The Athens of the persimmon belt

Do you like persimmons?

Have you ever eaten one? I had not even seen one, I think, before I came to Japan in 1978. They are really popular here. Growing up in the US, my father used to refer to his birthplace, Wheatland, Indiana, as 'the Athens of the persimmon belt.' I thought this was just a sarcastic reference to a small town that didn't have much to brag about. It turns out, the real persimmon capital of Indiana is Mitchell, which is maybe not far from Wheatland. Maybe they had a lot of persimmon trees in Wheatland. But still, I never knew anyone who had eaten a persimmon (unless my father used to eat them in Indiana).

Wikipedia tells us that there are many varieties of persimmon around the world. Some of the Asian varieties have 'kaki' (the Japanese word for persimmon) in their Latin botanical name. China also has many persimmon varieties. The wild variety in Indiana seems to be pretty unique in the persimmon world.

But what is all the fuss? My Japanese friends frequently cut up a persimmon to offer to a guest, but I was never impressed by the taste. I would challenge them, saying, 'Persimmons have no fragrance. There is no persimmon soda pop or persimmon-flavored candy.' I thought this would be persuasive, since most Japanese appreciate the aromas of foods as much as the taste. But my arguments did not work.

Many people have persimmon trees in their gardens. They are valued for their decorative value as well as the fruit. It seems that even within the same variety of tree, there are some trees that produce bitter persimmons, and others that produce sweet ones. Indeed, some persimmons have such high tannin levels that they are inedible (without processing to reduce tannins and increase sugars, like soaking the fruit in alcohol). But the color is very attractive, adding a bright accent to autumnal landscapes. Lately, some of my friends have had big harvests from their trees, big enough that they are ignoring my protests and gifting me with large amounts of fruit. (I think there is a similar situation with zucchini or tomatoes among US home gardeners.) So now I have a large haul. One popular tactic is to peel them, tie them on string and allow them to air-dry hanging from the eaves. I think a large part of the overall crop is eaten this way. But I am not going to go to that much trouble. I will just eat as many of them as I can while they last. One good point about persimmons is that they are considered delicious even when they have become soft enough to eat with a spoon. So, in that sense, they will last a long time. I wonder if I will end up liking them.

Don't discuss Buddhism!

I am facing the possibility of a return to the US. I have enjoyed the overall Buddhist-friendly environment in Japan, and I wonder what it will be like in the US. My current impressions of Buddhism in the US (or the 'west' in general) are pretty much from the interwebs. But here it is: English speakers on the internet like lengthy harangues about what they understand Buddhism to be. I'm not saying no one gets it right...I can't make that kind of judgement. But among the Buddhist practitioners I know here, no one gets into too much theory. Of course, if you want to know about emptiness, non-self, the Five Aggregates--well, just ask Google-san. There may in fact be some Japanese who talk about such things. But I have met very few. In the two meditation groups I hang out with, the approach is to recite a few traditional prayers and the Heart Sutra, either before, after or bracketing the meditation. Of course, there are some physical exercises, too. In the meditation class at the Shingon temple, everyone learns three of the mudras or hand positions. These (AFAIK) have very explicit meanings and functions in Shingon--part of the esotericism, generally not taught to lay people. These three mudras are not hidden from casual practitioners, but at the same time, there is not much discussion of them. The Shingon session also includes two mantras--the teacher gives a very quick and maybe vague summary of the meaning or intention of these. After the sessions (both the Shingon one and the zazen at a Tendai temple) everyone is invited for tea and cookies (actually sembei) afterward, with opportunities for questions. But, NO ONE EVER ASKS ANYTHING! Why do we have to hold our hands that way? What is the meaning of the mantras? No one ever asks. Why not? A lot of it is probably Japanese upbringing and etiquette. Questions have a tinge of challenge to authority. They suggest that the teacher maybe didn't do his job well enough. The Heart Sutra is so well-known, it is like the elephant in the room. No one discusses it. I would guess most people don't feel any necessity for understanding the sutra on an intellectual level, so just reciting in the context of a meditation session is enough. Maybe it will just soak in. Actually, I find this admirable.

My impression is that some westerners, especially of the Zen persuasion, are reluctant to do sutra recitations or anything ceremonial. Just sitting should be enough. Maybe they are right. But the Japanese don't even think twice about ceremonies--they happen all the time, everywhere, not just in religious contexts. I would guess that 95% of Japanese who visit a temple will drop a coin in the box and put their hands together in front of the temple or image. If everyone around them is reciting a sutra, they will do it too. Personally, I like this idea that the sutra will soak in (to some extent) just by reciting it. So, questions are not really necessary. Certainly it keeps the vibes very mellow. No contradicting, no 'yes, but...'. Very often, even a sermon (howa 法話）will be very mundane. The priest at the Tendai temple often uses anecdotes about the children in the temple kindergarten in his mini-howa before the meditation session.

I suspect that many westerners are uncertain about meditation, whether they are doin' it rite. So they like to ask a lot of questions. Why am I so fidgety? How can I control the monkey mind? And so on. On the other hand, most Japanese have had at least some exposure to meditation from an early age. Kids who go for karate or other martial arts usually start and end their practice sessions with a minute or two of silence. As people grow up, they realize that no matter how much you want to fidget, you shouldn't. Partly a matter of respect for those around you. Also, 90% (I don't really know, but it is a lot) of Tokyo people ride public transport. I can't really sleep deeply on an urban train making a lot of stops, but I stay in a meditative state for long stretches. Probably lots of other people do, a kind of non-religious meditation. As I age, I feel the necessity to geeze a bit, so I have to wonder about the next generation, even in Japan. I heard one aspiring meditator complain that after settling down for meditation, pop songs kept running through his head. Get those buds out of your ears, people!!

So, maybe I will find a group in the US that uses recitation and silence more than theoretical discussions. If you know any, let me know! (The pic at the top is my basic meditation set--incense and a candle help set the mood.)

A history of meditation (my own!)

I am not a meditation teacher in any sense of the word, but I want to go on the 'satisfied users' list. My comments will be mostly experiential.

Looking back, one of my earliest memories was trying to sort out my own consciousness. At age three or four, I once wondered something like 'what is this ''me''?' I wondered if I was really something separate from the world, separate from family and other people around me. Of course, memories from so long ago can be suspect, so grains of salt are necessary.

Sometime in my 'tween' years, I remember reading about self-hypnosis in some magazine, maybe Popular Science or something like that. Looking back, I realize now that the techniques in that article were related to meditation. But at the time, I just did a few sessions of closing my eyes (at least once I did it lying down), but nothing fantastic happened.

I remember the first time I heard the word 'meditation.' My parents were big fans, and also friends, of the minister at our church. His seat in the chancel gave the congregation a view of his profile. My mother noticed that he spent a lot of time with his eyes closed and head bowed. Her comment was 'I wonder if he is meditating or just sleeping?' Hmm...that posture is associated with prayer, but she said 'meditating...' Well, I didn't give it that much thought. However, after reading Faith of a Heretic by Walter Kauffmann, I gave up on Christianity, without too much concern about what might replace it.

In college, I took a trip to Europe, and at the port of Capri I met an English woman who had been on a sailing adventure in the Mediterranean. She told us that she was a meditation teacher. I didn't have a clear idea of what that was, but I was very curious. I hoped she would teach me! Now, I suspect she was a teacher of Transcendental Meditation, and probably would require a big fee to teach me. But anyway, I was intrigued. Lots of people at my university were talking about Zen and stuff. I bought a book by Christmas Humphries, Teach Yourself Zen. It had a lot of interesting stuff, but for some reason, I don't remember any discussion of meditation. Or maybe I didn't know that zazen was meditation? The one thing I remembered from the book was the adage 'When the student is ready, the master will appear.'

I was definitely a (college) student, but I was uncertain about the notion of having a master. In my third year in college, someone from a big Nichirenist organization invited me to a discussion meeting. I remembered the adage, and wondered if maybe this was my master appearing. I became pretty enthusiastic about it for a while, but I never made any connection between the chanting of Nam Myoho Renge Kyo and meditation. Now I believe they are closely related practices. But after a while, I had a lot of trouble keeping up the practice, and there were also 'political' problems going on in the organization, so I thought I might find some answers if I went to Japan.

In Japan, I did NOT find any answers related to chanting (although the basic problem was with myself, of course), and continued to drift away from it. At the same time, I began to come up against feelings of depression, middle-age crisis and so on. Among my books, I rediscovered my copy of Mind Control by José Silva. I had read through it earlier, with some interest, but no action. Well, maybe this was the time to take action. So I followed the most basic exercises, I believe it was just a few minutes a day for three ten-day periods. These allow you to become accustomed to the physical techniques for this method of meditation. For the first time, I could really feel that something was happening. I thought it was quite a discovery, although I was less interested in the more advanced techniques of the Silva Method, which are purported to develop psychic abilities and the like. But I started looking around the internets for more info on meditation, since I was now certain that this was a path worth pursuing.

Stumbling around the 'net, I came across the fabled E-Sangha, now lost in the sands of time. In its heyday, it was truly amazing. Beginners and advanced lamas/ajans/roshis intermingled in open discussions, with questions, comparisons, even some 'teachings.' It must have been the first time that practitioners of all major traditions had a chance to interact in various fora. In the Nichiren forum, I discovered that some people were continuing to chant NMRK and intone sutras without being part of an organization. Hey, I could do that! I still had my altar, candles and incense, so I started chanting again. In another forum, someone posted about an esoteric ceremony at Koyasan, a major institution of Shingon Buddhism. The ceremony was open to anyone, so I went. It was a real eye-opener. The atmosphere at Koyasan is amazing. It is an isolated town dedicated to Buddhism--no chain stores, no Starbucks, no karaoke, no neon, no pachinko. Maybe three out of four shops on the average street are related to Buddhism--shops selling rosaries and incense, makers of altars and fittings, sellers of greenery and fruit for offerings, and temples everywhere--more than 200 I believe.

Once E-Sangha had fulfilled its mission of introducing me to Shingon, the site foundered and fell off the web. (to be continued) (The photo above is the altar of Rengejoin ((dedicated to Amida Buddha)), the temple at Koyasan where I stayed. This temple also has meditation sessions in this hall, in very dark conditions. That seems to be part of it.)

Meditation II

Here is another unexpected consonance. In the Silva method, visualization is used with meditation to develop distant viewing ability, finding lost objects and so on. This was intriguing, but I wasn't interested enough to pursue it further. Then, as I learned about Shingon (the form of vajrayana Buddhism that was brought to Japan), I heard that visualization is used in Shingon meditation practices. That two different meditative traditions, completely unrelated--and one non-religious--would both use visualization suggests that it must be a very useful tool. However, I must clarify that I have not been trained in any meditative visualization in Shingon, so I don't have any direct experience of this.

At this point, I was doing some Lotus Sutra chanting and Daimoku, and on alternate nights doing some 'experimental' meditation. I tried various ways of meditating. I found incense to be very useful, and for a while, I even meditated with new age music playing in the background, just like Lisa Simpson! Sometimes I meditated in a reclining chair, but usually I used a zabu-type cushion in the half-lotus position. I found that the 'eye trick' from the Silva method was a big help in any kind of meditation. This 'trick' made meditation very enjoyable, and I began to worry about getting too much bliss, because some commenters on E-Sangha suggested that too much bliss meant you were doing it wrong. However, I have continued to use it.

Here is another point about the eye trick. It is useful when I have trouble falling asleep. I would occasionally feel like my thoughts were spinning so fast that it was difficult to go to sleep. In my Nichirenist days, I tried chanting the Daimoku silently while trying to go to sleep. Sometimes it worked, but usually I would get distracted by monkey-mind thoughts and stop chanting. Now, using the eye-trick, the goings-on in my mind didn't matter so much. I could sort of lock into the eye-trick, and my success rate has been very good since I got used to doing it. I really haven't had any big sleepless nights for several years.

There was (is?) one point about the eye-trick that concerns me a bit. Zen teachers advise looking down while meditating. However, with some practice, I could get into the eye-trick mode even looking down.

Here is another footnote. The Silva book spends several pages on scientific research related to the method. Observers found fairly consistent ability of Silva meditators to go into the alpha-wave state when they started meditating. Sleep researchers also note that alpha waves are the gate of sleep. One thing this means for me: if I try to meditate lying down, I am very likely to go to sleep. So sitting on the cushion, the trick is to develop just the right balance of tension and relaxation, keeping just enough power in the lower back to keep from keeling over, otherwise pretty relaxed.

After meditating on my own for a while, I screwed up my courage and went to the public 'Ajikan' meditation sessions at the Koyasan Shingon Tokyo branch temple. The Shingon expert on E-Sangha told me that Ajikan is a very advanced technique, and the method taught to the public is very simplified. However, I found it very enjoyable, if only for the chance of enjoying the mood of the Tokyo temple. I feel that the setting can help support your meditation. So I like a darkened room with candlelight the best, and incense is also great. The classes are really a kind of guided meditation, with the teacher giving a pretty constant stream of instructions (in Japanese). Even so, I found the eye-trick method also worked well. (The photo shows the main hall of the Koyasan Tokyo Betsuin.)

Meditation III

One day, I was walking around a neighborhood that I didn't know too well. I stumbled on a temple gate, so I entered the grounds. There was a Nio (two guardian kings) gate with very dynamic statues, with dramatic lighting at night. There was an old-looking temple, and using my incomplete Japanese ability, I read the plaque. The building, it turns out, is the oldest surviving wood building in the 23 central wards of Tokyo. It could be as much as 700 years old! However, it was tightly shut, and the windows were just very narrow slits. I tried to peek inside, and was intrigued by a Shakyamuni triad. Wondering how I might see the inside, I saw a notice on a bulletin board, advertising zazen sessions once a month. Zazen, of course, is Zen-style meditation, but the temple was part of the Tendai sect. Because of E-Sangha, I knew that Tendai had some elements of esoteric Buddhism, along with exoteric practices and I think, some emphasis on the Lotus Sutra. In fact, the plaque also informed me that the temple was founded in Tendai in the 9th century. In the 13th century, it changed to a Nichiren sect (also emphasizing the Lotus Sutra). Then, in the 16th century, it changed back to Tendai. So why zazen? These intriguing questions and my desire to see the inside of the Hall of Shakyamuni spurred me to show up for the meditation class. The priest doing the class was a young man, and it turns out that he was the assistant priest of the temple. His father, THE priest of the temple, had been called to the head temple of Tendai on Mt. Hiei near Kyoto. So the son, Reverend Oka, has been studying Rinzai-style zazen at a temple in Kamakura. I suppose that he felt this method was more suitable for public classes than esoteric Tendai meditation. Needless to say, the atmosphere in the Hall of Shakyamuni was fantastic. Rev Oka gave a short talk, very informal, partly based on his experiences with kids in the kindergarten run by the temple. Then he gave a brief introduction to zazen. Then, we did some Zen-style chanting before he turned off the electric light and we settled in to meditate by candlelight in a 700-year-old temple. After about 25 minutes of zazen, we chanted the Heart Sutra to end the session. (The picture at the top is the Hall of Shakyamuni, decorated for the New Year celebration.)