There is a Zen saying, “Empty-handed I come, empty-handed I go.” At first glance, it is not difficult to understand. We come empty-handed, and though we might accumulate many things during our lifetime; in the end, we can’t take them with us; we will leave this life empty-handed. It’s a good reminder that we cannot take anything with us when we get too caught up in things.
But let’s look at some of the implications here, which perhaps aren’t so obvious - like the span we call our life between the coming and going, “the empty-handed I live” part. What does it mean to live empty-handed? And how is it relevant to our lives?
We are all familiar with the opposite of empty-handed, which is not full-handed but is a matter of being handicapped, limited, and stuck. If we grasp and hold on to something, we cannot take up anything else unless we put the first thing down. We are tied to what we are holding. We hold onto our pride, our ideas, our likes, and our dislikes. We’re attached to our children and spouses, our pleasures, and even our anxiety. It doesn’t matter what we are holding on to; the moment we cling, inevitably, other things are ignored, and freedom is lost.
In empty-handedness, nothing is picked out and held on to as belonging to me, but instead, everything is received and reflected as it is - the response to situations and circumstances arises and ceases out of freedom. In empty-handedness lies the fullness of each moment.
A while ago, waiting in line at the supermarket, I overheard a conversation between a customer and the cashier. One of them said, “You know, I really believe in prayer; it just about heals everything.” I agree that prayer is important, but does it heal just about everything? Or is it even supposed to heal everything? We can easily see how a casual remark clearly reveals where the mind is attached. Please understand, I am not against prayer, quite the opposite. I think real prayer is the actual moment of empty-handedness, releasing our grip on the conditions of things. Unless we live empty-handed, we are not going to die empty-handed. Not just because we hold on to something, but because we didn’t realize that we never had anything to hold in the first place - not our body nor our sensations, thoughts, feelings, people, or things.
The Bodhisattva of Great Compassion, Avalokiteshvara (Japanese: Kanon), is sometimes depicted with a thousand arms and hands, and in each palm, there is an eye. It symbolizes limitless compassion and limitless activity in the face of constantly changing situations - the wisdom of wondrous perception and complete action, of being one with each distinct appearance. Thousand hands and eyes are not a definite number but point to the inexhaustible, limitless activity of empty-handedness. We cannot find the Bodhisattva of Great Compassion in a different place at a different time. Its vivid aliveness is already happening and is not separate from us. The Japanese Zen Master Hakuin (1686-1768), in his “Praise of Zazen,” says:
Your form being no-form
going and returning is not someplace else.
Your thought being no-thought
singing and dancing are the voice of the Dharma.
Photo: Sanjūsangen-dō, a Buddhist temple belonging to the Tendai sect. It was founded in 1164 and is famous for the one thousand and one statues of the thousand-armed Kannon Bodhisattva.
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Thank you for defining prayer in this way.
🙏💙 All gratitude.