The perfection of wisdom is pictured as more than just the highest and most exalted of the bodhisattva’s virtues; it is the one that brings the others to fruition. The first five perfections are initially practiced at ordinary levels of understanding and then nurtured to the level of perfection when wisdom is applied to them. Therefore, the Perfection of Wisdom in Eight Thousand Lines says: “For this perfection of wisdom directs the six perfections, guides, leads, instructs, and advises them, is their genetrix and nurse. Because, if they are deprived of the perfection of wisdom, the first five perfections do not come under the concept of perfections, and they do not deserve to be called ‘perfections.’ ” Wisdom is also said to encompass the other five perfections: “It is thus that the bodhisattva, the great being who trains in this deep perfection of wisdom, has taken hold of all the six perfections, has procured them, has conformed to them. And why? Because in this deep perfection of wisdom all the perfections are contained.” The image of encompassing the other practices of perfection leads the Large Sutra on Perfect Wisdom to claim that “when the bodhisattva trains in perfect wisdom, he acquires all the accomplishments which he should acquire.”
If by “self” we mean a permanent center of subjectivity, something fixed, self-established and independent of the world around it, something fully in command of its own existence and knowable as such, then careful observation leads to the conclusion that there is no such entity at the heart of human subjectivity. That single realization became perhaps the most important focal point for Buddhist meditation, and the sutras challenged practitioners to examine and test its truth in introspection and philosophical analysis.
The “no-self” claim is not the end of Buddhist reflection on this matter, however. In fact, it is just the beginning. If there is no self in the sense of a permanent soul, an independent entity whose experience this is, then who am “I”? Buddhist answers differ substantially depending on by whom, when, and where the question is posed. But one early and enduring articulation attempts to divide what appears to be a unified “self” into operating divisions or functions. Human beings, they claimed, are composed of five always impermanent components that are observable most directly from within but also in some way from the outside. These are the five skandhas, five components that make human experience what it is. They are (l) a body whose five senses make contact with the world; (2) various feelings of approval and disapproval in response to perceptual stimulus; (3) conceptual thinking that classifies and manages perceptions and feelings; (4) volitional forces that guide our movement through particular wishes and desires; and (5) self-consciousness that holds all of these components together as a relatively unified subjectivity in the world.
Different Buddhist texts and different translations of them divide these components up in different ways. But the important point is that, from a traditional Buddhist point of view, no one element constitutes the soul or self – the one you really are. Instead, human existence is imagined as a loosely configured movement in and among these various components as they shift and change over time.
In transition from the first three perfections to the final set of three, the classic texts of Mahayana Buddhism announce a significant shift of emphasis. The first three – generosity, morality, tolerance – are appropriate practices for anyone. The final three, however – energy, meditation, wisdom – operate at a higher level of spiritual awareness and therefore tend to be the focus of monks, nuns, and others who give priority in their lives to spiritual practice and insight. At this point in the practice, high levels of energy are required to undertake the practices of concentration and meditation prescribed in the fifth perfection, and in order to sustain the transformation in personal orientation experienced through insight and wisdom in the sixth. Thus, energy marks the transition from one level of practice to another, from preparatory exercises to a loftier level of endeavor. …
The final three perfections, beginning with energy, mandate a movement beyond these initial levels of practice. They are more abstract, less worldly in character, and their rewards are more difficult to visualize. But once they are initiated, the final three perfections begin to provide the basis on which the first three can be more profoundly comprehended and thus more wisely practiced. The transition between the two groups marks a point beyond which focus on enlightenment is more clearly defined. It is in this light that one sutra claims that “where there is energy there is enlightenment.”
The Spring Equinox, the day on which Higan is celebrated, falls on March 20 this year. This article is reprinted from the Sacramento Nichiren Buddhist Church March 2016 newsletter.
Higan is the practice of leaving our deep attachments in order to reach the world of enlightenment. Specifically, Higan is a practice comprised by six components. They are: charity, observing precepts, perseverance, energy, meditation, and wisdom. There is a story I would like to share with you concerning this practice. In the 9th century, a monk named Kyoukai wrote a series of books called Nippon Reiiki. Spanning three volumes long, these books contained stories concerning his experiences that seemed to transcend the logic and understanding of this world. This particular story I would like to share with you comes from this book, in the second volume of the series in the 38th chapter.
During the era in which Emperor Shomu ruled, there was a monk who lived in a temple in the mountains of Maniwa, located in the city of Nara. That monk had told his disciples upon his deathbed, “After my death, you must not open the entrance to my room for three years.” Saying this, he passed away. Forty-nine days after his death, a venomous snake had appeared before the deceased monk’s door, coiled in place, refusing to move. The disciples quickly realized that this snake was the reincarnation of their master. By chanting towards the snake, the disciples were able to move it, and enter the monk’s room. In the room, the disciples discovered thirty kan (currency used at the time, equaling approximately $30,000 today) saved up and hidden away. Realizing that their master had reincarnated as a venomous snake to protect this money, the disciples used the money to invite many ministers and hold a memorial service for him.
Kyoukai realizes that this particular monk was so desperate to protect his money, that he reincarnated into a snake in order to protect it. Kyoukai says, “No matter how high the mountain, we are able to see its peak. The mountain residing in humans called greed however is so great, that we cannot see its peak.” In other words, the greed and desire residing in humans is so vast and ever-growing, that it has no limit. Higan is a very important practice which aims to rid this greed and desire within us.
Kṣānti, translated here as tolerance and elsewhere frequently as patience or forbearance, has been a central virtue throughout the long history of Buddhism. It was one of the ten perfections of the Buddha praised in the early Pali sutras and continued to develop in range and significance in the unfolding of Mahayana Buddhism. Śāntideva goes so far as to claim that “there is no spiritual practice equal to tolerance.” Then, having given more cursory treatment to the first two perfections – generosity and morality – he backs his claim by devoting a full chapter to the perfection of tolerance. There and elsewhere we begin to see the qualities of human character encompassed by the perfection of tolerance.
Kṣānti means “unaffected by,” “able to bear,” “able to withstand,” and in that dimension indicates a strength of character, a composure, and a constancy of purpose that allow a bodhisattva to continue pursuing universal enlightenment in spite of enormous difficulty. Emphasizing that basic dimension, this third perfection could also be translated as the “perfection of endurance” or the “perfection of composure.” Bodhisattvas who have trained in this virtue are imperturbable and well-composed, calm and focused in the midst of adversity. Through deliberate self-cultivation, they build the capacity to withstand danger, suffering, and injustice, to resist the onslaught of negative emotions, and to think clearly under the stress of turmoil. They attain an “admirable constancy” that, even in face of enormous opposition, equips them to move effectively when others have been overwhelmed.
From the earliest periods of Buddhist history, morality (śilā) was understood to be fundamental to the practice, often interpreted as the starting point of the Buddhist path or as a prerequisite for it. The early Buddhist monastic community organized itself around a set of ten precepts and a much more detailed set of monastic rules (vinaya) that served to guide practitioners and establish them in a very specific form of life. These were broadened and adapted to the lives of lay followers in separate lists and codes of virtue specifically tailored to the circumstances of nonmonastic life. Regardless of these differences, however, morality was considered fundamental to Buddhist practice. … The most basic moral teaching for Buddhist monks and nuns, and therefore the one most committed to memory, is a list of ten precepts, the first five of which constitute the moral fundamentals of the laity. These require that a Buddhist refrain from (l) harming living creatures, (2) taking what has not been given, (3) inappropriate sexual activity, (4) false speech, (5) intoxicants that lead to carelessness, (6) eating after midday, (7) attending entertainment, (8) wearing jewelry or perfume, (9) sleeping on luxurious beds, and (10) handling money. These precepts are considered “paths of training” (śiksā-pada) because they function not just to prohibit immoral behavior but also, more importantly, to transform the character of the practitioner. In fact, in all forms of Buddhism, morality is “perfected” when an enlightened motivation takes hold, a motivation in which moral rules are no longer the focus of attention. When nonattachment, compassion, and wisdom prevail in the mind, then morality is thought to function naturally without recourse to rules and prohibitions. The precepts are part of the path of training meant to inculcate states of mind from which moral action might one day flow naturally. …
[T]en virtuous acts (daśakusala).
The ten acts of virtue are applicable to all Buddhists, monastic and laity, and are typically taught in terms of restraints on body, speech, and mind. These include abstention from (l) killing, (2) stealing, (3) sexual misconduct, (4) lying, (5) slander, (6) harsh, derogatory speech, (7) frivolous speech, (8) covetousness, (9) anger and malice, and (10) false views. The first three recommend restraint for the body, the next four delimit speech, and the final three refer to states of mind.
Mahayana Buddhist sutras maintain that the most admirable human beings, bodhisattvas at the highest level, are characterized by a profound, universal compassion, compassion so far-reaching that their daily actions demonstrate as much concern for the well-being of others as for themselves. In order to pursue the Buddhist ideal of compassion at this exalted level, practitioners train themselves in the perfection of generosity. Generosity of spirit – the capacity to give of oneself in a wide range of creative ways – has been an important dimension of Buddhist self-cultivation throughout the long history of this tradition.
The question my life presses upon me, whether I face it directly or not, is “How shall I live?” “As what kind of person?” All of us face the task of constructing a life for ourselves, of shaping ourselves into certain kinds of people who will live lives of one kind or another, for better or worse. Some people undertake this task deliberately; they make choices in life in view of an image of the kind of person they would hope to become. From the early beginnings of their tradition, Buddhists have maintained that nothing is more important than developing the freedom implied in their activity of self-cultivation—of deliberately shaping the kind of life you will live. For Buddhists, this is the primary responsibility and opportunity that human beings have. It is, they claim, our singular freedom, a freedom available to no other beings in the universe. And although circumstances beyond anyone’s control will make very different possibilities available for different people, Buddhists have always recognized that the difference between those who assume the task of self-sculpting with imagination, integrity, and courage, and those who do not is enormous, constituting in Buddhism the difference between enlightened ways of being in the world and unenlightened ways. …
One sutra introduces the six perfections by having a disciple ask the Buddha: “How many bases for training are there for those seeking enlightenment?” The Buddha responds: “There are six: generosity, morality, tolerance, energy, meditation, and wisdom.”
This sutra claims that the six perfections are “bases for training.” This means that they constitute a series of practices or “trainings” that guide Buddhist practitioners toward the goal of enlightenment or awakening. These six “trainings” are the means or methods to that all-important end. But the perfections are much more than techniques. They are also the most fundamental dimensions of the goal of enlightenment. Enlightenment is defined in terms of these six qualities of human character; together they constitute the essential qualities of that ideal human state. The perfections, therefore, are the ideal, not just the means to it. Being generous, morally aware, tolerant, energetic, meditative, and wise is what it means for a Buddhist to be enlightened. If perfection in these six dimensions of human character is the goal, then enlightenment, understood in this Buddhist sense, would also be closely correlated to these particular practices. Recognizing this, one sutra says: “Enlightenment just is the path and the path is enlightenment. ” To be moving along the path of self-cultivation by developing the six perfections is the very meaning of “enlightenment.”
The equinox occurs twice a year, once during spring and again in autumn, specifically the day in which night and day are equal in length. The exact day upon which the equinox lands varies from year to year, but the vernal or spring equinox basically occurs during March and the autumnal equinox during September. In Japan, we refer to the seven-day period – that is, the equinox, including the three days prior and following the equinox – as higan.
Higan is understood by most in Japan as a seven-day period that happens twice a year. As such, higan has taken on a secular meaning, gradually shedding its original significance. Whereas, higan is in fact deeply ingrained within Buddhism. For Buddhists, this period is not just one characterized by days with almost equal portions of light and dark. Rather, it is a period in which we strive to consciously reflect upon ourselves and our deeds. Have our words hurt anyone around us? Are our actions serving ourselves more than others? How can we be productive for the sake of society? Are our decisions creating a world of strife rather than peace? Does our lifestyle encroach upon the liberty or happiness of others? Are we aware of how our actions may adversely affect our environment – the soil, air, plants, insects, fish, birds, and animals? In sum, the basic question from a Buddhist point of view is whether or not we are following the right path. Higan serves as an opportunity to consciously readdress some of these basic questions so that we may perhaps reinitialize our thoughts and actions should we be veering off Buddha’s path. In this sense, it is indeed a very important time of the year.
Buddhism is About Practice
Higan then is a period of shugyo or practice. We are often unaware that we are ourselves the cause of many problems. Oftentimes, though we may not intend to slight anyone, our words and deeds can be construed in different ways depending on how and by whom it is received. Therefore, during the period of higan, we try to be extra careful that we do not disrupt things and create problems for others.
The Buddha’s enlightenment can often be characterized as a state of being completely aware. For the Buddha, this may appear to be effortless and second nature. However, these attributes are ones that even the Buddha has nurtured by practicing the right way of living, consciously over a very long period of time. Actually practicing the right path in overcoming mishaps that create confusion and poor judgment eventually lead to a life that is harmonious with our surroundings, and ultimately to peace for all. By theory, should we earnestly follow in the footsteps of the Buddha, there is no reason why we cannot eventually approach the Buddha’s level of awareness.
Buddha’s Way
In any discipline, its practitioners are inclined to try and reach a certain objective. Exactly what that goal is and how it can be reached may vary in its scope and application. Nevertheless, there exists something to aim for. Buddhism is no different in this respect. Without debating the minor differences that we may each value, we as Buddhists are blessed with the metaphor of higan in helping us to visualize our advancement toward this goal.
Higan arrives from the Sanskrit word, pāramitā. A Chinese transliteration for this word was “dao bi an.” In Japanese, these characters would be read “tou hi gan”. tou means to “go to” or to “arrive.” hi means “that” or “there.” gan is “bank” or “shore.” This metaphor asks us to imagine our present station to be associated with “this shore,” called shigan in Japanese. “This shore” is one that is characterized by delusion and repeated suffering. Buddhism posits that there is another bank on the other side of the river or body of water. The other shore represents a goal to which we as Buddhists should aspire. It is characterized by understanding and assurance. This distant shore is called higan. Higan represents wisdom, liberty, and compassion. In our respective ways, we as Buddhists are all striving to reach the other shore, that is, to become like the Buddha. Pāramitā, then, involves crossing over from the shore of ignorance to the other shore of enlightenment. The word pāramitā has come to describe the basic components necessary to attain this.
Although there may be many ways of grasping the concept of pāramitā, it is generally understood to be composed of six basic components. The six pāramitās are as follows:
fuse means to offer one’s self wholeheartedly and unconditionally, without any expectation of its return.
jikai is to follow and maintain the general precepts of the Buddha.
nin-niku suggests a resilience to persevere through hardship.
syojin refers to the necessity of conscientious effort in accomplishing one’s goals.
zenjo points to qualities existent in meditation, calling upon one’s concentration, adjoined by calmness and poise.
Chie is the Buddha’s wisdom, reinforced with its practical application.
Each of these six are complementary with each other. The awareness, application, and internalization of all six of these general practices is thought to be requisite to approach the completeness of the Buddha. Thus, the pāramitās are also referred to as bodhisattva practices, or the necessary stepping stones upon one’s way to becoming a Buddha. The most important thing to note is that these concepts must be put into practice. Without application, it is not Buddhism. Higan, then, is a time to reaffirm and sincerely practice the six pāramitās.
Higan as Observed in Japan
With the practice of the pāramitās, Higan in Japan has incorporated the tradition of acknowledging one’s ancestors and loved ones who have passed away. Although there are many ways of observing higan, many will go to their temples, gravesites of their loved ones, or sit in front of their family alters to offer their prayers in memory of their loved ones. Many will also prepare a unique offering of sweet azuki-bean rice cakes as an offering to be placed on the alters of their loved ones. These azuki-bean rice cakes are called ailed bota mochi in spring and o-hagi during autumn.
I’ve decided this year to devote the month of March and September, when the Spring and Fall Equinox occur, to Higan. As explained in a Nichiren Shu brochure:
For Buddhists, this period is not just one characterized by days with almost equal portions of light and dark. Rather, it is a period in which we strive to consciously reflect upon ourselves and our deeds.
Recently, while participating in a Nichiren Buddhist Sangha of the San Francisco Bay Area meeting, I brought up the importance of merit transference through our practice as a means of comforting both the dead and the living. That discussion elicited a criticism from one of the participants. This man felt focusing on funerary services is bad for Buddhism. This was a written comment during a Zoom session and I didn’t take the opportunity to discuss the issue at the time.
I am well aware of the criticism toward the Japanese temple system reliance on funerary services to keep the lights on. While I, too, wish more effort within Nichiren Shu temples was directed toward propagation and education, I do not share the opinion that funerary services have no value. For me, the lack of any formal funerary services within Soka Gakkai was one of my motivations for seeking something more. I am very fortunate to have been able to experience practicing with Ven. Kenjo Igarashi and the Sacramento Nichiren Buddhist Church.
Higan is traditionally a week-long practice, with the three days before and the three days after the Equinox devoted to the six paramitas and the Equinox devoted to memorials for the dead. As I have learned from Rev. Igarashi, at the Equinox the veil between this world and the spiritual world is at its thinnest.
I say “traditionally” three days before and after the Equinox focus on the six paramitas, but I am unable to find any American priest who actually performs week-long services or other observations as part of Higan. So, here I am. I’m creating my own Higan week observance with two, month-long introductions. In future years I envision devoting just the week around the Spring and Fall Equinoxes to the six paramitas and a memorial service.
For the month of March I’ve postponed my daily quotes from the Foundations of T’ien-T’ai Philosophy. Tomorrow I’ll reprint the official Nichiren Shu brochure explaining Higan. For the rest of March, Wednesdays will be devoted to the perfection of charity. Thursdays will be devoted to the perfection of morality. Fridays will be devoted to the perfection of tolerance. Saturday March 20 is the Equinox. Saturdays in March will be devoted to merit transference and the meaning of “the other shore.” Sundays will be devoted to the perfection of energy. Mondays will be devoted to the perfection of meditation. Tuesdays will be devoted to the perfection of wisdom.
Higan arrives from the Sanskrit word, pāramitā. A Chinese transliteration for this word was “dao bi an.” In Japanese, these characters would be read “tou hi gan”. tou means to “go to” or to “arrive.” hi means “that” or “there.” gan is “bank” or “shore.” This metaphor asks us to imagine our present station to be associated with “this shore,” called shigan in Japanese. “This shore” is one that is characterized by delusion and repeated suffering. Buddhism posits that there is another bank on the other side of the river or body of water. The other shore represents a goal to which we as Buddhists should aspire. It is characterized by understanding and assurance. This distant shore is called higan. Higan represents wisdom, liberty, and compassion. In our respective ways, we as Buddhists are all striving to reach the other shore, that is, to become like the Buddha. Pāramitā, then, involves crossing over from the shore of ignorance to the other shore of enlightenment. The word pāramitā has come to describe the basic components necessary to attain this.