禪七體驗 |
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今年的春季精進禪七，是我第一次打禪七，當知道禪七要禁語時，我並不緊張，因為不說話時反而感到自在，事實上大部分的時間我是安於不說話的寧靜。禪七期間我們禁止使用手機、鬧鐘、也不可閱讀及書寫。所以清醒的時候就是要用功禪修、提起正念。 禪七第一天，主七和尚住持見燈大和尚就告訴我們，要放下世間的一切煩惱，七天中全心全意地禪修。我們主要的工作就是打坐，以期找到本具的真心。 前二個晚上，安板後我還睡不著。雖然聽到室友的打呼聲，但心中卻嘰嘰喳喳吵個不停，妄想紛飛，完全不在當下。擔心著會不會睡過頭，又被蚊蟲叮得發癢，弄得心煩意亂。 出了禪堂，也就是不打坐也不行香的時間，會有地鐘或打板等法器來提醒我們時間；養息、起床或是下支一香要開始了。出乎意料之外，我竟然非常渴望想知道時間，想知道該做什麼事的時間是不是到了──該走的時間到了嗎？起床的時間到了嗎？養息的時間到了嗎？......到了第四天，我便非常適應每天的作息。不用等板聲響起，自己就起床了。養息時間，我自己也會找一個安靜的地方打坐，然後提早回到禪堂多用點功。 禪七早晚課的靜坐，對我非常珍貴。因為這個時刻禪寺非常寧靜。坐在禪堂裡，特別是被埔里如詩如畫的群山包圍，迎著早春的微風，每個人都盤著腿靜坐著。有幾次，我似乎能夠掌控自己的心，不過我告訴自己要放下，只要專注呼吸就好。 打禪七的學員差不多有一千多位，我打坐的禪堂也超過三百位。但令人驚訝的是，竟然可以這麼安靜，每一個人都安詳地坐著。 我離開馬尼拉那天，法師們祝福我們「坐到一支好香」。我以為這只不過是提醒學員在禪七中要用功，就像說法文早安「Bon Jour」一樣沒什麼特別。起七時，住持見燈大和尚也是這麼說。那時我很想問住持和尚怎樣才算是一支好香，我在想「以什麼為標準?」可是起七茶會時我並沒有機會問。 現在我大概有點概念了。坐一支好香是你的心不動，可是很清楚你人在哪裡；你的背在痛，可是你不理它；你的膝蓋在痛，可是心保持平靜；你的腳在麻，可是心保持覺知，繼續打坐不為所動。你想讓妄想停下來，可是你的心仍然覺知它停不下來。引磬聲響了，提醒大家可以下坐。但四十分鐘過去了，你卻以為只有五分鐘。 我的朋友可能覺得很納悶會問：「打坐的意義是什麼？」我以前會回答，打坐讓我的心平靜，也的確是如此。但現在我可能會回答：「打坐就是打坐。」也就是說，打坐幫助我了解生命的唯一目的就是活在當下。 過去不存在，未來也不存在，過去與未來只是對當下的誤解而產生的抽象概念。一支好香不是只有六十分鐘長。它是此刻無限的當下──但當您開始打妄想時，它就不見了。有時，我們大老遠去旅行只是想找自己的家。其實我們一直都在家，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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