In his essay, “Mountains and Rivers Sutra”, 13th century Zen master Eihei Dogen, a says, “Because mountains and waters have been active since before the empty eon they are alive at this moment.”
We now know that mountains and rivers are ancient. They have been on Earth since long before there were human beings, plants and animals. They go back many millions of years. When we are in the mountains or on the ocean, we sense that we are communing with an ancestral form of existence. Dogen is saying all that, and something more. He’s saying that even before there was a universe, even before anything at all existed, these mountains and rivers were alive.
So what does he mean by that? How could that be? This goes back to a basic feeling that is at the heart of Asian cosmology. Contemporary cosmologists are now coming to the same conclusion — that is, the idea that there is no beginning, that the idea of a beginning is a projection of a binary human mind, that the origin of the universe is more mysterious than anything our conceptual frameworks could possibly imagine.
When Dogen uses the phrase “empty eon” he is referring to Buddhist cosmology, where there are eons that succeed each other, one of which is an empty eon, a time when it appears that there is nothing. But even though it might it appear that in a given eon that there is nothing, there is this vital energy of movement, of impermanence. Impermanence is the only thing that is not impermanent. Impermanence is constant, as Dogen says, even when there is nothing.
I’m talking as if I know, but I don’t know; I can’t possibly know. All my thoughts feelings, metaphors and ideas about impermanence are incorrect. Whatever I say is misleading. The whole idea of a beginning implies that there is an ending that is prior to beginning. But what’s before that? Another beginning? And before that? Yet another beginning? It doesn’t make sense.
But it does make sense that there is only movement and that we exist here, now, in this moment, because that movement has never ceased. So in some way we have always been here and will always be. We might lose our body; we will lose our body and the perceptions that depend on it. We will lose our sense of identity and memory, and a coherent sense of identity that depends on this body. But we won’t lose the essential person that we are or the vital energy that we are made of. That part of us has always been and will always be.
Suggested Practice: Try thinking about mountains and rivers as yourself, and notice how everything becomes quite personal. What if you no longer identified with your body, your ideas, beliefs, possessions, nationality, gender or family? What if, instead, you identified with this ongoingness of living and dying? Think about this deeply. What would it mean to your daily life?
Kuya Minogue is the resident teacher at Sakura-ji, Creston’s zendo. This column is part of a long essay on an essay by 13th century Zen master Eihei Dogen and is inspired by the teaching of Norman Fishcher. For more information, Minogue can be reached at 250-428-6500, and previous columns are available at www.zenwords.net.