Walk Like a Mountain. Innen Ray Parchelo

only to encourage walkers to use a brief period of sitting as preparation. Once again, we are reminded that walking and sitting practice have commonalities as practices. It is mostly the introduction of motion in the lower body and the stimulation of the energies in those regions that make the difference.

WALKING WITH JIZO

      There is no greater model or exemplar for our walking practice than the Bodhisattva Jizo. Known elsewhere as Kshiti-garbha (Earth-Storehouse) or Ti-Tsang, this Bodhisattva is the eternal pilgrim, the walker par excellence. He is often portrayed carrying the shakujo or pilgrim staff and dressed either as a wandering monk or in the traditional white attire of a Japanese pilgrim. His path takes him through all of the Six Realms of Existence. His purpose is to bring the Dharma to those who cannot otherwise receive it or to share the merit of his efforts to lighten the karma burden of beings in dire circumstances. As told in the text known as The Original Vows and the Attainment of Merits of Kshitigarbha Bodhisattva, Jizo describes how he is dedicated to visiting all suffering beings, even in the worst of the lowest Hell-realms, and relieving their suffering. The sutra describes the many transformations, a king, a grieving girl and so on, that he assumes to fulfill his vow. He properly attributes this to the even greater vow and compassion of the Buddhas:

      Only through your transcendental powers am I then able to have transformations throughout millions and millions of universes to enlighten suffering beings to real liberation… I solemnly promise to fulfill your instruction to continue to relieve beings.

      Kishitgarbha Sutra, ch. 4

      Though not clearly part of the sutra’s imagery, the form of Jizo developed, over time, into that of the eternal pilgrim. Statues large and small, intricate and crude, appear at roadway intersections, in numbers at the front of temples and, in miniature, as medallions or portraits accompanying travellers. Chozen Bays identifies several ways that Jizo acts as the pilgrim-teacher:

      • As a living presence, inspiring and guiding our footsteps on the literal and metaphoric Path;

      • As a companion, walking each step along with us, encouraging and reminding us that we too are walking as and towards Buddhahood, we are never alone on our way;

      • As a protector, transforming himself into whatever form is required to be of benefit to us on our journey;

      • As the path-clearer, the one whose preceding efforts allow smoother passage for us.

      In the journey we walk in these pages, we have borrowed Tweed’s metaphor of religions as ‘dwelling and crossing’. Our religious journey, the pilgrimage we walk, in search of a spiritual home or as the means of discovery itself, will take us through all of the Six Realms. At times we will make our way through self-indulgence, jealousy, instinct, desperate craving, utter agony and our very own humanity. Jizo demonstrates that this walking is our practice. Through it we can unfold the Way. On it we can express the Way. Sharing it we can fulfill and realize the Way. He reminds that we too are empowered through the energies and dedication of all the Buddhas.

DHARMA MASTERS GO ON FOOT

      As we imagine ourselves pulling on our pack and crossing that threshold, we can hear the voices of our Dharma grandparents recounting the importance of their own journeys and urging us out onto the sunlit path.

      Do not ask me where I am going.

      As I travel this limitless world,

      Every step I take is my home

      Dogen Zenji, quoted in Bays, p. 141

      It is obvious that they walked. Bodhidharma came from the West and spent years walking and preaching in China. Milarepa walked the treacherous mountain roads of Tibet. Saicho, Honen and the larger-than-life Kobo Daishi travelled up and down the mountain paths of Japan and into China. In fact, the mythology attached to the imposing pilgrimage around the island of Shikoku comforts all pilgrims with the assurance that, even though his pilgrimage took place centuries ago, Kobo Daishi continues to accompany each and every pilgrim who dares to set their feet on its rocky, wind-blown pathways.

      Bankei was a Japanese Zen teacher in the 1600’s. In Bankei – Seventeenth Century Japanese Social Worker?, English practitioner and mental health professional David Brandon writes a short biography of this unusual man. In a manner more resonant with the myokonin ideal (kindhearted, unsophisticated teacher) of Shin Buddhism, Bankei would rather help out in his community than study sutras in a temple. Brandon describes him:

      Bankei had little time for the formal trappings of religious practice – the temples, the incense, the long hours of austere meditation. Bankei not only expressed compassion, he was compassion.

      Bankei, Brandon, p. 240

      We get the image of a busy community-worker, less a priest or monk. In one story, Brandon describes a walking practice not otherwise described nor endorsed by this writer! It concerns Bankei’s reaction to being tricked out of a ferry transport by his jealous and spiteful brother:

      When Bankei was refused entry to the boat, he said ‘The ground must continue under the water’, strode right into the river and struggled to the other side.

      Bankei, Brandon, p. 237

      Also in the 17^th century, the poet-monk-teacher, Basho, like no one else, characterizes the wandering way. His many writings, especially The Narrow Road to the Deep North, carry us along with him on his many walks across the Japanese landscape. He acknowledges the power of his wanderings to free him of the turbulence of his mind. It connects him with fellow walkers, like the priest, Gyoki, who so integrated his walking practice into his life that his walking staff did double duty as the main support for his home. Crossing and dwelling seamlessly blend into ‘this one moment’. Basho writes:

      After many days of solitary wandering, I came at last to the barrier-gate of Shirikawa, which marks the entrance to the northern regions. Here, for the first time, my mind was able to gain a certain balance and composure, no longer a victim to pestering anxiety, so it was with a mild sense of detachment that I thought about the ancient traveller who had passed through this gate…(which) was counted among the three largest checking stations, and many poets had passed through, each leaving a poem of his own making. I myself walked between trees laden with thick foliage, with the distant sound of autumn wind in my ears and the vision of autumn tints before my eyes… Gyoki is said to have used a [chestnut branch] for his walking stick and the chief support of his house.

      Narrow Road, Penguin ed., pp. 105-107

      Today, Vietnamese-French Dharma master, Thich Nhat Hahn (THN) is one of the few Dharma teachers to give anything more than a cursory mention of walking practice. He has produced another of his little gems in a multi-media product called Walking Meditation. In it he outlines his approach to walking, which is built on three fundamentals – the step, breathing and counting the breath.

      The most important element of walking practice for him is coordinating the breath with the step. He recommends a counting method of three steps for in-breath, three steps for out-breath. One can count the numbers or use a phrase, like ‘lotus flower blooms’ or ‘the green planet’. One can increase the number of steps for a longer breath. He comments:

      Walk leisurely, peacefully,

      Your feet touch the earth deeply.

      Don’t let your thoughts carry you away,

      Come back to the path every moment.

      The path is your dear friend.

      She will transmit to you

      her solidity and her peace.

      Walking Meditation, THN, p. 5

      THN does not distinguish indoor from outdoor, nor does he mention any other types of walking practice. We’ll return to his advice in later chapters.

      John Cianciosi, a disciple of the late Ajahn Chah, reminds us that some traditions, particularly the Thai Theravadin,