The work of art is not an object that stands over against a subject for itself. The same is true of the optimal experience of art, according to Gadamer (1960, 102): Regardless of any “rewards,” autotelic work feels more like play to the one engaged in it, because he is focused neither on its consequences nor on himself, but on the practice. The practitioner of zazen has no interest in proving her skill at it that would be an ‘intention to grasp the practice,’ perhaps an unconscious intention, but still a ‘defilement.’ That is our practice in zazen.Īlthough the attention is focused on the activity, the “rewards” here seem to be more intrinsic to the personality of the actor than to ‘the activity for its own sake.’ To prove one's skill is to build up one's reputation or self-esteem, not to lose oneself in the activity as an end in itself. We open our hand and trust everything in this moment, in this body/mind. It is a strange thing that is why it is called “wondrous Dharma.” We cannot grasp it by thinking, so we try not to grasp. The other side is that everything is always abiding peacefully in its Dharma position where nothing arises and nothing changes. Simply walking, moving, or changing, as Uchiyama Rōshi says, is half of the true reality. This allows us to “go somewhere else.” That is life force. What we do is completely this moment, as a function of this Dharma position. In Dogen's Zen, this practice is the complete occupation of a dharma position. The practice of zazen, for instance, ‘must not – indeed, properly speaking, cannot – be “defiled” by any intention to grasp the practice and put it to use as a means to an end’ (Bielefeldt 1988, 139). Others practice for the sake of the practice itself. Some of them amount to a kind of self-hypnosis for the purpose of attaining some projected state of bodymind or belief. How do you make your mind one-pointed through meditation? Religious and spiritual disciplines answer this pragmatic question in as many ways as there are disciplines.
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