Mountains and Waters Sutra-- Ella Scott


 “If walking had stopped, the buddha ancestors would not have appeared. If walking ends, the buddha dharma cannot reach the present. Walking forward does not cease; walking backward does not cease. Walking backward does not obstruct walking forward. This is called the mountains’ flow and the flowing mountains (pg 155, Dogen).”


I can’t help thinking here that
this description of “walking” can be used to understand more fully how time provides the basis for transmission of buddha dharma, or as it is described here, the appearance of the buddha ancestors. Walking, in this fascicle, “Mountains and Water Sutra,” describes a momentum or forward movement that resembles, at least to me, the procession of time (perhaps as something that is also walking) and that this procession is what makes possible a trajectory towards a full understanding of the buddha ancestors. While I am not entirely clear on the difference between the buddha ancestors appearing, and the possibility of enlightenment appearing, I would like to posit that there may be no difference here. 


What complicates this notion is the following two sentences: “walking forward does not cease; walking backward does not cease. Walking backward does not obstruct walking forward.” If walking can be used to form a conception of time, then at this point I think the complex relationship between forward and backward walking leaves behind a clear correlation between a notion of time as walking. It seems possible to imagine that backward walking could be taken up as a kind of reflective process on the past, and in that light it seems the claim here could be interpreted as a denial of the idea that reflexive thinking, or a reflective personal moment, does not contradict forward walking, or the continual progression forward of something like time. 


In the last line, Dogen names what has been discussed in the passage: “This is called the mountains’ flow and the flowing mountains.” This sentence explains flowing in a two-fold manner. Both as a movement which belongs to the mountains and as a movement which acts on the mountains. As we are told previously, backward and forward walking do not negate each other, and here we are offered another example of two movements which don't negate each other, positing multiple forms of flow, and as we have seen, multiple forms of walking. Through these kinds of suggestions around the nature of movement in regards to mountains, and ultimately the self, it is evident that one of the goals of this faciscle is to upend comfortable ideas around movement in space and time, and to reveal that these movements are reflected in various directions and states. This is made clear in the following passage when Dogen writes this line, that we all loved so much:


“Even if you have the highest understanding of mountains as all buddhas’ wondrous characteristics, the truth is not only this. These are conditioned views. This is not the understanding of buddha ancestors, but merely looking through a bamboo pipe at a corner of the sky (pg 156, Dogen).”


The clear emphasis on upending what we think we know, about walking, about time, and other realities, seems to be what is able to bring about an understanding of the buddha ancestors in the self. Does this mean that understanding the buddha ancestors is akin to being open to, or being able to see clearly, how there are iterations of walking, iterations of flowing, and no singular way of understanding these terms?


Comments

  1. “This is called the mountains’ flow and the flowing mountains.”

    To me, this is one of Dōgen’s most powerful sentences. He seems to be questioning our usual distinction between nouns and verbs, and asking: are the mountains walking, or is it walking that is mountaining? Is there really any distinction to be made between an ‘object’ and what that object is doing in the world? Language wants to corner us into having to choose one noun and one verb at a time, even if rejecting the distinction would be more faithful to the truth of things.

    This sentence is also a perfect example of Dōgen trying to shake us—upending our perspective, as you say. Ultimate reality—where things are tied neither to an essence from within nor to a definitive interpretation from without—is more amazing than conventional reality is able to give it credit for. As I read him, the idea seems to be that the narrowness of our perspective is an ever-present threat to our ability to experience real enlightenment, which seems to involve an encounter with the untied, infinite breadth within things.

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