All posts by Hozan Alan Senauke

Hozan Sensei began practicing at BZC on Dwight Way, and later established his practice as a student of Sojun Roshi in the early 1980s. He was ordained as a Zen priest at BZC in 1989, receiving Dharma Transmission from Sojun at Tassajara in 1998. After serving as Tanto (Head of Practice) and then as Vice-Abbot at BZC, Hozan was installed as Abbot in January of 2021.

The Dharma of Listening and Speaking (Part 2)

Who is the person who desires life, who seeks days of goodness?
Guard your tongue from evil and your lips from deceitful speech.
Shun evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it.
(
from Psalm 34)

The meaning is not in the words,
yet it responds to the inquiring impulse.
(
from Master Tozan’s “Song of the Jewel Mirror Samadhi”)

As I wrote last month, in such contentious times our public and private words can wound or heal. When we speak unskillfully our words can be like an arrow loosed. Once released, this arrow cannot be called back. Where it strikes, there is a wound. Even where there is healing between people, and even where the best of intentions are at play, there can also be scars. Intention and impact fit together “like front and back foot in walking.” We see this in our relationships, in society, and in sangha. Last month I addressed hearing and listening. This month I speak about speaking.

Buddhism has clear practices of Right Speech—samma vacca—the third step on the Eightfold Path. In the Pali Canon (SN 45.8), the Buddha mentions four qualities of Right Speech:

What is right speech? Abstaining from lying, from divisive speech, from abusive speech, and from idle chatter: This is called right speech.

Three of the ten Bodhisattva Precepts warn about harmful speech—Precepts 4, 6, and 7:

I vow to refrain from false speech.
I vow not to slander.
I vow not to praise self at the expense of others.

Thich Nhat Hanh folds these into his Fourth Mindfulness Training: “Deep Listening and Loving Speech”:

Aware of the suffering caused by unmindful speech and the inability to listen to others, I vow to cultivate loving speech and deep listening in order to bring joy and happiness to others and to relieve others of their suffering. Knowing that words can create happiness or suffering, I vow to learn to speak truthfully, with words that inspire self-confidence, joy, and hope. I am determined not to spread news that I do not know to be certain, and not to criticize or condemn things of which I am not sure. I will refrain from uttering words that can cause division or discord, or that can cause the family or the community to break. I will make all efforts to reconcile and resolve all conflicts, however small.

Arising from the silence of zazen, inevitably we have to say something. We will say something, even if we write it in a note or speak with gestures. Again, the Buddha instructs us about what kind of words are appropriate. He says we should speak words that are true, useful, timely, and beneficial or motivated by lovingkindness.

Now, a Buddha, with powers of omniscience, would not have to guess about these qualities—his or her insight would be sufficient. But for those of us aspiring to the Buddha Way here in saṃsāra, these four conditions of speech can be elusive. If I know my friend well, I might be able to make a good guess about what she might receive as true, useful, timely, and beneficial. And I might guess wrong. If I am speaking with someone I don’t know or with whom I already haves conflict, it is likely we will disagree on one or more of these points.

So, is there ever a right time to speak? Are words ever completely true? When we speak, we take a leap into the unknown, and that is okay. It is no different from anything else we do. It is important to clarify our intentions as best we can. Still, we cannot know the impact of our words until they have been spoken and heard. Intention and impact are interdependent. Perhaps silence is better. But there is so much joy and connection in the play of words. I can’t easily give up such human pleasure.

I leave you with a recommendation. We can learn to ask questions before making assertions. Sometimes I might lose myself in the assertion of “my truth.” I’m not alone in that habit. Better to ask questions and create dialogue, remembering that the meaning “responds to the inquiring impulse.” Try it out.

—Hozan Alan Senauke
December 2021

(Part 1 is in a previous post.)

The Dharma of Listening and Speaking (Part 1)

In these contentious times, our words—public and private words—can wound or heal.

We see this in relationships, in society, and in the sangha. We also come to understand that what each of us hears is not necessarily what a speaker might have meant in speaking. This is the distinction of intention and impact, both of which are important.

In Buddhist traditions there is a wealth of teachings on Right Speech, which includes listening and speaking. But let’s begin from the space of zazen. The titles of Dainin Katagiri Roshi’s first two books bring us back to essentials. His first book is titled Returning to Silence. The second book is You Have to Say Something.

Returning to silence is hearing, listening; stepping into the receptive mind of zazen. Listening is the active component of hearing. Listen for a moment. I hear the refrigerator’s sound, a car going by, birds in the yard. Listening takes place against a background of silence. This is also Bodhisattva practice. Avalokitesvara, Kannon, or Kwan Yin is referred to as “one who sees the cries of the world.” In zazen, with all senses functioning, there is a kind of synesthesia—experiencing one sense through the workings of another. That is returning to silence, the all-inclusive experience of zazen.

But zazen mind is not a practice confined to the walls of the zendo, or to the frame of a Zoom screen. The full unfolding of zazen is in our life, where we are bound to have activities. We have to do something; we have to say something. We do zazen with our bodies as an activity. The active side of our practice completes the continuous circle of the way. We are always moving between returning to silence, listening, and having to say something.

I recently came across this excerpt from a 1967 lecture by Suzuki Roshi where he speaks about the practice of listening:

When you listen to someone, you should give up all your preconceived ideas and your subjective opinions; you should just listen to him, just observe what his way is. We put very little emphasis on right and wrong or good and bad. We just see things as they are with him or her, and accept them. This is how we communicate with each other. Usually when you listen to some statement, you hear it as a kind of echo of yourself. You are actually listening to your own opinion. If it agrees with your opinion you may accept it, but if it does not, you will reject it or you may not even really hear it.

Suzuki Roshi is suggesting that we ratchet back our habit of judging everything we listen to, of evaluating of right and wrong, good and bad. He is not suggesting that we ignore morality. But he is encouraging us to set aside self-centered views which subtly show up in many of our verbal exchanges. In the moment of listening to someone, try to see the cries of the world. Just see that person as he or she is right there. Whether you agree with them or not, make an effort to accept them. As Thich Nhat Hanh writes:

Aware of the suffering caused by unmindful speech and the inability to listen to others, I vow to cultivate loving speech and deep listening in order to bring joy and happiness to others and to relieve others of their suffering.

How we listen and how we speak is the heartbeat of a practical Zen Buddhism. Yes, the silence is deep and nourishing, but we inhabit that space just a small part of the time. Much more of our day is spent interacting with others. Even as we speak, we must always be listening and watching.

—Hozan Alan Senauke

(The Practice of Speaking will be Part 2, in the next newsletter.)