The Zennist

Out of body distinction

We should never lose sight of the importance of having an insight into the pure nature of Mind (citta) which is distinct from the maculate or defiled mind.  Nor should we forget that while mind is tethered to the temporal body, it is potentially free of the body which, when properly trained, after the dissolution of the body, will go to a higher plane.  

In the Mahanama Sutta (S. v. 370) of the Pali Canon we learn that Mahanama who is visiting the Buddha was distressed.  He confesses to the Buddha of his fear that when passing through the crowded streets of Kapilavatthu he might come to an untimely death.

The Buddha, of course, assures Mahanama that he need not worry about the afterlife if he should happen to die.  The Buddha uses the following illustration.

“Suppose, Mahanama, a man submerges a pot of ghee [clarified butter] or a pot of oil in a deep pool of water and breaks it.  All of its shards and fragment would sink downwards, but the ghee or oil there would rise upwards.  So too, mahanama, when a person’s mind has been fortified over a long time by faith, virtue, learning, generosity, and wisdom, right there crows...or various creatures eat his body... But his mind, which has been fortified over a long time by faith, virtue, learning, generosity, and wisdom—that goes upwards, goes to distinction” (trans., Bhikkhu Bodhi).

An important element in the above is that our mind is potentially liberated and can become fully liberated, in time, with thorough development (paribhrita) once a glimpse into Mind’s immaculate nature is gained.  Another important element is that when the body meets its death, Mind does not.  In virtue of one’s spiritual efforts, Mind separates from its former ties with the phenomenal body, going to distinction (vishesha) very much like oil which, being lighter than water, rises upwards away from the shards and fragments of the broken pot.

Mind games

When does Zen satori, or for that matter the nature of enlightenment, itself, become transformed into a mind game or the same, a language game?  I think it occurs when someone says: “Enlightenment (J., satori) is the disappearance of the distinction between enlightenment and non-enlightenment.”

If we consider the foregoing proposition as a concise definition of enlightenment we need to ask ourselves, might this proposition be misleading, as if to take us off the trail to enlightenment?  In other words, while I sense this proposition to be valid for me, maybe it’s not saying anything about actual enlightenment.  What if the proposition is simply refuting the universe of language, itself, saying nothing more or less than it’s all a bunch of words—and I don’t care? 

If we also take into consideration the vast majority of people, they could not care less about enlightenment let alone the distinction between enlightenment and non-enlightment.  So are they enlightened since they are absent such a distinction?

Overall, we may judge that a mind or language game is a verbal sleight of hand trick that actually keeps us anchored in our present reality which is entirely phenomenal and illusory.  To be honest, there is enlightenment (sambodhi).  It is fundamentally the distinction between immaculate mind and maculate mind. 

Moving us beyond

If a Buddhist teacher claimed he or she could make you feel comfortably warm in the winter with snow piled up all around it wouldn’t be a problem to see if their claim were, in fact, true.

But what if you went to such a teacher to verify their claim and they stuck a thermometer in your mouth and after a few minutes said, “According to the thermometer you’re warm.”  You would no doubt feel disappointed to say the least.  Your expectations were quite different.  You didn’t expect that you would be standing in a Buddhist temple with a thermometer in your mouth. 

So what is the real underlying lesson being taught here?  Isn’t it that a spiritual teacher should be able to move us somewhat beyond the enclosure of normal conditions?

I used the example of temperature because it fits closest with the idea of spiritual force. If we were to stand in the presence of a spiritual master we would sense an extraordinary change in our body’s homeostasis including its normal psychodynamic forces.  This change would lead to either a condition of fright or to a feeling of bliss, so much so that it would be hard to act as we normally might.  

What we would not expect is to be moved in ways we might normally expect to be moved in various circumstances.  For example, if we happen to meet our favorite movie star we would be moved—but it is not a spiritual force that moves us.  If someone where gratuitously to hand us a large sum of money we would also be moved—and this is hardly spiritual.  On the same track, if we were to meet a famous Zen master and he smiled at us, again, we would be moved but not extraordinarily.  On the other hand, if we were to meet a spiritual teacher and our body, all of a sudden, began to heat up and energy began to extend itself throughout our body, we might become frightened.  This would be an unexpected occurrence.  If we were to follow this teacher, we would also begin to experience, under this teacher’s guidance, higher forms of meditation and thus begin to unlock the mystery of the Buddha’s real teaching.  We would not experience this with most other teachers.

The three rules

If Westernized Zen has taught average seekers anything it teaches them the following three simple rules:

1.  All certified Zen masters are infallible.  They are the Buddha’s representatives on earth.  Therefore, everything they do and say is correct even if it seems absurd or simplistic.

2.  Question everything about Zen and Buddhism—even karma (you may not believe in it and that’s okay).  Just don’t believe everything that you read about Buddhism.  Most of the stuff is poorly translated or written by uncertified, unenlightened people. 

3.  If one day you find yourself becoming unsure of what Buddhism is really trying to say or worse yet, become totally confused and depressed, refer back to rule number one.  

While the above is by me intended to be in the vein of sarcastic humor I meant it to emphasize a persistent problem in Western Zen which is its over reliance on authority.  Needless to say, this kind of over reliance can easily lead to the danger of dogmatism which, broadly speaking, says don’t inquire and explore, don’t reason, just do as you are told.  But in Buddhism it is bad practice to carry on this way.  

Every authentic Buddhist beginner has to start with a huge open mind.  This means being prepared to endure a lot of trial and error in addition to engaging in self-critical thinking.  Having a huge open mind also means that a Buddhist teacher is not the Buddha just because he imagines that he is.  Just remember the words of Zen master Ch'ih-chueh.

"The fact that this path has not been flourishing in recent times is because teachers and disciples give each other approval and recognition, ignoring cause and effect, duping the people, claiming themselves able to uphold this school. It is like sculpting a sandalwood icon out of dung—no matter how long a time passes, it simply stinks. You should get away from such people as soon as possible. Apply your own concentrated attention, apply your own eyes and brains, develop yourself, stand on your own.  One day your own eyes will clear and will radiate light shining through the whole world. Only then will you live up to the aim of your journey."

The path of Buddhism does not actually begin until we see the nature of Mind, firsthand, which can only be accomplished by one’s own efforts.  Mind then becomes our true teacher insofar as it is self-authenticating, requiring no further evidence or justification.  Now we can fulfill the vows of the Bodhisattva truly working our way to Buddhahood; saving all beings.

Spiritual atrophia

The underlying principle of Buddhism is still a mystery for many—including scholars.  By and large, even Buddhists suffer from a kind of spiritual atrophy which makes it hard to grasp this underlying principle even intellectually.  Offhand, such spiritual atrophy is probably the result of Western materialistic enculturation in which all we know about life is phenomena.  We are taught that reality, so to speak, is what we can put both hands on.  But this is a very limited, samsaric view.

According to the Buddha, we have the capacity to realize our Buddha-nature, fully, even though it remains dormant and repressed.  However, at a particular juncture in our lives we may come to face the decision to either forego our love affair with materialism or become, for all intents and purposes, the walking dead.  When deciding, it is important to point out, that we are making a choice to see Buddhism on its own terms rather than view it as some kind of religious smorgasbord where we can chose what seems to satisfy our idiosyncratic needs and forget the rest.

Speaking for myself, it took almost a decade for me to witness, for the first time, the living, underlying principle of Buddhism—seeing it on its own terms.  And that was only after I had decided to give up materialism long before that.  Nor was this the end of what Buddhism had to show me.  It was only the beginning.  

Gradually, as the fog began to lift from my brain it became evident to me what the great Zen masters were actually trying to teach and why they acted the way koans often portray them.  It also became clear what  the driving principle of ancient Tibetan Buddhism was which, like Zen, developed a comprehensive path that was designed to help us awaken to the true nature of Mind, thus realizing our Buddha-nature. 

Now, as I reflect on this I see, paradoxically, that Buddhism is both simple and confusing in which our mental condition of spiritual atrophy blocks out the simple so that we are often confused.  This becomes apparent when we read the words of Padmasambhava.  We are unable to resonate with them—let alone realize this vital and precious Mind which I hasten to add is not awareness.

“It is the single (nature of) mind which encompasses all of Samsara 
and Nirvana.
Even though its inherent nature has existed from the very beginning, 
you have not recognized it.
Even though its clarity and presence has been uninterrupted, you
have not yet encountered its face.
Even though its arising has nowhere been obstructed, still you
have not comprehended it” (trans. John Myrdhin Reynolds).

In my own idiosyncratic way

To approach Buddhism in our own idiosyncratic way is generally what beginner’s Buddhism is about.  After this fails—and it may take some time—some of us then decide to find a suitable teacher who might be able to turn us into a Buddha in a fortnight or two.  Over time, this fails, too.  

What we eventually discover is that we’ve made no real progress at all except to learn a bunch of almost useless facts and rituals.  We also discover that we’ve only managed to preserve our ignorance if not many of our cultural prejudices, etc.

What we lack is a sufficient crisis that will put us between a rock and a hard place sufficient to make us give up trying to preserve our ignorance and the rest of the garbage we drag along behind us we call ‘experience’.  

It is only in such a crisis, if we handle it correctly, that we can take a peek over the prison wall of samsara and see the straight road to nirvana—then make a prison break.  Those who can get this far, ain’t beginners anymore.  They are Bodhisattvas or at least close to being Bodhisattvas. 

The egotist worldling

Our modern notion of egotism doesn’t present itself in the original teachings of the Buddha.  The term, egotism is something that has been added to Buddhism, which seems to have been cobbled together from the older terms, selfishness and pride.  

Perhaps a better grasp of egotism’s meaning would be to define it as the tendency to measure others and various ideas by one’s own subjective standards and idiosyncratic values.  In the same framework, an egotist wants others to think the way they think.  More importantly, they are not interested in the Buddha's spiritual teaching—quite the opposite.  

The egotist’s subjective judgmental system may well be the main cause of evil and on a greater scale, macrosocial evil.  In such a system, primitive fears and emotions govern, instead of reason and wisdom.  

Consider, also, that empathy and compassion towards others may have no use for the dedicated egotist and an egotistical culture.  Thus, a kind of paramorality can emerge which can justify anything from abusive child rearing, murder in the name of war, and other such horrors like the witch craze and the Holocaust. 

Where, in fact, the idea of egotism fits in Buddhism is with those whose personality or character lacks a sense of deep compassion and the yearing to realize their Buddha-nature.  The egotist is, in many respects, the worldling (prithagjana) who lacks proper knowledge and conduct to realize the luminous Mind which begins the career of the Bodhisattva.  

Worth adding, the Parileyyaka Sutta (S.iii.97–9) covers the fact that the worldling regards the Five Aggregates to be their self (attâ/atma)—not otherwise in the understanding that they are not actually any of the Five Aggregates which are subject to clinging.  In this respect, the egotist is the worldling who has made the aggregates their sole criteria.  But according to the Buddha such criteria constitutes Mara the Evil One who is the arch enemy of the Buddhist.  In a word, the worldling/egotist unknowingly works on behalf of evil until they enter the stream to nirvana.

What we are not

Imagine that a meditation teacher instructs us to abide with our mind dwelling neither in our body nor outside of it.  His instructions would naturally be confusing to follow because of the assumptions we harbor as to the place of mind.  Perhaps the biggest assumption we would have to overcome is out belief that the source of our being is bodily or brain-centered; believing that our self originates from within us.  Naturally, it is logical to assume that since our physical body is suffused with life, life must originate from within it.  Yet, from the Buddha’s point of view, this is not the case.  

 

One of the more strange meditational experiences that verifies there is no self or atman inside the physical body is to realize that our self or mind is purely animative and immaterial, while that which it animates, such as our body, is not.  It is as if our mind were like an invisible power turning on the physical body; making it move and talk, in addition to mentalizing.  As it is doing this, the self or mind is not actually inside or outside the physical body.  It is an illusion that it seems to be so.  In fact, there is not a single place in the entire body we can call “my self”.  The body is starkly what we are not, in other words.  In this same vein, the body is a biological thing which is being continually animated—and we are the animator who interfaces and resonates with it; who has come to over-identify with this physical body.

To explain this, let’s take this one step further.  Imagine the DNA that is distributed throughout our body collectively acts much like a tuning fork that resonates with immaterial mind or self which has no locus (it is universal, in other words).  As such, we are only aware of what is animated which is our body—never, as such, the animator. 

Whatever happens to be the specific animation frequency (our karma), our DNA receives it so that our body is quickened and karmically determined.  Our mind is now resonating with the biological body, not to mention that there is a strange kind of misperception going on inasmuch as we seem to be this body.  Indeed, so subtle is this resonation that we see through this body’s senses.  As a result, we are capable of guiding it around, locked on its brain; even sensing its trials and pains.  As we animate it, in addition, we become progressively attached to it.  

Its suffering is presently our suffering as will be its death, or so it might seem.  We are further conditioned to believe this body is really ours—the very source of life.  We are taught, in addition, to take pride in it.  But then one day we read the words of the Buddha who says, referring to the body, “This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self.”  “Is this true?” we ask ourselves.  “How is it possible that this body is not actually my self even though it seems like it is?”

The answer to these questions are to be found within Buddhism, especially when we begin to practice deeper forms of meditation going through the various levels of attachment and misperception, trying to break the spell of embodiment; hopefully, arriving at the point where we become cognizant of the purely animative and universal nature of Mind. 

The authentic search

When one doesn't wish to take any pains to investigate a matter then their inquiry is simply a matter of weak curiosity.  On the other hand, when one takes great pains to search for something which is difficult to get at or to understand, in which their search is also filled with interest and eagerness, their search is an authentic search—and one sure to strike gold over time.

Regrettably, some who study Buddhism will take their curiosity only so far.  They, of course, will make an effort but their effort doesn't involve the important effort of taking pains to search for the profound meaning of Buddhism.  This condition probably arises from a natural weakness of the spirit:  its own unwillingness to arouse itself from the narcotic-like influence of materialism, not to mention the pleasures of the body. 

Unfortunately, those who take the study and investigation of Buddhism seriously can’t change those who pursue Buddhism up to the point where they have to take some pains, then stop.  For my part, I judge that the ordinary world has these people under its spell who have already given too much of themselves to its powers—or better said in the poetry of Wordsworth:

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours....

Much depends, as we can see, on just how much we are entranced by the forces and events of the modern world such that, if a lot, we shall see little in Buddhism that would be of interest  to us as compared to our most pressing, everyday needs.  In other words, the curious seeker is not curious enough about Buddhism.  The question then arises, why do we take the modern world so seriously—so seriously, that we almost fear to peek over its elaborate system of walls as if we might see a better, higher world?

Truth by way of negation

If we were to think apophatically so as to approach truth by way of negation, shedding the covering of phenomena, we would still not meet with it.  The reason that we would not meet it lies in the fact that the medium of ultimate reality which we are attempting, apophatically, to approach has no distinguishing marks of its own.  Yet, never the less it is very real.  It is not just a flower in the sky.

To understand even more the sense of this matter we first have to recognize that the physical body and its sensory organs are incapable of detecting much of anything save a narrow band of visible energy and sound.  On the other hand, the mind (citta), of which we are, can cut through the veil of phenomena and find itself.  Its return to itself, however, takes us back to the first part of this discussion.  It is laden with the problem, “How do I recognize myself when, as the absolute medium, I have no detectable qualities?”

In this framework, it sounds almost paradoxical that we might set about, in a positive way (i.e., cataphatically), to approach our intrinsic nature as if we might eventually encounter a totally pristine medium.  Still, we must be open to a new method in which such a medium does recognize itself when it finds itself.

When the medium as mind, which is still unbeknownst to itself, encounters Mind (the ultimate medium) for the first time, what is experienced is not nothing but, instead, a sudden and huge shift in magnitude of Mind.  To explain this, when “a” encounters “A” (a = A), “a” is no longer just “a” but “a” doubled.  A salient illustration of this is found in the Dasabhumika Sutra. According to this Sutra, the Bodhisattva's spiritual charge gets larger by orders of magnitude as he advances from stage (bhumi) to stage.  For example, he has 1000 samadhis, then a 100,000, then a 1,000,000 etc.

What this suggests is that the effectiveness of samadhi lies in the raising of pure magnitude such that the carnal body, of which we are conscious, is sensorially energized beyond its previous state.  Although we still can’t detect a mark this pure medium—we are cognizant, for the first time, of its effective power over the body (its ability to energize).  But more importantly, we now identify with this power instead of the body.

Harking back to the beginning, truth by way of negation seems to work only after we have come into contact with pure Mind which is otherwise called, Bodhicitta.  Such negation is the perfection of wisdom (of Mind) called prajna-paramita.  The perfection of wisdom is gained by shedding our previous linkage with the carnal body of our birth which is empty.  As we perfect this wisdom, shedding our former linkage, the magnitude of pure Mind grows in proportion until we are completely liberated.