禅七体验 |
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今年的春季精进禅七，是我第一次打禅七，当知道禅七要禁语时，我并不紧张，因为不说话时反而感到自在，事实上大部分的时间我是安于不说话的宁静。禅七期间我们禁止使用手机、闹钟、也不可阅读及书写。所以清醒的时候就是要用功禅修、提起正念。 禅七第一天，主七和尚住持见灯大和尚就告诉我们，要放下世间的一切烦恼，七天中全心全意地禅修。我们主要的工作就是打坐，以期找到本具的真心。 前二个晚上，安板后我还睡不着。虽然听到室友的打呼声，但心中却叽叽喳喳吵个不停，妄想纷飞，完全不在当下。担心着会不会睡过头，又被蚊虫叮得发痒，弄得心烦意乱。 出了禅堂，也就是不打坐也不行香的时间，会有地钟或打板等法器来提醒我们时间；养息、起床或是下支一香要开始了。出乎意料之外，我竟然非常渴望想知道时间，想知道该做什么事的时间是不是到了──该走的时间到了吗？起床的时间到了吗？养息的时间到了吗？......到了第四天，我便非常适应每天的作息。不用等板声响起，自己就起床了。养息时间，我自己也会找一个安静的地方打坐，然后提早回到禅堂多用点功。 禅七早晚课的静坐，对我非常珍贵。因为这个时刻禅寺非常宁静。坐在禅堂里，特别是被埔里如诗如画的群山包围，迎着早春的微风，每个人都盘着腿静坐着。有几次，我似乎能够掌控自己的心，不过我告诉自己要放下，只要专注呼吸就好。 打禅七的学员差不多有一千多位，我打坐的禅堂也超过三百位。但令人惊讶的是，竟然可以这么安静，每一个人都安详地坐着。 我离开马尼拉那天，法师们祝福我们“坐到一支好香”。我以为这只不过是提醒学员在禅七中要用功，就像说法文早安“Bon Jour”一样没什么特别。起七时，住持见灯大和尚也是这么说。那时我很想问住持和尚怎样才算是一支好香，我在想“以什么为标准?”可是起七茶会时我并没有机会问。 现在我大概有点概念了。坐一支好香是你的心不动，可是很清楚你人在哪里；你的背在痛，可是你不理它；你的膝盖在痛，可是心保持平静；你的脚在麻，可是心保持觉知，继续打坐不为所动。你想让妄想停下来，可是你的心仍然觉知它停不下来。引磬声响了，提醒大家可以下坐。但四十分钟过去了，你却以为只有五分钟。 我的朋友可能觉得很纳闷会问：“打坐的意义是什么？”我以前会回答，打坐让我的心平静，也的确是如此。但现在我可能会回答：“打坐就是打坐。”也就是说，打坐帮助我了解生命的唯一目的就是活在当下。 过去不存在，未来也不存在，过去与未来只是对当下的误解而产生的抽象概念。一支好香不是只有六十分钟长。它是此刻无限的当下──但当您开始打妄想时，它就不见了。有时，我们大老远去旅行只是想找自己的家。其实我们一直都在家，自性之家。 (7-day Meditation Retreat Experience It’s my first time attending Zen 7 retreat in this spring. When first told about the meditation retreat, I wasn’t anxious about keeping the silent vow. I’ve always found that easy; in fact, often, I’d rather be just like that. During the retreat, there’s a proscription on mobile phones, alarm clocks, reading, and writing. Waking time is to be devoted for meditation and mindfulness. On our first day, the Abbot asked us to allow ourselves the full experience of the retreat—to forget the world and all worries in the next seven days. Our main task is to sit, and hopefully discover the mind’s true nature. The first two nights, I found myself still wide awake after lights out. I could already hear my roommate snoring on their futon, but I’m kept up by my chattering mind, and wondering about things other than the present, worrying whether I could wake up on time, and distracted by itchy insect bites. The time we spend outside the Chan hall—that is, time not spent for sitting or walking meditation, are punctuated by hanging bell or the wooden board, to indicate time—to retire, to wake up, or to announce the next incense session. A discovery that surprised me was my penchant for knowing the time; how that, in turn, would prescribe what other things which I thought I ought to be doing—time to go, time to wake up, or time for bed, time for this, or that. On my fourth day, I got into the routine comfortably. I got up, on my own, without having to wait for the wake up call. Between incense sticks, when we could rest or take a nap, I would find a quiet corner and meditate by myself, then head back early to the Chan Hall to meditate more. The meditation time during morning and evening services are dear for me. This is the time when the monastery is still and quiet. In that quiet Chan hall, amidst the beautiful mountains of Puli, and with a comfortable early-spring breeze, we all sit cross-legged. There are moments when I thought I can manage my mind. I then tell myself to let go, and just breathe. With around 1,800 participants, and over 300 people in the same hall I was assigned to, you’d be surprised by the hush, as everyone sits placidly. When I left Manila, the Shifus bid us with “Have a good stick of incense”, which I thought was just a reminder for us to have a positive retreat experience, not any different from “Bon Jour”. The monastery’s Abbot, the Venerable Master Jiandeng, also said the same when we started the retreat. I was itching to ask him how that is determined—“What are the metrics?” I thought—but missed the chance to ask it during our tea with him. Now though, I think I have an idea. A good stick of incense is when your mind is still, and you are aware of where you are; your back is complaining—and you shut it out; your knee is hurting—and you quiet the thought; and your leg is numb, and you just acknowledge it, and continue sitting still; when you nudge your wandering thoughts to stillness, but still acknowledge them when they monkey about. Ding! The hand bell is struck to remind you it’s time to come out of sitting meditation. Forty minutes has gone, and you thought it was just five. A few friends may wonder: what’s the point of meditation? I used to say that it helps to calm my mind, and it still does. Now, I’ll probably just say “it’s just is.” That is, meditation helps me realize that the only purpose in life is to fully live in the “now.” There is no past, and no future. They are mere abstracts derived, or inferred from the immediate moment. A “good stick of incense” is not 60 minutes long. It’s an infinite now—but only until your next thought. Sometimes, we travel far to seek home, when we’ve been in the home of our true nature all along.
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