The Zennist

The awakener

Some Buddhists believe that an Arhat (P., arahant), who is one who has attained the goal of awakening (sambodhi) is also a Buddha. But this is not true for Mahayana Buddhism.

It is true that an Arhat is someone who has awakened (sambodhi) but an Arhat cannot awaken others. He or she simply lacks the spiritual power of compassion. This power or light animates those who come before a Buddha who, subsequently, gives them right view (samyag-dristi) which is a kind of empowerment.

Let’s think of the Buddha as the Awakener. Not only is he awakened but he is also the Awakener who is able to induce right view into someone thus to energize them so that they can sense, for the first time, their undying life force. By increasing their connection with this force they eventually attain complete nirvana by which their consciousness becomes liberated from its exclusive focus on the body. In this regard, the Buddha is sometimes referred to as the light-maker (S.i.193).

The fall

According to the Buddha, during the process of incorporealization our consciousness (vijnana) is perceptually oriented to carnal appearance (namarupa). Oriented this way, as our consciousness appropriates more of the flesh, we become increasingly more conscious of our carnal body which makes it more difficult to reverse (paravritti) this situation by meditation.

By the same token, when consciousness is no longer established in the corporeal, this is nirvana, i.e., liberation, which is an unbound state of consciousness. This liberation, moreover, is neither death nor annihilation. Our consciousness, which previously fell into samsaric life during biological conception is, intrinsically, the same consciousness that is now unbound (nirvana).

What brought us to this fall, viz., that we should be increasingly conscious of our body’s limitation which has for its end death? According to Buddhism, it is the excitation of desire, or the same, thirst that is responsible. In this sense, desire is a lack that moves us away from ourself to the other, ‘other’ in the sense of what we are not and never can be.

By comparison complete nirvana (parinirvana) is in the very self (pratyatman) in which stability of self, emancipation of self (vimukta-atman), and fulfillment of self is perfectly realized (S.iii.53–54). Accordingly, there is no tendency to be born (jati) into what one is not since there is no more lack or thirst. We are now always conscious of the unmanifest, the infinite, and the luminous (D.i.223).

Bored with silence?

Someone said recently that they were bored with silence. I thought to myself, this is interesting but are they sure it is silence? Maybe they are just bored with being alone without someone around with whom they can talk. Often, people who are depressed feel this way. I must say that silence is hardly boring.

Real silence can be experienced by meditating in a place far away from the ordinary world. Perhaps it is experienced in the desert around Sedona or by sitting in an abandoned copper mine. By no stretch of the imagination is such silence boring. For a beginner it can be quite an experience.

Being in the embrace of natural silence, far away from all kinds of worldly distractions such as radios, television, cellphones, and other such items, is where looking within begins.

The surrounding silence of nature induces a stillness in our body. The normal amount of agitation we are used to having is very quickly reduced. The stillness that we subsequently experience is the result of being in phase with natural silence. Such stillness can become quite profound at times.

Such stillness is also a kind of profound focus. The senses become much sharper. As a result, it is much easier to examine our interior being. Our mind, in this state, can attend to the examination of thoughts and feelings as they arise so as to be able to pass through them thus steadily energizing and engaging with the source of their arising. This is critical even if we don’t understand what is going on.

Immersed in such stillness, the ability to pass through our thoughts (being less moved by them) and keeping our concentration steady like an unmoving flame as we move through them will, eventually, over time yield valuable results.

Our attending mind will gradually lose its agitation, approaching the direction of pure Mind which is luminescent. As a result, it becomes easier to grasp the Buddha’s teaching although there is still a long way to go before we make direct contact with the pure Mind.

To live falsely

In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.

— T.S. Eliot, East Coker

In Buddhism wisdom or prajna is supposed to discern the true from the false. Wisdom is thus independent—not dependent on other. This is why it can discern the true from the false. Wisdom comes from deep within wherein lies our primordial unchanging nature. Yet, most people new to religion lack any measure of wisdom. They embrace the false while rejecting the true only because they live falsely.

All the days of their lives, these unwise people have never once looked within because what is within seems frightening. To look within would be giving up the false.

Such people know nothing of their own spiritual being; and this nothing that they know is the nothing to which they hold fast refusing to let go. So when life’s problems begin to affect them, the first place they turn to is a path which will take them nowhere—the nowhere which is never within. And the teacher they chose to guide them will be a teacher who will lead them to a place without wisdom. And arriving there they will realize they know nothing.

Resurrection

Watching the visit of the Pope Benedict XVI to the United States reminds me of the acute difference between Buddhism and Christianity. Buddhism understands that suffering has its direct cause in our strong desire for the corporeal (skandha) which is transitory. Christianity, by comparison, completely believes in the resurrection of the corporeal; that somehow this will suffice to end suffering once and for all.

Nevertheless, on the issue of the corporeal, the Buddha wins the argument hands down because, empirically, there is nothing of the corporeal that is not impermanent, suffering (more at disturbance), and not the self (an-atman: an = not; atma = the self). Indeed, from the perspective of the Buddha, one is on a fool’s errand who expects the corporeal to arise after its death.

If Buddhism has its own resurrection, which in Greek is anastasis, in the sense of waking up and standing having been previously asleep and supine, it has to do with the freeing of mind (citta) from its previous connection with the corporeal, as it were, the waking up of our true nature which is undying.

To continue with the comparative difference between Buddhism and Christianity, a Buddhist understanding of the idea of the resurrection of the dead can also refer to the spirit (sattva) entombed in the corporeal which exists as if it were dead—although it is not actually dead. Accordingly, what Buddhism resurrects or awakens (bodhi) is the undying, animative spirit which gives the body its life. It is the spirit that ordinary people have made dead because of their desire for the corporeal; that only the corporeal is alive! However, with Buddhist resurrection, the adept truly beholds what is eternally alive within them that was previously dead.

What I have just briefly discussed as the difference between Buddhism and Christianity, no doubt, might seem to be a little shocking. But a closer examination of both religions finds that Buddhism and Gnostic Christianity were pretty much on the same page while Nicene Christianity embraced a dogma fundamentally at odds with even the words of the Apostle Paul who beheld Christ on the way to Damascus who was hardly corporeal.

Buddhists might naturally understand Paul’s Christ, which he described as “a light brighter than the sun”, to be Pramudita (the first stage of a Bodhisattva) in which Paul became a Bodhisattva and the “Buddha’s son of the breast” (Paul also says that Christ revealed the “Son in me”).

In Pramudita, for the first time, the medium of mind is known and made manifest (bodhicittotpada) which is very much a kinetic and dynamic experience unlike any other. In Christian parlance, it is the glory (utpada) of the awakened spirit (bodhicitta).

Indeed, of all the stages of a Bodhisattva (some ten), Pramudita is perhaps the most earth shaking because one goes quite beyond the plane of ordinary people for the first time who joins the Tathagata’s family. It is not surprising for a Buddhist, therefore, to take Paul’s account of the brightness of this light that shone all around him as a Buddhist experience, as if Buddha Dipamkara (the light maker) had just anointed Paul opening up the path for him to eventually attain Buddhahood.

While Buddhism sees the end of suffering to depend on our direct comprehension of the incorporeal which thus restores our communion with the undying spirit that animates us, Paul’s experience on the road to Damascus remains a storm-center for Christians who dare not regard Paul’s light as a mystical experience on a par with Buddhism’s Pramudita. Christians are to believe, instead, that Jesus survived both his crucifixion and some thirty hours in a tomb; moreover that he had to remain a fugitive and a vagabond. But such an image of Jesus sneaking around Damascus, watching his followers from a safe distance, has to be regarded as almost puerile.

For any religion, deliverance from suffering cannot be found through a transformation of the corporeal. As long as we pursue this reckless belief we remain corporeal dependents, going from one birth to the next with death waiting for us. Neither the Buddha nor Christ will save mankind if they adhere to the corporeal, expecting it to be somehow ‘resurrected’.

Authentic hishiryo

The notion of hishiryo as discussed in the school of Japanese Soto Zen should not be understood to mean "not to think" when taking up the practice of zazen (lit., sitting Zen). Under this view it would then be paradoxical. One would be thinking about not thinking so as to think non-thinkingly!

Hishiryo (S., ashraya-paravritti) really means to transcend thought so as to be in the absolute—being thus thoroughly anterior to the carnal mind and body. For us, this is the animative source of figurative thought and body.

If zazen practitioners are engaged in thinking (J., shiryo) and/or not thinking (J., fushiryo) they haven't got a good grasp of what Zen and sitting means, i.e., zazen. The Chinese character for sitting, according to Wilder & Ingram's book, Analysis of Chinese Characters, is "Two men [the character] sitting on the earth [character] t'u, face to face to talk." This character can also mean contemplation (zen) into one's ultimate nature or the same, the sitter looking (zen) at Rinzai's "true man of no title" which is a metaphor for the animative pure Mind.

In the context of hishiryo the highest zazen is the return (paravritti) to the foundation (ashraya) or pure Mind. It should be mentioned that Bodhisattvahood commences with a brief return to pure Mind and culminates with a final return to ashraya which is inconceivable, abundant, in the sense of good, eternal (dhruva) and blissful ((sukha).

However, for the beginner engaged in the practice of zazen there is no cognition of hishiryo. To be sure, beginners vacillate between unbridled day dreaming and its suppression (fushiryo). Thus, beginner’s zazen only serves as an introduction to the mental state conditioned by samsaric life. Indeed, the beginner under the weight of bad habits and beliefs has for their immediate foundation (ashraya) the transitory, the disturbed (duhkha) and what is not the true self (anatman).

Any breakthrough in zazen comes, not by being in the dilemma of figurative thinking and its suppression, but by the seeing of one’s original face, to use Hui-neng’s marvelous expression. This is the medium from which our figurative thoughts are made, so that even the suppression of such thought becomes unnecessary. This is authentic hishiryo not the kind in which a Zen master instructs the student thusly, “When you are sitting in zazen, don’t think. Don’t use your frontal lobe.”

The following is an excerpt from The Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies, 7 No. 2, 127–128

The tile of the article is: Buddhism and Belief in Atma by Y. Krishan

The Mahavagga (I. 2. 3) of the Vinayapitaka says that the supreme happiness is attainable by eliminating or driving out (vinayo) the concept or notion (mâna) “I am” (asmi): the ego, or ahamkâra. The Alagaddûpamasutta of the Majjhimanikâya (I. 22) (P.T. Society text, p. 139) says that a bhiksu is emancipated when he abandons (pahîno) the concept of ego (asmi mâno). The context leaves no room for doubt that in this sutta (text, p. 135) the Buddha is speaking of the individual self when he describes the six wrong views (ditthitthânâni) concerning rûpa, vedanâ, etc., thus: etam mama, eso’ham asmi, eso me attâ (“this is mine,” “I am this,” “this is my self.”) Thus the emphasis is on the ego or the individual self as distinct from the impersonal, universal self. This is further clear from the same sutta (text, p. 138): Attani vâ bhikkhave sati/attaniyam-m ti assâsati: “If there is recollection of a self, this is: ‘the self is myself.’” Notice that the emphasis is on the self of mine and not the self which could mean both the great, impersonal, universal self, the paramâtman, and the individual self, âtman or âtma. The Chachakkasutta of the Majjhimanikâya (III. 148) (text, p. 284) make it clear that the rise or origination of the individual self (sakkâyasamudaya) leads to consciousness of individuality: etam mam, eso ‘ham asmi, eso me attâ. It is reiterated in the same sutta that the absence of the sense of selfhood n’etam man, etc., suppresses the individual self (svskâyanirodhagâmini). The Dhammapada draws a distinction between the great self and a self. Dhammapada 160 and 380 says that the self is the lord of the self (attâ hiattâno nâtho) and the self is the bourn of the self (âtta hi attâno gati). Dhammanada[sic] 379 avers that the self stimulates and controls the self (attanâ codayattânam patimâse attamattanâ). What does not exist eternally is an individual self. As the Samyttanikâya (III. 130) says, “There is nowhere to be found in the Khandas, ‘I am.’”

No doubt this is heady stuff for the beginner or those who are curious about Buddhism. This excerpt challenges the general assumption in some Buddhist circles that the Buddha categorically denied the self when in fact he only denied the individual self as constituted by the Five Aggregates; each aggregate being an attribute of shunyata/emptiness which is like aether and is equated with Suchness (tathata).

It is noteworthy to read that the higher self is described in the Dhammapada (379) as that which stimulates (codaya) and controls (patimaseti). This means that the higher self is not a body; nor is it something abstract and passive. It might be regarded as sheer actuality that actualizes; that forever remains itself; never being 'other'.

To make good sheep

The depth of religious thought of an average American is probably on a par with the intellectual depth of a fifth grader. I gathered this conclusion from Susan Jacoby, the author of The Age of American Unreason, who said that our country is barely smarter than a fifth grader.

So where does this put Buddhists? I would hope on a much higher level. At a level approaching Piaget’s last stage of childhood development which is the formal operational period. Here the adolescent can engage in abstract thinking such as hypothetical thinking and operational logic. Regrettably, however, a fifth grader is in limbo between concrete operations and formal operations. Accordingly, it is probably difficult for the average fifth grader and, naturally, the average American, to consider multiple perspectives. At this level the thinking is still egocentric.

A quick perusal of America’s fifth grade religious values finds them to be rule oriented and, especially, concrete which goes along with an undeveloped mind. Jesus, for example, is believed to resurrect in the flesh despite the fact the Paul, as he drew near Damascus, beheld a great light that appeared brighter than the sun (Acts 26: 12–18) that claimed to be Jesus. This light was not a flesh and blood person. But this fact is ignored by Christians who can’t see the contradiction. And so it goes throughout the history of Christianity that is often more fitting for children than adults with their penchant for the concrete. This observation, in general, applies to Judaism and Islam as well.

This is not to say that Buddhism’s followers are vastly superior; but, by and large, they have more respect for what is beyond the concrete which can only be accessed by way of specialized meditations. The Buddha, himself, exhorted his followers to look within—not seek externally attempting to make heaven on earth.

However, Buddhism proves to be a tough sell in America only because Americans are, essentially, spiritual fifth graders. They generally want to use Buddhism for what ails them rather than as a means to advance beyond the human continuum to Buddhahood. In other words, they want Buddhism and its teachers to help them with their own particular path. Perish the thought that if they expect to attain nirvana they must follow the Buddha’s path. Unfortunately, such an immature attitude is bad for Buddhism. It needs emphasizing that Buddhism can’t be dumbed down and still be Buddhism or if it is, it is ‘junk Buddhism’ on the same shelf as junk entertainment and junk food.

The trend line of the American intellect is going downhill as with its religious intelligence. More and more, the bulk of the American religious population is hooked on concrete thinking. They are waiting for the “rapture” or some other kind of great religious event to save them. But none shall ever come. But that fact doesn’t mean an end to religious factories that manufacture illusions and dreams for those with childish minds. There is money and political power to be had by keeping people childish and immature—and intellectually weak. It all goes to make good sheep who are easily led to the slaughter house in terms of samsara.

Ego and the true self

The Buddha said the true self is always illuminating as the Buddha. — Joshu Sasaki Roshi, Zen Notes

For the Buddha, our modern idea of ego is not the same as true self or atman (P., atta). Instead, ego consists in our continuous attachment to the corporeal body as “this is mine, “I am this,” and “this is my self”. Our union with the physical body, as simple consciousness and spirit (sattva), generates the “I form” or the same, the ego. This is also the central problem with attachment, namely, that we glom onto something which is not really the self in the example of our corporeal body. Such attachment is tricky and can delude us.

But there is another, more tricky form of attachment. We can wrongly reject the higher self (atman), or the same, the immanent self (pratyatman), which is intrinsically disembodied. We would do this from the measure of the corporeal body to which we are attached. We might compare this absurd position with an analogy akin to the old moron jokes. The moron attempts to look for the cobbler by the measure of a shoe and finding him not, avers that a cobbler doesn’t exist. As proof, he says that he can’t find the cobbler in the shoe laces, the sole, the heel, or in the leather.

Perish the thought that the self or atman is anterior to all kinds of determination and analysis. As it should be. For what is determinate is transitory and undergoes suffering—moreover, it is a potential cause for further attachment.

Many modern day Buddhists have failed to grasp the Buddha’s teaching about self yet they unhesitatingly declaim that the Buddha denied the self, categorically. As this stands, this is materialism, namely, that any consideration of immaterality is repugnant to Buddhism. But this is the narrow view of Buddhism (hina) addressing mainly the negation of the insubstantial (anatman).

Mahayana Buddhism is a vast improvement over this for it not only includes the narrow view but points beyond to the substance of the Buddha’s own enlightenment which is brought forth is such Sutras as the Avatamsaka, Lankavatara and the Nirvana. This is nothing negative. It is pure Mind (cittamatra) which is our actuality (atman).

the mind has the same nature as space (akasa/aether), it is the same as the heart and because space has the same nature as the mind, it is the same as bodhi. In this way, oh master of mysteries, the mind, the space and the bodhi, these three are the same. The root of these is compassion (karuna). — Mahavairocana Sutra

To say that Zen is mystical Buddhism is not to suggest that William James’ characterizations of mysticism is the final word. What William James touches on is a profile of mysticism, or what he imagines mysticism to be from a study of its literature. But his characterizations of mysticism, namely, 1)ineffability; 2) noetic quality; 3) transience; 4)passivity, are only half accurate. Neither transience nor passivity are mystical traits—at least not for Zen.

Zen's mysticism consists of the personal discovery of the animative power that gives life to one’s corporeal body. Paradoxically, it is like searching for light with a lighted candle. Of its nature or substance, this animative power is an undying, universal medium which leaves no trace of itself, except that when the Zen mystic remembers (bodhi) it, he discovers that he has always been "It", it being tathata. In his ecstasy he has gone to tathata, who is thus, a Tathagata.

Now, instead of being a passive victim of transience existence, the Zen mystic is a part of active inspiriting power, that is, compassion. Christians might call such "God's love". This inspiriting power is like the light of the sun in its openness and acceptance of all forms of being. It also points the way to ultimate salvation.

What is more important, is that this discovery is like finding another organ besides the organs we have presently. It is an objective experience, in other words. This organ permits us to be of the animative light and still utilize the body. This, by the way, explains the seemingly bizarre behavior of Zen masters when being asked questions related to enlightenment. For example.

A monk asked: “It is said that the true teaching has not form. But when there is no master and no pupil, how is it then?

Joshu said: “Who made you come and ask this question?”

The monk said: “No one in particular.”

At that response, Joshu hit the student.

Joshu, aware of the the animative light, and borrowing from Bodhidharma (“That which asks is your Mind”) was testing the spiritual depth of this student. But of course, the student responded incorrectly—showing no ability to turn the tables on Joshu and show that he, also, is aware of this light. And so the student is punished.

Zen’s mysticism is perhaps the most profound form of mysticism of all the religions in the world. It verges on a science while, at the same time, recognizing that the ordinary human mind, if given the chance, can merge with the absolute and express this gnosis/satori in everyday life and in the arts.