“Why do you sit zazen with your eyes open?”
“Because if your eyes are closed, you are too focused on yourself.”
“A lady once asked a zen master for help because she had trouble sleeping. He told her to spread open her arms and legs, open her eyes and mouth as wide as possible – open all holes in her body. She was then able to sleep.”
That night during zazen, I was not having trouble sleeping, but rather I had a lot of pain in my knees from sitting. The more I focused on the pain, the more intense it seemed, I felt like I was going to go crazy from the pain. So I decided to give the story a try. I couldn’t spread my legs open, but I opened my mouth, nose, eyes, and hands as wide as possible. Rather than trying to ignore the pain by focusing on something else, opening everything intensified my senses. My nose picked up the strong scent of tatami mats, I saw everything in the garden in front of me, I heard the silence in the room, and I could feel myself sitting on the zafu (cushion).
But the pain in my knees did not go away, it was there with everything else. However, I did not know if the pain increased or went away – I knew there was pain and that was it. This opened me to a whole new dimension of this quote:
Nothing we see or hear is perfect. But right here in the imperfection is perfect reality. – Shunryu Suzuki
The pain certainly did not go away, which would have been the ideal (yet unreal) solution. Opening all my senses allowed me to take in everything around me, including the pain, and for the first time I felt like I was alive, the perfect reality. I then started to understand why this would help you go to bed. Are you starting to see the connection too?
People that have trouble sleeping are probably too in their heads while they are lying in bed. Having a monkey-like mind jumping around keeps us awake. Yet spreading open your body, feeling every muscle stretch in your face, feeling your back on the firm mattress, hearing the wind blowing from outside puts you in the present reality (sounds pretty cliche, but one can really only understand by doing). This brought me back to the very first thing Oshō-san (the head monk) told me when I initially arrived:
Knowledge is action.
Then it also hit me, chopping wood is in fact the same thing as zazen. Like Chuang Tzu’s Cook Ting story (I talk about it in this post about Confucianism and Tao), when you have been chopping wood for a long time, you let go of the distinction between you and the knife. Like Cook Ting, you let go of the distinction between you, the knife, and the ox. Like in zazen, you let go of the distinction between you (self), the pain, and the environment. You accept everything simply as they are.