The Zennist

Made of true reality

In the Sixth Patriarch Hui-neng’s Platform Sutra (hereafter, PS) he explains to us that the very substance of our ordinary thoughts is True Reality.  This means that our thoughts are not just made of nothing.  Towards the end of section 17 in the PS Hui-neng sermonizes that, “True Reallity is the substance of thoughts; thoughts are the function of True Reality.”  

His words, I must say, are quite eloquent and to the point.  What his words further suggest is that in ordinary sensory consciousness we only perceive our thoughts—never the universal substance from which they are made.  Making matters even worse is the strong habit of trying to conceive of this substance.  But what is formed is not True Reality—it is illusory and false.  

What this means for the Zennist who has yet to directly see pure Mind, or if you like, True Reality, is that their main goal should be to avoid creating picture thoughts of such a Mind or Reality.  To be sure, such a pure Mind cannot be conceived or mentally envisioned.  However, this is not to suggest that we should do nothing or just sit in a state of imperturbability or blankness.  To do so is to abide in illusion perhaps not even realizing it.  

Commenting from section 14 of the PS, perhaps the best advice in order to behold pure Mind comes from the side of the straightforward Mind (riju-citta) which is also the samadhi of oneness.  

Laying this out, in order to see the substance of our thoughts we first have to begin to do so with a mind that actively penetrates through its mental images as if they were insubstantial and gossamer.  This is really pure action without attachment—the work of transcendence.  It is analogous to looking at a beautiful reflection on a still pond being able to see first the water then the reflection. 

By forwarding (riju) our mind in this manner we are setting up the necessary condition of our awakening, that is, of eventually perceiving pure Mind (cittamatra) which is the state of Bodhicitta.  From Bodhicitta (also, bodhicittotpada) commences the Bodhisatttvic path since this awakening is only initial and not yet complete.  When it begins to become complete these words express that state:  “What is there to cultivate in the bright, bright primordial light that is self-knowing, does not split, does not move, is undefiled, and does not abide?” (Bsam gtan mig sgron [Zen of the Enlightened Eye]) 

Inconceivable zazen

Just to sit on a zafu is not zazen.  Wrongly, one is externally imitating what they believe to be the important part of zazen.  True zazen begins without form.  It is apart from physical positions, in other words.  In authentic zazen, our attention is first directed to what is physically and mentally transcendent which is wholly inconceivable; which is to say, there is no mental image that we can make that is an adequate representation.

When I do zazen, I am aware of something real like clear light that is transcendent to the senses.  When I yoke with it, my physical body is energized by it almost instantly.  As a result, the physical body is made surprisingly calm.  What this means, to be more precise, is that as I repeat zazen, I build up the power of the transcendent which, over time, is eventually able to overcome the physical body—even much of its pain.  

Whereas years before there was only my sense of the physical now, after many years of practice, there is the commanding sense of being energized by radiant, clear light that penetrates through phenomena.  This is the radiant Mind of which the Buddha speaks that is returning to itself.  But this is also absolute verity and proof of attainment.  In the words of Freidrich Schegel, “The spirit comes equipped with an eternal proof of its own exitence.”

For someone sitting in what I can only call “ordinary zazen” they are observers of the physical together with mental sensations.  Yet, to be frank, they have no cognizance of the radiant Mind which is like clear light from which physical and mental phenomena are composed and energized.  Keeping in mind that it is impossible to see the wind—yet knowing it moves the leaves—to yoke with such Mind is almost a Herculean task.  Still, it can be done.  And when it is done, this is what zazen is really concerned with, viz., that we should meditate upon the transcendent again and again reversing the former habit of bodily attachment.

Twenty years as a beggar

Legend has it that the Japanese monk, by the name of Myocho Shuho ( 1282-1337), or better known by his honorific name, Daito Kokushi, after he had an initial glimpse into the mystical nature of Mind (not the ordinary 'mind') was told by his teacher that he needed to deepen his awakening who then spent some twenty years as a beggar.  

Worth pausing here, we should never forget that there is a difference between bodhicittotpada which is the direct, initial glimpse into Mind whereby one becomes an authentic Bodhisattva and complete enlightenment or samyaksambodhi.  The latter comes after the Bodhisattva has made his long Odyssean-like way to the Bodhimanda, or “bodi-essence” which is connected with the Bodhi-tree.

“The Bodhisattva, appearing like the great Brahma, advances to Bodhimanda to assume the perfect and completes Enlightenment of a Buddha, to overcome the army of Mara” (Lalitavistra Sutra).

In Daito’s case, after his initial glimpse of Mind, it seems that he took his teacher’s advice seriously and was bent on developing his Buddha-nature, that is, to become a Buddha or at least, an advanced Bodhisattva.  We learn the details of this from Kenneth Kraft’s book, Eloquent Zen.

"Myocho went to the capital, Kyoto, and joined the crowd of beggars living along the banks of the Kamo River, near the Gojo Bridge. Barefoot and unshaven, wearing only a tattered robe and a cloak of rough straw, he endured the cold and hunger of twenty winters as his insight deepened. Rumors about an uncommon mendicant began to circulate, even within the walls of the imperial compound. One day the Emperor himself went down to the riverbank to investigate. When he challenged the assembled beggars with a paradoxical command, one of them boldly rephrased the paradox and tossed it back to the Emperor. Myocho’s identity was thereby revealed. The Emperor became the monk's patron and personal disciple, and together they proceeded to build a great Zen temple."

In the same book, with more of a spiritual aura to it, the author citing from Issho Miura and Ruth F. Sasaki, Zen Dust, p. 233:

"Eventually, so the story has it, Emperor Hanazono heard of him, and wished to invite him to preach at his palace. Having also heard that this unusual beggar was fond of a certain melon known as makuwa-uri, the Emperor went to the Gojo Bridge in disguise carrying a large basket of the fruit. There he handed the melons to the beggars one by one, carefully scanning each face as he did so. Noticing one with unusually brilliant eyes, the Emperor said, as he offered the melon, “Take this without using your hands.” The immediate response was, “Give it to me without using your hands.”

We can surmise from the above that Daito was both maturing and exploring the relationship between Mind and its phenomena—most particularly, the carnal body (i.e., the skandhas) which is the dependent of Mara who is the adversary the Bodhisattva confronts under the Bodhi-tree.  

The process of maturation that Daito went through is in Japanese referred to as shôtaichôyô, meaning “maturing of the ancient germ of insight”.  This particular subject is implicit in the path of the Bodhisattva which commences with bodhicittotpada and is crowned later with Buddha enlightenment.  We find this idea expressed in Prajna-paramita literature and in the Lotus Sutra known as the the parable of the prodigal son—this parable being a fictitious story that illustrates the maturation of the Bodhisattva from bodhicittaotapada (i.e., the inception of knowing the Mind) to Buddhhood.  Briefly, the parable is about a lost son of a rich man who lives in abject poverty until, one day, his father searching for him, recognizes him and sets about by skillful means to inform him who he really is, viz., the true heir to his great fortune.  The skillful means the father uses is a gradual course of familiarization which starts with his son being hired to work as a menial who cleans out the heaps of feces and urine on his father’s property.  These various tasks eventually culminate, after some twenty years, with the son’s rightful inheritance who no longer fears the power and wealth of his father.

This parable should remind us that the story of the Buddha’s own enlightenment is the direct culmination of his spiritual tenure with pure Mind as a Bodhisattva.  Buddhahood, therefore, is the perfection of the vehicle of the Bodhisattva in which the Bodhisattva eventually defeats death as personified by Mara the Evil One.  Worth adding, what this Bodhisattvic tenure with Mind should at least accomplish is the recognition of Mind, itself, as the alpha and omega of Buddhism.  Daito seems to have the right bearing in this regard.  Illustrating this, again I draw from Kraft’s book these two writings from Daito:

“This mind, perfectly and fully realized, moves with a clear, tranquil spiritual awareness. It encompasses heaven, covers the earth, penetrates form, and rides upon sound. It is a boundless openness; it is a summit rising with forbidding abruptness.... It is a radiant light shining from the crown of your head, illuminating wherever you are; it is an awesome wind, rising up at each step you take, enveloping all things.... If you are able to make this mind your own, then even though you do not seek excellence yourself, excellence comes to you of its own accord. Without seeking emancipation, you are not hindered by a single thing.”

And also the following:

“Before the beginningless beginning, prior to the appearance of the first Buddha, already its bright and radiant light shone forth. It illuminates heaven and stands as a perfect mirror on earth, embracing and manifesting all things. The sun, moon, stars, and planets, lightning flashes, thunderclaps—everything without exception receives its benevolent influence.”  

If anything, I am struck by the fact that Daito is conscious of the animative power of Mind which, to use a term from the Christian Gospel of John, is the phos zoe, that is, the light of life.  To have become sufficiently cognizant of it must have been the result of a long time spent with purification:  of distinguishing Daito, the carnal being consisting of the Five Aggregates (skandhas), from the illumined, bodiless Daito of no birth and no death.

Flogging a deity

The Chinese seem to have been very pragmatic with regard to their deities (it may not be the case anymore, however).  By this I mean the Chinese would never think of propitiating a deity, a person like Jesus, or a creator god if the deity didn’t help them get what they wanted.  The door had to swing both ways as if to say, “Okay deity, if you do this for me I will sacrifice to you.”  

Going back to the Shang dynasty (1766–1122 B.C.), which is quite a long time ago, deities were understood to depend upon their devotees for their sustenance.  No devotees—no god.  On the other hand, a popular deity would naturally be one that when sacrificed to, produced tangible results.  

It is worth adding to say that a Chinese Old Testament Job-like character would have been considered quite insane in the China dominated by Confucianism, Taoism, Buddhism and popular religion.  Why would anyone in their right mind sacrifice to a god who caused them almost unbearable suffering as was the case with Job?  In fact the whole story of Job, besides being paradoxical from a Buddhist standpoint, makes any thought of worshiping a deity like Job's a likely red flag indicating the onset of madness!

The Chinese state had the last say in the worship of deities.  The state, in effect, had the power to make or break gods.  This also meant that the Chinese state exercised power over the spiritual world.  Such a world had to be approved by the state, in other words.  On the same score, an official of the state had the power to have the image of a particular deity dragged out of its temple and publicly flogged if the official believed that the deity had not performed its proper duty!

For Muslims, Christians and Jews, this may seem quite strange.  Still, we can surmise that in ancient China the God of Abraham, if he had been worshiped in China, might have been removed from office if he didn’t bring good fortune to the Chinese people and the state.  The Chinese mind might reason that if this god is not efficacious, why bother with him?

This is certainly something for Westerners to consider who have an amazing penchant to defend what the ancient Chinese would consider to be an ineffectual deity that doesn’t deserve worship.  One quick parenthetical bit of history I need to add is that the fall of Rome was blamed on the Christians which, as a consequence, forced Augustine, the Roman bishop of Hippo, to write his work The City of God as a response to these charges.  I assume that like the Chinese the ancient Romans were also pragmatic who considered Jupiter and the other gods (and goddesses) to be efficacious and deserving of worship—after all Rome was doing fine until Christianity showed up.

The influence of other minds

Can another mind (citta) influence us?  To this question, the Buddhist philosopher Dharmakirti (7th century) answered in the affirmative.  Although we cannot detect another mind influencing us as if it were an auditory command we might hear in our head, nevertheless, Dharmakirti insists that our bodily actions, our communication abilities, and our mental life can be directly influenced by some other mind.  

We cannot rule out that impulses we may feel which prompt us to act this way or that way, are another mind operating as an efficient cause.  The belief that our mind is somehow impervious to other minds is not in Dharmakirti’s understanding of 

Buddhism.  

According to Dharmakirti, this influence of another mind even extends to our dreams!  He says to the realist with whom he is debating in the Samtanantara-siddhi:  “What is wrong with saying that the bodily speech and actions of another person which we see in our dreams have the mind activity of that other person as their cause?” 

Dharmakiriti’s understanding of mind, viz., that we can be influenced by other minds is not meant to suggest that we are powerless either.  We can know that we are the substantive–cause (upadana-karana) of this or that impression.  We learn this by meditation.  As an example, we may bring up a mantra, or a Zen koan.  This, to be sure, is our doing.  We also learn that we can induce our self to be calm.  On the same track, we can have a calming effect upon others if we first focus on being, ourselves, calm.  

But as for other impressions which seem strange to us, the cause is not our mind.  We may sense that our pet cat wants his ‘crunchies’ or that we should contact our mother for some strange reason.  We may feel horribly frustrated at work only to find that when we get in our car to drive home, the frustration disappears.  We also sense pushiness or anxiousness in others.  This may not be coming from us.  It is vital to understand that if we learn about our own mind we may learn about the minds of others.  It also stands to reason that in the presence of a great mind we might sense a better understanding of Buddhism and even ourselves.  This is the effect a good Buddhist teacher can have on us.

Beings from Gamma Quadrant

To use a Star Trek term, some modern Buddhists (and I include Zennists), I dare say, seem to have lived in the Gamma Quadrant in a past life or two.  I find it difficult to read—let alone follow their ideas about Buddhism which includes a number of books about Zen.  Just when I think I have understood them—wham!—they shape-shift and I lose their whereabouts.

Books like Collins’ Selfless Persons, Peter Harvey’s The Selfless Mind, and What the Buddha Taught by Walpola Rahula readily come to mind.  Such works generally come from the Theravada camp of Buddhism in which the self or attâ is rejected; being, I would guess, right up there with the bad guy, Mara the Evil One. (Keep in mind there is no mention that Mara is a champion of the self or attâ.  However he is the champion of the illusory Five Aggregates.)

For the beginner this becomes especially confusing when they follow the teachings of Mahayana Buddhism of which Zen is a part, and one day come across the Mahaparinirvana Sutra in which the self or atman is pretty much its main theme.

Kasyapa said to the Buddha: “O World-Honoured One! Is there Self in the 25 existences or not?” The Buddha said: “O good man! “Self” means “Tathagatagarbha” [Buddha-Womb, Buddha-Embryo, Buddha-Nature]. Every being has Buddha-Nature. This is the Self. Such Self has, from the very beginning, been under cover of innumerable defilements. That is why man cannot see it.

In the same large Sutra we also learn that the Tathagata subdues “the Mara of illusion, the Mara of the Five Aggregates” so that it becomes clear, if we are wise (and I  hope we are), that the atman is not the Five Aggregates and is really our Buddha-nature.  This means, of course, that the nasty aggregates or skandhas really belong to the evil guy Mara.  In light of this, the main problem that we face is to stop identifying with what we are not in the belief that it is what we are.

None of this is particularly difficult to contemplate, I hasten to add.  We are to reject all of the Five Aggregates because they are not our true self (and they belong to the Evil One).  On the other hand, it would be wrong to reject the self (i.e., who we are as pure Mind) and by doing so, affirm the Five Aggregates as the default position.  

Moving to Zen, it becomes all too fuzzy if we read Dainin Katagiri’s Returning To Silence, or Joko Beck’s, Everyday Zen, or even Shunryu Suzuki’s Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind which, ironically, is not for beginner’s since a good Zen teacher would tell a beginner in a few minutes that the animative side of your being is what you are trying to apperceive—and it’s hard to do this because you are wallowing in the mire of the sensual Five Aggregates!  Enough said.

Still, there are a lot of good books of Zen that deal with traditional Zen or are translated Zen texts, that anyone can read such as D.T. Suzuki’s Manual of Zen Buddhism, The Zen Teaching of Huang Po, translated by John Blofeld, and The Zen Teaching of Bodhidharma, translated by Red Pine.  There is nothing fuzzy about these works if we approach them with the understanding that we are supposed to have an intuition into Mind with a capital “M” from which our everyday thoughts are composed, including our emotions and all that we call “phenomena”.  In other words, Mind is the substratum of all things (sarvadharmâ) which we have to take from our theoretic understanding to “Wow, so this is Mind—holy Buddha this is wild!”

Meanwhile, those reborn into this world from the Gamma Quadrant will continue to publish muddled works of Buddhism and Zen so as to transmit their muddled state of mind to ours.  But we need to keep in mind that there are many other good books about Buddhism and Zen in print that we can use to help us on the path.  To this I would even include Tibetan books like Luminous Mind by the late Kalu Rinpoche which contains a lot of nice thoughts on Mind.  In many respects he reminds me of the old T’ang Zen masters who had a marvelous comprehension of Mind and its seminal importance.

Read detachment

Instead of firsthand realizing that we are the pure body of ultimate reality (i.e., the dharmakaya) we attach, instead, to the finite, illusory body of samsara which can be likened to wave patterns of pure Mind.  To employ some Zen words, we can’t see our original face.  Instead, we only see the human organism; taking up its suffering unable to lay it down.

In Zen, this problem is met in advanced practice by first understanding that continual attachment to the illusory human body only further conditions us to become even more attached.  The only way to stop this vicious cycle is to see another path.  In order to do this we must learn to understand that our human body is really contingent on pure Mind so that by doing so we accept, more and more, a body of spiritual lucidity as being who we really are.  This is what detachment really means.  I hasten to mention that such a lucid body can also be thought of as a dimensionless originative body which is not at all passive.  In fact, it can be characterized as sheer, lucid actuosity.  

Where previously there was pain owing to attachment, we now understand—or can even sense to some degree—that the interpenetration of absolute Mind with itself (not Mind’s dependence on its illusory wave forms which constitute the physical samsaric world) is always a blissful and compassionate spiritual body.  

At risk of being over simplistic, pure Mind is never other than blissful whereas its countless wave forms cause it great and terrible consternation when it does not realize that they are merely its productions.  Consequently, if it cannot actualize this, it is led down a path of great error which is extremely difficult to reverse.  There is, as a matter of fact, no end to error from this life to the next.

Enhancing awakening

When Bodhidharma spoke of the two entrances, namely, ‘insight’ (C., li) and ‘practice’ (C., hsing) he was not speaking of methods to attain enlightenment but presenting instructions as a way of further enhancing Mind’s awakening.  This may help to explain why those new to Zen Buddhism have a difficult time making any headway in grasping the recondite essence of Zen because they have not accessed the way (C., ju-tao) which according to Zen master Tao-shin (580–651), who was the fourth patriarch, may take from one to five years.  Tao-shin elaborates on this with the question, “How can we awaken to the true nature of things—our minds attaining lucid purity?”

It is neither by meditating on the Buddha nor by trying to seize [pure] Mind, nor by trying to see Mind [as if it were an object], nor by analyzing Mind, nor by reflecting upon it, nor mentally discerning it, nor by scattering and confusion, but through giving yourself over to the course of heaven and earth (C., chih-ren-yün).  In other words, don’t force anything to go or stay.  By abiding in the one sole purity does the Mind become  illuminated and pure.  Accordingly, some people can see the Mind is lucid and pure like a bright mirror.  Some need a year for the Mind to become lucid and pure while others need five years.  Some can attain awakening with the help of others, or without ever being taught by others.  The Nirvana Sutra says:  “The nature of the Mind of beings is like a pearl which when in water is hidden by the water’s agitation but when the agitation ceases, the pearl is revealed.” 

The gist of Tao-shin’s words for a beginner who is earnestly trying to have an initial awakening is to approximate Mind’s solitary purity.  The old adage “like is known by like” certainly applies.  By more or less upholding the one sole purity, as if pure Mind were like a homogeneous field or an unagitated super medium, any attempt on the part of the beginner—gross or subtle—to objectify Mind immediatly causes interference so that the beginner is forced to re-calm this field.  Thus, by this practice is gradually built up the proper conditions for awakening.

Turning to the example of zazen (C., tso-ch’an), sitting as such for the beginner who wishes to awaken to Mind involves a solitary focus of the body through cross-legged sitting.  This helps put the body somewhat in accord with pure Mind.  But the beginner must go one step more.  Not only must they work with the body in zazen by sitting correctly, the body must also be put in accord with Mind through the breath (S., prana)—above all, understanding that Mind fundamentally leads and is prior to breathing and the breathing is prior to the gross physical body.  With this kind of zazen, over time the beginner may begin to grasp that Mind has an inner constancy but is nothing ascertainable by the senses except the body is effected by Mind.  In the words of Zen master Tao-shin it is a “mysterious spiritual power that is never exhausted but always shines clearly this being our Buddha-nature.”

Harking back to Bodhidharma’s ‘insight and ‘practice’, after awakening to Mind, both insight and practice help to remove the old habit of regarding the body as one’s lord including its carnal demands!  Over time, by insight and practice, the light of Mind grows significantly in power.  In the Dasabhumika, it is said that the Bodhisattva’s charge gets larger by orders of magnitude as he advances from stage (bhumi) to stage.  First he has 1000 samadhis, then a 100,000, then a 1,000,000 samadhis, etc.

Making its way in the west

Make no mistake about it, in order to be successful any modern Zen center has to have a business oriented mind.  They have a brand to market; and they have to appeal especially to those who have money to spend with an interest in Buddhism.  They don’t have the luxury of a Japanese temple which can rake in tens of thousands of dollars on parking lot fees alone.  In other words, a Zen center is only as strong as its ability to market itself and keep itself out of the red.

Going a long ways back into the history of Zen, its popularity grew not by chance.  It grew by developing an enticing history, creating a lineage, and by making Buddhas for all to see in the form of “Zen masters”.  It needs to be mentioned that the packaging of Zen history, which took place during the Sung/Song dynasty (960–1279 C.E.), is certainly a work of amazing genius which can only be compared with the literary output and creativity of the early Christian Gnostics. 

To be sure, early in its history Zen knew how to capture the religious imagination of China and the respect of the many.  Yet, behind this attractive facade there was the realpolitik at work, that is, the practical politics of competing with one’s rivals for pride of place and regal support.  This is exemplified in the 11th century Chinese Zen master Ch’i-sung (1007–1072) who attempted to harmonize Taoism and Confucianism with Buddhism in order to satisfy the emperor’s demand for syncretism.  Other eminent Zen masters, too, were of the same mind as Ch’i-sung.

Without the power of the state behind the Zen institution, not to mention its money, Zen in China would have become a dead dog, and this is the same with Zen in Japan where Zen had to compete with Tendai sect of Buddhism which was quite powerful.

With Zen trying to make its way in the Western world without the support of the state, the going has not been that easy.  People today expect different things from religion than they did a thousand years ago.  The separation of church and state also forces religion to become like a business following the dollar.  But for the buyer, the product is not often that satisfying.  Nor, I hasten to add, is the buyer often capable of grasping the most elementary ideas and practices of Zen so that it becomes meaningful in the long run for them.  The truth is more likely that people have grown to distrust the claims of religion, relying more and more on the values of hedonism, that is, believing that seeking pleasure is the best antidote for suffering.   

Still, there is room for some optimism even in this modern world.  It is only a matter of time until people begin to realize that they cannot live on the bread of hedonism alone or, for that matter, scientific hedonism, and not eventually become psychologically morbid.  On this note, Zen can be truly inspiring, calling upon us to look within as if one day to experience illumination that confirms our undying, eternal nature which, incidentally, we also discover has been there all along—but we have been blind as to its whereabouts.  

Middle way

The medium of true reality does not exclude the illusory or the same, the empty thing.  Nor, in anyway, does it exclude the endless procession of provisional empty things that constitute samsara.  The medium which permits this play from within itself is the more accurate notion of the Middle Way.  

The world as we know it wouldn't be present to us as beings if the medium of ultimate reality were one thing and the empty and provisional world were another.  Where the difficulty lies for us with regard to the necessity of the medium and its phenomena, which are empty and hollow, is with our lack of wisdom or prajñâ.  

To oversimplify this somewhat for the sake of explanation, we lack any distinguishing recognition of the absolute as it falls naturally within us and the temporality that pours out from it.  We are hamstrung, in other words, by a kind of bad middle way by which we come to be confused and over-identified with the world of appearance even believing that it is possible to find true reality therein.  Making matters even worse, most people don’t care to know the Middle Way.  Both modern religion and science have almost convinced us that we are nothing except marionettes of some all powerful god or blind nature. 

Yet, despite this somewhat gloomy outlook the immediacy of this medium is really our self and we are no less than it.  As we might recall, this is also the potentiality of Buddha-nature which requires a great deal of work to actualize so that we have the wisdom necessary to distinguish the absolute from the temporal.