All Things Change

G Sakamoto

There are three characteristics that Shakyamuni said describe our everyday life. First, all things change. Second, there is no me apart from the relationships I share. Third, we experience difficulties, but those difficulties can be resolved. These three together are called the Three Marks of Existence.

When we look at the world around us we recognize that many things are changing. The weather changes from the heat of summer to the cold of winter. Depending on where you are this change may be very dramatic or hardly perceptible. The weather however does change. Even if we cannot see the changes, changes are occurring as heat, air and moisture combine and influence each other. California has been in a three year dry spell. It seems that the dry weather has stayed the same, unchanging. Yet we know that even though the weather is dryer than usual the weather is still changing.

As Buddhists we understand this fundamental observation of the Dharma. Yet, we tend to not apply what we understand to what we experience. Although we understand all things change we behave in a way that expects things to remain the same. Things staying the same can be reassuring. When things remain the same we can feel confident in the expectations we have about what will take place in a future time. Even if there are variations in what is anticipated, if it is close enough to expectation it can be treated as the same. We can ignore any minor differences and simply treat the experience as the same.

I enjoy cooking. More accurately perhaps I enjoy the outcome of cooking after following a recipe. I tend to need to know where IŐm headed as IŐm cooking. This is probably true for most people. Although there are stories of serendipitous results from unanticipated explorations, as in the story Stone Soup, usually having a plan when cooking is a good idea. If youŐre going to prepare sweet and sour spare ribs it would be good to have some ribs on hand at least to start with. Although I may modify the recipe as I cook, the outcome of my effort is generally what I expect. I am confident that if I follow the recipe, the food I end up with will be reasonably palatable.

We do this all the time. We follow patterns, like recipes, confident of what weŐre doing. In the temple there are many patterns we follow. Rituals and ceremonies are patterns that have been institutionalized. These patterns hold great significance. We do not expect these patterns to change so we feel confident and comfortable with our familiarity with these rituals and ceremony. Like recipes, rituals and ceremonies, can give us a sense of knowing something. Since I can follow a recipe I must be a cook.

I think, however, most would agree that there is a difference between someone who follows a recipe and the person who created the recipe. To create a recipe you need to be familiar with the ingredients and seasonings. You need to know how these materials will interact and compliment each other or at least be willing to experiment. To be that familiar with ingredients requires more than simply following recipes. A cook may begin and end with recipes but there is an understanding that extends beyond measuring and weighing. You cannot make a teriyaki Philly Cheese Steak sandwich. Although, IŐve thought about it, itŐs just not done. At least not yet.

The patterns we are familiar with, even in the temple, are always changing. Memorial services that we might expect to be constant are changing. How services are conducted vary from temple to temple. At one temple the first seventh day service may immediately follow the funeral service. At another temple the first seventh day service may be combined with the funeral service. When my father died, nearly fifty years ago, we went to the temple every week for seven weeks to observe a seventh day service. On those days we did not eat any meat. A pattern as familiar as the first seventh day and the forty-ninth day, the seventh, seventh day service, has changed in a brief fifty years. Today we usually observe the first seventh and the forty-ninth day services.

To be familiar with patterns can provide a sense of comfort. Following patterns, traditions that may have been passed down through generations, can deepen oneŐs connection with practice. The patterns, however, are often the vessel that carries meaning which when explored can open up a quality of understanding and appreciation that originally generated the pattern. Shinran states in the Kyogyoshinsho: ŇTrue and real shinjin is unfailingly accompanied by (saying) the Name. (Saying) the Name, however, is not accompanied by shinjin that is the power of the Vow.Ó CWS p 107, 50. Here the pattern is the Name, the content shinjin.

Patterns are apt to change. Even a pattern as fundamental to Jodo Shinshu as the nembutsu, has variations. Is it ŇnamoÓ or ŇnamuÓ? We may debate and argue about the pattern, but it is the content that is significant.

Everything changes. Nothing remains the same. In a world of changing patterns, if we are mindful of the relationship of patterns and content, patterns can point us in the direction and re-enforce the importance of content. We can feel comfortable even as patterns change, deepening our appreciation of the content within.