How so?

I wrote:

Sometimes that activity of support for the fluid ball feels like this:

The empty hand grasps the hoe-handle
Walking along, I ride the ox
The ox crosses the wooden bridge
The bridge is flowing, the water is still

A friend of mine asked me, “How so?”; I wrote the following in a late-night response:

Bartilink says there’s pressure in what he termed the “fluid ball” of the abdomen, even in just standing around. More so if you are lifting weight (he put something in the abdomen, surgically, to measure it).

I’m contending that normal resting activity supports pressure in the fluid ball, and the fluid ball supports the spine and the posture in general. So the activity when nothing seems to be doing anything, but I’m upright, supports the fluid ball; something must be doing something. How to get a feeling for the fluid ball of the abdomen, in relation to the activity of posture; maybe start with the arms and the hands, imagine someone sitting down to balance a house of cards warming up by shaking it out. Down to the sacrum and an empty hand grasps the hoe handle, roughly.

If you sit cross-legged, then about 25 minutes in, maybe, look for support for the fluid ball from the left and right calves in alternation, it’s mostly a placement and weight thing that affects the stretch in the ilio-tibial bands but there’s a fascial connector from the quads to stretch the bands above the knees so the hams and the quads are involved and it feels like breathing through the legs; walking along, riding the ox.

At about 30 minutes in or 35, the stretch across behind the sacrum with the legs and the gluts and the tensor fascias involved allows the left and right of the PC to support the fluid ball, everything is wound up in the balance, the ox crosses the wooden bridge.

The cessation of habitual activity in the movement of breath, the freedom of the location of awareness to shift around, like the rest really can’t be done, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. The bridge is flowing, the water is still, the fluid ball has support from all over. If the freedom of the location of awareness to shift around responds to the comprehension of the long or short of inhalation or exhalation in support of the fluid ball, everything but the comprehension of breath is background; one aspect of the sixteen in Gautama’s way of life.

I got to hear a recording of one of Kobun Chino Otogawa’s lectures over the weekend. He said:

… mind sits, as body sits, as breathing sits. We don’t know which comes first. Any of those can come first. Usually mind sits first…

To me, the mind that sits is the heart-mind, and my heart-mind feels at home when my vestibular sense comes into play right where I am; that to me is the mind sitting. The body sits as proprioception comes into play, and the placement and weight of the body “with no part left out” supports pressure in the fluid ball of the abdomen. The breath sits as the natural comprehension of the long or short of inhalation or exhalation comes into play, rendering the distinction of sense and the relaxation of activity autonomic.

True enough, that any of these can come first, or second.

In the same lecture, Kobun gave an explanation of enlightenment unlike any I’ve heard:

One might talk about, discuss about, what does it mean to be ‘enlightened’. It is something to do with going back to, going back to what you actually are. It’s not like what you become. That’s an idea. It’s not some day, or somewhere from this place, from what you are. And sitting in meditation, being who you are, is something to do with this facing to your own true figure. Not made up or taught or wished to be.

The Backward Step of Turning the Light

Therefore, …take the backward step of turning the light and shining it back.

(Eihei Dogen, “Fukan zazengi” Tenpuku version, trans. Carl Bielefeldt, “Dogen’s Manuals of Zen Meditation”, pg 176)

If I feel as though I’m moving backward in space, I may suddenly have an acute sense of where my awareness is in my body, and that location may not be in my head. Of course, it’s not necessary to physically step backward to invoke a sense of location in awareness.

‘The millstone turns but the mind does not turn.’

… the turning of the millstone is a metaphor for the turning of the waist. The mind not turning is the central equalibrium resulting from the sinking of ch’i to the tan-t’ien.

(“Master Cheng’s Thirteen Chapters on T’ai Chi Ch’uan”, by Cheng Man-ching, trans. Douglas Wile, pg 67)

It’s my understanding that the Chinese word now translated as “mind” was once translated as “heart-mind”. The Tai-Chi classic quoted by Cheng speaks of the mind and maybe of the heart-mind, whereas Cheng himself speaks about ch’i; to me the feeling of place associated with my awareness is the heart-mind, and the heart-mind can sink to the tan-t’ien.

Cheng states that once the ch’i has sunk to the tan-t’ien, it circulates through the body and accumulates at the tan-t’ien. I find that my heart-mind can remain in the vicinity of the tan-t’ien if I exercise my vestibular and proprioceptive senses along with my sense of location; perhaps the experience of proprioception in connection with location is what Cheng referred to as the circulation of ch’i.

Olaf Blanke, the Swiss neurobiologist, mentions the vestibular system and its relationship to the sense of location in a video about his experiments:

Blanke mentions that our eyes can affect our sense of where we are in space. He states as an example that a person on a train who sees another train go by in the opposite direction will sometimes get the feeling they are moving when they are not. Blanke points out that this is because the eyes have a tight connection with the sense of place.

I can experience my eyes affecting my sense of place, yet I can also free my sense of place to move in spite of the connection with my eyes.

Now I find that, like a bagpiper whose activity works the bag while they walk, my activity supports the fluid ball of the abdomen, and the location of my awareness responds as I comprehend the long or short of inhalation or exhalation.

Sometimes the activity of support for the fluid ball feels like one of the lines of Fuxi’s poem:

The empty hand grasps the hoe-handle
Walking along, I ride the ox
The ox crosses the wooden bridge
The bridge is flowing, the water is still

(Fuxi)

This is especially true when I sit.

You, too, can “study the backward step”*— no experience necessary!

*as Dogen amended his text in the later Koroku version of “Fukan zazengi”, per Bielefeldt.

Dogen’s “Genjo Koan”

Moonrise over Mt. Konocti(The following is excerpted from a commentary I’ve just completed, Dogen’s “Genjo Koan”)

There’s a sentence in the “Genjo Koan” where Dogen speaks about the life that fish and birds enjoy, and he says:

…each one realizes its limitations at every moment and each one somersaults (in complete freedom) at every place…

(translation by Gudo Nishijima)

In D. L. Bartilink, “No Special Effort”, and the “Best of Ways”, I wrote about somersaulting in place:

The trick is to allow for movement in where I am, even when I’m not moving.

The place where I am can “turn and move freely everywhere” (as another translator rendered “somersaults”), and the place where I am can also remain stationary; when the place where I am is free to move yet remains stationary, the rest of me may turn around the place where I am, instead.

Cheng Man-Ch’ing spoke of a saying from the classic literature of Tai-Chi, “the millstone turns, but the mind does not turn”:

the turning of the millstone is a metaphor for the turning of the waist. The mind not turning is the central equalibrium resulting from the sinking of ch’i to the tan-t’ien.

‘The millstone turns but the mind does not turn’ is an oral teaching within a family transmission. It is similar to two expressions in the T’ai-chi ch’uan classics which compare the waist to an axle or a banner. This is especially noteworthy. After learning this concept my art made rapid progress.

The statement in “Genjo Koan” about finding your place is followed by a parallel statement about finding your way:

When you find your place where you are, practice occurs, actualizing the fundamental point. When you find your way at this moment, practice occurs, actualizing the fundamental point…

While I sometimes separate out and bring forward certain senses in the experience of place, and at those moments my ability to find where I am appears in fact to depend on the exercise, there is in the wake of such moments an awareness of where I am as contact in any sense takes place. This I believe is why Dogen spoke not only of “when you find your place”, but also of “when you find your way”…