Tenzo Note 14: The Dynamic Space of the Tenzo - the Dance of Spirit and Form

At the beginning of this year, I felt the desire to reflect on my journey as a secular tenzo at the Bergerac Praxis hub and share with you the Buddhist spirit underlying this activity. 

For a year now, a daily collective rhythm has been established at the Bergerac hub where, for one hour each day, we sit, cook, clean, and attend to the needs of the place that welcomes us, following a secularized version of the Zen monastic protocol (samu).

The term "tenzo" comes from the Zen Buddhist tradition and literally means "the seat of rules" (translation and note by Jean Nyojo Rat sensei):

The tenzo is the head of the kitchen, one of the six major roles in the monastery. When Buddhism arrived in China, the tenzo was responsible for allocating seating, robes, and food to the monks, as well as managing supplies. This original role as a grand regulator explains its name. Since the Song dynasty, the tenzo has practically become the person in charge of feeding the monks. They manage the menu, provisions, supervise the kitchen leaders and their assistants, service, and cleaning. It is a highly respected position within the monastery.

The function of "ordinating the seats" (translation this time by Eric Jun Rommeluère sensei) is also that of activating elements, initiating the movement and energy of the community. This is an essential role in the protocol because it is responsible for the dynamic process (dharma) necessary for the accorded emergence (enlightenment) within and through the community (the sangha, inseparable from dharma and buddha, the three jewels of Buddhism).

Several ancient texts refer to this activity - the most famous in the zen tradition being the Tenzo kyokun (1243), written by Dogen zenji - but I chose a text from Keizan Jokin Zenji (1268–1325) in the Denkoroku which particularly well expresses the dynamic movement of the tenzo and even lightens the more obscure texts of Dogen (for the non scholar buddhist that I am). 

Here is an excerpt from the koan related to the 45th patriarch in the lineage, Master Daokai (1043-1118), who received transmission from his master Touzi.

When he became the tenzo, Touzi said (translation and note by Jean Nyojo Rat):

"Assuming responsibility for kitchen tasks is not easy." The master (Daokai) said, "I wouldn't dare (say that)." (Tou)zi said, "And boiling rice gruel? And steaming rice?" The master (Daokai) said, "Laborers clean the rice and tend to the fire, novices boil rice gruel and cook the rice." (Tou)zi said, "And you, what do you do?" The master (Daokai) said, "Let the Reverend, with benevolence and compassion, let others go freely and peacefully."

Note 22: Or "allow others to be free and idle." Daily activity in the service of others proves to be restful and non-action. "Others" can refer here to the tenzo, i.e., Daokai, but also to all the "others," meaning laborers and novices, and by extension, everyone.

I would add: the world itself. 

When I started creating an organization around food at the hub, I was like Daokai, focused on food and how it should unfold within the community in the spirit of the tenzo. For me, being a tenzo meant leading the kitchen in a way that engages each person in calmness and concentration, allowing everyone to find their place and create a meal liberated from our distractions (emotions, opinions, projections while cooking).

But I hadn't realized that the mere intention of creating something was undermining it. It took many trials and errors to shape what has now become a creative haven in the true spirit of the tenzo, allowing others (including oneself) to let go freely.

The impact was significant, and in my illusion of believing that a simple copy-paste of temple organization would open up this space of freedom for everyone, it resulted in the opposite: significant resistance. However, this failure turned out to be a gift. Beyond my own self-reflection as a “designer”, it brought to the surface what I've been calling the "collective trauma of authority." Especially in the world of transition, uniting all rebels against the system - artists, activists, philosophers, secular monks, etc. - where any external imposition is often perceived as oppression.

Above all, I've come to understand that when the one making the proposal isn't primarily guided by the essence of the proposal itself, it cannot be accepted as such.
And trying to copy the form without the spirit, or attempting to reproduce the effects of an experienced practice without deeply experiencing its underlying essence only reinforced resistance against what became a new constraint, a moral order, a direction to follow. Same form but a radically opposed spirit.

Lost in my mission, I had forgotten to embody it, and the generosity of this practice had turned into tension for everyone entering the kitchen. I am now grateful for the system's ability to bring me back to my roots. The day I truly understood that we primarily practice to liberate ourselves, I believe I liberated a lot of space around me! 

In another excerpt, Keizan continues (translation and note by Jean Nyojo Rat):

"It's because he has obtained to see this space in the smallest details that when he became tenzo, he also said: 'Let others go freely and peacefully.' He was not (to be considered as) a person who cooks rice, he was not (to be considered as) a person who tends to the vegetables. Therefore, managing the fire and managing the water, all of that turns out to be the movement entrusted to novices and laborers. In the end, it is not (to be considered as) the superior role of the tenzo. Even if, fundamentally, he ties his belt up high and washes the pots, seemingly never stopping within the twelve hours, ultimately there is no need to lower his hands, there is no reason for him to touch things. That's why he said: 'Let others go freely and peacefully.'"

This excerpt might lead us to believe that the tenzo is superior to those currently cooking rice or cleaning the kitchen. However, Keizan brings us back to the essence of Buddhism: the non-separation of our being from our activity, allowing the unfolding of a reality without attaching it to the illusion of identity, having responsibility, cooking ingredients, or doing tasks. Everything is the co-emergence of a single dynamic reality: me, the rice and the fire together. The tenzo doesn't touch things, doesn't lower his hands anymore because there is nothing to touch, nothing to experience as separate, and the freedom to let things unfold within the 12 hours of daily life can continuously manifest.

Jean Nyojo Rat clarifies in his note: 

Touching things, i.e., what would be external, is almost synonymous with the expression "inclining" (previously discussed) in the sense of "tending towards," separating an empty-of-substance "self" from equally substance-less external "things." The tenzo, though constantly active, preserves the wisdom of emptiness. He is the guarantor of peace, the "rest" of non-separation, letting kitchen activity with his team unfold as within the temple, as a manifestation of tranquility.

He teaches the profound role of the tenzo: to remain the "person without affairs," peaceful at the very heart of "movement," confident, and knowing how to entrust "free and peaceful" activity, which is nobody's business. There is no longer opposition between activity and rest; profound rest enables complete, appropriate activity, and group harmony. Few individuals can let this peace radiate in activity, trusting in each one's free activity, thus ensuring harmony in the group's unfolding; that's why the position of tenzo is also highly respected in monasteries.

Living the role of the tenzo in this spirit does not mean rejecting the form, but rather embodying the form through the spirit. The tenzo organization requires a certain commitment from those participating in the communal food cycle. Whether it's chopping vegetables, doing dishes, or cleaning after meals, this activity demands punctuality and a certain efficiency.

Once again, my inability to let others go freely, too focused on the form to the point of destroying it (and exhausting myself), brought something to the surface specific, in my sense, to intentional communities. 

The nomads of the Hub are not monks, and discipline doesn't necessarily align with their theory of change, just as punctuality contradicts their personal schedules. Hence, these rebels of the new world find themselves in a sort of dissonance between the desire for community and the rejection of the necessary conditions that sustain community (social interaction, commitment, participation in the communal, shared meals). There is always the protective desire to safeguard personal needs, including the typical isolation or individualistic eating habits of our society.

In other words, many of us (myself included) intuit that community, tribe-like collectives are our only way out in the current context of the meta-crisis. However, our reality, still conditioned by individualism, leaves us powerless to dethrone the supremacy of our individual needs, essential for the resilience of the community.
Designing a tenzo 2.0 had to incorporate this dissonance, not to reject it – that would be illusory – but to dance with it, safeguarding both the collective and the individual.

This is how the concept of Praxis emerged, a choreography of the communal space activity with the practice of tenzo at its core. 

The benevolent kitchen / the practice of tenzo 2.0 is a secular version of the monastic tenzo practice adapted to conscious communities of practices (or Deliberately Developmental Spaces) but still rests on the spirit of its Zen ontology.