The Zennist

Leaving herd values for the forest

It almost goes without saying this but the Buddha loved his solitude.  To be frank, his monks and nuns, the laity, the king and his ministers—in fact almost everyone around him, caused him discomfort and suffering (duhkha) because of their contentiousness.  

Needing a break from the human herd, and hoping to wake up this contentious bunch by his absence, the Buddha robed himself in the forenoon and eventually came to dwell at a place called Guarded Forest Glade, “at the foot of a lovely sal tree” (Udana IV, v).

As the Buddha was dwelling there peacefully, alone, without an attendant, a great bull elephant, the leader of the herd had, likewise, just left for Guarded Forest Glade.  He also, like the Buddha, was living “in discomfort and suffering” worried by elephants, she-elephants, calfs and sucklings.  He also wanted seclusion and solitude being fed up with the life of the herd.  

According to the Udana Athakatha (i.e., a commentary to the Udana) (Masefield’s PTS translation), upon seeing the Buddha the great elephant “became quenched like one whose torment had been extinguished with a thousand pitchers and, with devotion in the heart, then remained in the Lord’s [i.e., Buddha’s] presence.”  Helping the Buddha, the great elephant’s principle duty became keeping the grass down around the auspicious sal tree and the Buddha’s hut.  He also brought the Buddha water with his trunk and even provided the Buddha with sweet fruits and a toothpick!  This same Sutta from the Udana goes on to say:

Thus the Exalted One lived in seclusion and solitude, and there arose in him this thought:  Formerly I dwelt worried by monks and nuns ... I lived in discomfort, not ease [duhkha].  But now here am I dwelling unworried by monks and nuns ... by sectarians and their followers.  Unworried, I dwell in comfort and at east.  Likewise that bull-elephant thought:  Formerly I dwelt worried by elephants ...  Now I dwell unworried, in comfort and ease.

Herein agreeth mind with mind, of sage

And elephant whose tusks are like a plough pole,

Since both alike love forest solitude.

 

Casting out the esoteric

In a recent podcast Click here, according to Stephen Batchelor, the author of the book, Buddhism Without Beliefs, Siddhartha Gautama became the Buddha simply by “becoming fully awakened to the Four Noble Truths.”  Batchelor even provides a vague citation from the Samyutta-Nikaya which I am assuming for now is 56 Saccasamyutta, 24 (4) Arahants (Bhikkhu Bodhi's translation). The important line to his claim is this:

"Whatever Arahants, Perfectly Enlightened Ones, at present have fully awakened to things as they really are, all have fully awakened to the Four Noble Truths as they really are."

While it cannot be denied that the Buddha said this, Batchelor treats the contents of this pericope as if it were the only instance in the Pali canon in which the Buddha explains awakening.  As a matter of fact, the Buddha made other and different remarks about his awakening in which he made no reference to the Four Noble Truths.  This is certainly evident from the Ariyapariyesana Sutta (M. i. 167–168).  

Looking over the Ariyapariyesana Sutta, we read that the Buddhas was, before his awakening, “seeking the unborn, the uttermost security from the bonds—nibbana” and in fact, eventually “won the unborn, the uttermost security from the bonds—nibbana.”  In the same section of this Sutta, the Buddha goes on to say, "Knowledge and vision arose in me:  Unshakable is freedom for me, this is the last birth, there is not now again-becoming."  He then goes on to declare: “This dhamma, won by me is deep, difficult to see, difficult to understand, tranquil, excellent, beyond dialectic, subtle, intelligible to the learned” (trans. I.B. Horner).  This recondite dhamma or Dharma the Buddha won, I hasten to point out, is not the Four Noble Truths!  

Glancing now at the Udana (Verses of Uplift), the very first chapter, which is about the Buddha’s awakening, again the Buddha makes no mention of the Four Noble Truths. He covers both forward and reverse, the 12 nidanas or links of conditioned existence.

Still more is to be found in the Samyutta-Nikaya, at Brahmasamyutta, 1 (1) Brahma's Request (this is Bhikkhu Bodhi's translation).  Here, the Buddha is at the foot of Goatherd's Banyan Tree just after his awakening.  He speaks about the profound Dharma he has discovered.  He laments that this generation delights in adhesion (âlya), rejoices in adhesion.  There is no mention of the Four Noble Truths.  Next, we come to these verses.

The Buddha of the past,

The future Buddhas,

And he who is the Buddha now,

Removing the sorrow of many—

All have dwelt, will dwell, and dwell,

Deeply revering the true Dhamma:

For the Buddhas

This is a natural law.

Therefore one desiring his own good,

Aspiring for spiritual greatness

Should deeply revere the true Dhamma,

Recollecting the Buddha's teaching.

The Buddha says that we who are aspiring for spiritual greatness, i.e., Buddhahood, should deeply revere the true Dhamma (S., saddharma).  Again, no mention of revering the Four Noble Truths.  However, it is striking how important Dharma is in the Buddha’s awakening and his subsequent ministry.

"Well explained has been the Dhamma by the Blessed One, the Dhamma that bears fruit here and now, not subject to time [for results], that invites every man to come and see for himself, leading to the highest good, to be experienced by the wise in their very self" (M. i. 265).

Batchelor, from what I can surmise, is either unaware of the existence of the Ariyapariyesana Sutta (M. i. 167–168) including the other Suttas just covered or he has a hidden agenda to rid Buddhism of its esoteric roots which are exemplified by this passage from the Mahâmâlunkya Sutta (M.i.435-36).

“He turns his mind from these things [the five psychophysical constituents]; and when he has turned his mind from these things he focuses his mind on the immortal element thinking: ‘This is the real, this the excellent, that is to say the tranquilizing of all the activities, the casting out of all clinging, the destruction of craving, dispassion, stopping, nibbana (nirvana).’”   

Seeing the undyed absolute

If we can imagine ourselves as being the center of an infinite sphere of perception in which the center’s limit is ‘thought’ and the substance of this thought is ‘trans-spherical’ and unthinkable (acitta), we might better be able to grasp the subtlety of what Mind as suchness or tathata is.  

If this illustration seems confusing or inadequate, then imagine being inside a huge tank of water that has been dyed green.  Next, try to see the undyed, pure water!

The idea that I wish to convey is that being in a monistic universe of Mind-only (cittamatra), which is the underlying theme of the Lankavatara Sutra, it is not at all easy to apperceive Mind (this is Bodhicitta).  At this point, we can only scratch our heads and wonder how might we recognize ourself—this pure Mind—when it has no discernible marks or signs.  

On the other hand, it is no trouble at all to recognize what pure Mind (cittamatra) is not, namely, the samsaric mind.  The samsaric mind has plenty of discernible marks and signs.  This, I add, is also called the defiled or maculate mind.  Shedding a bit more light on this, the following passage might be helpful (it is taken from Stephen Hodge’s translation of The Maha-Vairocana-Abhisambodhi Tantra). Buddhaguhya comments:

“If the mind were to appear with such perceptual images as colour, form and so on, it would not be free from the attributes of a perceiving subject and perceived objects and so would be sullied.  Being sullied, it would not be the All-knowing Awareness [sarva-jñâna].  Therefore the mind which is purified of all these impurities is All-knowing.  Because of that, it [the Tantra] says ‘Why? Because the mind has the same attribute as space’.  The attribute of space is to be without thought and conceptualization, so the attribute of the mind is similar to that of space, hence the text says ‘it is free from thought and conceptualization” (p. 57).

Mind’s own pure activity has transformed and phenomenalized itself into this very world before us—our perceptual sphere.  But is so doing it has lost its own whereabouts—in a word, sullied itself.  In this state we can’t gain Bodhicitta in a fortnight or even in many lifetimes.  Harking back to the tank illustration with the dyed green water, the Buddha is essentially asking us to see the water devoid of the green dye.  Nevertheless, it can be done.  We can, indeed, beget the Bodhi Mind (bodhicittotpada).  This is the extraordinary part of Buddhism that few people wish to take up but, one day, will have to take up if they wish to be free from suffering.

Entering the forest

The real teachings of the Buddha are, by and large, out of the reach of most ordinary Buddhists.  It is much easier for them to understand Buddhism by listening to beautifully clad monks chanting, watching clouds of incense rising, or by sitting silently, without moving, on a pillow, in some Dharma center.  All this makes ordinary Buddhists feel good.  But this is not authentic Buddhism.  It is Buddhism of skillful means.

When we leave behind the external world of Buddhism choosing, instead, to live alone in the mountains, a different kind of Buddhism emerges—one more profound.  It is a Buddhism which silently enters our heart to disburden it, eventually, from all of its ties with appearance so that we might engage effectively with pure Mind.  

Meditating alone by a small waterfall just after dawn, or sitting under a large overhanging rock watching and listening to the rain; letting our mind become washed by its sound, works more effectively to remove the various barriers to awakening than we might imagine or be willing to admit. 

Until our temporal heart has been sufficiently cleansed of its old desires and habits we will never get close to being able to search, properly, for the ox of The Ten Oxherding Pictures (or enter Mumon’s gateless gate).  In fact, we are clueless as to what this ox means having never seen it before.  Yet in truth, this ox (our true nature) has never been actually lost—just hidden.  Why it remains such is because our spiritual eyes are blinded by the temporal world’s dust which is why we have to turn away from this dust storm as much as possible!

Even if we were to find the greatest and wisest of all teachers he or she will be of little or no help to us if we still continue to nurture and support our cravings for the temporal world characterized by the three marks of existence, namely, impermanence, suffering, and insubstantiality (anatma).  This is why the Buddha tells us that we must go to the forest (P., araññagato) or to an empty place P., suññagaragato) for this is where the meditator has the greatest chance of remembering their true nature which is free of suffering.  

Short of this, we haven’t really met with authentic Buddhism.  It is still Buddhism of skillful means (upaya).

Buddhism without rules

When the subject of monastic rules is brought up which comprise Dhamma-vinaya (i.e., Dharma training) it is assumed that the so-called patimokkha, or rules of the Samgha, is of one kind.  When added up these rules amount to 227 rules for monks and 331 rules for nuns.  Yet, as Sukumar Dutt points out we would be wrong in assuming that the patimokkha is, without question, a monastic code. (I have put into italics the most important points that Dutt makes.) 

“The original Pâtimokkha of the Bhikkhus [monks] is described in the Mahapadâna Suttanta (Digha Nikaya 13 [sic] {14 in Walshe’s trans.}).  It is not the recital of a code of offences against the rule and regimen of monastic life, but a congregational chanting by assembled Bhikkhus of a confession of faith; it is not a regularized forthnightly function, but a rite held only once in six years.  The confession of faith itself is a summing-up of the fundamental Sâsana (Injunctions) of the religion.  In this formulation from it must have been current among the Bhikkhus since the early days of the Samgha, for it occurs among the verses of the Dhammapada” (Buddhist Monks and Monasteries of India, 66).

Taking a look at the particular Dhammapada verse which Dutt mentions we can see for ourselves that it contains no mention of rules.

“Forbearing patience is the highest austerity;

Nibbana [nirvana] is supreme, the Awakened Ones say.

One who has gone forth is not one who hurts another,

No harasser of others is a recluse (184).

Refraining from all that is detrimental,

The Attainment of what is wholesome,

The purification of one’s mind,

This is the instruction of Awakened Ones” (183). 

(Compare this with D. ii. 49–50.  They are fundamentally the same, but there is an additional verse in the Digha-Nikaya patimokkha.)

It is obvious that the patimokkha found in the Dhammapada and the Digha-Nikaya, is one altogether different from the later, more common patimokkha which is a system of rules and appropriate punishments.  

Looking back at its history, the patimokkha was not first inaugurated by the Buddha, according to Dutt, but by Vipassi Buddha “the first of his [Gautama the Buddha’s] mythical predecessors” who “is said to have sent his disciples in batches on preaching missions, enjoining them to return to and reassemble at Bandhumati every six years to hold a ‘patimokkha’” (67).  

Even in the commentarial literature (atthakatha) the patimokkha is not treated as being simply synonymous with regula.  It takes on a broader significance in the context of those fallen into suffering and their subsequent liberation from it.  In the Udana Commentary (Udanaatthakatha) translated from the Pali by Peter Masefield, we submit the following commentary on patimokkha.

“It is the Patimokkha since it is this faller (patinam) that it frees (mokkheti) from the dukkha [suffering] of samsara.  For it is due to the release (vimokkhena) of the mind (cittassa—or consciousness) that a being is spoken of as “liberated” (vimutto).  For there is said:  “It is through cleansing the mind (citta) that beings are purified (S iii 151) and “(Just when your) mind (cittam) became released (mutto) from the âsavas without clinging” (Ud 24)” (PTS edition, p. 576).

The above represents but a small section of a more extensive treatment of patimokkha in the Udana commentary—but by no stretch of the imagination can one construe patimokkha to be about rules or a code of monastic conduct and punishment.  The commentary, in so many words, is telling us that patimokkha is about freeing ourselves from samsara.  

Turning to the later system of rules given under patimokkha it is difficult to make a winnable case that obeying rules frees the so-called faller from the suffering of samsara.  Such rules might work well to keep the monastic Samgha orderly but we should not conclude that an order of obedient monks and nuns draweth one closer to nirvana!  As both the older patimokkha and the commentary point out, purification of mind is key.  There is no liberation without such purification and thus no nirvana.

Our all-too-worldly lifestyles

Lately, I have been thinking about lifestyles in the example of healthy lifestyles which, if we actually adopted such a lifestyle, would put a lot of the medical professionals out of business.  Needless to say, most of us are relatively happy with our lifestyles even though they could be improved or radically changed for the better.  

Turning to Buddhism, the typical modern lifestyle needs a lot of improvement if it is going to understand what Buddhism is really about.

Lifestyle, in general, can be defined as a way or manner of living.  Such living depends on certain interactive patterns.  Furthermore, these patterns are usually maintained in a routinized, predictable way.  They can even go so far as to become outmoded in which they are no longer appropriate, even being harmful to one’s well-being and health.

Underlying and supporting a lifestyle is a belief system which has been shaped by various means since birth requiring often the fewest number of cognitive operations to be maintained; yet remains quite fixed, being also capable of resisting change.  Such a belief system is not necessarily religious, either.  It might even be called a value system which may or may not include religion. 

If we are to take up the study of Buddhism, our particular lifestyle can become a barrier which permits us to advance only so far on the path as we are unwilling to give up a greater portion of it.  In this regard, attachment to our lifestyle is an important mechanism for maintaining our believed self-identity which is further tied up with our belief or value system.  It almost goes without saying that the self with which we come to Buddhism is strongly projected both into the temporal body as “I am this,” and also into the external world.  

When we take into consideration how much of our lifestyle we have to give up in order to make any significant advance in Buddhism, we suddenly get the gut feeling there is a lot at risk.  Consequently, we decide to make some concessions to Buddhism—but nothing which shakes the very foundations of our lifestyle.

From the perspective of Buddhism, giving up our present lifestyle doesn’t necessarily mean that we are required to make any external physical changes.  The required changes are far more subtle—nor are they external.  These changes begin with having to jettison our present belief in the concreteness of the physical world including the authority of thinking and thought, itself.  

The purpose behind making such changes will make it possible for us to be open to an extraordinary epiphany in which the luminous Mind is engaged with, directly.  Much of the training that will follow will help us to strip away the intervening, all-too-worldly lifestyle.  Such training, in a word, is introspective.  We can think of it as more like a direct attack on the hegemony of thinking and thought, both of which have to be viewed as primarily productive imagination.  As such, they bar us from direct engagement with the luminous Mind, itself, such that we cannot actually distinguish between the immediate thought of luminous Mind and its realization.  

The fundamental reason that we can’t distinguish the thought of luminous Mind from its realization is because we have never been forced to penetrate, introspectively, into the very substance of thought, itself, which is inconceivable or the same, without thought (acitta).  We are always outside of this perfectly clear substance, in other words, dillydallying with our imagination, constructing elaborate fictions about the world from it but never really engaging with it as the Buddha did. 

Sleepwalking rubbish heaps

Ordinary, worldly beings which the Buddha called, prithagjana, are not unlike somnambulists walking busily with their eyes wide open.  They may appear not to be asleep, but as regards the sublime Dharma which the Buddha realized, they are sleepwalkers.  How did the Buddha see these somnambulists after he had just awakened?

“Strange! How Strange!  How can it be that although all sentient beings are fully possessed of the wisdom of the Tathagata, because of their ignorance and confusion, they neither know nor see that?” (Avatamsaka Sutra) 

The newly awakened Buddha clearly saw worldlings animated by that which he had just  realized. Yet, while he was aware of this superessential medium, which made him the awakened one or Buddha, the prithagjana were unable to connect with it.  Their unbroken habit of identifying, deeply, with the life of the psychophysical body, interfacing with its experiences and travails, did not serve to make them more open to the Buddha’s teachings but, in fact, made them less open.  Still, there were others with sufficient merit who were drawn to the Buddha’s teaching; who were open to his message and his doctrine.

These particular beings were able to resonate with the Buddha’s teaching such that they sensed not only the importance of his words but also, to some degree, the superessential light his own meditational practice amplified (keep in mind the Buddha is the "light unsurpassed").  Pertinent to this, in the Theragatha of the Pali Nikayas, the monk Kankharevata says the following:

“See this wisdom of the Tathagatas; it is like a fire blazing in the night; those who dispel the doubt of those who come become givers of light and vision” (3).

The importance of Kankharevata’s words are made even more striking when we read this verse from the Dhammapada. 

“Thus, amidst rubbish-like beings: the blinded worldlings (prithagjana), the disciple of the truly and completely Awakened One sublimely shines (atiruc) with wisdom (S., prajñâ)” (59).

Offering some ray of hope for all worldlings, the commentary to the this particular verse has us to understand that even with rubbish (i.e., defilements), “though it is loathsome and repulsive, a sweet-smelling lotus could be born.”  And certainly this will probably happen if worldlings, instead of following the path of blindness elect, instead, to follow the Buddha’s path.  Perhaps to some degree, they will also awaken to the sublime clear light of Mind that has never ceased animating them which, as a matter of fact, is their very being and self—not the rubbish heap to which they cling!

Mystical Buddhism and the West

We don’t notice the luminous Mind energizing us; giving us life.  Nor do we recognize Mind to be the very substance from which our thoughts, feelings, passions, etc., are made.  We are just aware of phenomena both external and internal.  That’s all we know as ordinary, worldly beings.

To realize or awaken to the noumenal in the likeness of the luminous Mind, or the sphere of Dharma (dharmadhatu), is an occult or mystical process.  This is something the ordinary, worldly being cannot do because such a being is deeply attached to illusory phenomena never having yet questioned it or renounced it.  But now I must pause.  

I have said something very much hated by the modern West.  Yes, the West has a strong dislike of the idea of the occult, the mystical, and anything else that can’t be perceived and labeled by sensory consciousness.  We have to keep in mind that the West, for a long time, has made an unholy alliance with matter and the transitory such that anyone who might claim insight into the immaterial and the everlasting is, by implication, attacking the very foundation of Western civilization.  Not only that, they are attacking the very concept of God which, in reality, is only a personification of temporal man, his will, love, knowledge, consciousness, and even his evil ( I bring good and create evil; I, the Lord, do all these things [ Isaiah 45:7]).   

While the West has purged mysticism from its religious values going back as far as Gnosticism, mysticism has survived—but not in the West.  Indeed, it has long survived in Buddhism which never knew anything like an Inquisition.  Not only was Indian Buddhism mystical, but it has remained so in China, Tibet, Korea, Japan and other Asian countries.   Quoting Heinrich Dumoulin, “The mystical element is an essential part of Buddhism” (History of Zen Buddhism, 5).

The Asian soul, we could say, lacks the same attitude found in the Western soul which seems guided by a demonic urge to destroy all that it can’t fully understand and/or control.  This, I hasten to inject here, is plainly evident in how the West treats UFO phenomena and so-called close encounters.  The very idea of advanced humanoids who might be far wiser and kinder than we, and certainly more technologically advanced, is an abhorrent thought to the Western mind.  But in China, a Buddhist hermit living in the mountains of Chugnan will say that she had been taught mantras that had first been taught to mankind by “beings from outer space” (Porter, Road to Heaven, 111).  These are definitely not the words of a Westerner.

The West’s contempt towards the the mystical cannot be easily glossed over or explained.  It pushes the limits of even psychology to explain such a notably hostile reaction.  The only plausible explanation I have found is that temporal Western man greatly fears to behold his own finitude such that for him it would become almost a living death.  Instead, he prefers his fantasies.  Yet, it is hard to deny the enjoyed fruits of the mystical world from philosophy, mathematics to chemistry.  Evidence, too, seems to be wanting that realized mystics are an unhappy lot.  The Buddha spoke of nirvana as being blissful and immortal.  The great Gnostic Valentinus said, “Through Gnosis, then, is redeemed the inner, spiritual man: so that to us suffices the Gnosis of universal being: and this is the true redemption.”  

I hope that in the future, Buddhism will be the thin end of the wedge that will finally reintroduce mysticism to the West.  Presently, Buddhism is having to defend itself to the physical sciences, as if the physical sciences have not, generally, produced one failed theory after another, standing on no sure foundation. 

A serious mistake

The category of the Five Aggregates consisting of physical shape, feeling, determinate thought (e.g., this is a blue patch), inclinations and sensory consciousness is not the same category as my self or atman.  Thus, to confuse the two is a category mistake.  The Buddha was well aware of this.  He was also aware of the fact human beings suffer from the habit of identifying their self with the Five Aggregates believing:  “I am these Five Aggregates” even though they are impermanent, suffering, and actually not our true self. 

A helpful example of the category mistake would be to believe that esprit de corps in the military is something like a tank, a soldier’s uniform, or a rifle.  A person suffering from this kind of mistake might look all of his life for an object like esprit de corps and never find it because it is not a material thing.

To briefly sum this up, our true self cannot be described or located under the Five Aggregates.  It has no such referent, in other words.  It is not physical shape (1) or feeling (2).  Nor is our self something thinkable (3).  Nor is our self an inclination or impulse (4).  And lastly, our self is not sensory consciousness (5).  What all this means is that we must stop continually making a category mistake.  We must accept the fact, at least, that our self is spiritually and fundamentally distinct from the Five Aggregates.

Another way of looking at this, if we take the Five Aggregates as being similar to the complexity of a clock's mechanical parts—our self is not a clock.  Nor is our self a biological organ like the spleen or the brain.  The difference between the Five Aggregates and the self is more like the difference between attribute and substance.  In fact, in R.C. Childers’ Dictionary of the Pali Language he defines the five  khandhas (i.e., aggregates) as “elements or attributes of being.” 

We also must keep in mind that the Buddha does not make the factual claim that the atman or my self exists in the way an ordinary thing might exist in the example of a stone or blueberries which would place it within the category of the Five Aggregates.  Instead, the Buddha states, in so many words, that I am not the Five Aggregates.

Needless to say, this position of the Buddha’s is difficult for the average person to put their brain around.  They must imagine that self is something akin to Gilbert Ryle’s “ghost in the machine”; but this is not what the Buddha meant.  As the Buddha realized his own self or mind, it was the very medium of existence. Everything else was its phenomena—there is no exception.  For one who could disengage from the temptation to crave their aggregates there was release from their tyranny.  Judging from the Mahapunnama Sutta (M. iii. 20) this is the case.

“Wherefore, monks, whatever is material shape, past, future or present, internal ... thinking of all this material shape as ‘This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self,’ he should see it thus as it really is by means of perfect wisdom. Whatever is feeling ... whatever is perception ... whatever are the habitual tendencies ... whatever is consciousness, past, future or present, internal ... thinking of all this consciousness as ‘This is not mine, this am I not, this is not my self,’ he should see it thus as it really is by means of perfect wisdom. Seeing it thus, monks, the instructed disciple of the pure one turns away from material shape, he turns away from feeling, turns away from perception, turns away from the habitual tendencies, turns away from consciousness; turning away he is detached; by his detachment he is freed; in freedom there is the knowledge that he is freed and he comprehends: Destroyed is birth, brought to a close the Brahma-faring, done is what was to be done, there is no more being such or so” (trans. I.B. Horner).

As the reader can surmise, the Buddha’s self is not Ryle’s a ghost in the machine.  The Buddha’s self is more like the water and the Five Aggregates are like the waves; or to use Fa-tsang’s illustration, the Buddha’s self is gold while the shape of the gold is the aggregates.

Yet, despite the overwhelming evidence found in the Pali Nikayas that the Buddha doesn’t want us to identify with the Five Aggregates, even equating them with Mara the Evil One, many Buddhists and non-Buddhists treat the self as if it were something like Ryle’s ghost in the machine which then makes the whole notion of self easy to dismiss—and laughable.  Nonetheless, the Buddha did not deny the self.  In fact, before he died, he spoke of only two refuges, the self and the Dharma. 

Accessorizing Buddhism

Traditionally, monks and nuns immersed themselves in the Buddha’s discourses.  They set to memory, for example, the Dhammapada.  At one time all of the Buddhist canon was set to memory; certain monks memorizing certain sections of the canon, for example.  Commentaries were also memorized.  Commentaries provided important details about each discourse or Sutra; moreover, how certain words should be defined.

For the average Buddhist monk or nun there was a lot to learn.  But these days in Japan, for example, it is possible to go to the toughest Rinzai training temple, graduate, become an abbot with a temple, but know very little or almost nothing about Zen or Buddhism.  This is due in part to what I shall term the accessorizing of Buddhism in which the subordinate elements of Buddhism such as architecture, religious objects, robes, and rituals have become more dominant than the Buddha’s Dharma.

To accessorize means according to the Oxford English Dictionary, “To provide or furnish with an accessory or accessories.”  In the process of furnishing, the accessory is anything of secondary or subordinate value.  The accessory, although it is not essential can, nonetheless, add to the beauty of something as does a handkerchief in the breast pocket of a man’s blazer.  On this track, the late Hardy Amies, the Buddha of men’s fashion, had this to say about “accessories” (the italics are mine).

“In principle your accessories, such as ties and shoes, should be more expensive than your basic suit which, in this way, can achieve some reflected glory from them” (ABC of Men’s Fashion, 10).

At least for me, it is quite astonishing to learn from Hardy that the accessory, in principle, should overshadow the thing to which it is supposed to be subordinate, so the thing might receive its glory from the subordinate, expensive accessory!  But alas, Hardy’s words have proven to be not only true in men’s haute fashion but in Buddhism as well in which its accessories in the example of robes, ritual objects, and rituals, all overshadow the very essence and foundation of Buddhism, itself.

I would even argue that “just sitting” or zazen is an accessory which was originally one of several positions the adept could take which made it comfortable to engage in meditation which according to Zen master Tsung-mi is “contemplation of mind.”  We shouldn’t forget that the whole foundation or essence of Zen is to realize Buddha Mind, not sit on a pillow with our back ramrod straight.

Buddhism has been accessorized to such an extent that it is almost lost its real significance.  I really don’t see what purpose all the chanting and ceremonies accomplish except to dull the mind and make it unfit for direct contemplation of the Buddha Mind.  It is more likely that someone will awaken to the Buddha Mind if they leave the accessories of Buddhism behind and engage with the Sutras, commentaries and treatises.  At least they might come to the understanding that all of Buddhism revolves around Mind—nothing else is of importance.