“Just Enough”

If you’ve ever spent time in Zen spaces, you have probably heard someone mention the practice of oryoki. A Japanese word that translates roughly as “just enough,” the word oryoki is used to describe both a ritualized way of eating meals during extended meditation retreats, as well as the actual set of bowls that is used for eating. Oryoki is a wonderful way to practice mindfulness in daily activity, as we receive food to nourish our bodies while maintaining awareness of our activity and the impact of our lives on the world.

In oryoki practice, we use three nested bowls wrapped in pieces of cloth that unfold into a napkin, a dishcloth, and a placemat, along with a set of utensils that include a pair of chopsticks, a spoon, and a small tool for cleaning our bowls known as a setsu. There are precise ways of unwrapping and using these materials, and precise ways of preparing, serving, receiving, and eating food. But at the heart of the practice is the importance of maintaining our mindful composure, free from greed or waste. We literally take “just enough” food to satisfy our hunger and sustain our lives, and take time to appreciate the food itself, along with the efforts that have gone into its preparation for us.

So why would I mention this in a blog about camping? Both activities center around appreciation of the natural world, appreciation of our individual lives, awareness of the environment, and our corresponding effort to live simply, with a minimum of waste and excess. In fact, camping, meditation, and oryoki practice go so well together that I have co-led multiple-day retreats outdoors, where participants have the opportunity to experience our interdependence with each other and the environment firsthand.

Let me share some additional details about oryoki practice. Each retreat participant has their own oryoki set, consisting of bowls, cloths, and utensils as described above, and they use this set for all meals during the retreat, which are eaten at their place in the meditation hall. And oryoki is actually the most efficient and economical way to serve a large group of people, as each person is completely responsible for the care and cleaning of their bowls. At the end of each meal, servers come around with hot water, with which we wash each of our bowls in a ritualized manner, then dump the water that is left over after cleaning in buckets that are also circulated by the servers. Your oryoki set is handled only by you and is therefore clean enough for your personal use at the next meal, even without using soap. So you can see how this might be a perfect complement to camping or backpacking.

Additionally, food at the retreat is prepared in a central kitchen and brought to the meditation hall in large pots. Servers pass through the hall with the pots, serving each participant in one of their three bowls. Aside from some chanting at the beginning of the meal, this activity takes place in silence, as servers and receivers use hand gestures to signify how much food they want, and when they have received enough. And the process is quite efficient: an entire meal can be completed in about 45 minutes, even in a larger retreat of 80-100 people. But efficiency aside, oryoki offers both eaters and servers opportunities to show care and respect for each other as we reflect together on our mutual interdependence. Of course, we are dependent upon one another all the time, but meals bring a particular reminder, as we recognize viscerally that without people to prepare and serve our food, we would go hungry. And at most retreats nearly everyone takes a turn serving, so we all get a chance to stand (or sit) in each other’s place.

As Rob and I prepare for our upcoming journey in the Airstream, we both think all the time about what we will need to bring with us in order to be comfortable on the road. But we actually spend just as much time and effort thinking about what we can pare down. Like backpackers, we carefully consider whether we can use one item for multiple purposes (such as clothing, cleaning products, or even pots and utensils), and whether the size and weight of each item are offset by its usefulness to us. And as removed from Zen practice as this ordinary activity may seem, there is a very distinct element of practice that remains.

In ancient India, people sought to find an end to human suffering by engaging in ascetic practices: “mortification of the flesh” was thought to end suffering by curtailing our desires. Following his awakening, Buddha taught that there is a “middle way” between indulgence and asceticism. The implication of this for our lives today is that we can reflect on our behavior and whether we are driven by “greed, hate, and delusion:” the grasping or pushing away of people and things that only leads to more suffering. Finding that middle way is reflected in our “just enough” practice of mindfully eating meals at retreats, and by noticing what is “just enough” within our ordinary daily lives in the world. Practicing some degree of restraint with our activities helps our minds calm down and allows us to see what we truly need and to appreciate what we already have. But there is no need for extreme deprivation, as this is no more helpful than complete indulgence in ending suffering.

So how is this for you? How do you find “just enough” in your life? You probably already know that there is no formula. For instance, maybe on some days you can easily jump out of bed when the alarm rings, and other days you intuitively feel you need more sleep. Life is like that. Practicing dynamically with “just enough” can teach you a lot about yourself and others. For me, this is part of the enjoyment of camping. And the implications are vast: if everyone were able to recognize what is just enough for them, we would all be less easily manipulated. Advertising would hold much less sway over our lives. We might actually start to feel good about ourselves without having to wear the latest fashion or drive the shiniest car. We might discover that we have time, money, or energy left over that we can share with others. And humans might become less of a destructive force on the environment. What could be more radical than that?