Oryoki Reconsidered
A meal is an event. Eating is the process behind it. Mindless eating, without any awareness of the process itself, turns a meal-event into a belly-aching non-event. A potential of an event, wiped out by mindlessness, is both an existential loss (a loss of an eating moment is a loss of a moment of living) and a loss of meditative opportunity.
Imagine you are in the business of teaching people to meditate, literally. Indeed, imagine yourself as a medieval Zen master charged with managing a Buddhist monastery. Day in, day out you got a bunch of bums banging on your door seeking admission, refuge, protection, i.e. room and board. Unable to read minds and screen out dharma bums from sincerely-motivated seekers, you come up with a brilliant scheme. You decide to turn the dining hall into a meditation hall. You come up with “oryoki” – a highly codified eating protocol that emphasizes a precise order of movements, stopping when you are full, cleaning up for yourself, and liturgical chanting.


It’s figure-ground dynamics: you either see the foreground of the red vase or the background of the two blue faces. When you focus on the vase, the faces fade out into the conceptually neutral background, and what was no longer is.



