit to direct their attention to some new pursuit which is more “stimulating”.

Roshi then asked how our understanding of Mu evolves over time. He noted that Mu is commonly translated as “emptiness” or “nothingness.” In Zen, it is common to add the character Kan, forming Mumonkan, often translated as The Gateless Gate. One way to understand this phrase is simply as a collection of koans. However, Roshi suggested another interpretation: where, exactly, is the separation — the “gate” — in life?

Try asking a small child whether boys and girls are the same or different. A child may point out superficial distinctions: girls like dolls, boys like balls. Yet even children quickly recognize that boys and girls are fundamentally the same — they are all human beings. The differences are real, but they are not essential to one’s existence.

Roshi compared the child’s statement to an initial understanding of emptiness. As we mature, however, we begin to question why we divide the world into categories at all. Is it because of laws, such as the distinction between citizens and non-citizens? Is it because of culture, with its ideas of “in-group” and “out-group”? Or perhaps in religions with the many different schools, sects, or factions in a single tradition. In each of these, is there really a difference?  How different is the citizen or non-citizen?  How different is Soto, Rinzai, or Pure Land?

As understanding deepens further, Roshi explained, we begin to realize that these discriminations — these “gates” — are not imposed on us from the outside. They arise from deep within. We begin to see how the long cycle of karma shapes our perceptions and biases. Biases come from parents, whose biases came from their parents, shaped in turn by culture, history, and circumstance. The chain stretches endlessly backward through time.  Before we can transcend delusion, we must transform ourselves, because we — along with our accumulated karma — are the gate.

The first step in this process is recognizing that our views are deeply dualistic and conditioned. Dualistic in the sense that there appears to be a separate “I” standing apart and judging the world. Conditioned because these judgments are not truly our own; they arise from an endless chain of causes and effects.  Once this is deeply internalized, we realize there is no external gate blocking us. We also discover there is no internal gate hidden within us either. The gate is nothing more than ourselves.  You are your own gate!

Just like the traps Roshi opened his talk with, this is another place where students get discouraged and drift away.  If everything we experience and identify with is ultimately empty, then what is the point of practice? This echoes a familiar Zen question: if all the aggregates are stripped away, what remains? If I am not my body, my career, my relationships, my memories, my knowledge, or my affiliations, then who am I really?  Some people misunderstand this as a deep form of nihilism and give up.

At this point, Roshi paused and emphasized that what remains after we strip all the delusions away is our true Buddha Nature. This is the deep realization toward which practice points. When this realization is reached, a profound freedom emerges, because there is no longer any need to maintain the story of the self and its aggregates. The long cycle of karma is broken, and all possibilities open before us.  This universal freedom is why we practice.

Roshi warned, however, that the point right before this very challenging and can cause some students to walk away.  As we approach realization, the process can become frightening. The familiar structures and identities we rely upon begin to fall away. At the same time, the ego fiercely resists this transformation, because those very constructs form the basis of its existence. In that sense, practice can feel like a fight to the death.

Roshi wrapped up by noting one last risk – over attachment to “Buddhsim” He read us the “Zen Admonitions,” which are appended to the Mumonkan collection of koans. Below is one translation:

To obey rules and regulations is to tie yourself without a rope.
To act freely and without restraint is heresy and deviltry.
To be aware of the mind, making it pure and quiet, is the false Zen of silent contemplation.
To arbitrarily ignore causal relations is to fall into a deep pitfall.
To abide in absolute awakening with no darkening is to wear chains with a yoke.
Thinking of good and evil is being in heaven and hell.
To have views about the Buddha and the Dharma is to be imprisoned inside two iron mountains.
Becoming aware of consciousness at the instant it arises is toying with the soul.
Practicing concentration in quiet sitting is an action of devils.
If you go forward, you will stray from the essence.
If you go backward, you oppose the principle.
If you neither go forward nor backward, you are a dead man breathing.
Tell me now — what will you do?

The message, Roshi explained, is that there is no way to transcend the gate except through the hard work of transcending yourself. You are the gate. And ultimately, even Zen itself should not become an attachment. It is only a tool to help us undertake the real work.