Author: Chong Go Sunim

An Eyebrow Hair
Here’s one of my favorite stories about Korea, which also involves a tiger.

Long ago, a young man was traveling through the mountains, when he ran across an old monk struggling to repair a tiny shrine. At a glance he saw what needed to be done, and after asking the monk to take a rest, he set about fixing the shrine.  For him it would only take a couple of hours, whereas it would have taken days for the monk, who seemed quite clumsy with his hands. While the man was working, the monk was silent, and seemed to be watching him closely. But then, mountain monks always did tend to be a bit strange, so he didn’t think much about it.   

 At last, he finished and, sweating, sat down next to the monk, who continued to stare at him. Finally, the monk spoke, “It must have been tough growing up without parents or family. I too, lost my mother at a young age. Looking at you, I think a wife and family of your own is what you want more than anything else in the world. Am I right?” The young man shivered despite the heat, for it was as if the monk had seen into the very depths of his heart. How had he known those things?   

 The monk spoke again, “Well, if marriage and a family are what you have your heart set on, it won’t do to marry just any woman. You have to see clearly. Here.” With that, the monk plucked out one of his long, white eyebrow hairs, and handed it to the young man. “Now,” said the monk, “hold it in front of your eye and look at me.” The young man did this, and almost died of fright! For where he had been talking to an old man, he now saw a huge mountain tiger!   

 The young man quickly lowered the eyebrow hair, and there was the old monk again. He raised the hair to his eye again, and the monk had become a tiger again. The man thought he was either crazy or about to die, or both! The monk smirked at him, and then said, “Don’t worry, I don’t eat humans.” Well, this seemed like a lie, for the tigers in those mountains were notorious man-eaters.  The monk seemed to read the man’s thoughts, and said again, “We’re actually quite spiritual, so we don’t eat humans. Only pigs and dogs, and maybe a donkey or fox, once in a while.”    

The old monk sighed in response to the dubious stare he was getting, “Take that hair with you and use it to look at the people you meet. You’ll see what I mean.” With this they parted, and the man made his way back down to his village. It was still hard to believe what had happened, but he was dying to try out the hair on other people.   
   

So early the next morning, he found a nice spot near the main road into the village and sat there waiting. Before long, the proud village mayor came by. Everyone treated him with much respect, but when the young man looked at him, he saw a great slobbering pig wearing clothes! Well, this was a shock! He next saw a line of woodcutters returning from the mountains, so he held up the hair, and to his amazement, most of them were dogs or pigs! Only two were actually human beings. This went on for a while, until he saw a beautiful young woman and her mother approaching. Just sight of the woman made his heart race, but when he held up the hair, he saw that she was really a fox-spirit!   

This went on all day, and he was amazed at how few human beings he was seeing. Neither fine silk, Confucian hats, or monks robes were any guarantee of finding a human being. Finally, he looked through the hair at a plain-looking woman who was walking by, and discovered that she was a radiant human being. They were eventually married, and became the joyful family the young man had always wanted.   

Well, the moral of this story isn’t about finding a spouse! (Though that is a topic that does tend to get young people to pay attention.)  The heart of this story is the importance of seeing beyond appearances and learning to become a true human being. 
  
In this story, the eyebrow hair of the tiger can become compared to our true nature, our foundation and Buddha-essence. When we can get in touch with this, and learn to see through it, then we’ll be able to truly see what is going on, and we’ll be able to respond in ways that go right to the heart of the situation.

It’s one thing to be born as a human being, but we still have to become true human beings. For while many are born with human bodies, many are still controled by the habits developed during animal incarnations.  So a lot of spiritual practice is simply working on letting go of animal habits, and learning the ways of a true human being. Let’s all become great beings who can see clearly and respond appropriately with infinite power of our Buddha-nature.

One of the interesting things about Korea are the tigers.  Where I grew up, team mascots were always fierce and realistic. Perhaps it’s about balance: we, who knew basically nothing of real violence, chose mascots that had a threat of violence. Yet in Korea, where every man serves in the army, where there are tank traps and massive artillery bases north of Seoul, this was the mascot they chose for the 1988 Seoul olympics:     

  

 
   

 
 

 

 
 
 
Often tigers were used as comic relief, according to David Mason. With their fierce pride and dignity, they resembled the yangban, or aristocratic class. In images like this tiger, you can see the puffed out chest and aggressive expression, filled with pride about its noble heritage and superiority to all, but, where did those spots come from?    

It seems the tiger’s mother had an affair with a lowly leopard!  Here the tiger is used to mock the arrogance and unearned pride of the yangban.  

 
   

 
 
 
 
 On the other hand,  in mountain-spirit portraits, images of tigers often served to symbolize the power of the mountains and nature, as well as the power of spiritual practice to help us become one with this.     

More tomorrow about tigers and spiritual practice.  

    

In his post a few days ago, Joseph relayed the story of a monk who died in the Jiri Mountains (A glimpse). It highlighted two critical truths, namely, that we are not our bodies, and the importance of how we use our minds. 

In Chapter 2 of No River to Cross, Daehaeng Kun Sunim also covers these points: 

Even after your body falls away, your consciousness remains. It often happens that people do not understand that their body does not exist anymore, and they do not realize that living people cannot see or hear them. So, sometimes, in their confusion and desire, they cause other people to suffer. If you sincerely cultivate mind while you have a body, then you can leave without having any attachments. However, if you don’t practice, then even though you’re dead, you’ll be caught up in all of your old relationships, and won’t be able to freely leave. Instead, you may just wander around, stuck in that state for a very long time. When people die, if they have never practiced spiritual cultivation, their consciousness cannot see and cannot hear. In the middle of the darkness, their consciousness cannot correctly perceive things, so those people may (accidently) enter the womb of a pig or a magpie. However, people who have cultivated mind give off a great light and thoroughly illuminate their surroundings. Even their families tend to live brightly, although individually they may not know anything about spiritual practice. (p 20-21)  

Have you ever gotten caught up in a dream about walking through a building that no longer exists? Those steps you were walking up are now only empty sky a hundred feet off the ground. After we die, we no longer have physical senses, so with what are we seeing and hearing? If we haven’t practiced while alive, then we’re only experiencing the arising of karmic states of consciousness. However, we think those things are really happening, and so chase or flee them. In essence, we’re running outdoors at full speed, while blindfolded.  

Thus, how we use our minds while alive is critically important to us.  

In order to be born as a human being, it may have taken a thousand years of accumulated virtue and merit. It’s so hard to become a human being. Nevertheless, if you don’t let go of the habits you developed prior to becoming a human being, and if you think of only yourself, your suffering will be endless. If you live this way, you may live like this for many, many lives, stuck like a hamster on a wheel, unable to evolve. Or you may devolve and be reborn as an animal. Once you are reborn as an animal, you will suffer a lot, having to eat others or be eaten. There will be very little opportunity to reflect upon your state, and if you develop the habits of an animal, it will be even more difficult to free yourself from that state, even over billions of eons. (p 19)  

We go where we look. Or in this case, where we think.  

Once the level of mind changes, the body also changes accordingly. Evolution is the process of the mind becoming brighter, while creation is the outward manifestation of the minds design. Thus, while this process is evolution, it is also creation.  

Mind is the basis of both evolution and devolution; they aren’t separate forces. Devolution is also done by mind. All of this is the manifestation of our fundamental mind (and how we use it.) (p 22) 

In a previous post featuring books about Korea, readers pointed out a couple of truly great books that been overlooked.

The first one is The Zen Monastic Experience, by Robert Buswell. Written about life in a major Korean zen monastery, this is based upon the years he spent at Songgwa Temple. He lived here as monk for about five years, under the great master Kusan Sunim. Buswell also does a great job of explaining the different jobs and positions at a large monastery.

As I think about it, I could do an entire post on the books of Robert Buswell! He’s really done some great ones about Korean Buddhism. One of the most influential is The Collected Works of Chinul: The Korean Approach to Zen. This is the only English translation of the complete works of one of Korea’s most important thinkers. However, used copies of this one sell for over $200, so it’s probably better to get the excerpted version, Tracing Back the Radiance: Chinul’s Korean Way of Zen. All of the works in this book are full-length; it’s only the longer, and more obscure works of Chinul that were left out. Buswell was also the editior of Religions of Korea in Practice, and Currents and Countercurrents: Korean Influences on the East Asian Buddhist Traditions.  This second one is definitely an under-appreciated gem. Most of us bought into the idea of a linear transmission of Buddhism. However, Buswell shows that this was much more dynamic, with Buddhist practitioners and teachers traveled throughout the region learning and influencing as they went. 

 
Similar to Religions of Korea in Practice is Makers of Modern Korean Buddhism. This is quite a nice volume about modern Korean Buddhism, with many chapters about the history and key figures of Korean Buddhism during the turbulent 20th century.

  
 

 
 
 Here’s a nice book about the life of modern Korean Buddhist nuns, Women in Korean Zen: Lives And Practices. Martine Bachelor was also another person who lived at Songgwa Temple and practiced under Kusan Sunim. She talks about the life of Korean Buddhist nuns, the difficulties of a westerner adjusting to both the monastic and Korean culture, and in the second half of the book, Martine includes the autobiography of the outstanding nun, Son’gyong Sunim.
 
 
 
   
One of the great works in Korean Buddhism is The Mirror of Zen, by Seon master Sosan. This one is studied by most of the monks and nuns in Korea, and here is widely availiable in English for the first time. My only complaint, and it’s not a reason to avoid this book, is that this book is only one section of Sosan Sunim’s original work, Mirror of the Three Religions: Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism. (The only attempt at this work in English is a MA thesis at the University of Hawaii by Jinwol Sunim.*) In it, Sosan Sunim compares the three religions then prevalent in Korea, and shows their common characteristics and beliefs, explaining why there is no need for conflict between them. In a sense, Sosan Sunim’s original work may be one of the first “Appreciation of” textbooks in the world.
 

Another neat book is Temples of Korea.  With beautiful photos, information, history about a number of important temples in Korea, I doubt you could go wrong with this one. 

 
 
 
 
 

There’s an interesting couple of books that resemble the “How it’s made” series, in the sense that they show and explain all of the components of various temples in detail. The first is called Korean Temple Motifs, and is quite a nice, if expensive, book.  

The second, Korean Cultural Heritage (Vol. 1), is perhaps even better. There is a volume 2, but it doesn’t cover Buddhism. This book (volume 1) is definitely worthwhile, but hard to find. It’s at Kyobo Books in Seoul, and I found my copy at the Bandi and Luni’s at Jongno 1ga (in Seoul), but apart from that, it doesn’t seem to be in many other places.

 
 
 

 
 
 
These are just some of the many books about Korea. I haven’t posted anything by my Dharma teacher, Daehaeng Kun Sunim, because you’ve probably already seen information about her books if you’ve visited this blog before. Likewise, most westerners interested in Buddhism already have at least a passing familiarity with the works Seung Sahn Kun Sunim. I’ve also avoided posting much about Korean art for two reasons. One, I don’t know anything! And two, there are a lot of newish books about Korean art that I haven’t looked at. Many of them aren’t available outside of Korea, but the bookstore Seoul Selection has a very good selection.

If you know of any books about Korea that left a good impression, please share them in the comments section. And I’ll try to include them in a future post.

 
 
 *  Common Themes of the Three Religions (Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism): The Samga Kwigam of Hyujong (1520-1604)  (University of Hawaii, 1990)

Korea has one of the most vibrant communities of Buddhist nuns in the world. To my knowledge, only Taiwan has anything even close. While there are still some inequities, such as the tendency for monk’s temples to attract more donations, in terms of practice, the nun’s community is outstanding.     

Two of the major institutions for nuns (and also monks) are the meditation hall, the seonbang, and the sutra study program, the kangwon.  This is a four-year course of study where one lives at the kangwon with Korean sunims,* while attending lectures and commentaries. This involves massive amounts of memorization and traditional sino-Korean (Chinese) characters, as well as the daily work you’d expect at a large temple. Only upon completion of one of these courses is a nun (or monk) allowed to take full ordination in Korea. (This applies to only the Jogye Order, although it is by far the largest Buddhist order in Korea.)   

However, Jaeun Sunim (/ja-un/), a Canadian, did not choose this path. She was one of two bikkhunis** who were the first to take full ordination after graduating from the kangwon. This interview examines her experiences and why she endeavored to spend years training in a completely different cultural environment.  This interview originally appeared in the Lotus Lantern magazine.
 
* Sunim is the Korean title of respect and address for both nuns and monks. It’s similar to “venerable.”
**Bikkhuni is the term for a fully ordained Buddhist nun.  

By the numbers:
7000+  The number of nuns in Korea’s Jogye Order.
 6   –   Kangwons attended by Buddhist nuns
18  –   Meditation halls exclusive to nuns  

All of these kangwons and meditation halls are run by the nuns.  Men (including monks) are generally not allowed in these temples.

 
 
How did you become interested in Buddhism?

I think it would be truthful to say that I have always been a Buddhist. However, as I was born in a country where there is no indigenous Buddhist tradition, it was many years before I was able to recognize it.When I was in the first grade at school, a student asked our teacher, “Who made the world?” and she said, “God made the world”. Another student asked, “Then, who made God?” and she said, “We shouldn’t ask questions like that”. I remember asking, “Why not?” I had many questions about life that nobody seemed to want to talk about. My experiences with Christianity were similar: I was told to just have faith and that we shouldn’t try to understand the mind of God. These attitudes served to quell my interest in religion. So I redirected my inquisitiveness in a more “acceptable” direction and studied science, eventually majoring in biochemistry.     

When I was a university student, I did volunteer work with the local chapter of Amnesty International, and was shocked by the stories of torture and injustice that are committed so routinely around the world. I realized how well off and comfortable I was compared to most people in the world. My life seemed so useless in the face of all that suffering, and this brought back many of the unanswered questions of my childhood. So as a graduate student I did research in virology, with the idea that I could do some good in the world by helping to understand diseases so that they could be more effectively treated and prevented. At the same time, I started to read more in philosophy and psychology, and to explore some alternative spiritual paths.     

One day a friend told me she was learning to meditate and suddenly I found myself saying that I wanted to learn too. She loaned me a book by Vietnamese master Thich Nhat Hanh and as I read it, I simply knew that I was a Buddhist. My friend introduced me to a woman who was teaching meditation, and eventually I met her teacher, the late Venerable Namgyal Rinpoche, and other students of his who were teaching Buddha Dharma. From them, I began to learn the fundamentals of Buddhist theory and practice     

It was such a relief! In Buddhism, I not only found others who were asking the same kinds of questions that had nagged me since childhood, but a way of spiritual life in which this kind of questioning is in fact necessary and encouraged.

Most Korean Bikkhunis believe that training in the seminary is necessary for novice nuns to provide a foundation for their monastic life and practice, and the vast majority of nuns in Korea attend the seminary for four years as the basic training before full ordination. The only way to really understand something is to experience it yourself. And for a Westerner to understand a particular Buddhist tradition, it’s important to get as close to the roots of that tradition as possible. Because Western culture is so different from Korean culture, life in the seminary would also teach me how to live together harmoniously with Korean nuns. So it seemed attending the seminary would be the best way for me to get a good foundation to monastic life and a deeper appreciation of the Jogye tradition and life as a Korean Buddhist nun.  

 

This post continues the Venerable Ya-un’s Admonitions to Myself. Here he warns us about the limitations of desire, while encouraging us to pay attention to what lasts and what benefits us longterm.

Greed is the foremost cause of a suffering-filled rebirth.[1]  Giving is foremost among the six good practices.[2]  Stinginess and greed prevent you from attaining the true path, while compassion and giving help protect you from falling into evil ways. If a poor person comes to you begging for help, you should not be reluctant, even if you are in hard circumstances yourself. You came into this world with nothing and you will leave it with nothing. You should not cling to even your own possessions, so how can you think about other’s belongings? When this body dies, what will you take with you? 

The only thing that will follow you is the karma that you have made. If you cultivate your mind for three days, it can become a treasure that lasts for a thousand years. However, the accumulated possessions of a hundred years of desire will all be reduced to dust in the span of a few hours. 

            Where does the suffering of the three evil rebirths come from?
            From greed and desire accumulated over many lifetimes.
            Contenting myself with the Buddha’s robe and bowl,
            why should I accumulate ignorance?  

  

  

 
 
 
  

  

 
 
 
 

At the Buddhist English Library of Seoul, we’ve been going over No River to Cross, by Seon Master Daehaeng.  Chapter 2 has a nice section about cause and effect, and how our mind functions.

Mind is tilted towards the things that arise often. So, if you do not manage your thoughts well, they will grow and eventually become actions.

Any thought once raised, is perfectly recorded. You might think that a thought is finished because you’re no longer aware of it, but that thought did not disappear:  it is perfectly recorded inside your mind. That thought is stored in your subconsciousness and causes a similar thought to arise next time. Further, the second thought is stronger than the first thought.

For example, if the first thought was bad, then the second thought is often a little worse. In this way, the thought keeps repeating time after time, and grows stronger and stronger. (page 17)

So, how do we manage thoughts? For one thing, we actually have a huge amount of choice in what we do once thoughts have arisen. It’s up to us if we want to continue to follow a thought, or to cease feeding it energy. But on a more fundamental level those can be dissolved, thus also dissolving the potential effects that would have resulted, had those thoughts continued unchecked.

If you record over a tape recording, the previous recording is erased and the new material is recorded. So it’s better to record good karma rather than bad karma. However, instead of just recording good karma, it’s even better to completely erase all of the recordings. The way to do this is by entrusting everything that confronts you, both good and bad, to your fundamental nature. It’s like cleaning a mirror. Even though the mirror has been covered by dust for a long time, once you wipe it off, it immediately becomes clean. (p 18)

We often naturally think that if we can understand the cause of something, we can control and cure it. But with karma, Daehaeng Kun Sunim explains that this is a futile exercise.

Karma is a tangle of uncountable causes and effects. Some people try to use their intellect to unravel their karma, but this is like trying to melt a frozen lake by pouring one bucket of hot water onto the ice. It seems to melt a little, but before long the water freezes, and you have only added more ice.

We’re stuck inside this barrel of “I,” and because what we do is contaminated with this smell of “I,” our efforts just makes things worse. The only way out of this mess is to completely jump over “I.”

So don’t get caught up in worldly things, just release them all to your fundamental mind, your Buddha-nature, and let them melt down automatically. When spring comes, the frozen lake will melt naturally and completely. Returning to your fundamental mind is like a warm spring coming after a cold winter. (p 18-19) 

There’s a great new blog about Korea, Robert Koehler Travel & Photography, started up by the editor of Seoul magazine. Robert’s also the editor/author of the city guide to Seoul I mentioned a few posts back. With incredible photos, and great info and details about places to visit, this blog looks set to become an incredible place to go for information about Korea. 

Aside from the historical places tourists may see, such as the Changdeokgung Palace (chang-duck-goong),

 

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 if you’re into Korean food, you’ll discover the great hole-in-the-wall restaurants.

 
  
 

 

 
 
 

 
 
 
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Robert’s other great passion is architecture, and he’s been known to travel half-way across the country to photograph an old building. 😉 
 
In one of his first posts, he examines the Catholic churches that were built just after the Korean War, many of them in cooperation between local members of the Catholic Church and Catholic members of the U.S. armed forces. They tend to have a very nice feeling of care and devotion. (I’m sure he’ll get around to some great temple posts!)

(All of the photos here are by Robert Koehler, and are from his blog.)

Start your study with experiences, with applying and experimenting with what you know. Don’t think that you can wait until after enlightenment before you have experiences. If you want to know your true self, experiences are the fastest way to go.  

When I first became a monk, the abbess at the main Hanmaum Seon Center in Anyang said to me, “Without the experiences (that come from trying to rely upon one’s inherent Buddha-nature), it’s really hard to live as a monk or nun for very long. You need the sustenance of these experiences.”   

Here is a bit more that she has said about spiritual experiences.  

The more effort you make, the more results and experiences you will get.  And the more effort you make, the harder your true nature will push you. The harder you study, the harder your true self, Juingong, pushes you.   

The first thing you have to pass through is learning to ignore the obstacles from other people.  To me, I’m focused on taking care of my practice, regardless of what other people are doing to me.  I have seen many people, including sunims and laypeople who drop out because of obstacles from laypeople and hardships from their teacher.  

There’s an odd thing I’ve discovered about spiritual experiences – they have a lot in common with fish: They’re alive and vibrant at first, but unless we release them, within a day or two, they really begin to stink.  

Unless we let go of them, nothing new comes, so it’s very hard to keep growing. In addition, if we don’t release them, they will become a foothold for “I” and the all the opinions and fixed views that go along with this sense of “me.” Without even being aware of it, a subtle thought begins to pervade our consciousness, “Look what I know.” From the moment this stink of I starts to pervade our outlook, things begin to fall apart.  I can’t claim to know all the details about why this is, but my feeling is that the dualistic thought, of what I know, begins to cut us off from the whole and our source of energy and wisdom.   

However, when we release what we’ve experienced and become one with it, even though we seem to lose sight of it, it’s still there, transforming us. And when we need it, it will return.  

Trusting our root, our true nature, means that we entrust it with not just the bad things, but also the good things. We release them all to this root, remembering that is what’s really taking care of our lives and everything we encounter.

Here’s the second part of the Venerable Ya-un’s Admonitions to Myself. While it seems pretty uncompromising, remember that this was written in the form of an address to himself and, as a text, it was aimed at monastics in around the year 1400.   While the details may not be realistic for us today, its underlying spirit is still relevant to our world.

It also gives a view of a world of poverty that most of us are unaware of, and which, unfortunately, still exists in places even today.

Refrain from fine clothes and food.

First, do not accept fine clothes or food. Beginning with plowing the fields until food is ready to eat and clothes are ready to wear, these things require an immense amount of effort from both people and cattle. Furthermore, huge numbers of insects are also hurt or killed during this process. It’s wrong to cause others to work for the sake of your own comfort, not to speak of killing other beings in order to maintain your life.

Farmers suffer from hunger and cold, while weaving women are barely able to cover their bodies properly. How can I then idle my time away complaining about being hungry or cold?

Fine clothes and delicious food are burdensome obligations that hinder cultivation of the way.* Wearing shabby clothes and eating vegetables with rice lighten the burden of the donors and are a secret kindness on your part. If you don’t brighten your mind in this life, then even a drop of water will be hard to swallow in the next one.

     Calm your stomach with roots and wild fruit,
     cover your body with clothes made from leaves and grasses.
     Take the wild cranes and the white clouds as your friends,
     and spend what’s left of your life
     among the high mountains and deep valleys.

 

 
 
 
*  In addition to karmic debts, this also refers to the increase in our desires as we become used to nicer things — trans.