Go Where There Is No Cold
Ancient Zen Wisdom for Our Modern World
A monk said to Tozan, “Cold and heat descend upon us. How can we avoid them?” Tozan said, “Why don’t you go where there is no cold or heat?” The monk said, “Where is the place where there is no cold or heat?” Tozan said, “When cold, let it be so cold that it kills you; when hot, let it be so hot that it kills you.” The Blue Cliff Record, Case 43 (Tozan Ryokai, 807-869)
What is a Koan?
This enigmatic story is called a kōan. The word kōan in Chinese means something akin to an official "public case" and in Japanese a "matter for public thought." Koans are paradoxical anecdotes that some teachers, especially in the Rinzai Zen tradition, employ to help students come to some realization that's beyond discriminative thinking.
Although puzzling, kōans are not puzzles to be solved by the thinking mind. They are utilized by Zen teachers to confound the logical mind and break through the barrier of words and phrases to a spiritual epiphany or what is called in Zen kenshō. In Japanese, ken means seeing and sho means essence. Kenshō is a non-intellectual, non-dual somatic experience of our deep and boundless connection with all sentient and non-sentient beings: the unifying source of Buddha nature or emptiness.
We can only become intimate with the essence of the koan by dropping below words and phrases. And, ironically, I am going use words and phrases to discuss this koan. As Katigiri Roshi says, "You have to say something." So here is my some thing.
Acknowledging Our Suffering
The monk asks “how can we avoid cold and heat?” Does he mean this literally? Is his question just about how to avoid extreme weather? Yes and no. The monk is asking the teacher a question that many of us have probably pondered: how can I avoid what I dislike, and conversely, how can I get what I like. One common trait that we share with other sentient beings is that we human animals have a proclivity to move away from pain and toward pleasure.
Depending on many factors, like our socio-economic status and physical location, we can manipulate our environment and avoid a certain amount of physical discomfort. If we dislike cold weather, we can turn up the heat in our houses, put on warm clothes, or move to a warmer country. If we dislike hot weather, we can put on the air conditioner or fan, put on shorts and a T-shirt, or move to a colder climate. There's nothing wrong with attending to our physical needs and being safe and comfortable.
On a deeper level, however, the monk is asking: how can I avoid the suffering that's arising in the moment? Not only the physical discomfort I might be experiencing, but also the psycho-emotional suffering that's inherent to living: losing people I love, not getting what I want, getting what I don't want, losing my job, etc. There are countless ways we humans suffer. And there are countless ways to avoid suffering in our modern society: we can intoxicate ourselves with food, entertainment, work, sex, exercise, the Internet, and of course, with our own thinking (fantasies).
Our human mind—sometimes we call it small mind or discriminating mind—is the main way we avoid suffering: we fantasize, get lost in our thoughts, distract ourselves mentally and emotionally from what’s happening in the moment. The ability for our minds to time travel—imagine and project—is both a blessing and a curse. Because we are so adept at avoiding our suffering, we often don't even notice that we are suffering.
Siddhartha Gautama left his princely life after he seeing an old man, a sick person, a corpse being taken for cremation, and a monk meditating under a tree. The first step of his journey began when he became aware of sickness, old age and death (impermanence) and he chose to leave his palace and investigate the causes of human suffering. If we’re fortunate enough, like Siddhartha and the monk in this koan, we’ll be able to acknowledge that we are suffering. Perhaps this is why we sought out Buddhism in the first place: we had tried many ways to be happy: through our jobs, our relationships, exercise, our clothes, and yet, happiness eluded us.
Tozan's initial response to the monk might seem like he's encouraging him to avoid his dislikes: "Why don't you go where there is no cold or heat?" Hey, that sounds like a great plan! I will do that. Thank you for your help. Of course, there is no place that never gets cold or hot, and Tozan knew this. So what then is he suggesting to the monk? That cold and hot are relative and impermanent events, as are all conditioned phenomena. That our likes and dislikes are subjective states of mind. They are not objective realities.
How we respond to what's arising in the moment reflects our personalities, our states of mind—our karmic conditioning. When some situation that's not to our liking happens, we often react to the situation in the same old way that we have in the past, hoping for some relief, hoping for things to be different. And, if the situation is too distressing, we usually seek out some comfort; some way to soothe ourselves.
We also equate being able to avoid suffering and satisfying our sensual desires with freedom. In the United States, the "land of the free" is a line in our national anthem. We have freedom of speech, of religion, of the press. We have conveniences like dishwashers, washing machines and dryers, that give us more time to be free. We have endless choices of entertainment, clothing, food, wine, etc. We want our freedom to buy what we want and to do what we please.
However, if our freedom is wrapped up in these external circumstances, these material conveniences, then when they are stripped away, what happens to our freedom? When we closely examine the result of seeking relief from suffering by avoiding it, we can see, and better yet, start to feel, that we're being deceived by egoic karmic conditioning.
What Brings Lasting Freedom?
Practicing zazen helps us turn toward our physical and psycho-emotional suffering. As we continue to practice zazen and study the Buddha's teachings, we begin to become more intimate with how it is that we suffer. If we pay really close attention, like we can while in zazen, we notice that our habitual ways of body, speech, and mind still persist.
When we practice zazen, we sit still through many ups and downs: physical pains, mental fantasies, uncomfortable emotional sensations, distressing memories, happy memories, etc. By just sitting—shikantaza—we begin to cultivate our innate ability to stay present, to stay open with whatever is arising. We begin to notice and experience that whatever arises in the moment—hot and cold—persists (in flux) and then ceases. The Buddha taught that everything is impermanent. Change is the only constant.
So Tozan's response "to go where there is no cold or heat" was actually a reminder to the monk that there is no escaping the causes and conditions of life. And, it was also an encouragement to continue practicing and investigating the origins of suffering.
Tozan is also highlighting that we cannot know "cold" without "hot" and "hot" without "cold." Discriminating mind likes to compare and complain when our preferences aren't met. It daydreams about summer during the winter and winter during the summer. There is a lot less suffering in our lives when we acknowledge our present reality, and drop ideas about how things should be different than they are.
The place where there is no cold or heat is not a physical place, not a country we can move to or a room we can seal ourselves off in. Rather, the "no cold, no heat" is resting or being with what is. Eihei Dogen, the 13 century founder of Soto Zen in Japan, puts it this way:
"Cold or heat just as it is was precisely the place where there existed no cold or heat. While living in the cold, the enlightened person lived in cold in total freedom; while living in heat, one lived in the same way."
When Tozan tells the monk “When cold, let it be so cold that it kills you; when hot, let it be so hot that it kills you,” he's instructing the monk to cultivate the physical and mental posture—not by repression or stoicism—of freedom within stressful or painful situations.
When we meet arising circumstances with equanimity, our karmic, habitual patterns are gradually burned off, that is, our "old selves" die—these identities are slowly transformed. When we just feel the cold or the heat without interpretations, this is true intimacy, true freedom.
My Tibetan teacher once told me that:
"The Soto Zen path is the purest but most direct buddhist path...."
"But few people can do it."
The most difficult part of it is that what we need to do is very simple
But that simplicity does not satisfy our perceived egotistical needs
He also explained that The Ngor Sect of the Sakya school was the closest "Wisdom School" to Japanese Soto Zen. My wife Jean was office manager at MZMC when she met Luding Trichen Rinpoche and helped arrange his visit to Zen Center.
After 42 years of practice and living 10 years in Japan, I've come to the conclusion that devotional practice is the best practice for Westerners, especially Americans.