A number of years ago I read Into Thin Air: A Personal Account of the Mt. Everest Disaster by Jon Krakauer. It was a fascinating read, describing all the details of climbing Mt. Everest. It was so descriptive, in fact, that I felt out of breath the entire time I was reading it. I still think about it almost compulsively–the life-threatening, not to mention, incredibly uncomfortable experience that is commonly referred to as “conquering Everest.” Krakauer provided me with a sufficient Everest experience. I’m happy both to have read it and also to never go there myself.
Eat Sleep Sit had much the same effect on me. The Japanese title is “Eat Sleep Sit: The Story of Training at Eiheiji.” Presumably, the Japanese reader knows the implications of Eiheiji as a temple where Buddhist monks are trained. I appreciate how the Kodansha International editor made it clear in the title that (1) it wouldn’t be an idyllic year of sitting on wooden verandahs gazing out at moss gardens, and (2) it only lasted a year. The latter comes as a relief early on, although by that time the inclusion of “Sleep” in the title begins to raise questions.
Author Kaoru Nonomura decides to quit his job, leave his girlfriend, and set off for a year of training at Eiheiji. When he arrives, he stands at the door to the temple, in the snow, and ends up having to shout himself hoarse before he is allowed in–and the experience (from this reader’s eyes) goes downhill from there as the trainee leaves every last ounce of freewill outside the temple. Every single act of a trainee, each individual motion of that act, is set down by Dogen, the thirteenth-century founder of Eiheiji. As an example, the section “Lavatory” is nine pages long. And this is where the “Into Thin Air” effect begins to take hold. The rules are so complete and invasive that, on the one hand one wants to scream “waaaay too much information,” but on the other it is fascinating and one wants to read every word of it. The monks learn how to live as Zen automatons, although the author concedes that that may be what Zen is all about–emptying the mind by not having to make a single decision, no matter how minor.
I give veteran translator Juliet Winters Carpenter a great deal of credit for making a large amount of ancient instruction accessible in English to the modern non-Japanese reader. In fact, I looked through the Japanese version at one point and was overwhelmed with the passages written by Dogen so many centuries ago and even the modern re-rendering of them as the author puts them into practice. I understand that Buddhist scholars were consulted in the translation work, and the results are clearly evidenced by how easy it is to read.
As with Into Thin Air and Mt. Everest, however, Eat Sleep Fit completely cured me of any desire to actually experience spending even a night at Eiheiji. The life of the new monks is a living hell. They get perhaps two or three hours of sleep a night, come close to malnutrition, and are bullied and abused by their senior monks (most who have arrived only a few months ahead of them) in ways that would be considered criminal in any other setting. Looking at the book from this point of view, the clarity of the prose leaves nothing to the imagination, and the reader begins to feel groggy from pain and exhaustion. Here I give Nonomura credit for being able to remember in such detail the sort of trauma that usually wipes clean the memories of its victims.
The final word? I couldn’t put it down! Eat Sleep Sit, for a disconcerting but fascinating read!
