The Zennist

The Confucian Zen lineage

The authenticity of the so-called 'Zen lineage' is very important to American and European Zen culture.  Beneath the superstructure of modern Zen is the firm belief that the Dharma transmission from teacher to student is authentically Buddhist going all the way back to the Buddha, himself.  It is believed that when such a transmission occurs one literally becomes a Buddha!  

Dissenting from the popular view, I find no solid evidence in the oldest Buddhist canon, the Nikayan (Pali), that the Buddha transmitted Dharma to anyone, and certainly not to Mahakashyapa as depicted in the Sung Dynasty work, The Transmission of the Lamp (Ching Te Ch'uan Teng Lu) where the Buddha transmits the pure Dharma-eye to Mahakashyapa who subsequently transmits it to Ananda and so on down the line.  I hasten to add that in the Avatamsaka Sutra, it states that great disciples like Mahakashyapa “were not capable of perpetuating the lineage of Buddhas.”

Both Chinese Buddhist pilgrims Hsuan-tsang, who lived in India between AD 643 to 627, and I-tsing, who lived there for almost 25 years, never once mentioned the idea of an Indian Buddhist patriarchate in which the Buddha transmitted to Mahakashyapa and the latter to Ananda, etc.

From Tao-hsuan's Buddhist Biographies which was compiled in the 7th century we learn a few things of interest about the original Zen school, for example, that Bodhidharma was a meditation (dhyana) teacher who came from southern India.  The members of his school lived a very severe ascetic life.  Tao-hsuan also stated that Bodhidharma regarded the Lankavatara Sutra as the only Sutra worth studying.  In addition, the members of his school only used this particular Sutra as their text.  Curiously, Tao-hsuan never once mentioned anything about Bodhidharma being the 28th Patriarch of Indian Buddhism!

As to the reason for such a lineage like the Zen lineage which depends on a transmission from teacher to student, I side with some scholars who see this particular transmission as being influenced by the important role of Confucianism in Chinese culture.  Citing from the book Zen Ritual by Steven Heine & Dale Stuart Wright, I found the following observation to be of especial interest, fitting in nicely with this topic and summing it up for now.

"Jorgensen writes that Zen is the most prominent form of Buddhism because it is the most Chinese of any form of Buddhism.  It is the most Chinese because it is the form of Buddhism that is closest to Confucianism.  It is Confucian because it conforms to traditional Chinese family values.  Like any good Confucian family, it has ancestors whom it honors.  It honors those ancestors by transmitting their legacy to proper descendants, from generation to generation, who will maintain and carry on their family traditions.  We can complete Jorgensen’s explanation by saying that in Zen this process of transmitting a family legacy is given structural form through the ritual of dharma transmission" (264).

Mind in Zen koans

Zen koans are more or less described as paradoxes by means of which the Zen adept is able to shed dependence on reason forcing the mind into a sudden intuitive awakening.  This is all well and good as far as explanations goes.  But there is also a lot left out.  There is an underlying method behind these seeming paradoxes.

Turning to the koans themselves, while it might offend some to say this, the Japanese koan system is an aberration of the Chinese one.  The Japanese system contains actual answers, the Chinese system does not.  A good illustration of this is from the book The Sound of One Hand by Yoel Hoffman who translates the Gendai Sojizen Hyoron.

A monk asked Master Chao-chou, “Does a dog have Buddha-nature?”  Chao-chou said, “Non-being.”

Answer:  Sitting erect in front of his master, the pupil yells, “Non-being” with all of his might.

Shouting “Non-being” or “Mu” is not the answer, not from the Chinese standpoint.  The Chinese koan system wants us to turn, instead, inwards to that which is unborn and undying this being pure Mind.  This is before our brain and vocal cords are activated, shouting out Mu.  The Japanese koan system, by comparison, seems to have lost this direction.  Mind’s preeminent place is all but ignored for rote answers. 

Before continuing, I need to make it clear what the purpose of Zen is, at least from the standpoint of traditional Chinese Zen or Ch’an.  First we need to establish what is Zen?  The Zen masters answer this question by pointing out that Zen is just the name of the awakened Mind.  As for the purpose of Zen, its goal is to point out this Mind which is actually the Buddha Mind or the same, the Buddha-nature. 

Koans serve a very important function in pointing out Mind’s pure nature for those who sincerely wish to apperceive it.  Koans are set up in such a way that for those who have realized Mind to some degree it is easily seen at work in koans while for those who are ignorant of Mind it is not seen at all.  What confronts the latter is paradoxical and will remain such until they eradicate the false thinking which prevents them from seeing what koans are meant to reveal.

A great deal of introspection is involved with koans insofar as they cannot be understood as one might understand a riddle.  In one way, they trap us in a cage of thought and language, a semiotic cage if you will.  Suddenly, we come to find out that we cannot escape from this cage until we get a genuine glimpse of Mind, the denouement, which unlocks the cage door.  

To orient, correctly, our unawakened mind to unlock the koan we first must accept that all thought and language arises from Mind just as all waves arise from the substance water.  Any particular koan we wish to tackle is a Mind artifact like a wave.  Even more subtle, every thought we conjure up with regard to a particular koan is a Mind artifact (sakaracitta).  

The difficulty of the koan arises when we take our thoughts about the koan to be in accord with Mind, itself, venturing forth on some great hermeneutical project.  This, to be sure, is confusing the linguistic waves of the Mind ocean with Mind, itself.  In other words, we are clueless as to what Mind is, otherwise how could we mistake it for thought?  Mind is not thinkable.  This koan will illustrate this.

Once a monk asked Master Chao-chou, “What does it mean, ‘Our founder [Bodhidharma] came to the west’?” [i.e., what is the meaning of Zen?]

Master Chao-chou stood up

The monk said, “So that’s what it means.

Master Chao-chou said, “I haven’t said anything yet.”

While humorous, Master Chao-chou did rightly point in the direction of the luminous Mind when he stood up.  Not only is Mind the fundamental essence of all but it is also dynamic.  But the monk didn’t see the Mind Chao-chou clearly revealed.  He just saw him stand up.  Finally, as a true Zen Master, Chao-chou made no attempt to describe Mind with words putting it thus into the realm of birth and death.  Just like when the Buddha showed Mahakashyapa the Mind by holding up a flower and then blinking, so too did Chao-chou show this monk the same Mind.  But the monk was dumbfounded. 

As it should become apparent, each and every koan or Zen tale has Mind embedded in it.  This is what the Zen master knows and what the monk or student doesn’t know.  In reading the next koan keep in mind the ineffable nature of Mind; that it transcends all we can say about it.  Notice how Mind is played with in this koan.

Hui-neng asked, “What place do you come from?  Nan-yueh answered, “I come from Sung Mountain.”  Hui-neng asked, “What thing is it that comes here?”  Nan-yueh answered, “If you say that there is something, you cannot meet it.”  Hui-neng asked, “Is it able to be cultivated?”  Nan-yueh answered, “Being cultivated, it would not be nonexistent; being spotted it would not be dirty.”  Hui-neng said, “Just so is this clarity protected by all Buddhas.  It is this to you as it is also to me” (trans. Yi Wu). 

The task of changing ourselves

Sometimes campaigning for change or trying to change others can be a way of dodging the tremendous task of changing ourselves.  This inevitably leads to a case of the blind leading the blind.

“No one who is himself in bondage can release the bonds of others” (Vimalakirti-nirdesha Sutra).

This also leads to the old familiar caution that a little knowledge can often be a dangerous thing when, with such a small amount of knowledge, we believe we are worthy teachers who can lead our students, in the case of Buddhism, to the land of Nirvana.

To be realistic and honest with ourselves we can only change in others what we have already profoundly changed in ourselves, and teach others only what we know not going beyond this which, if we did, would amount to hubris.  

Still, many do try to change others who have changed themselves very little; who also try to teach others but have never, for example, attained Bodhicitta (i.e., the awakened Mind).  Such people are, in one degree or another, deluded.  Nor is it entirely their fault.  Many institutions of Buddhism are in the business of making someone believe they’ve attained something very profound when they haven’t.

Even if someone became a Buddhist monk or a nun who practiced meditation every day for many years, and read the entire canon, this may not add up to any indication of profound change and knowledge.  Such endeavors are completely external.  They do nothing to help us see pure Mind which is the fundamental building block of the universe—and closer to us, the stuff of thought, thoughts being sâkâra-citta, translated as shaped-mind.

In the study of Buddhism, both profound change and real knowledge begin when we switch from living in a world of mind-shapes to seeing first hand Mind, itself.  As a result of this profound switch, wearing robes means nothing (along with institutionalized Buddhism).  Nor do hours of meditation add up to anything except illusory practice.  The canon, too, means almost nothing even though page after page is fundamentally pointing to the Mind of perfect awakening (abhisambodhicitta).

With such change, it becomes apparent to us that we have come to a place that cannot be described in the usual way we describe personal matters and experiences.  Nothing, in fact, has changed externally except to say that the external world no longer enchants us so as to lead us astray.  Yet, nevertheless, there has been a profound change insofar as this body and its thoughts are now seen to be an illusory phenomenon.

Substance and shadow

At times, modern Buddhism makes little or no sense when it comes to understanding the notion of substance and shadow (i.e., shadow as phenomena).  The difference between substance and shadow is either blurred or simply not addressed.  What is often taken up in modern Buddhism is that existence lacks substance or the same, a foundation.  The pot, for example, is not made of clay nor rope strong hemp.  Even these thoughts of ours, which incessantly arise within the confines of our skull, are believed to be without substance.

Thus it would seem, that all of existence has been reduced to shadow and, accordingly, a ceaseless play of interdependent shadows.  All is void—there is no substance.  And this may well be true if one's mind were of such a state that it believed phenomena are constituted of nothing.  But this is not what the Buddha taught.

While it is true that the Buddha taught that all conditioned things are essentially finite he did not teach that there was no unconditioned true reality.  In fact, his teachings were consistent with the theory that illusion is not without a real basis.  Indeed, there is an eternal substance that can be realized which is not illusory; which is not impermanent, suffering or insubstantial. 

Why this is not more acknowledged in modern Buddhism probably rests with just how much substance and shadow are inextricably intertwined.  To differentiate between the two is not as easy as looking at the baby in the bath water clearly knowing this is the baby—this is the water.  The process of extrication is, in other words, by no means easy.  One cannot readily discern phenomena from the substance upon which it depends.  In most cases it takes much of a lifetime to do such.

Yet, to fully comprehend the Buddha's message we must be able to extricate substance from the world of shadows.  Along this line, we must be able to distinguish our self from the insubstantial (anatma) Five Aggregates; our Buddha-nature (buddhata) from the illusion-body; and pure Mind from perturbed mind.  Ultimately, according to the Mahaparinirvana Sutra, the Tathagata thoroughly does away with all illusions—and so must we.  

The first major step of doing away with illusions (the shadows) is when the ordinary run of the mill person (prithagjana) awakens to the higher Mind.  This is like stepping into the shadowless world of true reality.  It is an awesome transformation.  For the first time one sees of what illusion is made.  It is like seeing the gold of the great palace lion, the clay of the pot, or the hemp of the rope.  There is nothing more fundamental and substantive than Mind.  As we look into the depth of the great cosmos, all this is contained within it.  Mind is the substance—not the shadow.

Buddhism is a form of atheism

In The Book of Common Prayer, the section ‘Articles of Religion’ states “There is but one living and true God, everlasting, without body, parts or passions; of infinite power, wisdom and goodness, the Maker and Preserver of all things both visible and invisible.”

We can surmise from this that God is pretty much what we are not—yet, we are his offspring.  So you would think and expect that this mighty God, our Father, would give us lots of his power and goodness since we are his offspring.  Instead, he has given his offspring a frail and limited physical body with lots of misery.  But enough of this.

Buddhism doesn’t care about this kind of God.  Buddhism, as far as religions go, falls into the category of supporting atheism.  Here is an excerpt from K.N. Jayatilleke’s book, The Message of the Buddha (2000) on atheism.

“What is the Buddhist answer to this question?  What the Buddha a Theist, an Atheist, an Agnostic or a Positivist?  The answer is fairly clear.  Given the above definition of God [in The Book of Common Prayer] in its usual interpretation, the Buddha is an atheist and Buddhism in both its Theravada and Mahayana forms is atheism.

Some Western scholars have tried to make out that Mahayana Buddhism came into being about the beginning of the Christian era and that in it the Buddha is deified.  Both these conclusions are false.  Mahayana Buddhism came into being with the Mahasanghika Council, when a group of liberals broke away from the conservative elders or the Theravadins about a hundred years after the death of the Buddha and in none of the Mahayana schools is the Buddha conceived of as a Creator God, though this does not mean that the Buddha was a mere human being in either the Theravada or Mahayana schools of thought.

In denying that the universe is the product of a Personal God, who creates it in time and plans a consummation at the end of time, Buddhism is a form of atheism” (105).

I would add to the above my opinion that anyone coming to Buddhism who has not jettisoned the belief in God is not ready for Buddhism, nor will Buddhism help them except perhaps in the area of relaxation through meditation (a meditation that is superficial).

The Buddha still teaches

After the Buddha’s parinirvana and the subsequent dissolution of his corporeal body (rupakaya) many of the Buddha's followers imagined that the Buddha had actually died.  Their master was no more they believed.  For them, only his words and his ashes remained which were of some consolation.

For the followers of the Buddha who had entered the stream to nirvana; who had become aryans (this word is often rendered “noble” in English) as a result of this transformation, things were different after the Buddha’s parinirvana.  They understood that the true body of the Buddha is the Dharmakaya which transcends the corporeal body.  This body was not destroyed when the Buddha’s corporeal body was cremated.  

The Dharmakaya is wholly spiritual, being also self-sustaining.  Moreover, another body of the Buddha also remained, which was impervious to fire.  This is the manomaya body that is super mental which later became known as the Sambhogakaya.  This body directly animated the Buddha’s corporeal body—yet was spiritually separate from it.  It mediated between the Dharmakaya and the corporeal body.  Without such a body, the Buddha could not have taught his doctrine of salvation by which he was able to spiritually arouse others.  

Both the Dharma body (kaya) and the Sambhoga body are unknown to all except the aryans, i.e., those who have entered the stream effectively becoming Bodhisattvas.  Ordinary followers, the prithagjana, cannot detect these higher bodies because of their extreme attachment to the corporeal body as in “this is mine” whereas the aryans can.  All aryans, i.e., Bodhisattvas, realize that the corporeal body is not their real self.  Furthermore, they possess the wisdom (prajñâ) to be able to distinguish the corporeal body from higher bodies which are not subject to death.  These bodies, it needs to be emphasized, also constitute the real Buddha who still teaches Mahayana Buddhism.  Even today, although many will not believe this, the Buddha still teaches.

Generally speaking, advanced Buddhists, i.e., aryans, have all experienced some degree of the manomayakaya or, the same, the Sambhoga body.  It is essentially by this body that they are taught and advance being able to communicate with the Buddhas and advanced Bodhisattvas. 

Glossing the Buddhist Mind

Mind often gets glossed over in modern Buddhism.  One can spend five years in a Dharma or Zen center and learn more about Buddhist robes and rituals than about mind—Mind I should say, in the highest sense.

I was just looking over Steve Hagen’s book, Buddhism Plain and Simple.  He is supposed to know a lot about Mind with capital “M”, after all he received transmission from Katagiri Rosh who, incidentally, I met when I was a young Zen priest many years ago.

I know I shouldn’t gripe when Hagen says something serious about Mind on page 113 of his book.  After all he is at least talking about the higher Mind which is more than most Zen teachers do.  He says, interestingly:

    "But there’s another mind that is unborn, ungrown, and unconditioned.  Unlike “your mind,” it’s unbound, for there is nothing beyond it.  To this Mind, there is no “other mind.” 

    This Mind is nothing other than the Whole.  It’s simply thus, the fabric of the world itself—the ongoing arising and falling away that are matter, energy, and events."

Well, I will give him credit for using capital “M”.  He deserves a pat on the back for a Westerner who is normally stuck in phenomenalism:  that we cannot know ultimate reality which, obviously, leaves out nirvana.  If I am forced to criticize Hagen’s view of Mind, it gets confusing when he speaks of it being “the fabric of the world itself”.  It would be better to say of Mind that it is like the water of the ocean from which wave phenomena are generated; which is unaffected by wave action.  In other words, it always remains H2O.

One cannot read a classical Zen text like the Platform Sutra by Hui-neng and not come across Mind and its central importance making all else subordinate.  Yet, it is easy to read any number of modern Western Zen books and get thoroughly misled about Mind even understanding that mind (notice the lower case “m”) ain’t very important.  

Evidently, most Zennists—and this goes for the Western Roshi guys—have never come face-to-face with Mind which I will say is almost on the level of meeting a space alien in your backyard.  This is why I always find it astonishing that Mind is almost always glossed over in Buddhist centers and publications.  It’s a little like the old chrome hood ornaments that used to be put on many American cars like the Packard.  Yes, Mind is sometimes proudly displayed but nobody really knows what the hell good it does.

In my Buddhist library which has some pretty nifty old books in it, I have just a few publications which are exclusively dedicated to the luminous Mind, itself.  One is an extremely rare translation of a Dharma talk in Santa Fe, New Mexico, given by Yangthang Rinpoche entitled, Nature of Mind.  The other is the popular book by the late Kalu Rinpoche entitled, Luminous Mind (1997).  I hasten to add, that this should not suggest that Zen has missed the Mind boat, it hasn’t.  In classical Zen literature which comes from the T’ang and Sung period, there is much said about Mind which, needless to say, is quite sublime and worth our time to read and to study.  For example, no Zennist should forget these words.  They are from the Sixth Patriarch Hui-neng.

"Who would have thought," I said to the Patriarch, "that the Essence of Mind is intrinsically pure! Who would have thought that the Essence of Mind is intrinsically free from becoming or annihilation! Who would have thought that the Essence of Mind is intrinsically self-sufficient! Who would have thought that the Essence of Mind is intrinsically free from change! Who would have thought that all things are the manifestation of the Essence of Mind!" Knowing that I had realized the Essence of Mind, the Patriarch said, "For him who does not know his own mind there is no use learning Buddhism.”

How inspiring!  I never cease smiling when I read the words of Hui-neng.  Just imagine that one day he experienced the full power of luminous Mind energizing his mortal frame as if the Buddha were standing right in front of him.

Harking back to the hood ornament simile, Mind is not like a hood ornament.  We need to think of it like the drive train of a car.  Without it you have a metal shell and four rubber tires (five if you include the spare).  While it might look like a worthy vehicle, its usefulness in getting you from point A to B is greatly exaggerated.

Pessimism in Buddhism

Is Buddhism pessimistic?  First, before I answer, the question needs to be asked, what is “pessimism”?  The dictionary meaning generally states that pessimism is “the worst possible or conceivable state.”  From this, we could say that pessimism is the tendency to take the worst view of things, this being opposite to optimism.  

With respect to the carnal body and our craving of it which brings nothing but suffering, the Buddha was a pessimist.  Such a body is a composition which is always impermanent.  It is also very fragile.  The body is subject to countless diseases and will only survive maybe seventy years.  Still, we have to recognize that deep within this impermanent, suffering and insubstantial body is the path to the absolute which is eternal (nitya), blissful (sukha) and substantial (atman).  From the Mahaparinirvana Sutra we get a good illustration of the body’s finitude and the place of the absolute.

"This body is impure, from which nine holes leak out defilements. It is like a castle, the blood, flesh, spine, bone and skin forming the outer walls and the hands and legs serving as bastions,the eyes as gunholes, and the head as dunjon. The Mind-King [citta-raja] is seated within. Such a carnal castle is what the All-Buddha-World-Honoured One abandons and what common mortals and the ignorant always love and cling to. Such rakshasas [flesh-eating demons] as greed, anger and ignorance sit within. This body is as frail as reed, eranda [foul-smelling "recinus communis" plant], foam, and plantain. This body is non-eternal and does not stay stable even for a second. It is like lightning, madding water, and a mirage. Or it is like drawing a picture on water, which no sooner done than disappears. This body breaks just as easily as a big tree hanging over a river precipice. It does not last long. It is pecked at and devoured by foxes, wolves, owls, eagles, crows, magpies and hungry dogs. Who with a good mind finds joy in such a carnal self?"

From the above, it is wrong to conclude that Buddhism is entirely pessimistic.  It was never the intention of the Buddha to paint a bleak picture of life for us with no path to freedom and to the deathless.  Quite the opposite.

What is not so obvious in Buddhism is that the Buddha's path was one of great optimism.  Yes, it is true that the phenomenal world we perceive and crave never has a good ending at least for composite things such as human bodies.  But for those who follow the Buddha's footsteps without compromise, the Dharma he taught—the very core of reality—is permanent (nitya), blissful (sukha), and substantial (atman). In truth, for those who have the right vision, the permanent (nitya) is the eternal dharma-body (dharmakaya), bliss is nirvana, and the substantial or self is the Buddha.

The Buddha teaches such optimism when he sees that his followers fully understand that the psychophysical body is impermanent, synonymous with suffering (duhkha), and devoid of substantiality, i.e., self.  Short of achieving this, the Buddha’s teaching will always sound pessimistic even though fundamentally it is optimistic.

Karma and our spiritual character

From the Dhammapada we understand that Buddhism recognizes “the self is the lord of the self” (attâ hi attano nâtho).  In other words, we are masters of our fate.  This means that determinism, in which all acts result from causes which determine them, is not so dominate in Buddhism.  In fact, Buddhism is opposed to all forms of determinism such as natural determinism, divine determinism and, yes, even karmic determinism (pubba-kamma-vâda).

Buddhism’s theory of karma is unique.  It cannot be compared, for example, with the Jain’s theory which, in brief, says that man cannot spiritually advance without having to go through all of his previous evil karma.  Nor is the Buddhist theory of karma like the Ajivika theory that sounds like the modern day theory of karma which asserts that all that happens to us is the result of past karma.

It is important to keep in mind that in Buddhism karma is non-deterministic in the sense that it doesn’t regard that all which befalls us is, strictly, of our own doing.  Much of what befalls us and what we have to contend with arises from conditions other than personally karmic ones.  And even these various conditions can be modified not being entirely fatalistic.  

Our body is one such condition which is due to a combination of heredity and biological nature, for example, as found in DNA.  Our physical environment can also condition us as well as the social milieu we live in.  On this same track, we may come to master these conditions by scientific study.  By studying physiology and nutrition, for example, we may come to understand how to make the body healthier.  By knowing how to rid our drinking water of impurities, we can cut down on dangerous water borne diseases such as typhoid and malaria.  In this light, karma can, in some respects, act in concert with such understanding or the lack thereof.  But it is not 100 percent deterministic as in my malaria was caused by my volitional act when I drank the bad water.

Before Buddhism, the word karma was use in a religious and moral sense.  There is no good reason to believe that in early Buddhism, while specifically denoting volitional actions, karma was not also understood to mean spiritual or moral actions that can lead to wholesome or unwholesome consequences.  In other words, volitional actions which move us closer to the cognition of our Buddha-nature, including superseding karma, are considered to be wholesome.  This takes us to this thought, for example, that just because someone is wealthy it doesn’t add up that this is ‘good karma’ so to speak, which comes as a result of good volitional actions of a spiritual nature.  Such wealth accumulation may be  unwholesome, in a karmic sense, in which the consequence of this person’s volitional actions insure rebirth where pain is predominate and pleasure is much less, with no forward movement towards the revelation of Buddha-nature.

All of us are a complex of different interacting forces including karmic ones.  But of all these forces karma, which is wielded by mind, either wholesomely or unwholesomely, brings us closer or further away from our true nature which naturally transcends karma and the results of karma.  We may even think of karma as the action that determines our spiritual character which can lead us up or down the ladder of the five destinies (sometimes six) such as being reborn as a human or an animal, or even a god (deva).

Joshu's stone bridge

Certainly one of my favorite Zen aphorisms, Joshu shows both wisdom and humor.  This particular aphorism is taken from D.T. Suzuki's book, Mysticism: Christian and Buddhist.

“One day [Zen master] Joshu [778–897] had another visitor who asked, ‘I hear so much of the stone bridge reputed to be on one of the sites in your monastery grounds.  But as I see it, it is no more than an old log.  How is that?’

The master said, ‘You see the [old] log and don't see the stone bridge.’

‘What is the stone bridge, then?’ the visitor demanded.

The master’s answer was, ‘It permits horses to pass and also asses to pass’.”

Just before reading this, one must set their brains into a zenic mode.  This means dear reader you have to understand that a Zen master like Joshu is always trying to get visitors to catch a glimpse of pure Mind—a Mind not to be confused with sensory awareness or a simple state of being in the here and the now of samsara.

Now being a good master Joshu is going to be naturally tricky and subtle.  After all, Joshu understands that making the prize too easy might cheapen it.  To be sure, pure Mind is not cheap.  Without it, one is not a Bodhisattva (sure, you can take the vow of a Bodhisattva but you’re not a real Bodhisattva without awakening to pure Mind).  Nor, in the Nikayan tradition of Buddhism, is one stream-entered. 

If anyone has ever spent a lot of time in the mountains, it is not unusual to see a tree limb or trees that have fallen across a small stream or creek.  If you happen to get the urge to walk across this stream using an old log as a bridge, the going can sometimes be slippery and on the dangerous side.  A bridge is what is needed.

I can remember many years ago the small stone bridge at our ranch that spanned the creek connecting both of our spring houses.  During the winter when the creek would rise because of a heavy downpour, the stone bridge was the only way we could cross the creek.  Under these circumstances, when the creek became a violent torrent, the bridge reminded me of nirvana.  

For the Bodhisattva who has caught a glimpse of pure Mind, Mind is like a stone bridge which takes us across the dangerous flood of samsara.  By perfecting Mind, that is, by eliminating what is not pure Mind, which is always empty and insubstantial, one gains sure passage to the safety of the other side.  But the nature of Mind is also the basis of the phenomenal world which, in our blindness, we cling to.  It is present for those who want to realize it and become free of rebirth; and it is even present for those who want to cling to its manifestations and stay on the wheel of birth and death and endlessly suffer.  Thus, in the words of Joshu “It permits horses to pass and also asses to pass.”