Buddhism is the first missionary religion. It was spread not by the sword, but by establishing Asian trading routes. First and foremost, there was the famous Silk Road, which went through Central Asia, connecting the two most developed Asian kingdoms- the Indian and the Chinese. Beside the land route, which offered a little more certainty but was longer, there was a sea route. This was quicker but was also the more dangerous option. Many traveling monks, both from India and from China, undertook that journey into the unknown. It was a journey that often lasted a major part of one’s life – a search for knowledge, for literacy, for teachers and for authentic interpretations of the secret scriptures.

The Chinese described their journeys in detail in richly detailed travel books that serve today as a main source of research on Indian history. This exchange lasted for centuries. Back then, Buddhist teaching was already rich and mature in India. In the process of transition and adaptation it produced a new, fresh approach to its own essence.

In the middle of the 1st millennia, China was anything but a spiritual wasteland. Native teachings of Confucius and of Taoism provided a rich array of views on personal and social ethics, which functioned as a foundation for establishing harmony between an individual and the universe.

A virtuous life comes about with a recognition of the general principles of growth and decay, of light and darkness, in finding balance in the midst of a fragile and constantly changing world.

Almost 1000 years after the life of the historical Buddha, his teachings emerged in a spiritual climate that was very similar to the one in which the teachings originated; among educated and inquisitive listeners who wanted to explore these new teachings that promised inner peace and clarity of mind.

The centuries in which Buddhism was becoming more and more what we recognize today as ‘Chinese Buddhism’ can be called the ‘second renaissance’. This reached its peak with the founding of Chan and arrival of Bodhidharma.

Who is Bodhidharma?

The legend surrounding the Buddhist monk Bodhidharma takes a central position in the history of martial arts and other Far Eastern systems of physical practice. Traveling across the sea, he arrived from India to China in the 6th century A.D.

What is so special about Bodhidharma? What was it that he started? Or, as the Chan school asks: “What was it that Bodhidharma brought from India to China?” This is a question used by Chan masters to direct their disciples from non-important questions to what is truly important; from the periphery to the center; from descriptions of the experience to the experience itself.

There is one famous episode that illustrates the characteristics of Bodhidharma’s teachings.
It describes the meeting of Bodhidharma with emperor Wu.

The first and last time they met, emperor Wu asked him: “I have built many temples and ordained many monks, ordered numerous sutras to be copied and statues of Buddha to be made. What merit have I earned?” All these acts were considered to be the cultivation of generosity, which is an important spiritual quality.

Bodhidharma replied: “None whatsoever. Good deeds done out of selfishness bring no merit”
Confused, the emperor then asked, “What is the highest meaning of the noble truth?”

Bodhidharma answered: “There is no noble truth, everything is empty.”

Astonished, the emperor then asked, “Who is it that faces me then?”

and Bodhidharma replied: “I don’t know, your highness.”

This question is still asked in Chan today… What is this? Who stands in front of me? Especially when encountering a mature and experienced teacher, it is an invitation to step away from the set, self-understood reality and inquire more deeply into what we are facing. It is one of the ways to open the space of freedom from imprisonment in the framework of personal assumptions. This is a framework that ensures the prolongation of conflict and dissatisfaction with ourselves, with people around us and with events that happen.

Needless to say, the emperor did not wish to meet Bodhidharma ever again. It seems that the emperor failed to understand the deep teaching that Bodhidharma gave him. The first part says that selfishness is our main motivation, and the main obstacle on our path. That gripping for ‘me, myself, mine’ creates numerous difficulties which build into a sense of heaviness, conflict and existential discomfort. To extinguish selfishness does not mean to embark on philanthropic deeds, but rather it means to extinguish selfishness from our mind/ heart (Xin, the Chinese sign for the mind also includes the heart, or the emotional center). The second part of the teaching says that abandoning selfishness leads towards developing an attitude to life in which we are not judging events and people according to limited personal interests. That way, we start to understand their fundamental equality. When we manage to stay detached enough to experience an event without calculating personal gain or loss, we see that an event is merely something that appeared, lasted for a while and then disappeared. It is the same as anything else surrounding us. Everything that exists appears and disappears. Impermanence or transience is the most fundamental quality of existence.

Two Entrances and the Four Practices

By abandoning selfishness, Bodhidharma teaches in his second answer, one can truly see reality. The third part of the teaching goes on to say that that kind of seeing is beyond words.
In order to transmit this insight into reality, Chan teachers often use descriptions of natural occurrences, comparisons, metaphors and images. They talk about birds flying, crystal winter landscapes, mountains under the rain… This is meant to inspire us on the path of liberation. It is an attempt to transmit even a small part of the experience of vastness, speciousness, freedom and limitlessness. Teachers will relentlessly challenge and push us with questions like: “What is this?”, encouraging us to investigate and see for ourselves. But that is where the power of the teacher stops. In order to truly see, we need to see with our very own eyes. In order to truly taste the teaching, we need to bite into it ourselves. That was an invitation that Bodhidharma sent to the Emperor with his last words… see for yourself, do not ask me.

After this meeting, Bodhidharma went to the north of China into a cave in the vicinity of the famous Shaolin Temple. The story says that he spent nine full years there sitting in front of a wall. Why nine years? Does that mean that it takes a long time to mature in order to share our insight with others? Did Bodhidharma’s meeting with the emperor show the need to think deeply and to create a practical and direct approach to transmitting the insight he carried?
It is hard to say, but that is precisely what he did in the famous work Two Entrances and the Four Practices. These marked the foundation of the Chan school, which, through its lively vibrancy, managed to become the most important east Asian Buddhist school. Chan did not stay within the monasteries, but managed to pour into art, poetry, martial arts, tea ceremonies and even gardening.

With Bodhidharma, two of these practices are directly linked: the beginning of drinking tea and the creation of meditative movement. The spiritual practice of movement has two aspects: martial and therapeutic. Today it is the most famous remnant of the Shaolin Temple.

Why did Chan pour in this way into such different areas of life? It is crucial to have an understanding that there is no such thing as ‘mundane’ and ‘spiritual’. It is ourselves who turn something into holy or mundane – it is a reflection of the quality of our relationship towards what we are doing. In a fundamental redefinition of phenomena, Chan points to the fact that everything we do should be done in a way that cultivates our attention to allow us to truly perceive reality.

“Every movement that is simple enough carries the potential to become holy”Eugen Herrigel in the Zen and the Art of Archery.

To do something with your whole being, so deeply immersed that the doer disappears and what stays is the doing itself, means to open the gates to holiness.

Translated and adapted from “Zen Yoga” by Karmen Mihalinec, with the author’s permission