The Zennist

Shallow Zen

To engage with Zen Buddhism, properly, involves more than just reading about Buddhism and Zen, joining a Zen center, and doing meditation several times a month.  Regrettably, the intelligence of unawakened worldlings (prithagjana) is only capable of understanding Zen Buddhism from a very shallow perspective because they are in the habit of living and thinking this way.  In such a life, there is no pressure or necessity to look beyond the superficial layers of oneself which is actually what Zen Buddhism is really asking us to do.

We get a sense of this shallowness in the Introduction to Thich Nhat Hanh’s book, Zen Keys (1974) by Philip Kapleau.  Kapleau wants the reader to understand that Buddhism is not a world-denying cult of inner illumination offering escape from the suffering of life (which, truth be told, it is).  No, Buddhism is all about “simple labor and a life of awareness” which is about “being ‘awake’ in whatever one is doing” (p. 2).  It is all “in the doing, not in the contemplating” (p. 4).  The practice of Zen is easy enough it seems.

“Truly to practice Zen therefore means never to leave lights burning when they are not needed, never to allow water to run unnecessarily in the faucet, never to leave a scrap of food uneaten” (p. 5).

Kapleau’s introduction is almost a gross oversimplification of real Zen Buddhism.  He is leaving out its most important part although, ironically, this doesn’t seem to be the case with the author, Thich Nhat Hanh.  Arguably, the most important part of Zen is, seeing into one's nature, realizing Buddhahood.  In order to see one’s nature, the individual has to transcend the most subtle layers of their psychophysical organism which is accomplished by means of dhyâna this being a specialized form of meditation unique to Buddhism.  By no means is this easy. 

The shallowness of the unawakened worldling who decides to see their nature and realize Buddhahood is a huge daunting obstruction.  It is their entire being.  To really see one’s nature amounts to boring through a hardened pile of almost concrete like shit.  In other words, there is nothing pleasant about facing one’s own stupidity, anger, and concupiscence.  But face it we must in our search for our true nature.  Finding this pristine nature is not helped by indulging in our shallowness or striking back at those who show us just how really stupid we are when it comes to comprehending what Zen is actually about.  This might explain why so few who practice Zen actually come to realize their true nature.  They only learn to be even more deluded than they already are.

Two Buddhisms

Western Dharma centers have always been, to one degree or another, a Buddhist version of an outpatient clinic for the not-so-mentally-disturbed.  People join Dharma centers because they have mental issues that they find difficult to deal with on their own and believe they can find help through Buddhism.  When I was at one Dharma center in Oregon, which was quite large, it easily fell within the four corners of an outpatient clinic for people who had mental problems that were not of a severe kind.  

These Dharma centers, I must say, function in a spiritual vacuum as if Buddhism had not a mystical bone in its body; as if it were an ancient Indian form of psychotherapy.  Bluntly speaking, Buddhism could not care less about making a happier, kinder samsaric world for those who are enamored with it.  The Buddha taught awakening, that is, to see the Dharma which is pure Mind.

“The dharma obtained by me is profound, of deep splendor, difficult to see, difficult to understand, incomprehensible, having the incomprehensible as its scope, fine, subtle, the sense of which can only be understood by the wise” (Catusparisat Sutra).

The Dharma the Buddha discovered was wholly of a spiritual nature which could only be awakened to by the inmost self (pratyâtma).  This Dharma was not in the corrupt psychophysical body, it was beyond it. 

Just how Buddhism turned into an outpatient clinic for samsara’s troubled souls is difficult to explain.  My guess is that it was through the practice of seated meditation that this happened, at least part of it.  Meditation produced therapeutic results for those who engaged in it.  In addition, this meditation could be practiced in a spiritual vacuum.  It is very close to Dogen Zenji’s meditation shikantaza which translated means, solely engrossed in just sitting.  There is nothing spiritual in such meditation since it is dependent on the psychophysical body; putting it into a certain ritualistic posture.

Along with meditation came the psychologization of Buddhism which can be administered in a spiritual vacuum.  Helping to prop all this up as been the gradual secularization of Buddhism which has turned Buddhism in a materialist religion which questions the postmortem survival of consciousness, karma, and rebirth.

Buddhism has, in my opinion, turned into two Buddhisms.  One for the prithagjanas (worldly persons) who use Buddhism for what it has to offer therapeutically, and a Buddhism for the spiritually inclined who wish to become awakened, seeing what the Buddha saw. 

Zazen and the placebo effect

Reviewing some of what the mysterious placebo effect has been most effective with, includes hypertension, stress, cardiac pain, headaches, adrenal gland secretion, diabetes, colitis, menstrual pain, the common cold, fever, asthma, and multiple sclerosis.  In fact, 60 to 90 percent of most drugs and other
therapies prescribed by physicians depend on the placebo effect.  Not surprising, zazen may well prove helpful in producting the placebo effect.

It is not unusual after several weeks of doing daily zazen for a typical practitioner to notice a general clearing up of their former malaise.  We need to keep in mind that meditation is Asia's preeminent mind recharging exercise which can, to some extent, reboot the body’s invisible homeostatic system.

I would hope that some Zen centers and researchers take up a study of zazen and its possible connection with the placebo response.  I think zazen offers more than just helping us feel good for a while.  In fact, its true benefit all along may have been to produce the placebo response as no other therapy can.  On this train of thought, in the future we might see zazen and certain Tibetan Vajrayana practices be incorporated by medicine to bring about the maximum placebo response in which invisible mind exerts its power over the brain.

The acceptance and realization of mystery

Westerners are daily fed fictions which they take to be reality.  In this respect, it is a most difficult task for them to understand the Buddha’s enlightenment which goes against the stream of human created fictions.  

Science, for example, is a most prominent and powerful fiction machine, having replaced the ubiquitous Catholic Church which was, incidentally, successful at fusing imagination with religion creating all kinds of religious fictions.  

Metaphysics has taught both the Church and science to construct elaborate fictions as if they represented and explained reality.  However, reality is something quite different than fictions which try to explain reality.  Take for example, electricity.  Electricity is a reality but one that is quite mysterious and, to this day, we have no idea what electricity really is.  It is not strictly matter or energy.  These are fictional terms, although useful.  While electricity may, to a certain extent, resemble matter and energy, in the sense that it cannot be destroyed, it is still a mystery.    

When it comes to the the “radiometer” (the picture in the upper lefthand corner) nobody actually knows how it works.  But it does work.  Our models of explanation have thus far failed to explain it.  Radiation pressure doesn’t explain it; nor does gas pressure; nor does outgassing of black material; nor does the photoelectric effect; nor convection currents.  

Turning to the Buddha’s enlightenment, our rational explanations of the Buddha’s enlightenment are almost entirely inadequate.  Even when the Buddha saw the mysterious Dharma (i.e., pure Mind), he only became one with it.  By that I mean he entered into its mystery and became that mystery, completely.  Even when the Buddha looked into his own body of birth, the mystery he realized could not be seen—still, it was present and real.  This means that the teaching of the Buddha is transcendent and mysterious, pointing to a transcendent realm beyond the pale of the psychophysical body. 

Truth be known, our world is fundamentally a complete mystery.  It is inexplicable.  Our models of explanation are useful as are our inventions but they fail to capture the mystery of the world.  It is only by following the teachings of the Buddha that we can become one with this mystery when, looking upon this world, we discover that it is the mystery’s mysterious expression.  How profound!

Dogen Zenji's way

Comparing Dogen with the Chinese Zen masters, Dogen seems more interested in pushing his own interpretation of Buddhism to such an extent that he has no hesitation when it comes to altering the original passage of a Sutra.  

For Dogen, the spiritual voyage of "reaching the other shore" becomes "the other shore has arrived” as if the shore of nirvana is here, presently.  Another example is, "all sentient beings without exception have the Buddha-nature" (Mahaparinirvana Sutra) which Dogen changes to, "all sentient beings, that is, all existence is Buddha-nature.”  In my opinion, Dogen never studied the Mahaparinirvana Sutra enough to know that all existence is not the Buddha-nature anymore than an illusion is Buddha-nature.  Our illusory existence is samsara, not nirvana.  Also, while beings have the Buddha-nature it is only Buddhas who actualize it.

When Dogen encounters the term "dharmatâ," which according to Hajime Nakamura the Chinese translated as "the real aspect of things," Dogen takes the liberty of translating the term, "the real aspect is all things" (Ways of Thinking of Eastern Peoples, p. 351).  This turn of phrase goes quite beyond the teaching of the Buddha.  Dogen is, in effect saying, there is nothing which transcends the mundane, samsaric world, it is the absolute.  

If Dogen were to look at Hua-yen Patriarch Fa-tsang’s gold lion he would say that the lion is gold (i.e., phenomenal existence is pure Mind).  But, in reality, there is no lion present.  The lion is empty.  It lacks inherent existence.  There is only gold (i.e., there is only Mind).  The lion is just shaped gold in the same way that a wave is shaped water.  Fundamentally, there is only water.  Under the power of delusion people are attached to name and shape (namarupa).  Such people cannot see other than name and shape.  In other words, they can’t see the Dharma which is pure Mind.  Dogen had this fault.

Theravada Buddhism's no self

Q:  Do you agree with the Theravada view that we cannot find anything which is permanent or which exists forever?

A:  It is true that in this wide world of composite things there is nothing permanent which exists forever.  It is basically, samsara.  On the other hand, our Buddha-nature, as with nirvana, is incomposite and unborn.  This nature is beyond temporality which means it is eternal.  It is also beyond the Five Aggregates of material shape, feeling, perception, formations, and consciousness.

Q:  It always sounds to me that Theravada Buddhism, by saying the Buddha denied the self, is really advocating a form of annihilationism.  Do you agree?

A:  Any Buddhist is an annihilationist, or the same, a materialist, who believes that there is no postmortem survival, in addition, to believing there is no self.  Bear in mind, that we are not the sum of our body parts; nor are we the aggregates of material shape, feeling, perception, formations, and consciousness.  We transcend all this because our true nature is unborn and incomposite.  When our temporal body craps out it doesn’t mean that our true nature or self craps out.  Life goes on, in other words.

Q:  According to Theravadins “all things” are said to be without a self or Buddha-nature.  Is that true.

A:  Yes and no.  “All things” refers to the five skandhas or aggregates which I mentioned earlier.  The Buddha said that these aggregates are not his self.  There is a very good reason that he said this.  These aggregates belong to Mara, the Buddhist demon, and they are suffering.  So it is true that all things are without self but only because the self transcends the Five Aggregates or, the same, all things.  It also transcends suffering.

Q:  I am really getting confused at this point.  So the Buddha did not deny a self as the Theravadins teach.  Right?

A:  Right.  By means of the Five Aggregates, the Buddha taught that we should not accept these aggregates as being our true self or, the same, our Buddha-nature.  No aggregate is the Buddha-nature.  This is a far cry from a complete denial of self which in Pali is natthatta, which is an annihilationist belief.

Q:  Who realizes nirvana?

A:  It is our inmost self which in Sanskrit is pratyâtman or in Pali, paccattam.  Our inmost self is the absolute—but it’s suffering from a bad case of spiritual amnesia.  It is bound up with composite things, clinging to them; not wanting to give them up.  It can’t see itself as a result of this clinging.  When it finally catches a glimpse of the incomposite, this being nirvana, it has really found itself; its true nature.  Nirvana can only be realized by the inmost self.  What else might realize nirvana?  Think of this like a little drop of water searching for the ocean.  When it finally jumps into this great ocean nothing of it is apart from the ocean and nothing constituting the ocean is different than the drop of water. 

 

The doctrine of eternalism

The contemporary Buddhist view of the doctrine of eternalism (sassatavada) is the belief that the individual has an unchanging self or soul.  In Buddhism, the doctrine of eternalism is generally found in this form:  “the self and the world are eternal" (sassato attâ ca loka ca) (Ud VI, v).  So what does this really mean?  The commentary to the Udana, the Udanatthakatha, translated by Peter Masefield, describes the phrase this way:

“[T]hey [eternalists] take some particular item amidst (the [five] khandhas of) material form and on to be "the self" and "the world", and then describe this as "eternal, permanent", also understanding that others likewise, in accordance with which there is said: "They [eternalists] declare material form to be the self and the world, stating such to be not only the self and the world but also eternal; they declare sensation ... perception ... the formations ... consciousness to be the self and the world, stating such to be not only the self and the world but also eternal (344, p. 882)." (Brackets are mine.)

What first stands out is eternalism rests on the Five Aggregates, namely, material form, sensation, perception, the formations, and consciousness.  Thus, an aggregate by an eternalist is held to be fundamentally eternal besides being the self and the world.  But according to the Buddha, the aggregates are impermanent and suffering; they are certainly not the self, either.  The common refrain by the Buddha is always, with respect to each aggregate:  "This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self." 

Given the position of the eternalist with respect to the Five Aggregates, that they are the self and the world and, moreover, eternal, the Buddha’s self transcends the aggregates. 

For modern Buddhists to insist that eternalism pertains to an unchanging or transcendent self is wrong.  This has the force of denying a self which transcends the Five Aggregates which the Buddha, in the discourses, does not deny.  How, for example, in this passage is the Buddha denying a self which transcends the aggregates?

"Now, Aggivessana, a disciple of mine in regard to whatever is material shape, past, future, present, subjective or objective, gross of subtle, low or excellent, distant or near, sees all material shape as it really is by means of perfect intuitive wisdom as [ditto with the rest of the aggregates]:  This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self” (M. i. 234).

The position that the Buddha takes in this passage is that the self is never an aggregate, or the same, it is never to be identified with the Five Aggregates.  The self is thus transcendent because it lies beyond the pale of the Five Aggregates.  This is not eternalism.  That the bulk modern Buddhists don’t get this is astonishing, to say the least.

The Buddhist teacher

The role of a Buddhist teacher is not that of a psychological therapist.  Nevertheless, the beginner will often see their teacher as a therapist, as if the teacher possesses special powers to help the student overcome what, so to speak, psychologically ails them. 

The reason for this is that some students believe Buddhism is a kind of ancient Indian form of psychotherapy which can put them back on their feet, a happier person; better able to cope with the world of samsara.  But this is not what Buddhism is or what a teacher is supposed to do.

Rather, the bulk of Buddhism's mission is to clear away psychological obstructions which might otherwise make the path of spiritual self-development and, consequently, nirvana’s attainment, impossible to accomplish.  It is also necessary that Buddhism's mission include a kind of intellectual reformation in which materialistic presuppositions get screened out leaving the student with a more accurate view of the condition of the world. 

Ultimately, a teacher is a spiritual guide who points out the way; a way that goes beyond the pale of samsara; a way which is unconditioned but nevertheless real and realized by the inmost self (P., paccattam).

 

Looking for the ox

Q:  I have been reading Paul Reps’ book Zen Flesh, Zen Bones, it seems, all of my life.  One of my favorite parts of his book is the 10 Bulls which is about the search for our true nature.  So my question is this: Is the first picture, “The Search for the Bull” about the beginner’s mind?

A:  Yes and no.  Most beginners never make it to the first picture.  The ox, representing our Buddha-nature or pure Mind, is not a subject often discussed in Zen centers.  How to properly search for it, I am guessing, is even less discussed.  The first picture really takes place in our mental world of thoughts, mental images, internal dialogues, emotions, pain, and so on.  You can use the metaphor of a jungle, a forest or a pasture to describe such a mind.  Most Zen beginners just take this mind for granted.  They don’t really look into it.  It is who they believe they are.  It functions, at times, as a daydreaming machine.  It’s where the mysterious first-person is located.  It’s the bearer of the body’s pain and the enjoyer of the body’s pleasures.  The task of a good Zen teacher is to get the beginner to look at their mind-jungle!  But there is even more to it.  It’s not just about examining our thoughts arising and then falling—just being an observer.

Q:  That is what I have been taught.  Just observe your thoughts.  From what you’re saying the mind-jungle is where the search for our true nature begins.  Beginner’s Zen starts when when a beginner looks for their true nature in the mind-jungle.  You seem to be saying there is really something there to see.

A:  Absolutely.  You’re looking for pure Mind before it becomes waves, or the same, thoughts.  When absolute Mind moves the universe appears along with thoughts and concepts.  It is no less pure for moving, either.  It just perfectly hides from itself when it is conditioned.  So its a tricky and subtle search.

Q:  So what did you do when you were searching for it?

A:  I was obsessed with looking for it.  I used what few Zen books I had to provide me with some clues.  They helped, but not much.  You still have to make a tremendous effort of looking into your mind-jungle to find that immaculate ox.  When I cut firewood, I looked for the ox.  When I split firewood, I looked for the ox.  When I went down to the well to get a bucket of water, I looked for the ox.  When I made rice or went to the pond looking for wild watercress, I was looking for the ox.  When I sat in the mine, not far from the ranch house, I looked for the ox.  In my case, I really wanted to find that ox.  It was a matter of life and death.  It was that real for me.

Q:  Do you think most Zennists today are that dedicated?

A:  I can’t speak for the average Zennist.  But of Westerners who write books about Zen, I can’t imagine that they searched very much for the ox.  These people have basically imitated their teachers; jumped through all the right hoops.  They are clones.  This may explain why Western Zennists don’t understand what koans are about.  Koans are actually tests to see if you’ve seen the ox.  If you have, the koans are almost like one big inside joke.  Every koan is playing with the essence of Mind.  If Zennists saw the ox they would know the real meaning behind why the Buddha held up a flower and blinked in front of Mahakashyapa.  What did Mahakashyapa see that caused him to smile when others only saw a crazy old guy holding up a flower and blinking?  The answer can be obvious or hidden if you’ve not seen, firsthand, pure Mind.  You can’t bullshit your way through koans although Western Zennist are pretty good with their bullshit—or should I say, ox shit.  This is also why they rely heavily on zazen.  That’s all they have to teach; it’s all they know.

Q:  I take it that you don’t believe zazen is the royal road to enlightenment.  This is my impression since the idea of searching for the ox or pure Mind is a different kind of activity than just sitting.  In what way does zazen help.

A:  Zazen is basically sitting the Five Aggregates down on a zafu; trying to subdue Mara’s psychophysical body.  Our body is the evil one’s property—every bit of it. We are stuck in his prison of flesh.  The only means of escape we have is to transcend this prison by perceiving the ox.  Mara’s world is really our unskilled states of mind which keep us in the dark about pure Mind.  Before he awakened, the Buddha tried to subdue the Five Aggregates by means of asceticism.  He didn’t succeed.  It was only by realizing pure Mind by means of dhyâna that he succeeded.  What I am trying to emphasize is zazen has its limitations.  When Dogen said that sitting without attaining anything or understanding anything is the Way of Buddhas it was like he was saying, don’t search for the ox.  Just sit down—do nothing.  By reducing the search for the ox to the uncomplicated exercise of sitting—which is today’s Zen—Zen is essentially dead.

Q:  But it’s okay to search for the ox from the posture of sitting, right?

A:  Yes, of course.  You can sit formally and search for it or sit on the crapper and look for it.  Do whatever you need to do, but look for the ox wholeheartedly.  When you find him the real journey of Buddhism begins.  You’re just a baby Buddha—not yet a mature Buddha.

Stephen Batchelor: an attempt to understand him

Stephen Batchelor has a great deal to say about Buddhism so that Buddhism is less understood religiously and spiritually and more understood modernly with all that modernity entails.  

For lack of a better term, Batchelor’s project cannot be thought of as an interpretation of Buddhism from its own side but, instead, a demythologization of Buddhism which attempts to separate the true meaning of Buddhism from its archaic mythological accretions.  This is not unlike taking apart an ancient temple built to one of the gods and using the stones to build a Mosque.  What emerges from this is subjectivity and existentialism; something that becomes familiar and understandable for modern consciousness.  In his book, Alone With Others, Batchelor describes the Buddha this way:

“The state of Buddhahood is one in which inauthentic modes of being have been purified and the potentials for authentic modes of being have been fulfilled.  In accordance with the twofold division of being-alone and being-with, this optimum state of being is compounded of optimum being-alone and optimum being-with-others" (p. 115).

However, the reader who is familiar with the Pali Nikayas does not regard this as Buddhahood or, the same, becoming awakened.  Batchelor does not discuss the Bodhisat's awakening through jhâna and his subsequent decision to teach the Dhamma, going to the city of Kâsis, beating the deathless-drum in a world that has become spiritually blind (M. i. 171).  Such religious content is no longer needed in Batchelor's Buddhism.  

More crudely put, in a way Batchelor has debunked Buddhism. By his debunking, we are led to believe that all the bunk or nonsense (Buddhism's mythological accretions), including cultural adaptations and sectarianism, have been sufficiently peeled away by him so that we are able to see the real Buddhism, i.e., Buddhism relevant for modern consciousness which is a Buddhism of existential significance.  Such a new Buddhism is even free of a final interpretation.

"With this consideration in mind it should be clear that no particular interpretation or expression of Buddhism can ever be final.  Buddhism, just like any other phenomenon, is a dependent-arising and therefore lacks an inherent self-nature" (Alone With Others, pp. 52–53). 

The problem with Batchelor's project is that it is a fiction which he constructs (not surprising—in all of his works there is little of the Buddha's actual words presented to the reader).  He constructs an imaginary world of Buddhism as if it were true, together with its limitations and shortcomings, only to discover (as expected) the truth of Buddhism where others have failed.  Unlike translators and scholars who try to see where the Buddha of the canon is going; who cannot afford to write fiction, Batchelor gives himself ample freedom to speak for the Buddha enough to suggest that he, Batchelor, is just as right as anybody else is.  For the Buddhist who has never studied the Buddhist canon, their gut reaction to Batchelor's Buddhism is one of agreement.  In fact, he speaks for them; lays out Buddhism better than anyone.  But none of it is true.